Chapter 232

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

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

Where are we going, anyway?

It was only natural to wonder when he ignored the well-maintained road and deliberately chose paths that looked as though no one had ever traveled them.

After walking for some time, Hong Dao finally stopped.

“Some 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 blankly at the “precious place” before speaking.

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

“Hm? Why?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know? 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 and the Murim’s Dharma King.

“Tell me honestly. 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?”

“Have you ever seen anyone so narrow-minded? They can depose an emperor through rebellion, so why couldn’t they do the same to an Abbot of Shaolin?”

“…”

When he put it that way, I didn’t have much to say.

Besides, I used to beat monsters for a living in the modern world. With demon kings and Gates running around in this world, it wasn’t impossible for the Abbot of Shaolin to be a temporary employee.

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

“Wherever I am becomes the Abbot’s quarters. Our Shaolin doesn’t bother with that sort of formalities. Isn’t that right, Disciple?”

Unnamed answered,

“He is currently staying here despite the repeated pleas of the Discipline Hall.”

“…”

Just like his friend, this old man was no pushover.

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 about it? They were the ones who gave the position of Abbot to someone who said he didn’t want it in the first place.”

The staff was ridiculously short. Its surface was so smooth, as though it had been coated in oil from the countless hands that had touched it, and a faint green light shimmered across it.

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

In some ways, it resembled the staffs used by mages.

But there was something different about Hong Dao’s green staff. In addition to 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 Shaolin sacred treasure of such immense authority to a dirty monk like this. They must all have gone blind.”

Jeok Cheongang clicked his tongue.

“Shaolin is really going downhill.”

“It’s still much better than the Fire Gate Clan, which has only one Disciple to its name.”

“What did you say?”

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

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

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

“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.

“It seems both of them are happy to meet an old friend after such a long time.”

“…I can’t really figure out how they became friends.”

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

Even if their personalities were a decent match, they didn’t seem like the sort of pair who would become friends. Besides, wasn’t Jeok Cheongang a man who had committed countless acts of killing, something forbidden by Buddhism?

Unnamed seemed to ponder my dubious remark. Then he suddenly smacked his gleaming forehead.

“Ah, I remember now.”

“You startled me. I thought you were about to use Solar Fist… What do you remember?”

“What brought the two of them together. During the Great Faction War, my master was secretly eating meat and drinking alcohol. After Benefactor Jeok caught him, they became drinking buddies.”

“What?”

For a moment, I wondered if I had heard wrong.

“He was eating meat and drinking alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t he the Abbot of Shaolin even 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. The Buddhist faith forbids killing. Livestock are no exception.”

“…?”

“…?”

Where had things gone wrong, and how?

I stared blankly at Unnamed for a while, unable to continue the conversation.

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

This bastard eats meat too.

Just look at those muscles. That was not a physique he could have built on temple vegetable bibimbap alone.

He might have been able to develop them by roasting an entire pig whenever he felt bored and eating it with bibimbap—but even then, it would have to be beef-tartare bibimbap.

It wasn’t Shaolin Temple. It was the Temple of Meat and Wine.

Someone once said that nothing in the Murim could be predicted even an inch ahead. They had been absolutely right.

I shook my head and followed the two of them into the Buddha hall.

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

The floor was spotless, and statues of the Buddha, both large and small, stood throughout the hall.

Unnamed left for a moment, while Jeok Cheongang, Hong Dao, and I sat facing one another and emptied our teacups. The drink had been brewed from some kind of unknown herb. It was astringent and bitter.

“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 was getting on in years, so I decided it was time to give up ‘grain tea’ too. 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 that, so I merely tilted my teacup. Jeok Cheongang, however, dropped his jaw.

“Are you sick? Have you caught some terminal disease?”

“A terminal disease… It could be, or it might not be. I don’t know either.”

His answer was calm, but for some reason Jeok Cheongang’s face hardened.

“Does that mean…?”

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Hong Dao lightly waved his hand to cut him off, then turned to stare intently at me.

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

The Master of Morning Star.

It was a term I had first heard from Unnamed only half a day earlier.

It seemed that rumors about a Morning Star appearing in the Murim had been passed around by gossip-loving busybodies.

The rumor has already spread this far?

The title Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi was rising in popularity by the day, but I hadn’t expected even the Abbot of Shaolin to know about it.

Having suddenly become world-class, I gave an awkward smile.

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

“You are more obtuse than you look.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I not say that you were 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?”

“You got it right.”

Hong Dao nodded and continued in a calm voice.

“I have observed the heavens for a very long time. Perhaps it was not an entirely futile pursuit, because I have 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 at his master’s command, and the moment he saw me, he had called me the Master of Morning Star.

And what had Jeok Cheongang said? Ah, yes.

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

That meant he had guided us by reading the heavenly patterns, not by obtaining information through other people.

If that’s true, he’s definitely more than some fake fortune-teller.

No, he could even be called a prophet without exaggeration.

I sensed something unusual from Hong Dao and swallowed hard.

“So?”

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

Hong Dao pointed toward the door of the Buddha hall. He was indicating the distant north, beyond where Shanxi Province lay.

“One day, a new Morning Star rose in the north. And that Morning Star has yet to lose its light. No, its brilliance has only grown stronger 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?

Interpreting Hong Dao’s words, it was clearly a good thing.

But 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 began to pound. Only one thought spun around in my head.

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 an idea.”

“N-no, no, not at all.”

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

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

“I-it really isn’t.”

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

“W-why are you doing this?”

Damn it. My tongue kept getting twisted.

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 now.”

“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-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 took in recently?”

Jeok Cheongang flinched and hurriedly coughed.

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

“Is that so?”

“Of course it is!”

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

“Well, listen to the way this dirty monk talks.”

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

“Ugh, bitter. You should drink yours as well.”

“Drink this crap? Why would I eat something so bitter?”

“We need to empty the cups before we can pour the liquor.”

“What?”

“I have something prepared for a day like today.”

Hong Dao rose from his seat with a sly smile that was unbefitting of a monk and approached the Buddha statues standing in a row.

He lifted and moved the largest statue with ease, fiddled with something behind it, and soon pulled out a small earthenware jar.

“Snake liquor aged for thirty full 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.

Jeok Cheongang hurriedly opened the tightly sealed jar. Sure enough, the snake inside was larger than a python, and a horn protruded from its triangular head.

On top of that, a poisonous aura strong enough to make the tip of Jeok Cheongang’s nose tingle poured from the jar. He clicked his tongue.

“Isn’t that a venomous creature with an incredibly deadly poison? Where did you catch it?”

Hong Dao gazed at the distant mountains.

“While I was out for a walk.”

“…You must have searched the entire mountain with the intention of making snake liquor in the first place. There’s a limit to how much of a dirty monk you can be. Now you’re killing things just so you can drink?”

“If you don’t like it, forget it. I’ll drink it alone.”

“Hmph.”

Jeok Cheongang glared pointedly at Hong Dao and muttered,

“But this thing’s poison 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 sealed away for thirty years. At this point, it isn’t liquor anymore. 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’s madness. We must not drink it.”

Their gazes collided in midair. Then they spoke almost simultaneously.

“Then we have to drink it.”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“Surely it won’t kill us.”

“Drink it. No matter what. I read the heavenly patterns, and today is not the day we die.”

Both men were over a hundred years old, but they were still unable to escape the simplicity and recklessness carved into the bones of every man.

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

Half a shichen¹ later, early darkness settled over the mountain, and the jar was empty.

“Whew. The venom tingles on the tip of my tongue, and the flavor is incredible. The Scorching Yang Qi keeps it from getting close to me.”

Jeok Cheongang licked the very last drop from the jar.

Hong Dao stared at him with a frown.

Though they were both members of the Ten Kings, there was naturally a slight difference in their skill.

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.

“Old man with nothing but strength. You certainly have a long life.”

“Did you hope I would die?”

“At the very least, I expected you to clutch your stomach and roll around.”

Jeok Cheongang, pleasantly drunk, 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 quietly, then tossed out a single sentence.

“That was a lie.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

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

“W-wait. Are you saying you can’t read the heavenly patterns anymore?”

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

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

“At first, I thought so as well. 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 means it isn’t because this old man’s mind has grown dull.”

Hong Dao sighed and raised his head.

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

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

“…!”

“A Morning Star appeared amid all of that. Even in those disordered heavens, I could see its light clearly.”

Jeok Cheongang’s eyelids trembled.

“And?”

Hong Dao thought for a long moment, then shook his head.

“This is as much as I can say. Though the heavenly patterns are confused, they still retain their form, and the great trees rooted throughout the land will not be easily shaken. However…”

An unknowable light entered Hong Dao’s eyes.

The words that followed held the wisdom of a sage, something only someone who was both the current Abbot of Shaolin—the sect hailed as the Murim’s greatest pillar for a thousand years—and deeply versed in the study of the heavens could display.

“An unknowable calamity is approaching. Dark clouds gathering from somewhere will cover the sun and blanket the stars.”

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

Jeok Cheongang imagined the scene and let one word escape like a groan.

“Dark Heaven?”

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

Jeok Cheongang hurriedly cut him off.

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

“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 those men were so complex that even I could not easily break them, and the effects of that Temporary Strength Pill were bizarrely powerful.”

“What a thing to happen.”

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

“Ha…”

After the story ended, Hong Dao let out a low groan and fell into deep thought.

A long time passed before he finally opened his mouth.

“Leave immediately.”

“…!”

“It seems that the time has come for each of us to do what we must. I will prepare for the calamity with all my strength, 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 that protecting it was not the end of his task. He had to guard that light while making it shine even more brightly.

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

“I’ll be going.”

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

Their farewell was long, but their meeting had been 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 Mount Song and Shaoshi Peak.

Their journey continued until the sun rose and set again.