Chapter 1780
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Today (25.10.2024) marks a year of my journey posting the translation of Return of Hwasan (Mount Hua)! A present for everyone coming this weekend! Thank you all so much for the support and for the comments and the kind words. I will continue to do my best translating this novel.
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Then, let’s check this out. (5)
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His mind went blank. It even felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck inside his head.
He had lived a long life and experienced more than anyone else. Such a great shock was rare for someone like Chung Myung.
His pupils trembled like a small boat meeting a rough storm.
‘What did he just say…?’
’And those who do not’. What does this phrase mean?
With wavering eyes, he looked at Dalai Lama. The rosy-cheeked youth was steadily gazing at Chung Myung without a hint of hesitation.
Chung Myung was utterly confused by everything.
Does he understand the meaning of the words he just spoke? Is he the only one shaken by the words he uttered so thoughtlessly? If he does know, how on earth could he know?
It felt as if everything in the world was becoming blurred.
The boundaries he had built up were blurring, and the walls he had painstakingly erected were collapsing. The distance that had felt so vast suddenly narrowed, suffocatingly close, only to widened again and again, and so on…
Within it, just, once again, he…
“Om Mani Padme Hum.”
In that moment, a clear and refreshing mantra pierced Chung Myung’s ears.
At the same time, everything that had been blurring became clear. It felt like he had returned to reality. He could fully feel the dryness of his chapped lips and his parched, constricted throat.
Chung Myung instinctively wiped his face. The cold sweat that had trickled down had soaked his hands.
“You…”
“That too is no different. We just continue to live.”
Chung Myung firmly shut his mouth. He did not sneer. He could no longer casually dismiss Dalai Lama’s words.
What should he ask?
There were so many things he wanted to ask. Just with the thoughts that came to mind right away, he could build a towering mountain.
But Chung Myung knew he had to put all of that aside. He also knew what the most appropriate question to ask now was.
“What is it that you want to say to me?”
Perhaps it was because he sensed that no matter what he asked now, he wouldn’t receive a proper answer.
Chung Myung had already experienced it before – what kind of beings are the transcendent ones. Seeking answers from them is no different than throwing stones into the sea.
Nothing would return unless they willingly offered it themselves.
And at this moment, Chung Myung realized one more thing.
Even the things they chose to offer were not so easily obtained.
“What did you see in me, Siju?”
Chung Myunf’s lips twisted slightly in displeasure.
“I asked first.”
“That is not important.”
“It’s a matter of basic courtesy.”
“The proprieties of human affairs are significant, yet also insignificant.”
Chung Myung bit his lip and then let out a sigh.
It was meaningless to argue over such matters with this person. Hesitating, he parted his lips.
“…Something I’ve seen before.”
“What is it?”
Dalai Lama asked again, but Chung Myung hesitated to answer.
Because he himself couldn’t understand. Why did he feel that this rosy-cheeked young man before him was connected to ‘that’? It was utterly impossible to explain with logic or reason.
But Chung Myung’s senses were clearly telling him so.
This small being before his eyes… Someone so insignificant that he could snap his neck with just a reach of his hand, yet he resembled the most powerful existence he knew.
But an existence so ominous and dreadful that even its mention felt like a bad omen.
“…..The Heavenly Demon [천마(天魔) – cheonma].”
At the words Chung Myung managed to utter with difficulty, Dalai Lama gazed at him silently. From his clear eyes, no emotion could be read.
“I don’t even know the reason. Just…”
“It is not appropriate to call him that.”
Chung Myung’s eyes widened greatly. However, Dalai Lama continued speaking calmly, as if he hadn’t noticed his reaction.
“The Demon Child of Heaven [천자마(天子魔) – Cheonja-ma – explanation in the notes at the end]. Indeed, he is a being worthy of bearing that name. By merely existing, he is ‘the one that prevents liberation’ [불령해탈(不令解脫) – bullyeonghaetal – the state of non-liberation]. However, even if the result is so, we cannot say that his desire reaches ‘bullyeonghaetal’.”
What on earth is he talking about? Even Chung Myung couldn’t understand his words.
“Therefore, it doesn’t fit, but because of that, it fits even more.”
“What are you saying…”
“They are meaningless words, unless it is you, Siju.”
“Speak in a way I can understand. Stop muttering in those Zen riddles.”
At that, Dalai Lama slightly raised his head. His calm gaze fixed on Chung Myung. As if observing, as if meditating, as if seeing through.
The weight of that gaze seemed to press down on Chung Myung’s heart. Just as he couldn’t bear it and was about to say something, Dalai Lama’s mouth slowly opened.
“You already know, don’t you?”
“…”
“That he has already set foot in the Impure Land [예토(穢土) – yeto].”
Chung Myung’s breath caught in his throat.
The Pure Land [정토(淨土) – jeongto] refers to the world where Buddha resides.
But the Impure Land is the world filled with suffering – in other words, this world where humans live.
“You…”
“Your body already knows, does it not, Siju?”
Chung Myung bit his lips hard. Suddenly, something hot surged up from his stomach. He hastily covered his mouth.
“Ugh!”
A black clump of foul-smelling blood rushed up his throat. No matter how much he tried to swallow it back down, he couldn’t. It was a reality he couldn’t avoid, no matter how much he tried to turn a blind eye on it.
Black blood seeped through the fingers covering his mouth.
“Cough!”
As Chung Myung coughed violently, Panchen Lama, who had been listening to their conversation, jumped up in surprise.
“Dojang!”
As Panchen Lama was about to rush over, Dalai Lama, without any particular expression, raised his hand slightly, stopping him.
“Master?”
Then, without a word, he extended his hand towards Chung Myung. His hand emitted a soft golden glow.
Dalai Lama’s hand didn’t even touch Chung Myung’s body.
Even so, Chung Myung felt the raging evil demons [악귀 – akgwi] inside him calming down. The pain that had been gnawing at his body gradually faded away.
Chung Myung looked at Dalai Lama with astonished eyes.
“What… what did you do?”
He still couldn’t sense any trace of martial arts from Dalai Lama. Even if Dalai Lama were a master beyond imagination, he wouldn’t be able to completely deceive Chung Myung’s eyes.
Then what is this sensation that Chung Myung is feeling? How could someone without martial arts suppress the demonic influence [입마(入魔)*]?
Even though Chung Myung didn’t ask, Dalai Lama lightly shook his head as if he knew everything.
“It is not martial arts [무학 – muhak].”
“…”
“Pain that originates from the desires of the mortals** naturally disappears when those delusions subside. I merely pushed away those delusions for a moment. However, if you cannot overcome them, those shackles will soon return.”
“….Delusions? You’re saying I have those delusions?”
Chung Myung furrowed his brows and asked.
Of course, many things were weighing on him.
But the words of Dalai Lama seemed to mean something a little different.
“Human suffering begins with forming connections.”
“…”
“Perhaps your body sensed the flow of that connection first. An encounter you cannot avoid – the future that comes with it.”
Throb.
Chung Myung clutched at his chest. It felt as if his heart was being squeezed.
His insides, which had finally calmed, twisted once more.
It was as if his entire body was shouting that Dalai Lama’s words were not wrong.
“Delusions…”
“Continuation.”
The Heavenly Demon.
He is returning.
In that moment, the scene unfolded before Chung Myung’s eyes. The summit of the Hundred Thousand Mountain [십만대산(十萬大山) – 십만대산]. That horrific sight.
‘Again…’
A past he tried to forget but could not.
A future he tried to avoid but could never escape.
‘Again!’
Though it’s the final act he must overcome, it’s also a catastrophe he still lacks the confidence to surmount.
Destruction is approaching. Yet Chung Myung cannot even control his own body.
If Chung Myung is tormented by the ‘delusion’ called the Heavenly Demon, and must prevent the impending destruction… there is only one beginning: to cast off that ‘delusion’ called the Heavenly Demon.
“..How can I overcome that delusion?”
“Both anguish [고뇌(苦惱)*** – gonoe] and delusion [번뇌 – beonnoe] are your own, and escaping them is also the task of a mortal being. Thus, the path of enlightenment is a lonely and solitary one. In the end, the self [아(我) – a] and others [타(他) – ta] are bound to be different, so you cannot seek that path from anyone else, Siju.”
“…”
“Others are merely observers. True suffering cannot be shared. The path of enlightenment is to save yourself. Do not forget that meaning.”
“…Cannot be shared, you say.”
“Indeed. However…”
Dalai Lama pulled out a white cotton cloth from his sleeve and extended it.
Chung Myung stared blankly at what Dalai Lama has offered. It was just a plain white cotton cloth, with nothing inscribed on it.
“It’s not that all we can do is just watch.”
A small smile appeared on Dalai Lama’s lips.
Seeing that smile, Chung Myung let out a short sigh. He accepted the cloth Dalai Lama has offered and wiped his mouth. The cotton cloth was soon stained black with dark, foul smelling blood.
“It’ll get stained. I’ll repay you.”
“It’s alright. After all, it’s just a stain, isn’t it?”
“…”
“Even if it gets stained, torn, or worn out, a cloth is still a cloth. If its essence doesn’t change, what does that trivial stain matter?”
It stung. Though he didn’t know what was prickling him. Chung Myung took a short deep breath.
‘I think I roughly understand.’
Beyond human. A transcended being.
Those whom the world calls Buddha, Immortal, or even Demon. Beings who have human forms but can never be called human. Therefore, they are revered, considered sacred, and inspire awe.
They do not give the answers that humans want.
But Chung Myung knew that it was not their intention.
A being that is not human cannot speak like a human. No matter how hard you try to turn gears that don’t mesh in the first place, they cannot fit together.
All that humans can hear is a brief moment of truth when countless mismatched gears barely align.
This touches upon the realm of ‘principles’ that transcend will and effort.
Chung Myung also understood this fact not with his mind but with his senses. He quietly observed Dalai Lama.
Why did Dalai Lama come all this way through a journey akin to a penance? Perhaps he absolutely had to convey something to Chung Myung.
However, conveying that wasn’t something Dalai Lama could do solely of his own will. The key to that was probably…
“Answer me.”
“…”
“The Heavenly Demon… Is it true that that fiend has returned?”
“Yes, and also no.”
Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed.
“Then I’ll change the question. Is he breathing in this world right now?”
This time, Dalai Lama nodded without hesitation.
“Since when?”
“Five months and ten days ago.”
“…”
“Perhaps three years and four months ago. Or twenty-three years and two months ago.”
“…”
“Or even longer. Eighty-seven years ago. Even longer, countless times…”
“Enough.”
Chung Myung waved his hand irritably. A stifled breath escaped him.
He couldn’t understand what was being said, yet at the same time, he did.
Chung Myung didn’t bother to press further. In fact, he couldn’t ask any more. The raging turmoil in his heart engulfed everything like a storm.
“Why.”
“…”
“Why does he keep coming back to life! Why!”
“…”
“How many sacrifices were made to kill that damn bastard! How many people have died! Yet why does he so casually come back to life? Is this the way of this cursed world? Answer me!”
Chung Myung’s voice rang out, desperate as if he were about to cough up blood.
Dalai Lama closed his eyes. In this small movement, Chung Myung felt indescribable pain. And sorrow as well. It was as if he was someone being asked to explain something beyond explanation.
Chung Myung’s eyes flashed, burning with rage.
“No. No. I don’t care about principles or methods.”
Chung Myung had found it – the single thing of value he could salvage from this suffocating sea.
“What must I do?”
“…”
“Answer me. You know. So tell me.”
Chung Myung bit his lower lip. His already torn lips split further, blood flowing, but he didn’t feel it at all.
Because this question was the most important, and the answer he would hear now was the most crucial.
Perhaps Chung Myung’s second life existed entirely for this moment.
“How can I completely kill him off?”
“…”
“So that he can never resurrect again. Forever! For eternity!”
Emotions poured out like a waterfall, swirling like a rapid current. An utterly pure hatred was revealed fully.
Watching this, Dalai Lama’s eyelashes trembled slightly.
Chung Myung, awaiting an answer, was also endlessly trembling.
The lone light called Chung Myung drifted aimlessly in the sea called the world, not knowing which way to go. It was truly lonely and pitiful.
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