Chapter 91

“Venerable monk.”

“At that time… I—”

“My name is Seo Nak-yeon of the Brahmacharya Clan.”

Seo Nak-yeon bowed politely.

Jong Haeng had seen her before—when she barged in as he urged Clan leader Seo to seal the gate. She had scolded Shaolin’s decision, saying she could not accept sealing the gate.

“Ah, that’s right.”

Standing before Jong Haeng, Seo Nak-yeon trembled.

Before her stood the Victorious Fighting Monk. To a secular disciple like her, he seemed an immortal above the clouds.

Unlike the last time, when she had been half out of her mind, this time she was completely lucid.

Seo Nak-yeon took a deep breath and clenched her fist.

“So you came to see Clan leader Seo. Come in.”

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I came to speak to the Venerable One.”

“To me?”

Seo Nak-yeon squeezed her eyes shut.

She recalled what Yeon Mujin had told her to push her here.

—Little frog, huh. Did you say the master of the Brahmacharya Clan has collapsed?

—I’m not a frog. And it’s your fault.

—It’s not my fault; it’s Venerable Jong Haeng’s fault. And this is an opportunity.

—What kind of opportunity?

—You push the Venerable One.

—……Yes?

—Use any excuse you like. Blame the Brahmacharya Clan, blame Clan leader Seo, blame Shaolin’s decision to seal the gate… Use any means and any method to pin it on Venerable Jong Haeng.

Seo Nak-yeon, dumbfounded, asked back.

—Are you telling me to grab the Venerable One and blame him for everything?

—That’s right. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. And be sure to say you’ll tell Shaolin about this. The Brahmacharya Clan’s future depends on your absurd tantrum.

—That’s ridiculous… .

—Just do it when asked, will you? Remember my words. Right now, you’re the only one who can help Clan leader Seo.

Seo Nak-il listened to that nonsense and, beside her, nodded seriously.

—Nak-yeon, I’m asking you.

Why are all the men in her family like this?

They couldn’t solve anything themselves and always apologized or begged her… They created problems they couldn’t take responsibility for and left her to clean them up.

Seo Nak-yeon felt genuinely wronged.

Was she doomed to spend her life cleaning up after others?

So, just this once, she would close her eyes and truly… .

“It’s your fault!”

Seo Nak-yeon shouted at Jong Haeng.

“…?”

Jong Haeng was taken aback.

Has this little one gone mad?

It was all the Venerable One’s fault—that their Brahmacharya Clan had fallen, that her father had collapsed, that their gate was ruined, even that absurd talk about sealing the gate—everything!

It had been hard to start speaking, but once she did, the words poured out like a waterfall.

It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault.

Why hadn’t she done this sooner when it felt so relieving?

“Little Seo, what do you mean by that?”

“It’s the Venerable One’s doing! He struck our guest without warning, then destroyed the gate, and on top of that my father ended up like this… If the Venerable One hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. So it’s all his fault. Am I wrong?”

“Well… .”

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

Even Jong Haeng felt uneasy, pricked by his conscience.

But who could stand before the world’s respected monk and shout, ‘It’s your fault!’?

When people faced something beyond reason and expectation, their minds went blank and they forgot themselves.

Even famed experts were no different. Jong Haeng fell silent, as if honey had glued his tongue.

—Don’t let your heart weaken; push! Keep at it until he’s flustered! Until he’s desperate!

Yeon Mujin’s words had been right.

From afar he had seemed an untouchable Victorious Fighting Monk, a head temple elder so exalted that a secular blood like hers scarcely dared look up.

Pretending to be mad and petulant actually worked.

Seo Nak-yeon said, “I will tell the head temple about what the Venerable One did.”

“Little one! Please, spare that—”

“Father has already suffered so much; what if he never recovers because of this? It’s all the Venerable One’s doing. He didn’t even listen to our secular family’s words—seal the gate, close the sect, you’re unworthy. How great must the sorrow be for a man who followed the head temple his whole life?”

“No, I never said you were unworthy…”

“Be quiet!”

“Ahem… .”

Jong Haeng also thought the head temple’s decision to seal the gate was harsh.

The decision had come from the Discipline Court, not from him. Jong Haeng was merely the messenger.

“If only we could clear my father’s name; he struggled so because of the rumors those garden masters spread…”

Seo Nak-yeon lowered her head and began to cry.

Jong Haeng, surprised, asked her, “Who said who did what?”

“All the rumors slandering the Brahmacharya Clan were fabricated by the garden masters of Suzhou. They’ve long tried to pull our clan into their interests. When my father refused, they spread malicious rumors.”

Seo Nak-yeon protested in a tearful voice. For once, she was sincere.

“My father always said: We are a Buddhist sect. If you build a sect gate with gold, how are the poor to cross its threshold? Don’t just follow the Buddha’s words in speech but in action. He lived by those words, and is this the result? Even the Venerable One is tormenting a man who spent his life pursuing the Buddhist path?”

Every word from Seo Nak-yeon struck Jong Haeng’s heart like thrown spears.

Jong Haeng’s silence lengthened.

Before being a martial man, he too had been a believer.

He knew well how difficult it was to follow the Buddhist path in one’s heart, how thorny that road could be.

“Amitabha…!”

Jong Haeng stroked his beard and looked up at the sky.

Shaolin’s order had been to quietly observe and watch the Brahmacharya Clan.

But right before him stood a sentient being he could help by simply reaching out.

What should he choose as a believer?

Thud!

A moment later Jong Haeng struck the stone block and spoke.

“Don’t cry, child.”

“Yes?”

“In a few days, monks from the head temple’s Discipline Court will arrive to judge the Brahmacharya Clan’s remaining offenses and enforce the sealing. Normally stepping forward before they arrive would violate the head temple’s rules, but I’ll make an exception this time. People came before rules; rules didn’t come before people, right?”

Seo Nak-yeon jerked her head up in surprise.

“So that means…?”

“Just one thing: keep quiet about my mistake. If you grant me that one request, I’ll look into Clan leader Seo’s matter for a while.”

Thud!

He struck the stone block on the floor again and asked, “Where is that garden you mentioned?”

Wiping her tears, Seo Nak-yeon ran back to the row of earthen jars clustered under the wall on one side of the manor.

After looking around carefully, she opened a jar lid and shouted into it.

“We did it!”

“Eek!”

Yeon Mujin popped out of the jar, plugging his ears.

“Little frog, are you crazy? Were you trying to deafen someone?”

Annoyed, Yeon Mujin slammed the lid of the neighboring jar.

“Eek!”

From that jar Seo Nak-il’s head appeared, hands over his ears.

“He said the Venerable One would help. He gave him a map showing the garden masters of Suzhou.”

“Good. Well done.”

Seo Nak-yeon couldn’t hide her excitement.

The Victorious Fighting Buddha himself had rolled up his sleeves to clear the Brahmacharya Clan’s name.

She had never felt more reassured.

“Did it really turn out the way Yeon, the little hero, said?”

Yeon Mujin walked slowly from the jar and said, “Of course. That monk has a lot to be uneasy about right now.”

“Now it’s only a matter of time before the Brahmacharya Clan’s name is cleared!” Seo Nak-yeon cried happily.

But Yeon Mujin immediately poured cold water on her hope.

“How?”

“What?”

“How will the name be cleared?”

“Well, since the Venerable One stepped forward himself, won’t all the facts be made plain?”

Yeon Mujin shook his head. “What does the Venerable One know to clear the charges… The important part starts now. There’s something we must do.”

Yeon Mujin took a human-skin mask from his bosom and handed it to Seo Nak-yeon.

It was the very mask she hated wearing.

“Wear this.”

“Why this?”

“If Venerable Jong Haeng will be the one to pick at the garden masters’ sore spots, we’ll be the ones to gather those sores and secure the justification.”

Yeon Mujin instructed the siblings.

“From now on we’ll pursue Venerable Jong Haeng. It’s obvious the garden masters he visits will be smashed, so we’ll trail those destroyed gardens and, by any means necessary, collect proof that they were the ones who spread the rumors.”

Seo Nak-yeon stared quietly at the mask in her hand.

Then, as if steeling herself, she pressed her lips together and resolutely pulled the mask over her face.

Seo Nak-il watched his sister silently.

Yeon Mujin asked, ready, “So, which garden did you pick first?”

“What a frustrating lot. Real men with no spirit like that…”

Gwan Hwon returned to his garden heavy with drink.

Unlike the ornate gardens around him, his Dosan Forest felt intensely ominous.

Gwan Hwon had no interest in refined arts or landscapes. He preferred statues meant to chase away misfortune, and of them he particularly liked the Vajra guardian statues.

Seeing a Vajra guardian shouting as if to drive out demons made something surge in his chest.

Clack!

Gwan Hwon grabbed the crescent-moon blade held by a Vajra guardian statue, brandished it, and shouted, “What is Shaolin so afraid of? What is the Brahmacharya Clan to be feared? All of them will fall to my spear and become guests of the afterlife! Damn you, you petty men! So infuriating!”

Half-drunk, Gwan Hwon swung the spear wildly.

Expensive bluestone was nicked, and the branches of carefully tended shrubs were cut.

Still, today he felt like a madman, wildly brandishing his blade.

“If I, Gwan Hwon, had not taken office and instead become a warrior, I’d surely have been the world’s greatest! The seat of that famous Shaolin Victorious Fighting Monk would have been mine! Ah, these idiots! Not recognizing Gwan Hwon! What a damned world! Damn this damned world!”

He swung his spear in frustration.

Only the Vajra guardian statues around the place watched the climax of his dance.

But oddly—though he had clearly set up four guardian statues—today it felt like there were five…

“What are you doing there?”

Huh?

Gwan Hwon, leaning on his spear, shuffled and then plopped down.

“Is this really Dosan Garden?”

“Who are you?”

An old man with long eyebrows and beard, looking like a Taoist practitioner, spoke.

“My Dharma name is Jong Haeng.”

“Jong Haeng? …Who is that?”

Gwan Hwon, who usually looked down on martial men, only knew Jong Haeng’s sobriquet and did not recall his Dharma name.

“People often call me the Victorious Fighting Buddha.”