Chapter 1779 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect
Cheong Myeong’s gaze darkened.
If it weren’t for the current situation, he might have welcomed this
young man who suddenly appeared. He might have slung an arm around his shoulder
and joked, ‘Can you drink a cup of alcohol?’ while laughing.
But not now.
Cheong Myeong didn’t have the luxury to warmly greet an uninvited guest
with open arms.
“Regrets? I don’t know what nonsense you’re spouting, but...”
Cheong Myeong’s voice was sharp.
“I don’t have time to play along with you right now.”
His tone was cold enough to send chills down the listener’s spine.
It was inappropriate way to treat someone who was the head of a martial
sect and someone respected by the entire Western Region. It was enough to make
anyone feel deeply insulted.
However, Dalai Lama simply shook his head silently.
“No, there’s no shortage of time. At least..…”
In Dalai Lama’s unwavering eyes, Cheong Myeong was reflected.
“..…not for you, siju.” [tl
note: in case you forgot, ‘siju’ is a
Buddhist’s way of respectfully addressing a non-Buddhist]
Cheong Myeong’s eyes twitched slightly. The words themselves weren’t
particularly strange, but they still oddly grated on his nerves.
“Ha… damn it.”
Cheong Myeong sighed heavily and tilted his head back slightly.
“This is a battlefield, you brat. This isn’t a place where your lofty
Buddhist principles (dharma) will get
you anywhere. I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have time to sit around
discussing Zen…”
“Ahem.”
At that moment, a soft cough interrupted him. Cheong Myeong’s gaze
shifted slowly. It wasn’t Dalai Lama, but another Lama monk.
An elderly man with graying eyebrows and a peaceful expression was
smiling warmly.
“It’s been a while, dojang. I
hope you’ve been well.”
“….. Panchen Lama.”
“If we’ve inconvenienced you with our sudden visit, I apologize on his
behalf.”
Panchen Lama clasped his hands together deeply in a respectful gesture.
Cheong Myeong sighed shortly and then returned the gesture with a small
bow.
Unlike Dalai Lama, who felt hollow and therefore uninteresting to him, Panchen
Lama was someone even Cheong Myeong had no choice but to respect.
Panchen Lama spoke in a measured tone, his gaze steady.
“But, dojang, we haven’t come all the way from the Western Region without
reason.”
“…..”
“There is something that this young monk wishes to convey to you.
Regardless of status or position, could you not take a moment to acknowledge
the effort of a guest who has traveled such a great distance? It will only take
a little of your time.”
For a moment, Cheong Myeong’s gaze shifted to Dalai Lama... more
precisely, to his feet. Even at a glance, they were bruised, cracked, and in
terrible condition. Without asking, it was clear how arduous the journey had
been to get here.
The contrast between his feet, battered beyond what an ordinary person
could endure, and his unwavering, calm eyes was striking.
Even the great Cheong Myeong found it hard to ignore at this point.
“….. I don’t understand.”
In the end, he sighed deeply and replied.
“Please know that this is not a situation where I can treat you properly.”
“Of course.”
Cheong Myeong stared directly at Dalai Lama.
“Then, let’s hear it. What exactly do you want to say?”
❀ ❀ ❀
“Why is there so much commotion?”
Given the circumstances, it wasn’t unusual for the alliance to be
bustling, but something seemed different now.
Rather than just being busy, it seemed more like everyone was noticeably
flustered.
“Tch, those damn Evil Tyrant Alliance bastards would love to see this
chaos. No matter what’s going on, we need to stay calm... Wha-, what? Tang gaju-nim?”
Jo Geol, who had been clicking his tongue in disapproval while grumbling,
suddenly gaped.
Among the people frantically running around like they’d been struck by
lightning, he saw a familiar face.
‘That man wouldn’t even make a fuss if a lightning bolt struck him
directly.’
So why now?
“What’s going on?”
“Dalai Lama has arrived.”
“Who?”
“Dalai Lama.”
“And who’s that?”
Yoon Jong rubbed his face in frustration. Then, gritting his teeth, he forced
himself to answer calmly.
“That...! The prince of Potala Palace in the Western Region. Remember, we
saw him on our way back from Northern Sea?”
“Oh, that kid? Why is he here?”
Yoon Jong seriously considered whether he should just sew Jo Geol’s mouth
shut right now. At that moment, Jo Geol clapped his hands together.
“Ah! That’s right. Sahyung,
back then he was introduced as the prince of Potala Palace.”
“…. I literally just said that. Right now.”
“Please, listen to what people are saying. I’m talking right in front of
you...”
“Oh? Then...?”
“Hm?”
“Is Potala Palace joining the Heavenly Comrade Alliance?”
Yoon Jong was taken aback.
“No, why would you jump to that conclusion…”
“Then why else would they come all the way here in the middle of a war?
It looks like they’re not bad people, maybe they’re here to help us take down
the evil sect?”
Jo Geol let out an exaggerated gasp.
“Potala Palace is one of the Five Outer Palaces, right? We could use any
help we can get, so this is a stroke of luck! See? This is why you should
always live a good life.”
“Only two of them came.”
“….. Well, I guess a cat’s paw is needed” [tl note: Jo Geol said something like ‘we do need any help we can get,
but it was so few, till he called it like a cat’s paw]
I didn’t think they’d be literal ‘cat’s paws’. Jo Geol clicked his tongue
in frustration.
‘So they’re not here to support us.’
If they were two highly renowned martial artists, it might be a different
story. But even then, if they had come to assist the Heavenly Comrade Alliance,
they wouldn’t have shown up with just two people.
And especially if one of them was Dalai Lama, Potala Palace wouldn’t be
crazy enough to send a mere child to a bloody battlefield.
Unless there was some kind of coup brewing within Potala Palace, the idea
was absurd.
“Then why are they here?”
“How should I know? That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out.”
“Ah..…”
Jo Geol finally nodded as if he understood.
It was enough to rattle even Tang Gunak, a man of great renown, that the
head of the Outer Five Palaces had suddenly appeared without any explanation.
Hwang Jong-ui in Shaanxi, would
probably foam at the mouth, lamenting, ‘I sent a letter!’ But it was
unfortunate that his letter hadn’t reached its destination due to the confusion
caused by the attack on Thousand Faced
Manipulator. [tl note: In case you forgot, Hwang jong is the leader of the
Eunha Merchant Guild.]
“So, where is Dalai Lama now?”
“He’s with Cheong Myeong.”
“What? Why?”
“…. I told you, I don’t know.”
Jo Geol scratched his head in frustration.
“No, but shouldn’t the priority be to meet the leader?”
Of course, it wasn’t completely odd that Cheong Myeong, who held the
position of General (chongsa) of the Heavenly
Comrade Alliance, was with the Dalai Lama. However, something still felt off.
“.... Could he have come just to meet Cheong Myeong?”
“Do you think he’d travel all the way from the west just to see him?”
“Right?”
Even if Jo-geol thought about it, it didn’t make sense.
“Ugh. Then what is it?”
“That might be the reason.”
Suddenly, Tang Soso, standing nearby, interjected into the conversation.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“He might have come to meet Cheong Myeong sahyung.”
“.... Why?”
“Well....”
Tang Soso trailed off, a look of concern clouding her face.
Not long ago, she had seen it. A young monk, an elderly monk, and Cheong
Myeong—just the three of them—entering a small tent off to the side.
‘It didn’t seem like a simple courtesy visit….’
The look on Cheong Myeong’s face had been dark and heavy.
‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’
Without saying a word, she glanced over at the distant small tent, which
suddenly felt like a remote, isolated island.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Sorry, but there’s only alcohol here. I can get you tea if you’d like.”
“……”
“But I don’t know anything about tea, so you’d have to brew it yourself.”
Panchen Lama, staring at the bottle of alcohol lying in front of him
without any glasses, looked around the inside of the tent.
The small tent barely had enough space for three people to sit. There was
nothing inside except for a single bedding mat carelessly thrown on the floor.
Other than that, the only visible items were a few scattered bottles of
alcohol, some of them still half-full.
Cheong Myeong leaned back against the corner of the barren tent. Then, he
switched on a lamp that had probably not been used in a long time. A brief puff
of black smoke emitted before a light illuminated the space, casting Cheong
Myeong’s body in long, dark shadows.
Panchen Lama felt a peculiar sense of oddness.
Despite the bleak and shabby appearance, it somehow suited him. It even
made Panchen Lama wonder if this was Cheong Myeong’s true nature.
A tired sword master, leaning against the corner of an old, worn-out
tent, with a sword slung over his shoulder.
Was it the tent that had worn out, or was it the man himself?
‘Yes…’
Panchen Lama clearly remembered Cheong Myeong from a few years back.
Back then, he seemed to have a sparkling vitality flowing out of him. He
was full of energy and knew how to fuel himself with passion for something.
But the person sitting before him now seemed so faded that Panchen Lama
questioned whether this was even the same person.
He had thought Cheong Myeong was walking a difficult path, but he had
never imagined that such a drastic change would occur in such a short amount of
time.
Cheong Myeong broke Panchen Lama’s train of thought as he spoke up.
“Well…. if you don’t need tea, let’s get to the point.”
“……”
“You said you had something to say. Go ahead.”
Dalai Lama, who had been silently observing Cheong Myeong, remained quiet
for a little longer. Then, with a small rustle of his robes, he moved.
Thud.
He grabbed the bottle of alcohol that Cheong Myeong had placed down and
slowly brought it to his lips. Cheong Myeong, looking slightly surprised, gave
a small chuckle.
“Drinking alcohol… Looks like even Potala Palace has fallen.”
Dalai Lama, having taken a small sip of the alcohol, smiled faintly.
“It’s true that alcohol is forbidden for a disciple of Buddha. But…”
Dalai Lama gazed steadily at Cheong Myeong.
“It’s arrogant for a beggar to complain about what’s given to him with
mercy.”
“……”
“That’s why I drink it. Whatever it may be. That’s why I eat it. No
matter what it is.”
Takbal (托鉢)[monk’s begging for
alms]. That was their doctrine. Cheong Myeong chuckled again.
“That’s a good excuse. You can break any taboo under the pretext of
getting something.”
“Don’t you agree?”
“Huh?”
“To forbid [금(禁)] something is to
reject it. To persuade [권(勸)] is to desire it.
And yet, that’s what we do. No one can reject everything, nor can they obtain
everything they want. Living means breaking taboos and desiring what you can’t
reach. That’s why we live, swallowing sins in the sea of suffering.”
Cheong Myeong squinted his eyes in displeasure and clicked his tongue.
“Spare me the sermon. No one here wants to hear it.”
“This isn’t a sermon.”
Dalai Lama’s gaze remained the same, as if it held nothing and everything
at once. Looking into his eyes gave one the strange sensation of thirst.
“I just want to talk about life. And about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes, siju. You.”
Dalai Lama’s youthful voice quietly but clearly pierced Cheong Myeong’s
ears.
“What is your life like?”
“……”
A gaze as deep as a lake met a gaze as fiery as a wildfire in midair.
“You think I’ve broken taboos and desired what I can’t have?”
“That’s how everyone lives.”
“Then I’m not particularly special, am I? Since everyone else lives like
that, I must be the same.”
“Siju’s words are correct. You
are no different. Yet, you are different.”
“Ah, really.... what are you saying....”
“You can’t help but be different, can you?”
Dalai Lama said calmly.
“Between those who live only one life, and those who don’t.”
Cheong Myeong, who had been showing clear signs of annoyance, suddenly
flinched. His eyes then opened wide in shock.
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