Return of the Mount Hua Sect
chapter-549

Finely shaved hair.

The purple-colored red cloth wrapped around the body. This outfit matched the common pattern of a monk, yet they were clearly different from what Hae Yeon wore.

‘A Lama monk?.’

As he was about to turn back with confusion in his eyes, the men who had emerged from the tent began chanting Buddhist doctrines. They held their palms clasped together as they did so.

Then, the one in the lead looked at them and smiled.

“Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ. Even happening to pass by here is fated, isn’t it? Meeting in this place is surely a prime example. It’s a real pleasure to see you.”

“Ah…”

Caught off guard, Baek Cheon looked rather flustered, then regained his composure and offered a bow.

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Baek Cheon, a second-class disciple from the Mount Hua sect of the Central Plains. These are my sahyungs and sajaes.”

“Mount Hua.”

The lama monk’s eyes subtly gleamed as he quietly echoed the words.

“I greet you all.”

Once again, he bowed with clasped hands. In return, Baek Cheon reciprocated with a deep bow.

‘I can’t fathom what’s transpiring here.’

The sudden appearance of monks in this land they were traversing through was bewildering, particularly given that wide-open spaces aren’t typically conducive to the spread of Buddhism. Adding to the absurdity was their fluent command of Chinese, despite their attire suggesting they were not from the Central Plains.

Upon recognizing Baek Cheon’s curiosity, the monk responded with a friendly smile.

“We are the monks of the Potala Palace.”

“Ah!”

Baek Cheon gasped in surprise.

‘I never imagined I would meet the people of the Potala Palace here.’

After their visit to the North Sea Ice Palace that was beyond their borders, they were now en route back to the Central Plains. Yet here, on the outskirts, they encountered people from another of the palaces.

It was a strange occurrence.

“These meadows have no lords, so the one who arrived first cannot demean the one who arrived later. Please come in. We will provide you with hot tea and something to eat.”

“Hmm…yes.”

Baek Cheon nodded his head. He didn’t particularly need this kind of treatment, but he knew it would be bad manners to refuse such sincere hospitality.

“This way, everyone…”

The disciples of Mount Hua turned to leave, casting lingering glances at Hae Yeon. The lama, the monk, clasped his palms together, his face the epitome of mellow serenity.

Hae Yeon responded in kind, but his expression was far more resolute than usual.

“It’s a pleasure to meet a bhikkhu monk who seeks enlightenment on the path. A path far removed from the comfortable surroundings of the temple you’re used to.”

“Amitabha. Can there be any other path for Buddha’s teachings? It is an honor to meet someone so disciplined.”

In response to Hae Yeon’s words, the Iama monk broke into a smile.

“Follow me. The tent is kept warm inside.”

Thus, he guided the disciples of Mount Hua towards the largest tent at the center. As Chung Myung attempted to follow with a gloomy expression, Baek Cheon grabbed his shoulder.

“Chung Myung.”

“Uh?”

“Is this really okay? I’ve never heard of Potala Palace – one of the palaces of Tibet– behaving like this before. I simply can’t comprehend it…”

Chung Myung responded to the anxious words with a smile,

“We’re already tied up in their affairs, so why not delve deeper?”

“…”

“Besides… if they’ve made their decision, we wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping.”

“…Uh?”

“I’m just relieved they don’t appear to harbor any ill will.”

Hearing Chung Myung’s words only stirred trouble in Baek Cheon’s mind.

Merely listening to his words made it seem as if Chung Myung placed a high value on them.

Naturally, if someone else in the party had said it, it wouldn’t be surprising. However, he would definitely be taken aback to hear such praise coming from the mouth of Chung Myung, who typically shows disdain for elders, scholars, monks from all sects, and even for the high priest of the Demonic Sect he encountered at the Ice Palace.

“Let’s proceed. Observe carefully, for something significant appears to be on the horizon.”

“…”

The disciples entered the tent, their expressions filled with tension.

The Lama monk stood before them, palms facing inward.

“Lama, I bring before you guests. Disciples from the Mount Hua sect of the Central Plains.”

“Mount Hua.”

Meanwhile, the disciples of Mount Hua were taken aback by the scene unfolding before them.

‘What on earth is this?’

Such was the oddness overwhelming them.

Actually, this tent was nothing special. Apart from the lama who led them, two other lamas and a child were sitting around the bonfire.

‘A child?’

Baek Cheon was quick to identify the age difference, but this raised questions.

A person’s position was often referred to as their seat. In this tent, the most significant seat would be on the opposite side of the entrance, the deepest part of the tent.

However, the individual seated there wasn’t some decrepit monk but rather a still maturing child.

“Welcome.”

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the child who offered the initial greeting but the aged monk beside him.

“… Thank you for your hospitality. We appreciate the respite. It granted us an opportunity to rest from our extensive journey.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Upon hearing Baek Cheon’s words, the old monk bestowed a smile. It was a genuinely tender expression.

Baek Cheon had previously encountered the elderly monks of Shaolin, yet these individuals before him seemed innately different.

‘Could it be because they’re beardless?’

Unlike the Shaolin elders, who sported impressive long white beards, the lama monks were smooth-shaven. Their faces were wrinkled and bare, a sight that felt strange to any observer.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Jain.”

“Yes!”

“Serve them tea. They need to cool down from their long journey.”

“Yes, Lama.”

Despite the tense situation, the old man’s smile strangely put everyone at ease.

“Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ.”

The elderly man, chanting their slogan like a melody, smiled as he addressed them,

“It’s such a pleasure to meet the disciples of Mount Hua. I am a practitioner of Buddha’s teachings, and the bhikkhus of Potala Palace know me as the Panchen Lama.”

“Ah, indeed…”

“P-panchen…!”

“Eikk! Panchen Lama!”

Baek Cheon, about to respond in a composed way, suddenly let out a chilling cry, glancing back in alarm.

Jo Gul’s mouth hung open in shock while Tang Soso, seated behind him, covered her mouth with her fist.

‘What is happening?’

It was then that Chung Myung casually commented,

“I wonder how such an esteemed person got here? Your backside must have been burdensome.”

“Hey, you insolent creature!”

“Mind your language, you fool!”

“Soso…”

Still, he was your sahyung, how could you say that…

Gul, this was pointless…

Incredibly, Baek Cheon, who had become a defender of Chung Myung, tilted his head in confusion at the sight of a pale Tang Soso. What on earth was this Panchen Lama, and why were they behaving so strangely?

Then, Tang Soso slid over on her knees, pressing closer to Baek Cheon, and whispered softly.

“Panchen Lama is the title given to the second most important person in the Potala Palace.”

“Ah, I see… wait, what?”

Baek Cheon shot a look at Tang Soso with wide-eyed astonishment.

Second most important?

The deputy of the Potala Palace? Was he akin to a vice leader?

Baek Cheon’s eyes, which gleamed in the lantern’s light, turned towards Panchen Lama.

‘This man?’

He had felt something strange right from the start.

The elderly monks of Shaolin possessed a distinctive dignity. Even the most spiteful would acknowledge their dignified and unwavering nature.

Simply observing them made it clear how much self-discipline they possessed.

Yet, the Panchen Lama standing before him didn’t seem to mirror that discipline.

Truthfully, he seemed rather ordinary.

If it weren’t for the monk’s robe and shaved head, he would easily pass for a village man commonly seen around the world.

Baek Cheon blinked several times upon realizing that the significant figure Chung Myung had been referring to was this man.

‘Why would such a person be here?’

Seemingly to satisfy his curiosity, Chung Myung knitted his brows and inquired.

“I find it hard to believe he ventured out to such a remote place for no reason.”

At that, the Panchen Lama offered a smile.

“Each person’s actions are backed by their own story.”

“Can I hear that story then?”

“Well, it’s not an exceptional tale.”

“Hmm.”

Chung Myung smiled, a look of amusement evident as if he’d stumbled upon something intriguing.

Just then, the man known as Jain handed them a cup before picking up a brass kettle from the stove. The pour of the tea was so neat and precise that it felt like a performance.

Ripple.

Hot steam emerged, and Chung Myung sipped the tea, seemingly calmed by its penetrating scent. This would be an unusually touching scene for the sect leader, who often felt disheartened after serving tea to Chung Myung.

“Ah, this is nice.”

“I am glad that you like it.”

It was such a strange gaze.

Even after disclosing his identity, the Panchen Lama’s demeanor didn’t change in the slightest, despite the vast difference between him and the disciples of Mount Hua.

“If you find anything uncomfortable, please let me know. I won’t ask anymore.”

At the words of Chung Myung, the Panchen Lama offered a hint of surprise, followed by a smile.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding here. I didn’t intend for my words to come across that way. I was merely stating that it is a trivial matter. Every action has an equal reaction. Matters that may be crucial to us might not hold the same weight to the younger disciples.”

The Panchen Lama, with his palms clasped together, recited a brief verse before turning his gaze towards each member of Mount Hua.

“If you have any curiosity, there is no reason to suppress it. I am merely carrying out my part of the plan, and you are assisting in the events of Potala alongside me.”

“A role?”

The Panchen Lama offered an innocent smile.

“Everyone treading the path of Buddha in the Potala Palace should aim to achieve their own Dharma and use their energy to save the living beings of this land. However, those bestowed with the title of the Panchen Lama have an additional unique duty to perform.”

All the eyes were focused on him as he calmly spoke.

“We are to seek the Dalai Lama.”

“Uh?”

Search for the Dalai Lama?

As confusion etched on the faces of the Mount Hua disciples, he graciously elucidated.

“The Dalai Lama is akin to the emperor of Potala Palace, a status not awarded by mere training. Those from the Central Plains might find this difficult to grasp, but those who ascend to the role of Dalai Lama are those destined for it.”

“From birth?”

“Yes. It’s the same for the Dalai Lama. The Panchen refers to the individual tasked with locating the Dalai Lama. Through constant testing, one can become the Panchen Lama when gifted with the eye of Dharma, allowing them to identify the Dalai Lama immediately.”

Baek Cheon’s eyes widened.

This information helped him clear up a few things.

But why had the Panchen Lama journeyed to this distant land near the North Sea?

“Y-You mean to say…?”

As if confirming his suspicion, the Panchen Lama nodded.

“Indeed, that is correct.”

He then turned his gaze towards the young child seated beside him. His subtle regard for the small being beside him was easy to overlook.

Yet, it was filled with boundless respect and certainty.

“This individual is the embodiment of the Bodhisattva and is the Dalai Lama, the living Buddha.”

“Dalai…”

Feeling overwhelmed, Baek Cheon refrained from uttering another word.

He had learned the name of the Panchen Lama only today, yet he had heard of the Dalai Lama countless times before.

The Great Living Buddha.

The guardian of Potala Palace, deemed the incarnation of Buddhism and the living Buddha.

“Is he the Great Living Buddha?”

And there was Chung Myung, unusually taken aback, his eyes wide in astonishment at the sight of the young child.

The child’s eyes held an implausible depth, as though they housed vast wisdom.

The boy, with eyes too profound for his age, gazed at Chung Myung. His facial expression was inscrutable.