Chapter 1780 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect
His mind went
blank, as if struck by lightning. He had lived a long life, experienced more
than anyone else, and shocks like this were rare for Cheong Myeong.
His pupils shook
like a small boat caught in a violent storm.
‘What did he just
say?’
‘Those who don’t’.
What could that mean?
[tl note: CM
repeating Dalai Lama’s words in the previous chapter “Between those who live
only one life, and those who don’t.”]
He turned to Dalai
Lama with wavering eyes. The reddish-faced young monk continued to stare at
Cheong Myeong without any signs of wavering.
Cheong Myeong was
bewildered by everything.
Did this young
man even understand the meaning behind his own words? Was Cheong Myeong simply
the only one shaken by words carelessly thrown out? And if he knew, how could
he possibly know?
It felt as if
everything in the world was becoming blurred.
The boundaries
that had been built up became indistinct, and the carefully erected walls
crumbled. The distance that once felt so distant suddenly became suffocatingly
close, only to widen again repeatedly.
Within that,
just, and just once more...
“Om Mani Padme
Hum.”
Suddenly, a clear
and pure chant pierced Cheong Myeong’s ears.
At the same time,
everything that had blurred came into focus. Reality returned to him. He could
feel the dryness of his cracked lips and the stinging sensation in his parched
throat.
Cheong Myeong
instinctively wiped his face. Cold sweat had already drenched his hand.
“You…”
“Even that makes no
difference. We simply live.”
Cheong Myeong
firmly closed his mouth. He didn’t mock anymore. He could no longer dismiss Dalai
Lama’s words so easily.
What should he
ask?
There were far
too many things he wanted to ask. Just thinking of them filled his mind to the
point where he could pile them up like a mountain.
But Cheong Myeong
knew that he had to set all of that aside. He also knew the most appropriate
question to ask at this moment.
“What do you want
to tell me?”
Perhaps he sensed
that no matter what he asked, he wouldn’t receive a clear answer.
Cheong Myeong had
already experienced it. What it was like to face someone who had transcended.
Asking for answers from such beings was like throwing a stone into the sea.
Nothing would
return. Unless they willingly chose to give something back.
And in that
moment, Cheong Myeong realized one more thing.
Even the things
they willingly offered were not easily obtained by him.
“Siju, what did you see in me?”
Cheong Myeong’s
lips twisted slightly in displeasure.
“I asked first.”
“That’s not
important.”
“It’s a matter of
basic courtesy.”
“The courtesies
of human affairs is important, but also insignificant.”
Cheong Myeong bit
his lip and then sighed deeply. It was pointless to argue about such things
with him. After hesitating, he parted his lips.
“.... Something I’ve
seen before.”
“What is it?”
Dalai Lama asked
again, but Cheong Myeong hesitated to answer.
Because he couldn’t
understand it himself. Why did it feel like this young monk in front of him was
connected to “that”? It was impossible to explain logically or theoretically.
Yet Cheong Myeong’s
instincts were telling him so.
This small figure
in front of him….. who seemed so insignificant that he could break his neck
with just a flick of his wrist, resembled the most powerful being he knew.
The existence
whose very name was terrifying and ominous to even speak.
“…. Cheonma
[Heavenly Demon].”
At Cheong Myeong’s
difficult utterance, Dalai Lama gazed at him quietly. His clear eyes revealed
no discernible emotion.
“I don’t know
why. It’s just...”
“It’s not right
to call him that.”
Cheong Myeong’s
eyes widened in shock, but Dalai Lama continued calmly, as if he hadn’t noticed
Cheong Myeong’s reaction.
“Cheonjama [천자마 (天子魔)] (Heavenly Son
Demon). Indeed, a being worthy of
bearing such a name. Just by existing, one achieves liberation from the cycle
of rebirth. However, even if the result is such, it cannot be said that his
desires have reached that state of liberation.”
[tl note: Demon
god in Buddhist scriptures. He is called by various names such as Mara, Cheonjama (天子魔,
often shortened to Cheonma)]
What was he even
talking about? Not even Cheong Myeong could understand these words.
“That’s why it’s
both an unfitting name, and yet fitting for him.”
“What are you
talking about....”
“Meaningless
words, yes. But not to you, Siju.”
“Speak so that it’s
understandable. Stop spouting like a Zen
riddles.”
At this, Dalai Lama
subtly lifted his head. His calm gaze met Cheong Myeong’s, as if observing,
contemplating, or even reaching enlightenment.
The weight of
that gaze seemed to press down on Cheong Myeong’s heart. Just as he was about
to speak, Dalai Lama slowly opened his mouth.
“You already
know, don’t you?”
“…..”
“That he has
already set foot in the mortal realm [Impure
Land (yeto)].”
Cheong Myeong’s
breath caught in his throat.
Pure Land (Jeongto)
refers to the world where Buddhas dwell.
But Yeto is the impure land, a world full of
suffering—this world of humans.
“You.…”
“Siju, your body already knows, doesn’t
it?”
Cheong Myeong bit
his lip hard. Suddenly, a hot lump rose up from his stomach. He quickly covered
his mouth.
“Ugh!”
Foul-smelling
black blood surged up his throat, no matter how much he tried to swallow it
back down. There was no escaping this reality, no matter how much he wanted to
ignore it.
Black blood
trickled through the fingers covering his mouth.
“Cough!”
As Cheong Myeong
coughed violently, Panchen Lama, who had been listening to the conversation,
was startled and leaped to his feet.
“Dojang!”
He rushed over in
an instant, but Dalai Lama stopped him with a silent, expressionless gesture.
“Young master?”
Without saying a
word, Dalai Lama reached out towards Cheong Myeong. A soft golden glow radiated
from his hand.
Dalai Lama’s hand
didn’t even touch Cheong Myeong’s body, but Cheong Myeong could feel the foul
sensation that had been boiling inside him begin to calm. The pain that had
been gnawing at him also slowly subsided.
Cheong Myeong
looked at Dalai Lama in shock.
“What…. How did
you do that?”
There was still
no trace of martial skill from Dalai Lama. Even if Dalai Lama possessed
unimaginable power, there was no way he could completely hide his strength from
Cheong Myeong.
So what was this
sensation Cheong Myeong was feeling? How could someone with no martial skill suppress
his demonic possession [입마(入魔)]?
Even though Cheong
Myeong hadn’t asked, Dalai Lama lightly shook his head as if he knew it all.
“It’s not martial
arts.”
“...”
“Suffering born
from anguish fades when the anguish is lifted. I merely pushed that anguish
aside for the moment. But unless you overcome it yourself, siju, it will soon come back to haunt you.”
“... Anguish? You’re
saying I have anguish within me?”
Cheong Myeong
frowned as he asked.
Of course, many
things were weighing him down. But it seemed that Dalai Lama was referring to
something else.
“Human suffering
always begins with a connection.”
“…..”
“Your body must
have sensed the flow of that connection first, Siju. The encounter you can’t avoid, that inevitable future.”
His body.
Cheong Myeong
clutched his chest. It felt as if his heart was being squeezed.
His stomach,
which had barely calmed, twisted again. It felt as if his entire body was
screaming that Dalai Lama’s words were not wrong.
“Anguish….”
“Continued.”
The Heavenly
Demon.
He is coming
back.
In that moment,
the scene unfolded in Cheong Myeong’s vision. The peak of the Hundred-Thousand
Great Mountains. That horrific scene.
‘Again…..’
The past he
wanted to forget but could never erase.
The future he
wanted to avoid but could never escape.
‘Again!’
It was the finale
[종막(終幕)] that he absolutely had to overcome, yet he
still lacked the confidence to face this impending catastrophe [파국(破局)].
Destruction was
approaching. But Cheong Myeong couldn’t even control his own body.
If Cheong Myeong
was plagued by anguish known as the Heavenly Demon, and if he had to stop the
looming destruction….. Then there was only one place to start, by casting off the
anguish that was called the Heavenly Demon.
“….How do I
overcome this anguish?”
“Suffering and
anguish are one’s own. Escaping it is also the task of the living. That is why
the path to enlightenment is lonely and solitary. In the end, the self and the
other can never be the same, and you can’t seek that path from anyone else.”
“.….”
“Others are
merely observers. True suffering cannot be shared. Enlightenment is saving
oneself. Do not forget this.”
“…. It cannot be
shared.”
“That’s right.
However....”
The Dalai Lama
pulled a white cloth from his sleeve and offered it.
Cheong Myeong
stared blankly at what the Dalai Lama handed him. It was just a plain white
cloth, with nothing inscribed on it.
“Simply observing
is not all we can do.”
A small smile bloomed
on the Dalai Lama’s lips.
Watching that
smile, Cheong Myeong let out a short breath. He took the cloth and wiped his
mouth. The white fabric quickly became stained with black blood and a foul
stench.
“It’s stained.
Should I wrap it for you?”
“No need. It’s
just a stain, after all.”
“…..”
“Even if it’s
stained, torn, or frayed, a cloth is still a cloth. Its essence does not
change. So what does a mere stain matter?”
It throbbed. He
didn’t know what was aching, but Cheong Myeong took a deep breath.
‘I think I
understand now.’
Inoe (Outsider/Inhuman) [인외(人外)]. The beings that are beyond human.
Those that the
world calls Buddhas, immortals, or even demons. They take on human form, but
can’t be called human. That is why they are revered, considered sacred, and
also feared and inspire awe.
They don’t give
the answers humans desire. But Cheong Myeong knew it wasn’t their intent to
withhold them.
A being that is
not human can’t speak like a human being. No matter how hard you try to turn
mismatched gears, they will never fit together perfectly.
What humans can
hear is merely the brief truth that emerges from the countless misaligned gears
turning together for a fleeting moment.
This lies in the
realm of ‘laws’ beyond intention and effort.
Cheong Myeong
understood this not with his mind, but with his senses. He quietly observed the
Dalai Lama.
Why had the Dalai
Lama come all the way here, enduring a journey that was almost like asceticism?
It must have been to deliver a message to Cheong Myeong.
But delivering
that message wasn’t something that could be done solely by the Dalai Lama’s
will. The key must lie in....
“Answer me.”
“......”
“The Heavenly
Demon.... is it true that demon has returned?”
“It is true. And
it was heard.”
Cheong Myeong’s
eyes narrowed.
“Then let me
change the question. Is he breathing in this land right now?”
This time, the Dalai
Lama nodded without hesitation.
“Since when?”
“Five months and
ten days ago.”
“......”
“Perhaps three
years and four months ago. Or maybe twenty-three years and two months ago.”
“......”
“Or even longer
ago. Eighty-seven years. Or further, countless...”
“Enough.”
Cheong Myeong
irritably waved his hand, his breath escaping.
He couldn’t quite
understand, and yet, at the same time, he could.
Cheong Myeong
didn’t press any further. In fact, he couldn’t. The worry boiling inside his
chest swallowed everything like a storm.
“Why.”
“......”
“Why does he keep
coming back? Why!”
“......”
“So many
sacrifices were made to kill that bastard! So many people died! And yet, why is
he calmly returning again? Is this the way this cursed world works? Answer me!”
Cheong Myeong’s
voice, filled with desperate fury, echoed like he was about to spit blood.
The Dalai Lama
closed his eyes. In that small movement, Cheong Myeong felt indescribable pain.
And sadness too. It was as if the Dalai Lama had been asked to explain something
inexplicable.
Cheong Myeong’s eyes
burned with a fierce rage.
“No. No! Rules,
methods—I don’t care about any of that.”
Cheong Myeong
found it. In this blocked-up sea, he discovered the one value he could hold on
to.
“What should I
do?”
“......”
“Answer me. You
know. So tell me.”
Cheong Myeong bit
down hard on his lower lip. His lips, already torn, split further and bled, but
he didn’t feel a thing.
This question was
the most important, and the answer that would soon come was even more crucial.
Perhaps Cheong
Myeong’s second life had been entirely for this moment.
“How do I kill
him completely?”
“......”
“So that he never
resurrects again. Forever! Really forever!”
His emotions
poured out like a waterfall and surged like a raging current. The pure hatred
that was so intense was completely revealed.
Watching him, Dalai
Lama’s eyelashes quivered.
Cheong Myeong,
waiting for an answer, was endlessly wavering as well.
The light named
Cheong Myeong, floating alone on the sea called the world, drifted without
knowing its path. Truly lonely and pitiful.
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