Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1154

A voice, hesitant but respectful, broke the silence. “…Abbot.”

Beopjeong squeezed his eyes shut. The rough wood of the table felt cold beneath his fingertips. *Was it him again?*

Lately, just the thought of the Mount Hua Sword Saint made his stomach clench. He knew it was foolish to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it.

“Amitabha.”

He chanted the Buddha’s name, trying to calm his mind. After regaining his composure, he opened his eyes and met Jonglihyung’s worried gaze.

“I know what the Abbot is worried about.”

“…”

“I know it’s not good to leave the main temple empty for too long. I also know you’re impatient because it seems like we’re wasting time here without getting any results.”

“It’s not exactly like that, but…” Jonglihyung, feeling awkward, shifted slightly. Beopjeong said,

“However, we can’t leave here first in this situation.”

“Abbot, I understand how you feel, but staying like this won’t help us.”

“…”

“Let’s be honest, Abbot, we’ve already lost the people here in the Yangtze River.”

Jonglihyung sighed. “It’s not just the main temple. The people here treat us differently than they treat the Cheonwu Alliance. The disciples’ morale is sinking lower and lower.”

“…Amitabha.”

“I’m worried we’ll waste time and lose what we shouldn’t. We can get back lost time and gains, but once pride is shattered, it’s hard to restore, as you know.”

Jonglihyung’s point was valid. He was a leader of a sect himself and knew right from wrong.

He thought Beopjeong was just being stubborn.

“Abbot, victory and defeat happen in war. Even if we lose this time, the one who wins in the end wins everything, right?”

“…That’s right.”

“This place is a battlefield where we’ve already lost. A great general doesn’t stay stuck on a defeat. They use that time to find new battlefields and make up for the defeat.”

Beopjeong’s lips tightened. He didn’t like Jonglihyung’s word ‘defeat’.

He didn’t like anything about this.

He didn’t like the word ‘defeat,’ or that the Cheonwu Alliance, not the Four Evil Alliances, had caused it. He hadn’t even thrown a single punch before hearing the word ‘defeat.’

But what bothered him most was that he couldn’t argue against it.

A war not lost, but defeated.

That’s how Beopjeong saw this Yangtze River War.

“Several sects have said they’ll support us after getting your message, right?”

“That’s right.”

“They must have felt they couldn’t ignore this. But Abbot, where will you tell them to come? To this Yangtze River? Will you tell them to come when there’s no war?”

“…”

“Abbot, are you really going to greet important guests here, in this cold place? Is this how Shaolin welcomes visitors? What will they think when they see you here? Will they admire you for trying to check the Four Evil Alliances?”

Beopjeong’s lips twitched again, but Jonglihyung kept talking.

“A person’s power comes from their position. That means their rank and where they are. The emperor on the jade throne in the palace isn’t the same as the emperor in a tent in the fields, right?”

He wasn’t wrong.

“You should greet them in Shaolin, not here. Am I wrong?”

Beopjeong sighed.

All true. But Beopjeong wasn’t just staying because he didn’t know this.

‘A defeated battlefield…’

Maybe he was right. Nothing was more foolish than staying on a battlefield where they’d already lost. Trying to turn things around where they’d lost momentum would only make things worse.

But…

“I know what you’re saying, but…” Beopjeong hesitated, and Jonglihyung asked,

“Is it because of the Cheonwu Alliance?”

“…”

“Abbot… I know you’re worried about them. But now that the front line is set, what can they do?”

Jonglihyung spoke quickly, sounding frustrated. “I don’t know why they’re still here either. But why does that mean we have to stay? If they’re here to stop the Four Evil Alliances, if they want to be a shield, let them. Why is that our loss? It’s a gain. You’re making this too simple…”

Beopjeong’s eyebrows twitched.

“‘Simple,’ you said?”

Jonglihyung shut his mouth at the icy tone. Beopjeong realized he’d overreacted, closed his eyes, and chanted the Buddha’s name. Then, in a soft voice, he spoke again.

“Abbot, let me ask. Do you think I’ve made any big mistakes since coming to the Yangtze River?”

“That’s…” Jonglihyung couldn’t answer easily. His first thought was, ‘Yes.’ Looking back, everything Beopjeong had done since getting involved with the Yangtze River was a mistake.

But Jonglihyung didn’t think that simply.

‘Did he really make bad moves?’

That was just the result. Beopjeong had made the best choices at the time. He was the only one who stayed calm when others were emotional.

The problem was that his calm, sensible choices had all become bad moves. The Cheonwu Alliance had forced that to happen.

Was it right to go to Plum Blossom Island, where the enemy was waiting with traps? Even Beopjeong was disgusted by his own coldness then, but anyone would know what would have happened if they’d really gone to Plum Blossom Island.

Hadn’t Jonglihyung said not to dwell on a lost war? Mount Hua had turned that ended battle around, making Shaolin and the Common Faction bystanders.

‘The Demonic Sect is the same.’

Was it sensible to go to Hangzhou, the base of the Four Evil Alliances and the Black Ghost Fortress, to stop the Demonic Sect?

Jonglihyung had also said that a great general should choose a winning battlefield. He thought Hangzhou was not a place they could win. That wasn’t wrong.

If Mount Hua hadn’t invaded Gangnam and beheaded the Archbishop, Shaolin and the Common Faction wouldn’t have looked like cowards.

“Abbot…”

“No matter how much I think, I don’t know what mistake I made. Even if I think about it a lot, the right choice is clear.”

Jonglihyung nodded. He couldn’t deny that.

“But what’s the cost of that right choice? The Cheonwu Alliance has gained a lot of power, and they’ve taken all the credit for the Yangtze River situation. Everyone blames Shaolin and praises Mount Hua. Even!”

Crack!

Beopjeong grabbed the tea table. His fingers dug into the wood.

“Even the Four Evil Alliances are getting credit for stopping the Demonic Sect. People are saying they’re better than Shaolin, who did nothing.”

“…”

“It’s sad.”

Beopjeong laughed emptily.

“If things had gone as planned, they would have been ruined. But they won where they should have lost, and they gained where they should have lost. In ways I can’t imagine.”

“…”

“Let me ask again, Abbot. Is it wrong to be careful after being surprised by a turtle? Is that foolish?”

“Abbot…”

“No. I think it’s foolish to repeat the same thing after being hurt so much. If you don’t understand it, at least don’t repeat the mistakes.”

“…So, you’re staying because you’re worried about what the Cheonwu Alliance will do?”

“…”

“Do you think there’s a reason they’re not leaving the Yangtze River?”

Beopjeong took his hand off the table. His palm was sweaty. He looked at it and laughed.

“I know I seem frustrating.”

Jonglihyung couldn’t say no.

“Amitabha. But if we make another mistake, we might not be able to come back. We have to stop that, right?”

Jonglihyung squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he couldn’t change Beopjeong’s mind.

“Since you say so, I won’t try to persuade you. But you have to think about one thing. No one will understand you now.”

“…”

“Depending on how they hear it… Yes. Depending on how they hear it, that…” Jonglihyung hesitated, then said fiercely,

“It might seem like you’re just scared of the Mount Hua Sword Saint.”

Beopjeong’s eyes flashed. Jonglihyung, startled, lowered his head and mumbled.

“Of course, I don’t think so… but those who don’t think deeply will see it that way.”

“…”

“So, please think about it again. As the Abbot, you need to lead. You know the best choice isn’t always the best. If your thoughts are too advanced, people won’t understand and it will cause division.”

Jonglihyung left those words and stood up.

“I won’t force you. But please think about the best result, not the best way to get there. Then.”

Jonglihyung left the room. Beopjeong watched him silently.

He knew.

Even though he said that, Jonglihyung was trying to calm the disciples and defend Beopjeong. Even with a headache, he would try to help Beopjeong.

But even knowing that, he felt empty instead of grateful.

“…Scared…”

It was funny. Very funny.

Who was he? He was Beopjeong, the Abbot of Shaolin. Was he scared of a third-generation disciple of Mount Hua? Not because of his skill, but because he couldn’t understand his thoughts?

How could that not be funny?

“Maybe that’s true… Haha.”

Beopjeong’s hollow laughter filled the room.

And for a long time, there was no chanting or prayer beads in that room.