Book 17 Chapter 8

Three Encounters

— By Yong Cheonmyeong, Witnessing the Wall

These days, the inside of the Cheonmu Academy was abuzz with a strange excitement.

— The Descent of Myths.

The myth of the Three Heavenly Stars, one of the most famous legends in the martial arts world. But as always, myths do not reach out to ordinary people; like aloof, peerless beauties, they always frolic in the clouds. Stories are just stories, and the reality is that encountering them is as difficult as picking stars from the sky. Even with this brief but sad common knowledge, one can easily understand that the gathering of the Three Heavenly Stars in one place is not an everyday sight. So imagine three legends gathered in one place. How grand would that scene be? Moreover, they had been staying in the same place for over two weeks. It was an unprecedented event in the history of the martial arts world for the Three Heavenly Stars to stay in one place for so long, at least in the last hundred years. While individual meetings between them might occur, it was extremely rare for all three to gather in one place. Furthermore, the various sects of the martial arts world watched their every move with keen interest, which often led to considerable inconvenience and annoyance.

The mere fact that they were now gathered in one place, maintaining silence and staying put, would have kept the mouths of storytellers busy for ten years. All sorts of speculations and rumors would surely abound.

After all, most stories spread among people are like that.

Those who do not know the truth, and those who diligently spread and inflate rumors, are not particularly interested in the truth. What they are interested in is fiction that is enjoyable and beneficial to them, not facts. They are completely immersed in the drug of self-satisfaction.

They always have short thoughts and long words.

It was a late night, and a crescent moon, shining like a drawn sword, hung precariously on the western horizon, as if about to fall beyond the black horizon.

Yong Cheonmyeong knelt with the sect's secret treasure, the Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword, placed neatly before his knees, his heart a mixture of reverence and guilt. Inside the room. The night, cloaked in darkness, was silence itself, and only a lamp on the table burned quietly, its red soul flickering here and there. The chaotic dance of shadows flickering on the walls occasionally resembled himself, trapped in torment and unable to escape.

Lately, Yong Cheonmyeong had been tormented by incessant doubts, questioning whether he truly possessed the qualifications to wield such an undeserved treasure as the 'Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword,' or if it had been temporarily entrusted to him by some mistake. This dark flame of doubt had silently smoldered, coiled malevolently in a corner of his mind, showing no sign of leaving.

The Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword!

A symbol of Shaolin's secular authority. A sacred artifact of the Great Shaolin Temple, possessed only by those who knew honor and pride and understood the unwavering faith of the Buddha. Receiving this supreme treasure meant being granted immense authority along with sacred duty. That authority was not to be secularized and was to be immediately recalled to the sect upon the owner's death or if their qualifications were doubted.

One who possessed this must act accordingly. Act justly and rightly, befitting the owner of the Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword.

But what about himself at Mount Hua?

In that inferno of Mount Hua, where the Fire Dragon raged madly and the storm of flames danced in frenzy, scattering black ashes, he was, in a word, pathetic.

Was he not merely a helpless bystander, unable to even dream of breaking free from the situation in his endless powerlessness? There could be no more shameful display of incompetence.

What he encountered at Mount Hua was a turning point that shattered the world he knew. He had to profoundly realize how small, narrow, and parochial his comfortable world had been, and how insignificant Yong Cheonmyeong, who had been puffed up by empty fame, truly was.

Amidst the chaos of flickering flames, what he witnessed was a world of true strength on a different dimension.

The encounter with the Three Heavenly Stars was particularly shocking. For the first time in his life, he felt the fear of death, coupled with endless helplessness and a sense of loss.

They say knowing what you don't know is also knowledge. Confucius himself once said that he knew what he did not know.

As he realized his limitations and ignorance, his dormant eyes miraculously opened. The world changed.

Then another pain came. Once his eyes were opened and his vision changed, it became impossible to return to the cruel ignorance of the past. With no place of rest in oblivion, the only path left for him was forward. But there were still mountains of problems. No matter how much his eyes were opened or how much he realized, if he could not embody it through his actions, it was not true understanding. It was not true enlightenment. Since the dawn of history, how many had chased after their ideals, only to despair and writhe in pain, ultimately perishing due to the discrepancy?

A concrete plan of action, along with the patience and will to execute it, was needed above all else. Otherwise, there was the risk of being swallowed by the vast abyss between reality and ideals.

As he meditated on the 'principle of embodiment and function' as his focal point, the night had already passed with the moon, disappearing beyond the dawn. However, an answer still eluded him.

It had already been three days.

Another sleepless night was passing.

"Hoo… Even if I just suffer in my room, there's no guarantee of a solution. Maybe I should go for a walk?"

It had been three days since he had breathed fresh air.

He needed a change of mood.

By the time he left his room, the sun was already high in the sky, in the afternoon.

The sun, which he saw for the first time in three days, was blindingly brilliant to his eyes, which had been accustomed to darkness. Yong Cheonmyeong unconsciously winced slightly. His stinging eyes felt like nature's rebuke to a foolish man who had turned away from himself.

"I've come out, but where should I go now?"

A bitter, wry smile touched his lips as the thought occurred to him.

"I don't even know where to go for a simple walk… It's like I'm wandering, lost, with no path ahead. What should I do from now on?"

What should I do? How can I pull myself out of this swamp of torment? Before the thick, black mud that had risen to my neck chokes my throat.

"It's easy to make nothing happen. Just stay still. How convenient would that be? Unlike the world of truth [Absolute Realm], nothing that is stopped in the phenomenal world creates anything. If you want to become something, if you want to grasp something, then first move to achieve that something."

The words of his master, spoken quietly while sitting him down as a child, suddenly came to mind. It was a small seed planted in his heart by his respected master. That one seed was now coming to life and about to sprout.

"Maybe I'll just walk?"

Yes. It was as his master had said. It was better to move, even as a last struggle, than to remain still. He decided to walk wherever his feet led him.

Perhaps he was subconsciously expecting new encounters to guide his steps.

Yong Cheonmyeong emptied his mind and entrusted himself to the flow of nature. He was tired and wanted to forget everything. He just wanted to drift along, carried by the wind and the clouds.

Many people passed by him, greeting him. But he was completely unaware of their presence. Therefore, he did not respond to their greetings. No, he could not. To him, their greetings were events that never happened in the first place.

Though he, who was usually neat and sociable, could never have imagined such behavior, he was now doing it. Although some people around him whispered about his uncharacteristic appearance, their gossip did not come close to his ears. He continued to walk and walk.

The first beings to penetrate his neglected awareness were a couple. They walked past him, arm in arm, with confident strides. Not to brag, but he still had no lover.

The other side greeted him first.

"Hello, Brother Yong?"

"Oh my! Hello, Young Master Yong?"

They were people he knew. In fact, they were such a famous couple that perhaps no one at the Cheonmu Academy did not know them. They were Nangong Sang, the Lightning Sword Dragon, and Jin Ling, the Amethyst Peak. Some even called them the 'Strongest Couple of Cheonmu Academy.' Few acknowledged the unknown combination of Biryuyeon and Nayerin as a couple. Most people simply turned away and ignored that matter.

However, Yong Cheonmyeong’s attention was not drawn to them because they were a couple gloating and making him jealous.

'Lightning Sword Dragon Nangong Sang. Third son of the Nangong family, one of the Nine Dragons, and the leader of the Vermilion Bird Squad.'

Information about the person before his eyes quickly flashed through his mind.

He had certainly grown stronger. A bright gleam returned to Yong Cheonmyeong's clouded eyes. His mind fully recognized the presence of Nangong Sang and Jin Ling. These two were talented individuals worthy of being selected among the Nine Dragons and Seven Peaks from the beginning. It was no wonder they were strong. However, they were not as strong as he was. Even among the Nine Dragons and Seven Peaks alone, it was not difficult to find people stronger than these two. But at some point, these two became distinctly different. Not only these two. The Vermilion Bird Squad, always considered the lowest among the Four Divine Squads, was also the same. Should I say they shed a layer, or that they transformed into completely different people? They no longer felt like masters in a greenhouse. That is… it was a sensation that could not be easily explained in words. The difficulty in finding adequate expression was because he had never experienced similar experiences himself.

That's right! He and she had experienced something he had not. He could now be certain of that fact. Only now, when he had fallen into the swamp and was struggling, could he clearly realize it. The vague sensation he had felt towards Nangong Sang and Jin Ling, and the members of the Vermilion Bird Squad, which could not be described in words, was that they had struggled and emerged from swamps of trials and frustrations. At some point, they had begun to exude the aura of seasoned veterans who had navigated the battlefield. They were no longer greenhouse flowers but were like plum blossoms that had endured the spring breeze, summer storms, autumn chills, and winter blizzards, blooming proudly on the cold winter ground.

'How was that possible?'

It would have been difficult to endure trials that would plunge the mind and body into despair in a place where everything was guaranteed… Cheonmu Academy, in a good sense, was a 'Hall of Martial Arts,' but in a bad sense, it was like a greenhouse cultivating masters in an artificially manipulated environment. The walls of the Cheonmu Academy's greenhouse were too thick for the trials of wind and snow to penetrate. That's why everyone had failed to respond appropriately to the sudden real combat situation at the Mount Hua gathering. The flames that burned at Mount Hua sometimes seemed like a stern warning to those who ignored the strictness of reality. He himself was no exception.

He forcibly suppressed the desire to ask Nangong Sang how they had managed to do it. It was likely a secret that could not be easily shared with others, a secret buried deep within his own heart. Also, his pride, which was not entirely dead, prevented him from doing so.

So, Yong Cheonmyeong, trying to soothe his regret, nodded and lightly greeted them, and the man and the two people passed each other. Jin Ling, walking about five steps past him, turned her head slightly and glanced back at Yong Cheonmyeong's receding back before saying,

"Young Master Yong seems to have a lot on his mind lately? He doesn't seem to have been this dispirited before. Something must be troubling him greatly?"

"No one can help someone fight themselves."

Nangong Sang could roughly understand Yong Cheonmyeong's state. He had experienced it before. If he hadn't experienced it, he wouldn't have such certainty. Such things cannot be understood by mere words. It lies in the realm of experience, the realm of 'embodiment and function,' which cannot be known without experiencing it.

"Yes. We've been like that before. All sixteen of us."

They never wanted to experience that feeling again. But for that, there was still far too much lacking.

They were in a state where they had to thank heaven for still being alive.

"Someone like Brother Yong has walked the brightest path. Perhaps he has never experienced such negative emotions before. It must be very difficult to escape that swamp."

There was nothing others could do to help him in his fierce battle with himself. He had to do it himself. Knowing this well, the two continued their stroll, arm in arm, focusing on their own lives.

They should enjoy it while there is still peace, and before the Great Senior's gaze falls upon them. Having been swept up in grand events several times, they felt the preciousness of this interlude of peace even more deeply.

May this peace continue…

Yong Cheonmyeong, who had passed by Nangong Sang and Jin Ling, the couple who were two yet one, continued to walk without stopping. He didn't know, nor did he try to know, how many hours had passed since he started walking. The only thing that mattered to him now was walking.

Again, a stream of many people brushed past him. However, perhaps because the shadows of Nangong Sang and Jin Ling were so large, they did not enter his field of awareness at all.

The second person to enter his field of awareness was a well-known junior, Chilcheol Singeom Moyong Hwi.

The one who stays by the side of legends. His position as the grandson of Sword Saint Moyong Jeongcheon was such that even Yong Cheonmyeong, who was designated as the next secular successor of Shaolin, sometimes couldn't hide his envious gaze. Moyong Hwi, who was already renowned as a handsome and gifted swordsman in his youth, was the very person who caused an emergency meeting to be convened to prevent the power balance between the Nine Sects Assembly and the Eight Great Families Assembly from wavering due to his skill and background at the time of his admission. Without a doubt, he was a youth who had nothing to envy, but Moyong Hwi did not look happy at all in his current state.

'He's similar to me!'

Yong Cheonmyeong intuitively knew this.

He didn't look as good as himself. No, it would be more accurate to say that his condition was worse.

Yong Cheonmyeong's feeling was accurate. Moyong Hwi was also struggling in the swamp of contemplation, tormented after a shocking meeting with Elder Hyukjung. His background and appearance offered no help to his worries. Moyong Hwi was not the type to rely on such things in the first place.

In Yong Cheonmyeong's eyes, it seemed that Moyong Hwi wasn't even properly aware of his own existence. His body was here, but his mind was directed elsewhere.

"Kill… Kill… Kill… How? How? How?"

Moyong Hwi walked along, muttering incomprehensible words with a vacant look in his eyes, as if he had lost himself.

He felt like talking to him, but this time, the other party was in no state to have a conversation. It had only been three days for him, but judging by Moyong Hwi's haggard appearance, it seemed to be at least five days.

'He's famous for being obsessively neat and clean, but to see him in such a disheveled state… Huh! Could I be like that too? No! That's impossible!'

Yong Cheonmyeong shook his head vigorously and passed by him without even greeting him. That was the only courtesy they could offer each other in their shared suffering and contemplation.

His reason, which had momentarily sparkled due to external stimuli, became dim again, and Yong Cheonmyeong, with vacant eyes, once again ignored the greetings of many people and moved forward. He drifted with the wandering wind, not knowing where his feet were leading.

The third person Yong Cheonmyeong met was a bald man. And he was also a disciple of Shaolin, a fellow student. He was Il Gong, one of the members of the Vermilion Bird Squad.

There was a commonality among the people he met today. That was the fact that they were all people connected by various relationships to a certain man. Why did only they enter his world? Even if they pretended to be calm and indifferent on the outside, were they subconsciously paying attention to him?

'Or is this also fate?'

"…"

Il Gong bowed with one hand across his chest without uttering a Buddhist greeting. In order to honor the Second Patriarch, Huike, who cut off his arm for the Dharma, symbolizing the spirit of forgetting oneself for the Dharma, disciples of Shaolin, unlike disciples of other Buddhist sects, made a half-bow, raising only one hand to their chest instead of clasping their hands. Yong Cheonmyeong returned the half-bow.

'As the rumors say, he's truly taciturn.'

However, he had expected at least a greeting, so Yong Cheonmyeong waited for it. But that was it. As if even a single word was a waste, Il Gong kept his mouth shut and silently passed him by, walking briskly somewhere. Yong Cheonmyeong, suddenly bewildered, blinked and stared blankly at the shining back of the bald man receding into the distance. Then, for the first time since leaving his room that day, Yong Cheonmyeong became curious. So, he decided to follow him.

The land owned by Cheonmu Academy was quite vast. Furthermore, there was a small hill behind it. There were several caves there, artificial caves prepared for students who wished to train independently. However, since the training grounds where one could swing swords and throw punches were more popular, this place, 'Byulgwansong (Wall Gazing Cave),' where Il Gong had come, was not a very popular location. The biggest reason was probably that sitting and staring at a wall for days, or closing one's eyes and immersing oneself in darkness, did not give a strong sense of 'getting stronger.' Therefore, it was deserted today.

Upon arriving at this place, where dust piled up due to lack of cleaning and no human presence was felt, Il Gong entered a cave without hesitation. Only the front of the cave seemed to have been swept clean of dust, as the color of the rock underneath was conspicuously distinct compared to other areas. This was proof that he had been coming here frequently lately. Yong Cheonmyeong stealthily followed him into the cave. He knew that spying on someone else's training was a strict taboo. It was something he would never have done normally. However, being fellow disciples and seniors in the academy weakened his reluctance. The artificial cave was wider and deeper than he expected.

Inside the cave, Il Gong sat cross-legged facing a flat wall and entered meditation.

'Wall gazing meditation?'

Wall gazing meditation literally refers to meditation while facing a wall. In other words, it is called byulgwan, and the name of this place was derived from it. This is the training method famously associated with Bodhidharma's nine years of practice. It is not simply looking at the wall, but rather gazing at the infinitely deep dharma realm through the wall.

Although Yong Cheonmyeong had broken the taboo of the martial arts world and followed him this far, it was not right to interfere further. So, he also sat cross-legged and decided to wait.

Looking at Il Gong's back as he meditated, Yong Cheonmyeong felt a strange sensation as if he were being drawn into his world. He felt as if he were becoming one with this world and disappearing. He was entering a state of self-forgetfulness.

* * *

Although Shaolin Temple was renowned as a martial arts sect, it was actually a Zen Buddhist sect.

If one were to ask, 'What is Zen?', there would be countless answers, but at least it is clear that it is not about fistfights. Paradoxically, however, the current Shaolin Temple is more famous for its martial arts than for the pursuit of Zen, and is recognized only as a martial arts sect. As Shaolin temples are increasingly filled with people who want to train martial arts, the spiritual legacy is gradually fading, which is the current reality.

And a long time passed.

"…Senior… Senior… Yong Senior…"

Yong Cheonmyeong's eyes snapped open at a voice calling him from afar. An unfamiliar landscape greeted him with a sinister smile.

"Where on earth is this…"

Then, he snapped to attention and looked at the person who had woken him. Then, the face of the taciturn Il Gong came into view.

"Hah!"

He had dozed off while meditating with his eyes closed. Indeed, from the past to the present, Zazen meditation has been the best sleeping pill. It had instantly dispelled the insomnia that had tormented him for three days and nights.

'How much time has passed? How long have I been asleep? This, this!'

Realizing his situation, Yong Cheonmyeong leaped up from his seat. He had followed him to his training spot secretly and was now sleeping soundly like a spoiled brat… Indeed, things that were unimaginable in everyday life were happening too frequently today.

"Ah… uh…"

Overwhelmed by the compulsion to say something, Yong Cheonmyeong desperately tried to speak. But he was at a loss for words. What excuse could he offer here? He had no words to say even if he had a hundred mouths.

It was Il Gong who saved him from this predicament.

"You have waited a long time. You were waiting for my Zen meditation to end, weren't you? Thank you. Amitabha!"

"No… well… there's no need for thanks…"

In this case, the one who refused felt ashamed.

"It's been a while."

"Yes, it has been a while."

As fellow disciples of Shaolin, these two knew each other.

"What were you looking at?"

"I was looking at myself."

It seemed he hadn't just been staring blankly at the wall.

"Yourself?"

"Yes, I saw my weak self."

"So, you did wall gazing to look back at yourself?"

"That's not it. Seeing myself was only part of the process."

"Part? Then, for what purpose did you do wall gazing?"

Then, Il Gong asked back with a look of incomprehension.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Obvious?"

Both were in a state of incomprehension. To prevent the conversation from continuing on parallel lines, one of them had to change direction.

He didn't receive the answer he expected, such as 'Of course, to become stronger,' or 'To acquire more powerful martial arts.'

"I simply wanted to understand Bodhidharma better."

"Bodhidharma?"

"Yes."

"Then what does it mean to understand better?"

"Great Bodhidharma left behind many martial arts and related scriptures. However, even after hundreds of years of research, his teachings have not been fully grasped. Aren't the interpretations of his 'Yijinjing' and 'Xisuijing' still debated? A significant portion of the martial arts he left behind is in a state of being virtually lost."

"However, most of the martial arts scriptures he authored are still largely intact. They are kept strictly in the deepest part of the Sutra Repository."

Then Il Gong shook his head.

"Those are merely fragments of teachings remaining on paper in the form of secret formulas and diagrams. Martial arts that do not manifest in human form in this world are merely theories. How are they different from being in a lost state?"

In terms of not manifesting in the present world, in terms of being unexperiencable, they were directly or indirectly the same.

"What does that have to do with wall gazing?"

"I was practicing Zen meditation (Chamsan)."

Chamsan is a practice of sitting with eyes closed and looking within oneself, a common and ordinary practice for any Zen Buddhist disciple. Of course, the accuracy of the method does not always lead to the same results.

"No, weren't you practicing martial arts?"

Il Gong shook his head again.

"No. I was studying myself. The martial arts world is so deeply steeped in martial arts that his martial arts in the Divine Mirror are further emphasized, but in reality, he can be called the founder of Central Plains Zen. So, as a mortal wanting to understand his teachings, how can I leave out the core of his teachings? Shaolin Temple is not just a gathering of people who swing their fists and feet, break stone floors as if practicing martial arts, paint their entire bodies gold as if they were Vajra Arhats, or break stones with their foreheads. I believe the essence of Shaolin lies in 'Zen'."

"You, who are known for your usual silence, speak more sharply than any rhetorician. Is that why you remain silent?"

"I simply want to meet Bodhidharma."

Is it a practice of silence?

"Then what do you intend to do after meeting Bodhidharma?"

Yong Cheonmyeong asked, curiosity piqued.

"I have to kill him! Amitabha!"

Il Gong replied in a resolute voice.

"Yes, kill… what… what did you say?! Cough, cough, cough!"

Yong Cheonmyeong's eyes widened at the answer beyond his imagination. He choked on the sudden shock, and his coughing wouldn't stop. Even pounding his chest did not seem to calm him down, so Yong Cheonmyeong finally managed to control his coughing by pressing a few acupoints.

"That's a rather sinister story. Are you in your right mind? It doesn't sound like something a disciple of Shaolin would say. Just that one sentence can get you summoned to the disciplinary office. Do you know that?"

"Of course, I know. As long as Senior possesses that sword, it is possible at any time."

"And yet you speak such an ominous phrase so boldly?"

Yong Cheonmyeong rebuked him with a clear tone of accusation. Then Il Gong replied,

"Someone told me this: 'If you meet a god, kill the god. If you meet a Buddha, kill the Buddha.'"

"Ahem! That's a… rather extreme statement."

As a Buddhist disciple to the bone, he couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion.

"And they also said this."

What else? He didn't want to hear it, so Yong Cheonmyeong remained silent.

"……"

However, the underlying meaning did not seem to be conveyed to Il Gong.

"Hey, you foolish monk! To cross a river, you need a raft. But if you've crossed the river, do you still need the raft? Is there any need to drag it around laboriously even after crossing the river? I don't think Buddha ever preached, 'Worship me, you ignorant masses!' Of course, idolizing Buddha is a great marketing strategy. It's beneficial for profit generation and much easier to understand. I admire that aspect! I even regret not having secured it first! They say if you just believe, you'll be saved. If you just pay a lot of money, you'll be saved. How great is that? It's much easier to understand than the difficult saying, 'Become Buddha yourself.' Well, it's regrettable for Buddha, who showed by example that humans can become Buddha themselves, but business wouldn't go well that way. Of course, of course. That's just what I mean."

"You… such blasphemy!"

Yong Cheonmyeong, with an expression as if he had finally met an enemy of the Buddhist path, was indignant.

"Yes, I thought so too at first. But after thinking about it carefully, I found some merit. Even gods and Buddhas encountered during practice are obstacles that prevent humans from becoming gods and Buddhas themselves. Certainly, as that person said, perhaps Buddha was great because he was human, not a god."

"Did he say that?"

"Yes, he said that Buddha should be respected not because he is a god, but because he is a person who showed by example that he could become a god even as a human. His true achievement was expanding the limits of human potential to the realm of the divine. Confucius, Lao Tzu, and Zhuang Zhou are also truly respectable and exemplary pioneers in that regard. He also mentioned a story about someone who was born in the West about a thousand years ago and did something similar. He said it was further than India, across the Silk Road and the Gobi Desert."

Upon hearing this, Yong Cheonmyeong himself became confused. These were all unfamiliar perspectives, and they were the kind that he could not possibly accept.

"The tower of truth that Bodhidharma built is as hard as diamond. Are you trying to challenge the thousand-year authority built by Shaolin?"

All he could do was express his anger in a threatening tone.

"Do you know how diamonds are cut?"

Yong Cheonmyeong shook his head at Il Gong's question. Diamond. The gem of gems, symbolizing absolute, unchanging truth. Unsurpassed strength that leaves no scratch on any steel. Therefore, it is considered a symbol of truth.

But how is such a diamond cut to suit the tastes of the world? It is certain that what is presented to humans is not the raw stone.

Does he use diamond to handle diamond? Jewels were not his specialty, nor his interest.

"I don't know."

Il Gong said with a quiet smile.

"It's mud."

"Mud?"

Yong Cheonmyeong's eyes widened.

"Why, don't you believe me?"

Is he playing a trick? Mud is everywhere, isn't it? It was the softest kind of earth.

"To control the hardest earth with the softest earth? What a wondrous natural world!"

Il Gong said with a gentle smile.

"Is it 'The Soft Controls the Hard' (Neng You Zhi Qiang)?"

Il Gong nodded.

"Even diamonds, which are said to be the hardest material, are cut by the softest mud," said Yong Cheonmyeong in a trembling voice.

"Are you saying you'd rather be mud that can polish diamonds than become a brilliantly shining diamond?"

Il Gong answered the question with a smile.

"I seem to have spoken too much today. Although I am not a practitioner of silent meditation, too many words can also damage sincerity. I shall take my leave. Amitabha."

"Amitabha!"

Yong Cheonmyeong also clasped his hands in a prayer and recited the Buddhist greeting. His movements were very reverent. He saw Il Gong in a new light.

Even though he was the same age as himself, how had he reached such a state? In terms of martial arts skill, he could confidently say he was superior. However, in terms of mental cultivation, he felt he was far from reaching it.

Yong Cheonmyeong felt the world he had known and clung to crumbling into pieces. A shiver ran through his limbs. Suddenly, he felt all his strength drain away.

'What have I been doing all this time?'

Perhaps he had been searching in the wrong place.

The most important thing had been overlooked. As the scales fell from his eyes, his eyes opened.

It was a new beginning. He stood at a new starting line.

With staggering steps, he returned to his room.

Yong Cheonmyeong had never experienced frustration before. His path had always been enveloped in brilliant radiance, and no hardship could trouble him.

Since he had entered the mountain gate at the age of five, holding the hand of Great Master Kongxin, one of the two great elders of Shaolin Temple, he had officially become a disciple of Shaolin. However, he had not converted to Buddhism. Great Master Kongxin had not shaved his head yet, saying the time was not right. It was a consideration, allowing him to decide his own life after he had developed sufficient judgment.

Great Master Kongxin's seniority was actually one rank higher than the Abbot of Shaolin, Great Master Huijing. Except for Great Master Kongxu, who was of the same generation, there was no one higher than him in Shaolin. Furthermore, Great Master Kongxin was a highly accomplished monk on Mount Song, a living repository of Shaolin martial arts, knowing the most about them. The essence of Shaolin martial arts was profound, but the intelligent and diligent Yong Cheonmyeong absorbed Shaolin's secret techniques like dry cotton absorbing water. The boy liked his master's smiling face. Whenever he mastered and understood martial arts faster than his master predicted, his master would always joyfully smile with an benevolent smile on his aged face. To see that face, he worked even harder. Even the profound and difficult secret Shaolin techniques did not trouble him. He later realized that his rate of achievement was unparalleled, and by the time he was fifteen, even his fellow disciples who were more than ten years his senior could not match him. He became the youngest person in Shaolin history to pass the Shaolin Eighteen Arhat Trials, and then, a year later, he achieved the feat of passing the 'Shaolin Four Great Vajra Trials,' one level above the Arhat Trials, again as the youngest.

When the eighteen Arhats, considered Shaolin's elite, were proven to be inferior to him, Shaolin was astonished once more. And finally, they praised him, exclaiming that a genius who had unified the spirit of the martial arts world had emerged. Chants of gratitude echoed throughout Shaolin.

Now, his opponents were limited to the Four Great Vajras, the Abbot of Shaolin, and his master and uncle. Admiring his talent, the sect granted him permission to take the 'Great Rejuvenation Pill,' one of Shaolin's Four Great Treasures. Shaolin intended to use this opportunity to restore its diminished prestige by putting Yong Cheonmyeong forward. Although there was a thought that perhaps a follower of Zen Buddhism should empty their mind and not defile their body and mind with worldly reputation or honor. However, no one dared to voice such thoughts. If there were any such people, they would have to constantly watch out to see if there were any bald heads within a hundred paces. They could be targeted from a distance with the 'Hundred Pace Divine Fist.'

Setting aside the digression, Shaolin's plan was successful. Yong Cheonmyeong quickly became the brightest star at the Cheonmu Academy, where martial arts prodigies from all over gathered. People called him the Heavenly Dragon and placed him at the head of the Nine Dragons. Prodigies from the Nine Sects gathered around him one by one, and he did not miss the opportunity, establishing the 'Nine Sects Assembly,' a gathering of the Nine Sects' geniuses, and fulfilling his sect's expectations. Although there was some friction with the 'Eight Great Families Assembly,' the gathering of geniuses from the Eight Great Families and minor factions, he found the attitude of Maha Ryong, the head of the Eight Great Families Assembly, rather endearing. There was no problem whatsoever.

His position was surely on a solid, unshakable foundation. His path was always filled with the Buddha's blessings and shining radiance. Frustration was now something that had no connection with him.

But as they say, human connections are mysterious. It was at Mount Hua, not Mount Song, that he tasted frustration for the first time in his life. Perhaps it was due to his lack of resistance to frustration? Even repeating it as just once, it was difficult to get back up.

He had never found it as difficult as he did now, even when he passed the Shaolin Eighteen Arhat Trials as the youngest person in history. At that time, it was difficult, but he did not despair. At that time, he had faith that he could do it. But now, honestly, he couldn't be sure.

Yong Cheonmyeong's trembling gaze fell upon a sword glowing with a faint green light before his knees.

'Master…'

When he received this green divine sword, a symbol of true authority to rule over all secular followers, when he descended the mountain, he was filled with lofty dreams. But those once glorious dreams had now faded like the gray clouds of the rainy season.

His self-confidence was crumbling like a sandcastle washed away by waves.

"I thought it was rock as hard as granite, but it's fine sand slipping through my fingers… How pathetic I am, truly pathetic."

Even in Shaolin Temple, the holiest land of martial arts, many people called him a genius, cherished him as a prodigy who would carry the future, and praised him. He had always taken pride in being a disciple of Shaolin and considered it an honor.

— Act in a way that is not shameful as a disciple of Shaolin!

He had broken that promise. He could not forgive himself.

Only after directly confronting the Three Heavenly Stars at the Mount Hua gathering did he realize he had been like a frog sitting in a well, looking at the sky. Even a frog in a well, though it may not know how vast the world is, knows how high the sky is, but his well was even covered with a lid.

He had never imagined himself being so powerless.

And as they say, the demonic sword Yi Chu-myeong. He had faced him too, but had not completely overwhelmed him. He had only gained the upper hand. If so, how strong must his master, the Great Prince Bi, be?

The Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword, the Thirteen Swords of Bodhidharma, is a sword of non-killing. One who wields the Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword must cultivate the skill to subdue opponents without drawing the sword. But what was the result? The sword was drawn, and it had to be stained with blood. Despite such sacrifices, there was no gain. He was merely a spectator.

Yong Cheonmyeong quietly turned towards the wall. He then sat cross-legged, placed his clasped hands on his dantian, and quietly closed his eyes. Then, he quietly began to sink into himself.

What would he see when he reached there? Would all the martial arts he had learned appear in a different form? He couldn't know without going there.

Experience is like that.