Chapter 1781 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect
“Answer me. You
know, don’t you?”
He must know. No,
he has to know.
It wasn’t about
being unreasonable or trying to act coercively. The look on Cheong Myeong’s
face was closer to despair or fear.
Heavenly Demon
had returned to life, despite Cheong Myeong being the one who had killed him.
The memory of severing his neck was still vivid at his fingertips.
Heavenly Demon had
crushed even the so-called ‘death’, the one fair end for all, and returned to
the world.
That fact
squeezed Cheong Myeong’s heart. As if it would crush and tear it apart at any
moment.
It wasn’t fear of
facing Heavenly Demon again. It was the terror that, even if he defeated him
again, Heavenly Demon might rise once more, unaffected.
Because what
happens once will inevitably happen again.
And if that was
true… if Heavenly Demon, defeated with such effort, could resurrect again as
though it were nothing, then what would become of the world?
How could a world
without Cheong Myeong bear the weight of Heavenly Demon?
Everything might
collapse. Everything Cheong Myeong tried to protect, achieve, and the legacies secured
with bloodshed. All the disasters he barely managed to fend off might come crashing
down at once.
That couldn’t
happen. It must be stopped. This time, Heavenly Demon’s existence must be
obliterated into complete nothingness
[mu, 무(無)], so that he will never be resurrected
again.
He didn’t know
how to achieve that, but....
Cheong Myeong
stared intently at the young man in front of him. This inhuman [inoe, 인외(人外)] figure still sat with his eyes closed, his
expression unfathomable.
Dalai Lama was
certainly no ordinary being.
According to Potala
Palace, he was a figure who had lived countless lives. Naturally, the breadth
of his knowledge will be different from ordinary people.
So he must know.
About the way to end that cursed being.
Sensing Cheong
Myeong’s gaze, Dalai Lama slowly opened his eyes.
“Siju...”
A flicker of
emotion passed briefly through Dalai Lama’s eyes, and Cheong Myeong recognized
it too well.
It was sadness.
However, even
though he could know, he couldn’t understand. Why did Dalai Lama look at him
with that gaze?
Then, Dalai Lama
slowly shook his head.
“Siju. That is not my role.”
It was indeed a
serious answer. That’s why the sense of rejection hit even harder.
Unconsciously, Cheong
Myeong let out a faint laugh. Maybe because he had already grown attached to
it—the words Dalai Lama would say, and the answer he would hear.
“It’s not your
role, you say?”
“Siju...”
“I understand.
Not that you don’t know, but that it isn’t your place.”
“.....”
“Is that your
answer?”
Cheong Myeong’s
voice had sunk to a low, calm tone, without a trace of hostility or coldness.
Yet just hearing
it made Panchen Lama, standing nearby, shudder and look at Cheong Myeong. Then
came a wave of deep confusion. Only now did Panchen Lama realize it was the
weight of Cheong Myeong’s voice that had instinctively drawn his attention.
‘Me...?’
This should have
been impossible.
Panchen Lama was Dalai
Lama’s closest aide. In all the world, what carried more weight than Dalai Lama’s
words?
Someone who lives
by the sea doesn’t marvel at a lake. No matter how vast a lake might be, it
cannot startle one who knows the sea.
By the same
logic, there was no reason for Panchen Lama to feel crushed by the weight of
anyone else’s voice.
Yet just moments
ago, Panchen Lama had distinctly felt that weight. What on earth did that mean?
Cheong Myeong
didn’t give Panchen Lama time to continue his train of thought.
“Of course. Naturally,
it’s just as you say.”
Dalai Lama’s
eyelashes quivered faintly at the sound of Cheong Myeong’s voice. He continued
speaking.
“There has always
been a question I couldn’t resolve.”
Even after
devoting himself to the Tao, and living as a Taoist for two lifetimes, he had
yet to find an answer.
Cheong Myeong’s
gaze was as sharp as if it could pierce through Dalai Lama.
“Whether it’s Taoism
or Buddhism, it is the same. They tell you to cultivate to become an Immortal
(sage) or a Buddha. To transcend the limitations of mere mortals who bleed when
they are wounded and return to the earth when they die.”
“Siju….”
“The Taoist says.
Through The Way of the Immortal [seondo, 선도(仙道)], you can escape the secular world and reach
the highest level of enlightenment. The Buddhist monk says. Through meditation
and asceticism, you can reach liberation. Then, you can become an Immortal and
a Buddha, and you can finally open up new horizons by escaping the secular
world full of filth.”
Cheong Myeong’s
lips curled into a cold, twisted smile.
“But what meaning
is there in that?”
“…..”
“The lives of
countless people are being trampled.”
His heart
trembled.
“While futures
that should have continued are severed.”
The pain cut
deeply.
“While those who
were forced to sacrifice in the name of ‘good’
[seon, 선(善]died innocently.”
The memories of
that day resurfaced before his eyes.
“Where were the
Immortals and Buddhas then?”
“.....”
“You just stand
there watching, like a human gazing amusedly at an anthill filling with water.”
“Siju...”
“You said that just
moments ago. The
path to enlightenment is lonely and solitary, that the self and others must
inevitably differ. Being in agony and escaping from it are just the things of
sentient beings who have not realized it.”
Dalai Lama’s face
grew serious.
“Then, answer me.”
“Siju...”
“What meaning is
there in your Way?”
“Siju!”
It was Panchen
Lama who burst out with a shout, unable to bear it any longer. But Cheong
Myeong didn’t even glance at him.
“You discover
enlightenment alone, see a magnificent world alone, and remain great alone! So
what meaning does that precious enlightenment of yours hold?”
“Siju, the noble purpose of Buddha is...”
“Shut your mouth.
I’m not asking you.”
Cheong Myeong cut
off Panchen Lama’s words sharply.
“Answer me.”
“.....”
“Spare me the
lofty riddles and answer. What makes you any different? Between those who
trample people like insects and those who watch it happen, what difference is
there? If it’s your lofty law to ignore the suffering of those who cannot
achieve enlightenment, why should we call you great?”
No one needs such
Immortals. No one needs such Buddhas.
Rather, he would
scorn, revile, and mock them. For if the powerlessness of the weak is sad, the
indifference of the strong is cowardly.
Perhaps it was
the sheer weight of Cheong Myeong’s gaze, or maybe Dalai Lama had his own words
to say. After a long silence, Dalai Lama finally spoke.
“I am…. no different...”
A short sigh
escaped, a sound unfitting of someone called a living Buddha.
But soon the
expression on Dalai Lama’s face vanished, as though affirming that he was
indeed a being beyond the realm of humans.
“Even if we look
upon the same things, each person understands them differently. If that is how
you feel, then you are not wrong. I may not be different from ‘that’ either.”
A faint sound of
resignation escaped Cheong Myeong’s lips.
In the past,
people had feared Heavenly Demon and shuddered in terror, but they didn’t seem
to hate him. The only one who truly hated Heavenly Demon with every fiber was Cheong
Myeong himself.
Cheong Myeong
found it strange that others didn’t share his hatred, but they, in turn,
regarded him as strange. Back then, he couldn’t understand where the difference
stemmed from.
Now he thought he
finally understood why Heavenly Demon’s existence mattered so little to
everyone else.
People don’t
resent mountains or hate the sea.
Vast, indifferent,
and beyond human control. No matter how one screams or rages, nothing comes
back. Now, Cheong Myeong finally understood the despair that a fragile human
feels standing before it.
Dalai Lama stared
directly at Cheong Myeong.
“Just know that
my answer is not a mere excuse. I meant it as I said it. That is not my role.”
Cheong Myeong’s
eyebrow twitched faintly.
He didn’t ask
further because he already knew the answer—whose role it was.
Even if Dalai
Lama’s intention differed, Cheong Myeong had no intention of entrusting that
role to anyone else.
“Then…”
Cheong Myeong
spat, laced with contempt.
“Why did you even
come here?”
“I already told
you, I came to talk about your regret.”
“Regret?”
Cheong Myeong
scoffed bitterly.
“Why? Do you plan
on consoling me since I’m feeling regret?”
“No.”
Dalai Lama slowly
shook his head. Cheong Myeong clenched his jaw as if he had no need to hear
another word.
“Leave.”
“……”
“Even if I drown
in my own regret, I have nothing to discuss with you about it.”
Dalai Lama’s eyelids
trembled ever so slightly.
“I am human. An
ordinary human, one you look down on.”
“….Siju.”
“And as a human
being, I’m not interested in scraps thrown out of pity by a so-called great
figure like you. So leave. I don’t need your help.”
A small,
melancholic shadow crossed Dalai Lama’s eyes again.
In that instant,
a memory came to Cheong Myeong’s mind, stopping him in his tracks.
That look—it was
the same as when he had met Dalai Lama in the past.
At that time, Dalai
Lama was far less human-like than now, muttering words he could hardly
understand.
Three Innumerable Kalpas. [Samaseungjigeop,
삼아승지겁(三阿僧祗劫)]
He wonder why
those incomprehensible words, which he will never be able to hear a detailed
answer to, came to his mind now of all times.
“You
misunderstand, Siju.”
“Misunderstand?
Ah, are you asking me to acknowledge your supposed compassion for humanity?”
Cheong Myeong
sneered, but Dalai Lama calmly shook his head.
“The regret I’m
talking about isn’t the one you’re carrying in your heart right now.”
“…. What?”
“It is the regret
you have yet to face.” [tl note: this chapter title]
Cheong Myeong
closed his mouth. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
“Regret? I’ve had
enough of it. Even if I suddenly find something new to regret…”
“Samsara is
filled with suffering. And in its depths, that suffering is named regret.
Sometimes, regret taints this world with a pain worse than the pits of hell
itself.”
Cheong Myeong
looked directly into Dalai Lama’s eyes.
“So?”
“If things
continue as they are… you will experience a living hell, Siju.”
Dalai Lama seemed
incredibly serious. Cheong Myeong gave a wry smile in response.
This is why he
couldn’t talk with those who think so highly of themselves.
A living hell? He
had already endured it more times than he could count. Perhaps he was in one
even now.
“If you’re done
talking, leave.”
“Siju.”
Dalai Lama spoke
again. Unlike so far, it was a voice that felt desperate.
“Don’t dismiss my
words lightly. Many are entangled with you, and the regret you will experience
going forward will be unlike any you’ve ever known. Your soul will shatter,
plunging into an endless darkness…. an agony beyond enduring.”
“……”
“That’s why I
came here—to prevent it.”
Cheong Myeong’s
eyes, once firm, were now shrouded in darkness.
It was
meaningless, not worth listening to. And yet…
“You think it can
be prevented?”
“Yes, if you are
willing to make a choice.”
For a long time,
the two stared at each other, the tension thick as smoke, intense enough to
burn at a touch. Finally, Cheong Myeong spoke.
“Go on, then.”
“……”
“I’ll at least
hear you out.”
Dalai Lama let
out a short sigh before speaking. He had come here solely to deliver these
words.
Even so, he
hesitated, knowing that Cheong Myeong would never accept it and that saying it
might drive Cheong Myeong further into pain.
But he had to
speak. Even the slightest chance of saving him could not be wasted. This would be
the salvation of this world.
“Think of the
name you hate the most, siju... the
name that is most hated in the world.”
As soon as Dalai
Lama finished speaking, a face flashed in Cheong Myeong’s mind.
Cheong Myeong,
caught off guard by this memory, murmured to himself.
That face wasn’t
the Heavenly Demon’s.
Was it because of
his conversation with Dalai Lama? Or, like everyone else, could he not fully
see the Heavenly Demon as a true object of importance? Or perhaps…
No, that didn’t
matter now.
“So, what of it?”
“That person…”
Dalai Lama’s lips
trembled slightly, his hesitation plain.
After a great
deal of effort, the words he had come to convey finally spilled out.
“The person you’re
thinking of right now... must not be killed.”
In that moment, a
chill colder than the glaciers of Northern Sea formed in Cheong Myeong’s eyes.
Thank you for the chapter
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