Episode 204: The Monk of Repentance Hall
Though it was practically a death sentence, akin to being burned at the stake, Master Damjeong sat motionless, unable to move. Occasionally, he flinched slightly, as if searching for an opportunity to send a secret message to Hong Geolgae. Yet, with all eyes on him and his head not fully bowed, he couldn’t even move his lips.
Hong Geolgae, pondering how to rescue Master Damjeong, suddenly had an idea and briefly slipped into the village before returning. By the time he emerged, the villagers had already piled up a large stack of firewood.
The only silver lining was that no one seemed to have gone to Shaolin Temple to fetch the Abbot of Discipline.
‘We can’t afford to delay any longer.’
As Hong Geolgae approached the slumped figure of Master Damjeong, the villagers’ eyes turned to him. Meeting their gaze, he spoke.
“Greetings, everyone.”
An elderly man recognized him. “Ah, it’s Young Master Hong, isn’t it? What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to take Master Damjeong to Shaolin Temple.”
The villagers didn’t seem pleased with this. Hong Geolgae tried to persuade them.
“Master Damjeong is a revered monk of Shaolin. Even if a cremation is to be held, wouldn’t it be proper to conduct it within the temple grounds?”
“But he dedicated his life to our village. It seems fitting to honor his wishes by holding the ceremony here.”
Master Damjeong’s lips curled into a faint smile, seemingly amused by the debate over his fate.
‘Even now, he hasn’t come to his senses.’
Though tempted to leave him to his fate, Hong Geolgae couldn’t let an innocent man be burned alive. He resolutely approached and lifted Master Damjeong onto his back.
“Honoring his wishes is important, but since he belongs to Shaolin, their opinion should be considered first. I’ll consult with the Abbot of Discipline, and if he permits the ceremony here, I’ll return.”
Hong Geolgae’s firm stance left the villagers hesitant. Not only was his argument reasonable, but as a martial artist, he commanded a certain respect that ordinary villagers couldn’t easily challenge.
Taking advantage of their indecision, Hong Geolgae swiftly carried Master Damjeong towards Song Mountain.
Once they were a good distance from the village, Master Damjeong burst into laughter from Hong Geolgae’s back.
“I almost got burned alive. Thanks to you, I was saved.”
“What would you have done without me?”
“Who knows? I might have just endured it. Even if it was painful, I couldn’t just stand up in the middle of it. There’s pride to consider.”
Hong Geolgae considered putting the reckless monk down but decided to carry him a bit longer. Master Damjeong was so frail and light that it wasn’t much of a burden.
As they approached the temple gates, the deputy head of the Arhat Hall appeared. If he hadn’t quickly gathered the monks to help move the heavy box of medicine, Hong Geolgae might still be struggling with it.
Hong Geolgae nodded in greeting to the deputy head, who responded with a warm smile. He then carried Master Damjeong into the Repentance Hall and set him down. The monk staggered slightly before settling into a seat, looking quite content.
“I owe you my life, but I have nothing to offer in return, not even the medicine.”
“It’s alright. I didn’t stay with you expecting anything in return.”
“Then let’s go see the flowers together. It’s not much of a reward, but at least you won’t be disappointed.”
Master Damjeong approached the edge of a vertical cave and grabbed onto a rock. The cliff had plenty of handholds and footholds.
But Hong Geolgae couldn’t let the frail monk climb the wall. He feared Master Damjeong might fall.
“Let me carry you.”
Master Damjeong obediently climbed onto Hong Geolgae’s back.
Hong Geolgae climbed the vertical cave with Master Damjeong on his back. At the top was a secluded clearing, just as the monk had described, overgrown with flowers and vines.
Though the wisteria had already bloomed, bright yellow daylilies covered the ground up to their knees.
Hong Geolgae, not usually one for flowers, found himself strangely moved by the scene. It felt oddly detached from reality.
“It’s a view worth climbing for.”
“Indeed.”
Master Damjeong, pleased as if he had been complimented, continued walking.
Hong Geolgae asked, “What will you do now, sir?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“People need regrets to keep moving. But I have none left.”
Master Damjeong sat down and spoke.
“In the past, I starved the monks to feed the villagers, but this time, no one went hungry. The villagers will remember me, and you’ve eased my conscience. What more could I ask for?”
Hearing that no one went hungry, Hong Geolgae suddenly realized something. He hadn’t seen Master Damjeong take the medicine in days.
“Aren’t you hungry, sir?”
“Why would I be? I’ve never felt so full in my life.”
“If you’re that full, you probably can’t drink either.”
“Drink?”
Hong Geolgae held out a bottle of liquor. Master Damjeong smiled involuntarily.
“Another gift, I see. Where did you get it?”
“When the villagers went to gather firewood, I snuck into the inn and grabbed the first thing I found.”
“You have a knack for mischief.”
“You promised to teach me martial arts if I brought you liquor. I learned without bringing any, so I owe you.”
“I never intended to hold you to that.”
Master Damjeong took the bottle and asked, “By the way, what kind of liquor is this?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might.”
“I don’t know much about liquor either. I only drank a few times when I left Song Mountain on my martial journey. But I still remember the feeling vividly.”
As Master Damjeong gently shook the bottle, a peculiar aroma wafted out, more like sesame than liquor. It was a scent Hong Geolgae had never encountered.
Master Damjeong murmured, “I like liquor. It’s good when you drink it, and good things always happened afterward.”
“Today, the good thing happened first, and now you’re drinking.”
“Indeed.”
Master Damjeong brought the bottle to his lips. Despite coughing several times, he drank deeply. It seemed he wasn’t lying about not being used to alcohol, or perhaps it was stronger than expected.
After drinking more than half, he set the bottle down. Hong Geolgae finished the rest, feeling a pleasant dizziness.
It was still early. As he lay back, he saw a pale daytime moon in the sky, not yet high. A moon that hadn’t yet disappeared below the horizon.
A moon out of time, like the old monk. Master Damjeong rose.
“Where are you going?”
“Where would I go?”
Master Damjeong walked slowly, his steps gradually becoming lighter.
Soon, his movements resembled a dance.
Hong Geolgae watched without rising, observing the dance under the white moon, among the yellow daylilies.
He recognized the dance as the clumsy martial art Master Damjeong had taught him. Once dismissed as insignificant, its true nature revealed itself under the influence of alcohol.
It was a strange martial art, lacking the strength and rigidity typical of Shaolin. It wasn’t soft and fluid like Wudang, nor straight and fast like Mount Hua, nor fierce like the Beggars’ Sect.
It seemed fundamentally different from any martial art he’d seen.
Unlike others that emphasized precise posture and movement, Master Damjeong’s shoulders were relaxed, his gaze unfocused.
It was the most irregular and unrefined martial art he’d ever seen, yet its unpredictability was its strength.
In it, Hong Geolgae saw Master Damjeong’s life.
While others pursued perfection, he had stumbled and faced his own frailty.
A man who endlessly regretted and blamed himself, yet wanted to be better. A child who longed for love. A young man who spoke of compassion.
Master Damjeong’s steps moved impulsively, without direction. A journey without a destination.
His knees and back wavered, unable to hold steady. The old man’s impulses seemed to shake his life at its very core.
His gestures were clumsy and dull. Far from guiding others, he struggled to maintain his own balance. Yet, the old man poured every challenge of his life into his movements.
Too slow to be called martial arts, too weak to be a kicking technique, too unrefined to be a stepping method. Yet, all these elements blended together to form a flower.
“I understand now why you said other monks wouldn’t recognize it.”
Master Damjeong, even while demonstrating his skills, turned naturally to look at Hong Geolgae.
“Do you?”
“This isn’t Shaolin martial arts. It’s your own.”
“That’s right. It’s a martial art that a Shaolin monk couldn’t create, and shouldn’t create. It’s a martial art that can’t be taught to monks, nor can it be learned by them.”
“Is it a fist technique? A kicking technique?”
“Well, I’m not sure myself. But if I had to say, it’s closest to a stepping method.”
Hong Geolgae stood up and placed his left foot over the imprint left by Master Damjeong in the dirt. He then stretched his right foot toward the next mark.
Perhaps fearing he might crush a yellow flower, Master Damjeong’s footprints were carefully placed to avoid even the smallest blooms.
A martial art so infinitely free and unbound that it could be performed without disturbing even the tiniest of things.
Hong Geolgae had never imagined such a martial art, and thus couldn’t comprehend it.
Yet, he could feel it, and strangely enough, he found it easy to follow those footprints.
No, “follow” wasn’t the right word.
Wherever Hong Geolgae placed his foot, the old man’s footprint was already waiting.
Hong Geolgae asked, “What is the name of this martial art?”
“I’ve never thought of one. Why name a martial art that will never be passed on to anyone?”
Hong Geolgae nodded, surrendering to a vague sense of intoxication as he continued to walk.
After a few more steps, Master Damjeong asked, “Hong, do you ever think of joining the Buddhist order?”
When Hong Geolgae shook his head, Master Damjeong sighed.
“That’s a pity. I just thought of the name ‘Eight Divine Steps.’”
“Eight Divine?”
“The eight deities that protect the Dharma. Isn’t it grand?”
“It is grand. But I can’t become a monk just for the sake of a martial art’s name.”
“Then how about ‘Drunken Eight Immortals Steps’? If you don’t want to be a monk, you could at least become an immortal.”
“Master, I’m not a Taoist; I’m a beggar…”
“Let’s overlook that. No offense to the Beggars’ Sect, but a martial art with ‘beggar’ in its name lacks elegance.”
Master Damjeong chuckled as he spoke. Having been active all night, his eyes were heavy with sleep.
He moved even more slowly.
“Now that you’ve learned the Drunken Eight Immortals Steps, how about learning the Ghostly Breathing Technique next?”
“Would I ever need to use it?”
“Even after seeing me use it twice to great effect, you still think that?”
Of course, if Master Damjeong were an ordinary person, he wouldn’t have needed to use the Ghostly Breathing Technique either time.
But Hong Geolgae didn’t bother pointing that out. After all, he was surrounded by people as peculiar as Master Damjeong.
“Well, that’s true.”
“Some say the Ghostly Breathing Technique is just a trick, but in a way, there’s no martial art more natural. It’s a skill that follows the natural order.”
Master Damjeong took three more steps.
With those final three steps, his footprints circled around the flowers and returned to the starting point.
He stepped into the circle of footprints, sat down cross-legged, and settled in.
His face bore not the serious expression of a meditating monk, but the smile of a child.
“You’ll be leaving Shaolin soon, won’t you?”
“I should.”
“Let’s meet again someday.”
Master Damjeong closed his eyes and murmured softly.
“I feel so light…”
His breathing gradually slowed.
But unlike the two times he had used the Ghostly Breathing Technique before, this time his chest ceased to move entirely.
Hong Geolgae retraced the steps Master Damjeong had left among the flowers, walking endlessly.
Even as he circled the lifeless Master Damjeong, Hong Geolgae felt no sadness.
Master Damjeong would surely not escape the cycle of reincarnation. He was too human to attain enlightenment and enter Nirvana.
One day, Master Damjeong would be reborn in the human realm, and as he had said, they would meet again. So Hong Geolgae had no reason to mourn.
The midday moon vanished. Time passed, and the western sky turned red.
Only then did Hong Geolgae stop walking and leave the meditation hall.
A deep bell tolled through the twilight at Shaolin.
The sound filled the vast grounds of Shaolin and overflowed, reaching the ears of the villagers below.