Chung Myung’s smile vanished. His eyes became sharp.
If it weren’t for this moment, he might have welcomed this young man who suddenly appeared. He might have put his arm around his shoulder and laughed, asking, “Can you drink?”
But not now.
Chung Myung couldn’t be friendly right now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
Chung Myung’s voice was sharp.
“I don’t have time to play along with you now.”
His voice was very cold.
This was rude to someone important like the Dalai Lama. Anyone else would have been angry at such disrespect.
However, the Dalai Lama simply shook his head silently.
“No. There is enough time. At least…”
Chung Myung was reflected in the Dalai Lama’s unwavering eyes.
“…for you, Benefactor.”
Chung Myung’s eyes twitched faintly. It wasn’t a particularly strange thing to say, but it was strangely irritating.
‘Benefactor,’ the Dalai Lama called him. The word felt heavy, like a debt he didn’t want to repay.
“Ha… damn it.”
Chung Myung sighed deeply and tilted his head back slightly.
“This is a battlefield, you damned brat. It’s not a place where your fancy Buddhism will work. I don’t know what you want, but I’m not in the mood for complicated talk…”
“Ahem.”
At that moment, a low clearing of the throat was heard. Chung Myung’s gaze slowly turned to another Lama, not the Dalai Lama.
An old man with white eyebrows and a kind, calm look smiled gently.
“It has been a while, Daojang. Have you been well?”
“…Panchen Lama.”
“If our sudden visit has disturbed you, I apologize on their behalf.”
Panchen Lama deeply clasped his hands together.
Chung Myung sighed briefly, then returned the greeting with a small bow.
Unlike the Dalai Lama, who felt distant and strange, Chung Myung felt respect for Panchen Lama.
Panchen Lama said with a serious look.
“However, Daojang, we also did not come all the way from distant Xizang to this place without a purpose.”
“…”
“My master says there is something he wishes to tell to Daojang. No matter who you are, could you consider the efforts of a guest who has come all the way to this place from a distant land? Please give us a little time to talk.”
Instantly, Chung Myung’s gaze went to the Dalai Lama… or rather, to his feet. They looked battered and cracked at first glance. He could tell without being told how much hardship he had endured to get here.
His eyes were strong and calm, even though his feet were so hurt.
Even Chung Myung, the great, found it difficult to ignore this.
“…I don’t know.”
He finally sighed deeply and replied.
“Keep in mind that this is not a situation where I can’t treat you properly right now.”
“Of course.”
Chung Myung stared straight at the Dalai Lama.
“Then, let’s hear it. What on earth do you want to say?”
“Why all the commotion?”
Given the situation, it might not be so strange that Maeng was flustered. But now, it seemed somewhat different.
Rather than being busy, everyone seemed quite embarrassed.
“Those bastards from the Four Seas Alliance would be thrilled to see this. No matter what happens, we need to stay calm… What, what is it? Clan Leader Dang?”
Jo Gul, who had been clicking his tongue and nagging with a displeased expression, gaped.
He saw a familiar face among the people running around as if struck by lightning.
‘That man doesn’t seem like he’d make such a fuss even if lightning struck him right in the head.’
Then why?
“What’s going on?”
“The Dalai Lama has arrived.”
“Who arrived?”
“The Dalai Lama.”
“Who is that?”
Yoon Jong covered his face as if he was dizzy. He gritted his teeth and tried to answer calmly.
“That…! The lord of the Potala Palace in Xizang. You saw him on the way back from the North Sea, right?”
“Ah, that little kid? Why did he come?”
Yoon Jong wanted to tell Jo Gul to be quiet right now. At that moment, Jo Gul clapped his hands.
“Ah! That’s right. Senior Brother, you said he was the lord of the Potala Palace back then.”
“…I told you. I just did.”
Please listen to what people are saying. I’m talking right in front of you…
“Oh? Then… ?”
“Huh?”
“Is the Potala Palace joining the Heavenly Alliance?”
Yoon Jong was dumbfounded.
“No, why does that conclusion…”
“If not, why else would they come here in the middle of a war? From what I can see, those people don’t seem so bad. Aren’t they here to lend a hand in defeating the Demonic Sect?”
Jo Gul exclaimed, “Keeuh!”
“The Potala Palace is one of the Five Outer Palaces! We needed any help we could get, so this is like a gift from the heavens! Wow, this is why you should live a good life.”
“Two of them came.”
“Oh… We do need any help we can get.”
‘Two people? That’s not much help,’ Jo Gul thought, disappointed.
If the two of them were renowned masters, it would be a different story, but even so, if they intended to support the Heavenly Alliance, they wouldn’t have come with just the two of them.
Moreover, if that person was the Dalai Lama, it was even more unlikely. Unless the Potala Palace had gone mad, would they throw an unripe little kid onto a bloody battlefield?
It wouldn’t make sense unless there was a movement for usurpation within the Potala Palace.
“Then why did they come?”
“How would I know? Everyone is in an uproar because they don’t know.”
“Ah.”
Jo Gul nodded as if he finally understood.
The head of one of the Five Outer Palaces suddenly visited like this, and no one could even guess the reason, so even Tang Gunak, the great, was very confused.
If Hwang Jong-i in Shanxi heard this, he would foam at the mouth and protest, ‘I sent a letter!’, but it was unfortunate that the letter was not properly delivered due to the chaos caused by the attack of the Thousand-Faced Murderer.
“So where is the Dalai Lama now?”
“He’s with that Chung Myung brat.”
“Yes? Why?”
“…I told you, I don’t know no matter how many times you ask.”
Jo Gul scratched his head roughly.
“No, shouldn’t we meet the Alliance Leader first?”
Of course, Chung Myung was in charge of the Heavenly Alliance, so it wasn’t entirely strange. But somehow, it felt unsettling.
“…Could it be that they came to see that Chung Myung brat?”
“How far is it from Xizang to here? Why would they come all the way here just to see him?”
“That’s right?”
Jo Gul thought it didn’t make sense either.
“Hmm. Then what is it?”
“That reason might be right.”
At the sudden interjection, Jo Gul turned to Tang Soso, who was next to him.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean they might have come to see Chung Myung.”
“…Why?”
“That’s…”
Tang Soso trailed off. A worried expression was on her face.
A little while ago, she had seen a young monk, an old monk, and Chung Myung entering a small tent in the corner.
‘It’s more than just receiving guests…’
The expression on Chung Myung’s face that she saw was serious and troubled.
‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’
She silently cast her gaze in that direction. The small tent in the distance looked like a lonely island.
“Sorry. All I have here is alcohol. I can get you some tea if you want.”
“…”
“But I don’t know anything about tea, so you’ll have to brew it yourself.”
Panchen Lama, who had been staring at the lone bottle of alcohol without a cup, looked around the inside of the tent.
The tent was small and stuffy, smelling of dust and stale alcohol. The canvas was thin, letting in the sounds of the camp outside. Besides a thin mat on the dirt floor, there was nothing but bottles – some full, some empty, scattered like fallen soldiers.
Chung Myung sat leaning against the corner of the desolate tent. Then he turned on a lamp that seemed to have not been used for a long time. Black smoke billowed out for a moment, then light poured out, and half his body was covered in a long, dark shadow.
Panchen Lama felt a somewhat strange feeling.
He was desolate and worn out, but somehow it felt quite fitting for that person. He even thought that might be his true self.
A tired swordsman leaning against the corner of an old tent with a sword slung over one shoulder.
Is it the old tent that is worn out, or the person?
‘In that short time…’
Panchen Lama clearly remembered Chung Myung’s appearance from a few years ago.
At that time, sparkling vitality seemed to flow from him. He was full of energy and knew how to get excited about things.
But the person in front of him now was so faded that he doubted whether he was the same person as before.
He thought he was walking a difficult path, but he never imagined he would change so much in such a short time.
Chung Myung opened his mouth, breaking Panchen Lama’s thoughts.
“Well… if you don’t particularly need tea, let’s get to the point.”
“…”
“You said you had something to say. Say it.”
The Dalai Lama, who had been staring only at Chung Myung, continued to be silent for a moment longer. But soon, he moved, fluttering the hem of his robe slightly.
Thud.
He grabbed the bottle of alcohol that Chung Myung had offered and slowly brought it to his mouth. Chung Myung, who seemed a little surprised, chuckled.
“A monk drinking alcohol… The Potala Palace must be finished.”
The Dalai Lama took a small sip of alcohol and smiled slightly.
“Surely alcohol is forbidden to Buddhists. But…”
The Dalai Lama quietly looked at Chung Myung and said.
“It’s not right for someone who is given something to complain about it.”
“…”
“Therefore, I eat it, whatever it may be. Therefore, I drink it, whatever it may be.”
Takbat, or alms-begging, is a Buddhist practice. Chung Myung chuckled again.
“Good excuse. You can break all the taboos under the guise of begging.”
“Isn’t that so?”
“What?”
“To say ‘no’ to something is to reject it. To want something is to desire it. We can’t say no to everything, and we can’t have everything we want. Life is about wanting things we can’t have and doing things we shouldn’t. That’s why life is full of pain and mistakes.”
Chung Myung narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“Spare me the sermon. There’s no one here who wants to listen.”
“It is not a sermon.”
The Dalai Lama’s eyes didn’t change. They were calm and deep, making Chung Myung feel strangely thirsty.
“I simply wish to discuss life. And I wish to discuss you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Benefactor. It is you.”
The Dalai Lama’s youthful voice was small but clearly audible in Chung Myung’s ears.
“How is your life?”
“…”
The gazes of one as deep as a lake and one as turbulent as a wildfire met in the air.
“Are you saying that I break taboos and desire what is out of reach?”
“That is true of everyone’s life.”
“Then I’m not particularly special. I’ll be the same as everyone else.”
“What you say is correct. You are no different. But you are different.”
“Oh, what are you really saying…”
“You have no choice but to be different.”
The Dalai Lama said calmly.
“Between one who lives a single life and one who does not.”
Chung Myung, who had been showing clear signs of annoyance, flinched. Then his eyes widened in shock.