133. Shanxi (3)
Shanxi (3)
133. Shanxi (3)
An endless line stretched before me. When a man's turn finally came, he approached and recited his Four Pillars.
"Stay away from the water in summer. A guest from the east is auspicious, but if you go into business with him, you will suffer great losses."
"You will see a new family member. If your child is unmarried, they will meet a fine match; if married, you will see a grandchild."
"You must never climb a mountain in the third month. I see the misfortune of a tiger's jaws."
I rattled off New Year fortunes one after another, seeing each and every resident. It had been a long time since I'd read fortunes. The New Year Rite had concluded splendidly, but the villagers, to whom a Daoist was such a rare sight, all clamored for their New Year fortunes, and eventually Son Yeong stepped in to organize the line. While I read New Year fortunes until my mouth went dry, Master drew talismans on the spot like a celebrity signing autographs, and Jeong-hyang, addressed simply as the fairy maiden, received silent prayers as residents laid offerings before her.
Something about that felt a little unfair...
Lee Eun-ha, taking the hint, had taken Cho-ryeong to the market. They were probably buying things at extreme discounts right about now.
"Revered Daoist. Can you also drive away ghosts?"
The very last guest was a young boy. The kid glanced around at his surroundings, then quietly whispered to me.
"I can. If I couldn't beat a ghost, I'd have to turn in my Daoist license."
"Revered Daoist! Revered Daoist! There's a ghost in our village. Usually nothing happens, but if anyone sits on the ghost rock, a terrifying wailing sound comes out."
The boy spoke with a face full of fear. A ghost rock?
"You little rascal. That ghost rock couldn't be driven out by any Daoist or monk, you know? It's been there since our great-grandfather's time. As long as you don't sit on the rock, no harm comes of it, so don't make trouble for the revered Daoist. He's a kind Daoist who has even read our fortunes after the rite."
When a middle-aged man scolded the boy, the boy's face crumpled as if about to cry.
"Where is this ghost rock?"
Ghosts were truly difficult to find. In the past, I'd gone through hell and back with Hwangseong, roaming every neighborhood and casting the Spirit-Summoning Art, but after barely managing to meet the Four Heroes and Medicine Immortal, I'd momentarily forgotten about collecting souls. My interest piqued by the boy's words, I asked the middle-aged man, and he answered quietly.
"It will be difficult for you. Long ago, when the temple was still here, many Daoists attempted to exorcise it, but they all gave up, saying it was an immensely powerful ghost. Even a renowned Daoist from Mount Hua shook his head and said not to provoke it needlessly, as it would do no harm."
"I will simply assess its condition and return, so please do not worry. Where is the rock?"
Now that I had the Spirit-Binding Art, I could boldly declare that even if I was not the greatest master under heaven, I was the greatest Daoist under heaven. I spoke to the man with a confident expression, and he let out a sigh.
"The thing is... it's actually behind the manor where you Daoists are staying. It's a rock just big enough for one person to lie down, so you'll recognize it at once."
Behind the manor. So that was why the man had hesitated to speak. If a rumor spread that the rented manor, clearly the finest facility in this village, was haunted, it would deal a fatal blow to the village economy.
"Yeongmok. I'm all done. What shall we do with this mountain of Hongwu Tongbo?"
Having finished her idol autograph session—no, her on-the-spot talisman crafting—Master pointed at the enormous quantity of coins stacked on the table. It wasn't just Master. Before my table, too, Hongwu Tongbo were piled up in a genuine mountain. Hongwu Tongbo. The basic currency of Ming, bearing the era name Hongwu, taken from the dynasty's founder Zhu Yuanzhang. Simply put, coins. We were now well-off, and the villagers' circumstances were obvious, so we'd intended not to accept payment for the New Year Rite, nor the divination fee or talisman price, but the villagers insisted on paying, saying misfortune would come if they didn't leave an offering.
In the end, Master declared she would accept only one mun per person in Hongwu Tongbo, but since the number of villagers was considerable, hundreds of Hongwu Tongbo had accumulated before us. The problem was that while the volume was considerable, in silver it was worth barely five taels. To martial artists like us, the weight wasn't much of an issue, but walking around carrying these large jangling coins seemed a little undignified.
"Nothing to be done about it. It's the villagers' goodwill. Let's each use it to buy snacks here and head back."
Since it was winter, there were almost no fruits, but it being the first market day of the new year, there were more snacks out than I had expected. As today's original purpose had been sightseeing at the market, we each took our heaping piles of coins and bought suitable food, and for the coins we still couldn't use up, we bought souvenirs and the like. When I returned to the manor and went down the path behind the manor's rear gate while the ladies rested in their own ways, I saw a large rock, genuinely ideal for lying upon like a bed. Strange cords and odd talismans were plastered all over the area around it, creating a somewhat sinister atmosphere.
Naturally, I had forgotten the lengthy incantation of the Spirit-Summoning Art. I could just leave it to Hwangseong, who remembered every chant anyway, so I summoned Hwangseong and leisurely asked him to cast the Spirit-Summoning Art.
A blue light gathered. The light clustered little by little, forming the shape of a human.
It was there. There really was a ghost. A young man in his twenties. A slender frame and lean body. Fair skin without a single blemish. By twenty-first-century standards, he would have been an extraordinary pretty boy, but by current standards, he looked at best like a foppish pretty boy, or perhaps a eunuch.
"Uh... oh? What is this? Excuse me, can you see me by any chance?"
The ghost asked with a slightly dazed expression. He must have been bewildered. Ghost or not, this was surely his first time experiencing the Spirit-Summoning Art. But at the ghost's appearance, Hwangseong cried out in astonishment.
—Unbelievable! Yeongmok! You heard it too, didn't you? The ghost produced a voice!—
Huh? Come to think of it, that hadn't been a thought inside my mind. His voice had actually rung out. What was this? What kind of soul was he?
"I'm Yeongmok of Yeongsan Sect. Who were you in life?"
I answered him carefully, but he looked at me with a puzzled face, ears perked up.
"What did you just say? I can't hear a thing. Is it because I'm a ghost and have no ears?"
He could speak, but he couldn't hear. Something about this was deeply oddly limited, yet remarkable.
—I am Yeongmok of the Yeongsan Sect. Who might the deceased be?—
When I switched the channel to mental conversation, he immediately spoke to me with a delighted face.
"Aigo! How long has it been? It has been so terribly long since I talked to anyone. Being a ghost really isn't worth trying, I tell you. Ah, I am called Lee Sam. I may not look it, but I was once royalty."
The ghost spoke with such delight. Royalty, he said? A Yi-dynasty in the Central Plains... it couldn't be?
—Might you be from the Tang dynasty era?—
"Of course! My great-great-grandfather was the twelfth emperor of Tang, Emperor Muzong Huihuangdi. Of course, I was nothing but a lowly royal, so I never even laid eyes on the imperial household."
The man spoke cheerfully. Since he brought up his great-great-grandfather, his great-grandfather must have simply been a prince, and from his grandfather onward, a collateral imperial descendant; by his generation, he must have been just an ordinary man. I could tell, because he used honorifics with me even though I was clearly a commoner.
"I was dying of frustration. Ah, though I'm already dead, of course. Revered Daoist. I have a request. Please, help me."
—How may I assist you?—
"Please, get me out of this place. You are a member of the Martial World too, are you not, revered Daoist? I cannot repay you now that I'm a ghost, but they say all within the Four Seas are fellow travelers, so please, I beg you. I was royalty, but I entered the Martial World early in life. You've heard of the Akseong Sect, have you not? I was its last disciple."
Of course I had no way of knowing. When he said Tang, the Korean Peninsula was in the Silla era. In my past life, I had been a human of the 2000s, and now I was a human of the 1400s, but this was my first time seeing a human—no, a ghost—whose birth year had three digits.
—It is now the Ming dynasty. After the Tang dynasty, Song, Jin, Liao, and Yuan passed, and Ming has arisen. Roughly seven hundred years have passed.—
"Good heavens. Seven hundred years? No, what sin did I commit to be bound to this rock all alone for seven hundred years, unable to speak to anyone?"
—Rather than a sin, you are bound to this world because some lingering attachment remained. Is there anything you can recall?—
At those words, the ghost pondered deeply. Then he nodded and spoke with an expression of understanding.
"There is. As the one entrusted with the martial arts of the Akseong Sect, I could not overcome my private greed and failed to pass on the sect's martial arts to anyone. The martial art I was entrusted with is a sonic art, so finding a disciple is difficult to begin with. It requires not only immense internal energy but also mastery of music. And because I grew greedy, I ended up dying young without ever finding a disciple."
—Greed?—
"Though no one ever gave me the treatment of royalty, I still held tremendous pride in my family name. Since my sect had already been annihilated, I tried to take on someone of the Yi surname as my disciple and raise a Yi Clan, but in the end, I achieved neither."
"Revered Daoist. Please help me. I only need someone of the Yi surname who possesses abundant internal energy and is deeply accomplished in music. Once I transmit the Pure Sound Art, it seems I will finally be able to ascend in peace."
What a ridiculous fellow. He'd suffered for seven hundred years and was still hung up on those conditions? What was even more ridiculous was that a person perfectly matching those conditions existed, as if it were a lie.
—There is. My Senior Sister likely possesses the greatest internal energy among her peers, and it will increase tremendously in the future. Moreover, she can master just about any instrument within a single Tea Interval, and while she does not carry the blood of the Tang imperial family, she is most certainly someone of the Yi surname. She is in the manor just behind here, so I shall arrange for you to meet.—
"Huh? Senior Sister? You don't mean she's a woman?"
—Yes. Is a woman unacceptable?—
"Ah... no. That is not a problem. It's just that I am truly shy around women. There is a secret manual beneath this rock, so could you simply deliver that for me?"
He looked genuinely delighted, but the ghost waved his hands in refusal at the word "woman." Between this and his androgynous looks, was this guy not some kind of homo?
—Is it all right for you not to meet her in person? Was it not your regret at failing to find a successor that kept you bound here?—
"There is no way a revered Daoist who speaks with ghosts would lie. To be honest, after being reduced to this state, even I've grown hazy on what it was I was hoping for. This is a chance in several hundred years, so I will entrust it to you, revered Daoist, and take my leave to ascend.
"Well then. Thank you! If we can see each other after death, let us meet again!"
With a refreshed expression, the man was suddenly enveloped in white light and shot up into the sky, split into small fragments of light.
What... what was this? Was a seven-hundred-year grudge something that could be resolved this easily? What was more, when I met a ghost, I had naturally intended to stow him in a spirit vessel, like Hwangseong, the Four Heroes, and Medicine Immortal. I'd planned to use him for a long, long time as an auto-play instrument and, when necessary, a powerful sonic weapon...
As I stared, dumbfounded, at the empty rock he had vanished from, Hwangseong quietly spoke to me.
—That was an extraordinary ghost. A ghost that could produce a voice. That wailing ghost sound people heard when sitting on that rock must surely have been a sound he made. He was probably a man who would have achieved great things if he had become a Daoist in life.—
No... you yourself were an extraordinary Daoist, old man, but you couldn't produce a voice.
Ignoring Hwangseong's astonishment, Geo Am, his interest apparently piqued by the mention of a secret manual, swung his iron whip and shattered the rock to pieces. Even with twenty-first-century technology, making paper books that could be preserved for seven hundred years was exceedingly difficult. And the preservation conditions here were terrible. Though it was under a rock, water would seep in when it rained, and insects like ants would be all too happy to eat it. However, contrary to my worries, a metal plate shone through the stone dust. The secret manual called the Pure Sound Art had been engraved on an iron plate, so the ghost must have died with peace of mind after placing it inside the rock.
—A sonic art... honestly, it is not a good martial art. The consumption of internal strength is immense, but its power is far weaker than one would expect. It is effective against large numbers of weaker foes, but the moment your opponent is at a similar level to you, it becomes nearly useless. Fundamentally, in a fight, a weapon is more effective than a musical instrument.—
Though Geo Am was a renegade monk, his original trade was a Buddhist priest, yet he showed no particular interest in the suddenly ascended ghost and spoke about sonic arts.
—Still, for Medicine Immortal's disciple, there could be nothing better. Do you know what that child has been doing lately? With internal energy far more immense than Son Yeong's, she's been practicing throwing stones. Can you believe it?—
Moon Immortal spoke as if she were fed up. In the eyes of one who stood at the pinnacle of technical skill, Lee Eun-ha's crude methods must have been utterly unacceptable.
—Stone-throwing can also become a mighty weapon, depending on how it is trained.—
At Flame Emperor's words, Moon Immortal raised the tone of her voice.
—That's right. If only she trained it well. But that child, no matter how clumsy her body is, her physical abilities reinforced by internal energy should be far beyond an ordinary human's. Yet from just twenty paces away, she hits a tree the size of a person only about twice out of ten throws. It would be far more effective to have her learn a sonic art instead, and just spray it in roughly the right direction.—
Moon Immortal had recently even been learning Joseon speech from Lee Eun-ha, and she was showing rare concern for Lee Eun-ha.
—I think so too, but that child will not be able to learn a sonic art from this secret manual on her own. Besides, none of us know sonic arts, do we?—
Sonic arts were not the martial art of the strong. Heosan's concern was only natural.
—I'll handle the teaching.—
—Oh? Moon Immortal, you learned sonic arts too?—
—No. Why would I bother learning something like that? Isn't a sonic art something you can roughly execute as long as you have a decent musical sense and inner power? Trash like this martial art has to be masterable at a single glance, or else you'd never be able to master the esoteric Moonlit Divine Sword.—
With an effortless flick of her sword, the Moon Immortal used nothing but the sound of it cutting through the air to shatter a distant tree into splinters. I was naturally astonished, but even the Four Heroes—possessors of tremendous talent who had themselves risen to become peerless masters—were left speechless by the Moon Immortal's overwhelming genius.
Perhaps if that ghost had witnessed this side of Moon Immortal earlier, he would have ascended utterly dumbfounded.