Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1528

The interior was dim.

The room was large, but dim. Oil lamps gave little light. In the center sat a person.

He had a shaved head and a young face. His purple and yellow robes showed he was a novice monk.

However, the child chanted softly, almost inaudibly, but his expression was very serious. It seemed strange on such a young face.

“…Savaha.”

The young monk, who had been chanting continuously, slowly closed his lips.

As his tightly shut eyes slowly opened, his pupils were revealed.

They were endlessly deep and black, so much so that it was hard to believe they belonged to a child.

Those eyes turned towards the wall in front of him, towards the strange patterns drawn on that wall.

The Dharma wheel. A symbol of Buddhist law, like a cartwheel.

The young monk quietly recited the Six Syllable Mantra, as if to finish his chanting. Then he took a long breath and opened his small mouth.

“You don’t have to wait so long.”

Hearing this, an old monk slowly entered the room. He had been standing quietly outside, careful not to interrupt the chanting. He moved cautiously, as if afraid to make a sound.

The old monk sat down to the side of the boy, not directly facing him. It was as if he shouldn’t face him directly.

“Master.”

The seated old monk respectfully placed his hands together towards the young monk. His face showed worry.

“Is something bothering you?”

“…”

“It is late. Even though you are a master, you still have a child’s body. I’m afraid you might hurt yourself if you train too hard.”

“…”

“Don’t forget, Master. You are the lamp.”

The young monk, who had been listening silently, nodded.

“I have caused you worry.”

“No, I am merely…”

“Though the lamp may flicker, the Buddhist law does not waver. It seems my training is still not deep enough, causing it to flicker like that lamp.”

The old monk was silent.

Shallow training. In some ways, it was true. How much time could a child have had to train?

But it was also completely wrong. There was no monk in the world with deeper training than this small boy.

The reason was simple. The child before him was the Dalai Lama, the lord of Potala Palace.

The old monk said.

“You are just finding what was lost before. Don’t rush. As before, you will regain enlightenment.”

The Dalai Lama smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“But…”

The old monk, Banseon Lama, quietly watched the Dalai Lama’s expression.

The Dalai Lama’s words felt unsettling. Even if not complete, the Dalai Lama’s training was too deep to understand.

What could be shaking such a Dalai Lama?

As if reading his mind, the Dalai Lama spoke.

“I was remembering a brief connection.”

“A connection…”

“Yes.”

Banseon Lama understood the Dalai Lama’s vague words.

“Are you talking about the Taoists of the Central Plains?”

The Dalai Lama neither agreed nor disagreed again.

“…No. I’m talking about one of them.”

Only then did the Dalai Lama nod slightly. Banseon Lama frowned.

‘Was it Chung Myung?’

He remembered the Central Plains Taoists he had met in the grasslands. The young Taoist named Chung Myung stood out.

He was no ordinary person. Banseon Lama’s trained eyes told him so.

Though different from the Dalai Lama, he was different from ordinary people.

Perhaps that was why the old monk remembered him so clearly.

‘But…’

This was only according to Banseon Lama’s standards.

He and the Dalai Lama had different lives. The Dalai Lama was a person and a Buddha. Therefore, he saw the world differently.

But to such a Dalai Lama, was Chung Myung special?

“Master…”

“Is that so?”

“Yes?”

The Dalai Lama quietly shook his head at the unexpected question.

“You said I was just finding what was lost. Is that really so?”

His voice was heavy. Banseon Lama didn’t dare to answer and closed his mouth.

“I am me, but not me. And I am me, and also not me.”

“…Master.”

“Just because I have experienced something before doesn’t mean it will be easy to experience again. The more you go deeper, the more distant the Buddhist law becomes, right?”

“My thoughts were not deep enough.”

“People say that if you can avoid repeating a mistake, you can become a Buddha.”

“…”

“But, Lama, that also means that my path is covered with things I must not do. Every time I have to make a choice, I see it. The mistakes I have made, the suffering that followed, the regrets…”

Banseon Lama listened to the deep words and quietly recited a mantra.

The Dalai Lama said.

“Even so, I remain strong because I believe that everything leads to the Buddhist path.”

“That is why you are a master.”

“But what should someone do who cannot do so?”

“Master…”

“Om Mani Padme Hum.”

The six-syllable mantra came from the young Dalai Lama’s lips. It was full of regret, bitterness, sorrow, and prayer.

He slowly closed his eyes.

‘Why…’

There is no way back.

Life is suffering and connections are sorrow because you can’t tell right from wrong.

Sometimes righteousness strangles, and sometimes evil saves. How hard it is to find a path in that mess of life?

“Don’t worry too much, Master.”

“…”

“Didn’t you say he is like a candle, burning himself to light his surroundings?”

The Dalai Lama nodded. He hadn’t found a better way to describe that person.

“So he will overcome it. Though he walks a different path, he seeks enlightenment. He has the courage to burn himself, right?”

“Om Mani Padme Hum.”

The Dalai Lama recited the mantra. Soon, a whispering sound came from his lips.

As the Dalai Lama chanted, his mind turned to the Central Plains.

‘If burning oneself is one’s own will, it is an offering.’

It is a painful path, so it is called the highest offering, Soshin Gongyang (self-immolation).

‘But if someone else lights that fire… then it is just punishment.’

A tear fell from his closed eyes.

‘My child.’

He could only hope and pray.

That Chung Myung wouldn’t realize the meaning of ‘connection’ too late.

That that connection wouldn’t become too painful for him.

A thick scent of incense filled the old Taoist temple.

Chung Myung silently watched the incense burn and then looked around.

It was the Jade Spring Hermitage, which he hadn’t visited in a long time. He looked at the ancestral shrine, where the memorial tablets of the Mount Hua leaders were kept.

“…I haven’t been able to visit often.”

Chung Myung scratched his head, looking awkward.

“But don’t say too much. It’s not like I’m just playing around. You know I’ve been busy, right, Sahyung?”

He didn’t need to come here to see Cheong Mun.

Because Sect Leader Sahyung was with him. Cheong Mun would want to be where he was.

Even in the Immortal Realm, he would watch him and the Mount Hua disciples.

Chung Myung came here because of himself.

“Well, it’s not new. I’ve done dangerous things before.”

Chung Myung chuckled and went to Cheong Mun’s memorial tablet.

He had been nearby, but hadn’t visited in a long time. White dust covered the tablet.

Chung Myung picked up Cheong Mun’s tablet, carefully wiped the dust, and gently put it back.

“If Sahyung were alive, he would have stopped me.”

The tablet was silent.

“But I won’t listen this time. I tried doing what Sahyung said, and I messed it up. Looking back, Sahyung wasn’t always right.”

Chung Myung chuckled.

If Cheong Mun were alive, he would be angry and rush over. He was kind to others, but always got angry when he saw Chung Myung.

“So stop nagging and trust me. How old am I? You’re the only one who sees me as a child, Sahyung.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and stared at the smoke, which made chaotic patterns in the air. He looked like he expected the smoke to give him an answer.

But he spoke alone, without an answer.

“Kack! I know that! It would have been better if I had done well earlier. If I had done this much before, it wouldn’t have been like this. That’s why I’m running around like this, even now. Because I’ve experienced it once. Seriously, this guy…”

Chung Myung made a fist and shook it at Cheong Mun’s tablet.

After huffing and puffing, Chung Myung’s face softened. He looked bitter.

He knew.

That what is broken cannot be fixed. That you can only miss it.

Regret is sad because nothing changes, no matter how much you regret.

“I’ll come again… so bear with being covered in dust. The kids are suffering, so the ancestors should suffer with them. What, are you trying to avoid the wind and rain and live in luxury?”

Chung Myung laughed and turned around.

But before he could take a step, he spoke again.

“Don’t worry.”

He looked at the Mount Hua buildings outside the Jade Spring Hermitage, Mount Hua, and the people who lived there.

Everything he had worked for was here.

The result of his efforts to avoid repeating a past failure was here.

Something he had had in the past, but had lost without leaving anything behind.

He hardened his mouth.

“This time… I won’t lose it.”

Chung Myung left the Jade Spring Hermitage.

Only the scent of incense remained.