Episode 5. A Wish (2)
Jang Sobeom slowly awoke.
His vision swam, and a faint ringing still lingered deep in his ears. Only after a long while did his body return to its proper state.
When Jang Sobeom could finally see the objects before him clearly, he was so shocked that he could not even think to close his gaping jaw. Before his eyes was an old monk whose body appeared heavily injured and utterly exhausted.
Sitting up and looking beside him, Jang Sobeom saw that the left side of the old monk’s torso was charred black, as if burned by something, hideous to behold, and his complexion was so deathly dark that he looked like a man about to die.
Yet, strangely, despite being in such a state, the old monk seemed almost excited, even joyful.
Moreover, Jang Sobeom saw Im Ryang-u, who always played with him, lying unconscious right beside him, and asked worriedly,
“G... Grandfather. What... what on earth happened?”
The old monk did not answer but looked down at Jang Sobeom for a long while before asking in return,
“Little one, how did you come all the way here alone in such foul weather?”
Jang Sobeom caught his breath for a moment and answered,
“I saw you staying at this shrine even in the evening. But then it suddenly started to rain. This place is shabby, so I thought that even if you could not escape the cold, you might need something to eat, and I tried to bring you some.”
The old monk smiled and pressed his palms together.
“It is a good deed. All things are destiny and connection. Amitabha.”
Jang Sobeom asked again, puzzled,
“What do you mean?”
The old monk answered with a smile,
“This old man means that you and I are connected by fate. But that aside, this old man knows a wondrous martial art. Would you little one like to learn it?”
“A martial art? What is it?”
The old monk stared blankly for a moment, then cackled. And with a hand that looked frail, he stroked the child’s head.
“It is nothing but a trifling knack—merely one way of breathing in and out. But in return for receiving my teaching, won’t you do this old man one favor?”
“Uh... please tell me.”
Jang Sobeom looked troubled, but soon nodded.
“You must never reveal what I say to those around you, even if they are family. Can you do that?”
Jang Sobeom thought briefly once more, then nodded.
“I understand. Even if I die, I will not tell anyone else!”
Rain like blades and frost alike fell endlessly from the heavens, drenching Jang Sobeom’s youthful face and making his ragged clothes appear increasingly wretched. Nevertheless, seeing the grim determination filling this young child’s face, the old monk was startled.
The old monk suddenly took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and continued.
“Furthermore, you must practice what I teach you at least once every day. But do so late at night when all is quiet and away from prying eyes. Lastly, unless you stand at a crossroads of life and death, you must not use this martial art. Otherwise, great calamity will befall you.”
The old monk opened his eyes wide again and looked at Jang Sobeom, asking,
“Can you do it?”
Like a child who did not know what to do, Jang Sobeom wrapped his head in both hands and fell deep into thought. His face was full of worry. Yet in the end, he promised to keep the old monk’s words.
The old monk only smiled and said nothing more.
Then he began in earnest to impart the oral formula to Jang Sobeom.
This oral formula, roughly a thousand characters long, was long if one considered it long, and short if one considered it short. But its contents were so profound and difficult for the young Jang Sobeom that it took three shichen—one shichen being roughly two hours—before he could finally memorize it.
Only when the old monk saw Jang Sobeom reciting the formula fluently and without hesitation did he finally let out a breath of relief. By this point, all his nerves were utterly exhausted.
In the old monk’s eyes as he looked at Jang Sobeom, an unmistakable affection lingered.
“This old monk spent his whole life in cultivation and never once thought to take a disciple. Yet facing death, I have formed a master-disciple bond with you, so I ought to tell you my name.”
The old monk caught his breath for a moment and continued.
“My name is Puzheng, a monk of Tianyin Temple. Little one, have you perhaps heard of Tianyin Temple?”
Jang Sobeom thought for a moment, then shook his head.
The old monk laughed, seeming to find Jang Sobeom’s appearance adorable.
“A child is but a child.”
Then, as if reminded of something, he reached into his robes, took out a deep violet bead, examined it briefly, and promptly handed it to Jang Sobeom.
“Keep this bead safe. You must never show it to another. When peaceful days come in the future, climb a steep cliff in a deep valley and cast it away. Also, you must never reveal my name that I have just told you to anyone else. Do you understand?”
Jang Sobeom answered as he received the bead,
“Yes, I understand.”
The old monk stroked his head once more.
“Though we have forged such a bond, we shall likely never meet again in this life. Little one, kneel before me, kowtow three times, and call me Master!”
Seeing the smile vanish from the old monk’s lips and his face grow stern, Jang Sobeom immediately kowtowed and shouted,
“Master!”
And he knelt on the ground and kowtowed three times.
Just as he tried to raise his head, he heard the old monk’s low laughter. Yet within that laughter, sorrow and resolve were intertwined.
Just as Jang Sobeom raised his head to look at the old monk, someone struck his back heavily, and his vision went black as he lost consciousness once more.
The rain had only stopped at dawn. Transparent droplets hung from the trees. A droplet slid down a leaf, danced in the wind, tracing a beautiful curve before falling onto Jang Sobeom’s face.
Jang Sobeom opened his eyes at the cold sensation and unconsciously spoke.
“Master...?”
But looking around, the only one beside him was Im Ryang-u, deep in sleep. It felt as though he had experienced a fleeting daydream.
Yet the ruined shrine in the distance and Im Ryang-u sleeping deeply told him that none of it had been a dream.
Lost in thought for a long while, Jang Sobeom shook his head and composed himself.
He then approached Im Ryang-u and woke him from his sleep.
Im Ryang-u mumbled a few words in his sleep before slowly coming to his senses. Before he could say anything, he rubbed at his eyes and suddenly sneezed.
Im Ryang-u asked in a dazed voice, upon realizing that he and Jang Sobeom were sprawled beneath a pine tree, their entire bodies soaked with rainwater.
“Why am I here? I was definitely sleeping at home...”
Jang Sobeom shrugged and said,
“I don’t know either. It’s freezing, Hyeong. Let’s hurry back to the village.”
Im Ryang-u’s mind was full of questions, but it was so cold that he immediately nodded and ran toward the village with Jang Sobeom.
However, before they even reached the village, both sensed that something was wrong.
By this time, the villagers should have all been awake, but today, for some reason, it was as silent as the grave. Even as they drew close, not a soul was in sight, and the faint breeze carried the scent of blood.
They looked at each other and read the fear in each other’s eyes.
Without either needing to say a word, they ran toward the village.
Before long, the two arrived at the village entrance.
Strewn across the long main road at the village entrance were the cold corpses of over two hundred villagers of Chomyo Village, men and women, young and old alike. Blood flowed like a river, the stench of blood pervaded the air, and swarms of flies writhed.
Im Ryang-u and Jang Sobeom froze on the spot at this horrific sight, let out a sharp scream, and lost consciousness, collapsing to the ground.
* * *
How much time had passed? Jang Sobeom, having come to his senses, sat up and exhaled deeply, his hands trembling violently.
Since collapsing after losing consciousness, he had been plagued by nightmares. Relentless visions of fiendish demons, spurting blood, and shattered bones had tormented him without end.
Steadying himself, he looked around and saw two windows. Only then did he realize he was inside a room. Inside, a teapot and tea cups sat atop a table made of pine wood.
A large kang—an earthen bed heated from below in the Chinese style—took up half the room, with four sleeping platforms laid upon it.
The bedding on the platform right beside him was disheveled, as if someone had been there until just now. In contrast, the blankets on the other two platforms were neatly folded without a single crease out of place.
On the wall directly facing the platforms, a sheet of paper hung horizontally with the character Dao written upon it.
The room looked at once like an ordinary inn where guests came and went, and like a communal hall for disciples training in martial arts under a master.
Sitting on the edge of the platform, Jang Sobeom was suddenly struck by a thought.
“Could everything that happened last night have been a nightmare? Yes, perhaps I slept here through the night. If I leave this room, Mother will surely scold me as usual, laughing and saying, ‘You sleepyhead!’”
He climbed down from the platform, put on his shoes, and headed toward the door step by step.
Cold air seeped in faintly through the cracks of the tightly shut door.
Jang Sobeom approached step by step, clenching his tiny hands. With his heart pounding, he held his breath, reached the door, and placed his hand upon the panel.
At that moment, he felt that this wooden door was as heavy as a mountain and as thick as steel.
Jang Sobeom gritted his teeth and pulled the door with all his might.
The bright light from outside flooded the room in an instant, and Jang Sobeom furrowed his eyes.
Though the warm sunlight carried a faint heat, his heart instead grew cold.
Outside the door was a small garden. Several pine trees mingled with various plants, and a few fragrant flowers bloomed between them.
Beyond the door was a corridor, and about four paces away, a staircase connecting the corridor and the room was visible. Passing through the corridor would lead outside the building.
On one side of the stairs sat a child alone, motionless, face buried in both hands.
Jang Sobeom worried that the sound of the door might have startled the child, but just then, the child turned around.
It was Im Ryang-u.
Jang Sobeom’s mouth fell open. Thousands of questions welled up in his heart, yet he could voice none. He tried to scream to vent his frustration, but no sound came out.
Silent tears streamed down both their cheeks, and the two children gazed at each other without a word.
Just then, the cry of a bluebird was heard from somewhere far away, and white clouds drifted sparsely across the blue sky.
Jang Sobeom sat across from him, head bowed, looking at the small stone path inside the house. The house was utterly quiet.
How much time had passed? Im Ryang-u was the first to speak, slowly and softly.
“When I woke up earlier, there were other people in the room. I asked them where this was, and they said it was Tongtian Peak of Qingyun Mountain.”
“Qingyun Mountain...”
“From what they said, disciples of the Qingyun Sect had been passing by and arrived at the village... the village... *sob*... *sob sob*!”
Im Ryang-u could speak no further and sobbed. Soon, he wiped away his tears, took a deep breath, and continued.
“Those Qingyun Sect disciples found us and brought us here.”
Jang Sobeom twitched the corner of his lips but did not raise his head.
“Hyeong, then what do we do now?”
Im Ryang-u shook his head and replied dismally,
“I don’t know either.”
Just as Jang Sobeom was about to speak again, a strange voice was heard from the corridor behind them.
“You’re awake?”