Return Of The Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1780

Chung Myung waited patiently in the quiet room. Sunlight filtered through a high window, making dust motes dance in the air. The air smelled faintly of incense. He had traveled far to meet this young Dalai Lama, hoping for guidance. But when the youth finally spoke, his words were not wise or comforting; they were a sharp blow.

“Well, let’s check it out.”

Chung Myung’s mind went blank. It felt as if lightning had struck him. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat.

He had lived a long life, seen and done more than most men. Shocks were rare for someone like Chung Myung. Yet, these simple words from the young monk had shaken him to his core.

His pupils widened, then trembled like a small boat tossed in a violent storm. *What did he just say?*

“The one who is not…” What could that possibly mean? Chung Myung stared at the Dalai Lama, his heart pounding.

The young monk, with his calm, red face, simply looked back at Chung Myung. There was no hint of worry or mischief in his eyes. He seemed completely unaware of the storm he had just unleashed in Chung Myung’s mind.

Utterly confused, Chung Myung tried to make sense of it, but his thoughts were spinning. Did this person understand the meaning of his words? Was he the only one shaken by these thoughtless words? And if he did know, how could he possibly know?

Everything in the world seemed to blur.

Chung Myung felt his thoughts become unclear. It was like the strong walls he had built in his mind were falling down. Things that felt far away suddenly seemed close, then far again. Everything was changing.

Within that, just, and just…

“Om Mani Padme Hum.”

In that instant, a clear and refreshing mantra pierced Chung Myung’s ears.

Everything that had been blurred became clear. It felt like returning to reality. He keenly felt the dryness of his chapped lips and the tightness in his throat, as if it had dried up.

Chung Myung reflexively wiped his face. The cold sweat that had trickled down soaked his hand.

“You…”

“That too is no different. We are merely living,” the Dalai Lama said softly.

Chung Myung firmly closed his mouth. He did not sneer. He could no longer afford to dismiss the Dalai Lama’s words.

What should he ask?

There were so many things he wanted to ask. Just the things that came to mind could build a mountain.

But Chung Myung knew that all of that had to be put aside. He knew what the most appropriate question to ask now was.

Chung Myung paused, then asked slowly, “What… what do you want to say to me?”

Perhaps it was because he felt that no matter what he asked now, he wouldn’t get a proper answer.

Chung Myung had already experienced what a transcendent being was like. Trying to get answers from them was like throwing stones into the sea.

Nothing would come back. Not unless they were willing to give it themselves.

And at this moment, Chung Myung realized another thing.

Even what they were willing to give was not so easily obtained.

“Benefactor, what did you see in me?”

Chung Myung’s lips twisted slightly in displeasure.

“I asked first.”

“That is not important.”

“Well, you could at least tell me that.”

“The ways of humanity are important, yet also unimportant.”

Chung Myung bit his lip, then sighed. It was meaningless to argue with this person. He hesitated, then parted his lips.

“…Something I’ve seen once before.”

“What is it?”

The Dalai Lama asked again, but Chung Myung hesitated to answer.

Because he himself could not understand it. Why did he feel that this red-faced youth in front of him was connected to ‘that’? It was impossible to explain with logic or theory.

But Chung Myung’s senses were clearly saying so.

This small being before his eyes… This insignificant being who seemed as though he could crush his neck with just a reach of his hand, resembled the most powerful thing he knew.

A being so ominous and terrible that he hesitated to even speak its name.

“…Heavenly Demon.”

At Chung Myung’s difficult words, the Dalai Lama quietly gazed at him. He could not read any emotion in those transparent eyes.

“I don’t know why either. I just…”

“It’s not quite right to call him that,” the Dalai Lama said calmly.

Chung Myung’s eyes widened. But the Dalai Lama calmly continued, as if he hadn’t seen the reaction.

“Heavenly Demon. He is certainly worthy of that name, because he brings great suffering. But maybe… maybe he doesn’t want to cause suffering.”

What on earth was he talking about? Even Chung Myung couldn’t understand.

“It’s not quite right to call him that… but in a way, it is also right.”

“What are you saying…”

“Meaningless words. If not for you, Benefactor.”

“Speak plainly. Don’t just spout Zen riddles.”

Then, the Dalai Lama slightly raised his head. His lowered gaze stared at Chung Myung. As if observing, as if meditating, as if detached.

The weight of his gaze felt like it was crushing Chung Myung’s heart. Just as Chung Myung couldn’t bear it and was about to say something, the Dalai Lama’s lips slowly opened.

“Do you not know?”

“…”

“The fact that he has already set foot in this impure land.”

Chung Myung’s breath caught in his throat.

The Impure Land is the world full of suffering, the place where people live.

“You…”

“Does not your body already know?”

Chung Myung bit his lip. In that instant, a hot lump surged up from his stomach. He quickly covered his mouth.

“Kuh!”

A black clot of blood with a foul odor flowed back up his throat. No matter how hard he tried to swallow, he couldn’t. This was a reality he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried to close his eyes.

Black blood streamed down between the fingers covering his mouth.

“Cough!”

As Chung Myung coughed violently, the Vice Abbot, who had been listening to the conversation, was startled and rose to his feet.

“Dojang!”

The Dalai Lama, without expression, slightly raised his hand, stopping the Vice Abbot who was about to rush over.

“Master?”

Then, without a word, he reached out his hand towards Chung Myung. A soft, golden light glowed from the Dalai Lama’s hand. It wasn’t a harsh light, but gentle and warm, like sunshine.

The Dalai Lama’s hand didn’t even touch Chung Myung’s body. Yet, Chung Myung felt the evil spirit that had been raging inside him calming down. The pain that had been gnawing at his body gradually disappeared.

Chung Myung looked at the Dalai Lama with surprised eyes.

“What… what did you do?”

He still couldn’t sense any trace of martial arts from the Dalai Lama. Even if the Dalai Lama was a master beyond imagination, he shouldn’t be able to completely deceive Chung Myung’s eyes.

Then what was this sensation that Chung Myung was feeling? How could someone without martial arts calm the inner demon?

Even though Chung Myung didn’t ask, the Dalai Lama lightly shook his head as if he knew everything.

“It is not martial arts.”

“…”

“The pain that originates from agony naturally disappears when the agony subsides. I have merely pushed that agony away for a moment. But if Benefactor cannot overcome the agony, it is a cycle that will soon return.”

“…Agony? You’re saying I have agony?”

Chung Myung frowned as he asked.

Chung Myung was worried about many things. But the Dalai Lama’s words felt different.

“The sea of human suffering begins with connections.”

“……”

“It seems your body felt this connection first. Like seeing the future, something you can’t avoid.”

Chung Myung clutched at his chest. His heart felt as though it were being constricted.

The nausea he had managed to suppress returned, twisting his insides. It was as if his entire body was screaming that the Dalai Lama’s words were true.

“Torment……”

“Connectedness.”

The Heavenly Demon.

That bastard was returning.

Suddenly, Chung Myung saw it again. The top of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains. It was a terrible sight. The mountains were burned black, and broken like teeth ripped from a jaw. He could almost smell the smoke and death.

“Again……”

He tried to forget that past, but it was always there.

He wanted to avoid that future, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Again!”

He had to stop it this time, but deep down, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to prevent such a disaster.

Destruction was approaching. But Chung Myung couldn’t even control his own body.

If Chung Myung was tormented by the agony named Heavenly Demon, and if he had to prevent the impending doom… the beginning was only one thing: to shake off that torment called Heavenly Demon.

“……How am I supposed to overcome that torment?”

“Suffering and pain are yours alone. Only you can escape them. Finding enlightenment is a path you walk alone. You are different from others, so you can’t ask anyone else to find this path for you.”

“…….”

“Others are just people to watch. True pain can’t be shared. Saving yourself is enlightenment. Don’t forget that.”

“……Cannot be shared, you say.”

“Indeed. However……”

The Dalai Lama took out a white cotton cloth from his sleeve and held it out.

Chung Myung stared blankly at what the Dalai Lama offered. It was just a white cotton cloth, with nothing inscribed on it.

“Just watching isn’t enough, I guess?”

A small smile bloomed on the Dalai Lama’s lips.

Seeing that smile, Chung Myung let out a short breath. He took the cloth the Dalai Lama offered and wiped his mouth. The cotton cloth was soon stained black with blood and foul odor.

“It’ll get stained. I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t have to. It’s just a stain, after all.”

“…….”

“Even if it gets stained, even if it gets torn, a cloth is still a cloth. If the essence does not change, what does a mere stain matter?”

It throbbed. He couldn’t tell what was throbbing, but Chung Myung took a short, deep breath.

‘I roughly understand.’

They are not quite human.

People call them Buddhas, immortals, even demons. They look human, but they are not. People respect them, see them as holy, and are in awe of them.

They do not give the answers that humans want.

But Chung Myung knew that was not their intention.

Someone not human can’t talk like a human. Trying to fit things that don’t fit together will never work.

What humans can hear is only a brief moment of truth, when the mismatched gears spin countless times and barely align.

This is about things bigger than will or effort.

Chung Myung also understood this fact not with his head, but with his senses. He quietly watched the Dalai Lama.

Why had the Dalai Lama come all this way on such a hard journey? Perhaps he had something he absolutely had to convey to Chung Myung.

But conveying that was not something that could be done solely according to the Dalai Lama’s will. The key was probably…….

“Answer me.”

“…….”

“The Heavenly Demon……. Is it true that the demon has been revived?”

“It is true. And it is false.”

Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed.

“Then I’ll change the question. Is he breathing on this land right now?”

This time, the 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 ago. Eighty-seven years. Longer than that, countless……”

“Stop.”

Chung Myung waved his hand irritably. Short breaths escaped his lips.

He couldn’t understand what he was saying, yet on the other hand, he did.

Chung Myung didn’t bother to ask further. In fact, he couldn’t ask anymore. The raging emotions within him swallowed everything like a storm.

“Why.”

“…….”

“Why does that bastard keep coming back to life! Why!”

“…….”

“We sacrificed so much to kill that bastard! So many people died! Why does he just come back like it’s nothing? Is this how the world works? Tell me!”

Chung Myung’s voice, as if spitting blood, echoed loudly.

The Dalai Lama closed his eyes. From this small movement, Chung Myung felt an unspeakable pain. And even sorrow. He seemed like someone who was asked to explain something inexplicable.

Chung Myung’s eyes flashed as if burning with anger.

“No. No. I don’t care about laws or ways.”

Chung Myung found it. The only value he could salvage from this stifling sea.

“What do I have to do?”

“…….”

“Answer me. You know. So tell me.”

Chung Myung bit his lower lip. His already torn lips were ripped further, and blood flowed, but Chung Myung didn’t feel it at all.

Because this question was the most important, and the answer that would be heard now was the most important.

Chung Myung’s second life may have been entirely for this moment.

“What do I have to do to kill him completely?”

“…….”

“So he can’t be resurrected again. Forever! Forever, I say.”