Chapter 232

Unlike the short Jeok Cheongang, Dharma King Hong Dao was a remarkably tall old man.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his steps were full of vigor as he climbed the mountain path.

Where are we going, anyway?

It was only natural to wonder. He had abandoned the well-maintained road and was deliberately taking paths hardly anyone ever used.

After walking for some time, Hong Dao finally stopped.

“Humble guests have come to this precious place. I know it may be a burden, but don’t stand on ceremony. Come in.”

Jeok Cheongang stared at the so-called precious place before speaking.

“Did you get kicked out of Shaolin Temple or something?”

“Hm? Why?”

“You really have to ask? What happened to your residence?”

Just as Jeok Cheongang had said, the place was surrounded by thick weeds and trees. It looked far too shabby to be the residence of the Abbot of Shaolin Temple, the Mount Tai and Northern Dipper of the Murim.¹

“Be honest. You got fired as Abbot of Shaolin, didn’t you?”

Seriously, what was he, a convenience-store part-timer?

Dumbfounded by Jeok Cheongang’s words, I asked, “Can an Abbot even be fired?”

“What a narrow-minded fool. Rebels can depose an emperor, so why couldn’t they do the same to an Abbot of Shaolin?”

“…”

When he put it that way, I had nothing to say.

Besides, I used to beat monsters for a living in the modern world. In a world with Demon Kings and Gates, I supposed even the Abbot of Shaolin could be a temporary employee.

Hong Dao, who had been listening to our exchange, chuckled.

“Wherever I am becomes the Abbot’s quarters. We don’t bother with such formalities at Shaolin. Isn’t that right, Disciple?”

Unnamed answered, “He is currently staying here despite the Discipline Hall’s pleas for him to return.”

“…”

Like friend, like friend. This old man was no pushover either.

Hong Dao, however, only laughed heartily as he pulled out some kind of staff from inside his robes and waved it around.

“What can they do? They’re the ones who forced the position of Abbot on someone who said he didn’t want it.”

It was a ridiculously short staff. Its surface, polished by countless hands, gleamed as though it had been oiled, and a faint green light shimmered across it.

And there’s some strange-looking stone set into it.

Its shape somewhat resembled the staffs used by mages.

But there was something different about Hong Dao’s green staff. Beyond the marks left by time, it possessed a unique energy all its own.

What is that?

My question was answered the next moment.

“The Green Jade Buddha Staff. To think they entrusted a thousand-year-old sacred treasure of Shaolin, one bearing such immense authority, to a dirty monk like this. They must all be blind.”

Jeok Cheongang clicked his tongue.

“Shaolin is really going downhill.”

“It’s still doing much better than the Fire Gate Clan, which has all of one Disciple.”

“What did you say?”

“Your fiery temper hasn’t changed. I hope you’re reborn as a good and calm person in your next life.”

“My next life? Why are you killing me off when I’m still perfectly healthy?”

“Oh, my. A corpse is talking. Amitabha.²”

“Hong Dao, you dirty monk!”

I watched the two of them bicker as they entered the Buddha hall, then turned around.

Unnamed was looking at me with a faint smile.

“They both seem pleased to see an old friend after so long.”

“…I can’t imagine how they ever became friends.”

The eccentric Abbot of Shaolin and the foul-tempered Sect Leader of the Fire Gate Clan.

Their personalities might be a decent match, but they still didn’t seem like the sort of pair who would become friends. Besides, hadn’t Jeok Cheongang killed countless people, despite Buddhism’s prohibition against taking life?

Unnamed thought over my dubious remark, then suddenly smacked his gleaming forehead.

“Ah, I remember now.”

“You startled me. I thought you were about to use Solar Fist… But what did you remember?”

“How they became friends. During the Great Faction War, my master was secretly drinking and eating meat. Benefactor Jeok caught him, and they became drinking buddies afterward.”

“What?”

For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard him.

“He was drinking and eating meat?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t he already the Abbot of Shaolin back then?”

“That is correct.”

“Oh, so the monks here eat meat. Well, I suppose they need to bulk up while training in martial arts, so that makes sense…”

“That is not the case. Buddhism forbids taking life. Livestock are no exception.”

“…?”

“…?”

Where had this conversation gone wrong?

I stared blankly at Unnamed for a while, unable to say anything more.

Then I looked at the muscles writhing beneath his loose robes and became certain.

This bastard eats meat too.

Just look at those muscles. There was no way he had built a physique like that on temple vegetable bibimbap³ alone.

He would have to roast an entire pig whenever he got bored, and even his bibimbap³ would have to be beef-tartare bibimbap.³

Shaolin Temple? More like the Temple of Wine Pools and Meat Forests.⁴

Whoever said you couldn’t predict even an inch ahead in the Murim had been absolutely right.

Shaking my head, I followed the others into the Buddha hall.

The interior of the Buddha hall was small and old, but it had an elegant, antique charm.

The floor was spotless, and Buddha statues of every size stood throughout the hall.

Unnamed stepped away for a while, leaving Jeok Cheongang, Hong Dao, and me seated across from one another, emptying our teacups. The tea, brewed from some unknown herb, was bitter and astringent.

“This is no way to treat an honored guest. What is this?”

“What do you think? Tea leaves I grew myself.”

“Tea leaves? You?”

“I’m old enough to know better, so I decided it was time to give up ‘grain tea’⁵ as well. That was decades ago.”

“…”

For someone who had supposedly given it up, he seemed to have drunk enough alcohol to last a lifetime.

I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud and merely tipped my cup back. Jeok Cheongang, on the other hand, gaped at him.

“Are you sick? Do you have some terminal disease?”

“A terminal disease… Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t. I’m not sure myself.”

His answer was calm, but Jeok Cheongang’s face stiffened.

“Does that mean…?”

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Hong Dao lightly waved a hand to cut him off, then turned and stared intently at me.

“Now, then… Are you the Master of Morning Star?”

The Master of Morning Star.

I had first heard the phrase from Unnamed only half a day ago.

I assumed rumors about a Morning Star appearing in the Murim had spread through the usual gossip.

The rumor has already reached this far?

The name Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi was gaining popularity by the day, but I hadn’t expected even the Abbot of Shaolin to recognize me.

Having suddenly gone world-class, I smiled awkwardly.

“That’s too much praise. I’m not quite at that level yet.”

“You’re more obtuse than you look.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I not call you the Master of Morning Star?”

Yes, but what does that mean?

Seeing my bewildered expression, Hong Dao smiled faintly.

“Benefactor, do you know what a Morning Star is?”

“Uh, well… Don’t people usually call those who distinguish themselves Morning Stars?”

“And?”

“…A star?”

“Exactly.”

Hong Dao nodded and continued in a calm voice.

“I have observed the heavens for a very long time. Perhaps the effort was not entirely futile, for I eventually learned to see and read the heavenly patterns to some extent.”

“The heavenly patterns…”

The events of the past half day suddenly flashed through my mind.

Unnamed had come looking for us on his master’s orders, and the moment he saw me, he had called me the Master of Morning Star.

And what had Jeok Cheongang said? Ah, right.

What an uncanny dirty monk. He can still see a thousand ri⁶ without leaving his seat.

He hadn’t guided us here using information gathered from other people. He had read the heavenly patterns.

If that’s true, he’s far beyond some fake fortune-teller.

Calling it prophecy wouldn’t even be an exaggeration.

I sensed something unusual from Hong Dao and swallowed hard.

“So?”

“A Morning Star is like a firework. It shines brightly in the night sky, then fades with time. But this one was different.”

Hong Dao pointed through the open doors of the Buddha hall, toward the distant north where Shanxi Province lay.

“One day, a new Morning Star rose in the north. Its light has yet to fade. No, it grows brighter with each passing day.”

“…”

“People often compare humans to stars. I believe that Morning Star is you.”

Whenever someone is born or dies after accomplishing something great, people rejoice or lament.

A new star has risen. Or a great star has fallen.

But the Morning Star that appeared this time is supposed to be me?

Hong Dao clearly meant it as something good.

Still, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Just as I scratched the back of my head with a perplexed expression, one of Hong Dao’s words pierced my ears.

“That was four months ago.”

“…!”

My entire body tingled as though I had been struck by electricity.

My mouth went dry, and my heart pounded. One thought spun endlessly through my mind.

Four months ago?

If it was then…

That was around the time I had first awakened in the Murim.

Hong Dao smiled warmly at me as I swallowed dryly.

“You seem to have something in mind.”

“N-no. Nothing at all.”

Jeok Cheongang, who had been listening silently, cut in with a disgusted look.

“It’s written all over your face, you idiot.”

“I-it really isn’t.”

“Oh? Shall I rip out that tongue of yours?”

“W-why are you doing this to me?”

Damn it. My tongue wouldn’t stop tripping over itself.

Hong Dao burst into laughter as I slowly edged my bottom away from Jeok Cheongang to avoid his sharp gaze.

“It seems the benefactor is in urgent need of the privy. You may leave.”

“Go on—if you want me to shove you into the latrine.”

I looked back and forth between the two of them, then bolted for the door.

Behind me, I heard Hong Dao’s booming laughter and Jeok Cheongang’s shouts.

“Ha! Ha-ha-ha!”

“What an ill-mannered brat. How dare he run off while his master is speaking…”

Hong Dao looked at the grumbling Jeok Cheongang.

“Is he the Disciple you recently took in?”

Jeok Cheongang flinched and hurriedly cleared his throat.

“Ahem. Kheh-hem! He isn’t my Disciple. He begged and pleaded for me to teach him a thing or two, so I’m merely looking after him for a while. Yes. That’s all.”

“Is that so?”

“I told you it is!”

“If that’s the case, why are you shouting? You’ll anger the Buddhas.”

“Hah. Listen to the way this dirty monk talks.”

Ignoring Jeok Cheongang’s reaction, Hong Dao drained his teacup in one gulp and grimaced.

“Ugh, bitter. Hurry and finish yours.”

“Finish this crap? Why would I drink something so bitter?”

“How can I pour the liquor if your cup isn’t empty?”

“What?”

“I’ve been saving something for a day like this.”

With a sly smile thoroughly unbecoming of a monk, Hong Dao rose and approached the row of Buddha statues.

He effortlessly lifted aside the largest statue, fumbled behind it, and pulled out a small earthenware jar.

“Snake liquor aged for thirty years.”

“Snake liquor?”

“The Thousand-Year Poison Horned Snake. Have you heard of it?”

“The Thousand-Year Poison Horned Snake!”

Jeok Cheongang’s eyes lit up.

He hurriedly opened the tightly sealed jar. Sure enough, the snake inside was larger than a python, with a horn protruding from its triangular head.

A poisonous aura strong enough to make his nose tingle poured from the jar. Jeok Cheongang stared in amazement.

“Isn’t this thing lethally venomous? Where did you catch it?”

Hong Dao gazed off toward the distant mountains.

“While I was out for a walk.”

“…You must have searched the whole mountain with the intention of making snake liquor from the start. There are limits to being a dirty monk. Now you’re killing things just to have a drink?”

“If you don’t want any, never mind. I’ll drink it myself.”

“Now, now.”

Jeok Cheongang gave Hong Dao a pointed glare, then muttered, “Still, this thing’s venom must be no joke…”

“Indeed. A single drop of venom squeezed from a Thousand-Year Poison Horned Snake can kill a hundred cows.”

“It’s been in there for thirty years. At this point, that’s not liquor. It’s poison.”

“We only broke the seal for a moment, and already this much poisonous energy has spread through the air. What more is there to say?”

“Something this strong would kill even a decent master, wouldn’t it?”

“It would be madness to drink it. We absolutely shouldn’t.”

Their gazes met in midair.

Then they spoke almost simultaneously.

“Then we have to drink it.”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“Surely it won’t kill us.”

“Drink. We’re drinking it no matter what. I read the heavenly patterns, and today isn’t the day we die.”

Both men were over a hundred years old, yet neither could escape the simple recklessness etched deep into every man’s bones.

Before long, they were passing the jar back and forth and guzzling the liquor as though possessed.

Half a shichen⁷ later, early darkness had settled over the mountain, and the jar was empty.

“Ooh, that venomous tingle on the tip of the tongue gives it an incredible kick. Thanks to my Scorching Yang Qi, the poison can’t even touch me.”

Jeok Cheongang licked up the very last drop while Hong Dao glared at him.

Though both men numbered among the Ten Kings, a slight difference in skill still existed.

Hong Dao had lost out in the grappling technique they used to wrestle the jar away from each other, so he had not managed to drink even half of what it contained.

“An old brute with nothing but strength. No wonder you’ve lived so long.”

“Were you hoping I’d die?”

“I at least expected you to clutch your stomach and roll around.”

Pleasantly drunk, Jeok Cheongang burst into laughter.

“That’s what the heavenly patterns said, isn’t it? What can you do when Heaven has decided your lifespan?”

“The heavenly patterns…”

Hong Dao murmured the words, then casually added, “That was a lie.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I’ve been slowly going blind for the past thirty years.”

“W-wait. Are you saying you can no longer read the heavenly patterns?”

Hong Dao nodded silently, and Jeok Cheongang’s heart sank.

“How did it happen? Is it because of your age?”

“At first, I thought so too. But I was mistaken. I gave up the liquor I loved so much and secluded myself in the wilderness to calm my mind, yet nothing changed.”

“Then…”

“It isn’t because this old man’s faculties have grown dull.”

Hong Dao sighed and raised his head.

Though the ceiling of the Buddha hall blocked his view, the old monk’s profound gaze seemed to pierce straight through it.

“The heavenly patterns are becoming distorted. Drawing closer, and moving faster.”

“…!”

“Then, amid all that, a Morning Star rose. Even in those chaotic heavens, its light was unmistakably clear.”

Jeok Cheongang’s eyelids trembled.

“And?”

Hong Dao considered the question for a long moment, then shook his head.

“That is all I can say. Though the heavenly patterns are in turmoil, they still retain their form, and the great trees rooted throughout the realm will not be easily shaken. However…”

An inscrutable light entered Hong Dao’s eyes.

The words that followed carried the wisdom of a sage—of the current Abbot of Shaolin, the sect hailed for a thousand years as the Mount Tai and Northern Dipper of the Murim,¹ and of a man deeply versed in the study of the heavens.

“An unknown calamity is approaching. Dark clouds will roll in from somewhere, covering the sun and swallowing the stars.”

A sky steeped in darkness, without a single ray of light.

Imagining it, Jeok Cheongang let one word slip out like a groan.

“Dark Heaven?”

“Dark Heaven. Yes, it will become just as you said—”

Jeok Cheongang hastily cut him off.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I remembered something Jin Wikyung, the Lesser Family Head of the Jin Family of Taiyuan, told me.”

“Jin Wikyung? I don’t know who that is, but are you saying he predicted this situation as well?”

“More accurately, it appeared before them. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Jeok Cheongang gave Hong Dao a detailed account of what had happened seven days and nights earlier, just before he left the Jin Family of Taiyuan.

He told him about the surviving remnants of the Head Elder’s faction, who were still alive despite the restrictions placed on them, and about everything that had happened up to that point. He also told him about the mysterious pill called the Temporary Strength Pill that he had taken from Pung Yang, the Red Wind Band Leader.

Jin Wikyung had passed all those facts to Jeok Cheongang, and Jeok Cheongang now passed them to Hong Dao.

“It was astonishing. The restrictions placed on them were so complex that even I couldn’t easily break them, and the effects of that Temporary Strength Pill were bizarrely powerful.”

“To think such a thing happened…”

“The hidden force that manipulated the Blade of Flowers from the shadows for decades. They are Dark Heaven.”

“Ngh…”

When the story ended, Hong Dao let out a low groan and sank into thought.

A long time passed before he finally spoke.

“Leave immediately.”

“…!”

“It seems the time has come for each of us to do what we must. I will devote all my strength to preparing for this calamity, and you…”

Jeok Cheongang gazed deeply at his old friend and finished the sentence.

“You must stay beside the Morning Star. So it doesn’t fade easily.”

Jeok Cheongang knew his task did not end there. He had to protect that light while helping it shine even brighter.

Having realized their respective duties, neither man hesitated any longer.

“I’ll be going.”

“I won’t see you off. We’ll save the rest of our reunion for another time.”

Their separation had been long, and their reunion short.

Jeok Cheongang smiled at Hong Dao one last time, then strode out of the Buddha hall without hesitation.

Remembering the words he had not managed to finish saying.

It was a short meeting, but I enjoyed it.

Late that night, the young man and the old man left Shaoshi Peak on Mount Song.

They continued walking until the sun rose and set once more.