Even the Buddha has abandoned you. (4)

His trembling legs managed to take yet another step forward.

Staggering as if he might collapse at any moment, Beop Gye kept moving without rest. His body, covered in wounds, had long reached its limit, but his spirit clung to the will to “move forward.”

Thud.

Even if his pace was much slower than an ordinary person’s walk, and even if he swayed as if he would fall at any second, Beop Gye continued onward. With Beop Jong on his back.

This was the last choice Beop Gye could make.

But because of that choice, Beop Jong, who was being carried on his back, was experiencing hell alive.

“Ahhhhh!”

A horrifying scream of someone dying echoed from somewhere.

It was a familiar voice. Beop Jong’s body trembled faintly.

Another life. Another despair. And yet another…

“Beop… Gye…”

He wished he could at least lose consciousness.

Then he could escape this pain that was worse than being cut to pieces with a knife. He wouldn’t have to hear the sounds of his disciples dying to save him.

What meaning could there be in saving him now? He had already lost everything. There are lives worse than death in this world. At least, to Beop Jong now, his remaining life was such.

But this heavenly punishment was suffering from inner demons tearing his body to pieces while keeping his consciousness intact. It was truly hell on earth.

“Me…”

He mustered all his strength to grip Beop Gye’s shoulder. Of course, his hand was too weak to hold on properly.

“Please, Beop… Gye…”

Put me down and save yourself.

His mouth couldn’t even complete that short phrase.

Beop Gye must have understood the intent well enough. Yet, he didn’t let go of Beop Jong.

“Beop…”

“…Do you remember? Sahyeong.”

Beop Gye, staggering, took another step with legs that felt as heavy as lead.

Even though his body was like a burnt-out candle, liable to extinguish at any moment, his voice remained calm.

“Back then…”

“…”

“…I wanted to run away from Shaolin.”

One step. Then another.

Beop Gye’s voice sounded almost like a whisper.

“Shaolin wasn’t a good fit for someone like me, who was born slow-witted and stubborn. I still remember the sighs of our Sahyeongs and the stern looks of our Teachers.”

“Beop…”

“At that time, the one who stood by my side was you, Sahyeong…”

His voice, though it seemed about to fade away, didn’t break. At least to Beop Jong’s ears, it was distinctly audible.

“I still remember your words from back then. Being slow-witted is a blessing as a Buddhist. Because of it, you can focus solely on the Dharma without turning away, and you won’t be tempted by small distractions. Therefore, you are already endowed with the virtues of an excellent practitioner…”

Beop Gye’s voice grew clearer little by little.

Understanding the meaning clearly, Beop Jong could only bury his face into Beop Gye’s shoulder.

“Do you… remember?”

Even if Beop Jong could speak properly, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer. Because he didn’t remember.

It’s a funny story.

What one person cherished as an unforgettable moment in life, another saw as a fleeting event.

It’s funny, yet he couldn’t laugh. It was heartbreaking.

“At that time… you were a prodigy, receiving all of Shaolin’s expectations. I was… glad, so glad. That someone like you acknowledged me. Maybe that’s why I was able to endure in Shaolin until now.”

What meaning does that hold now?

When everything has vanished.

The sins he had accumulated weighed down on him like a mountain, making it hard even to breathe. What meaning could such things hold?

“Now that I say it… Sahyeong.”

“…”

“…I hated you.”

Beop Gye took another step.

It was clear.

These words weren’t meant for Beop Jong. Perhaps, at this moment, Beop Gye had forgotten he was carrying Beop Jong. He didn’t know what he was doing – he was just moving forward, step by step.

Slowly, and foolishly.

“Sahyeong, you could do everything. Watching you made me feel so insignificant. So, I clung to the scriptures. They were something even someone as dull as me could know and keep.”

“Beop… Gye…”

“To someone like me, who could do nothing but adhere to the scriptures, you, Sahyeong, you shone so brightly. That’s why I hated you… and sometimes even resented you. But… seeing that the only thing left in my mind now is to save you, Sahyeong, maybe… I liked you more than I thought…”

A faint, blurred laugh was heard.

The dry hand of Beop Jong, clutching Beop Gye’s robe, trembled.

He didn’t want to hear this. Such words.

“If I look back…”

A faint smile appeared on Beop Gye’s face, which was filled with pain.

“That’s… that’s fate, I suppose.”

Thud.

Beop Gye’s legs gave out, and he fell to the ground with Beop Jong.

But he felt no more pain in his body.

“Beop Gye… let… me… you must…”

Beop Jong’s voice came from behind him. But Beop Gye ignored the desperate, fragmented words and struggled to his feet. He then readjusted Beop Jong on his back.

‘Where should I go?’

Everywhere he looked was a sheer cliff.

No matter where he stepped, he would fall and roll down. There was no avoiding the path of pain.

Nonetheless, Beop Gye took another step forward on that blurry, thorny path.

They must have been there.

Other fates. Those who had become his disciples through the karma of countless lives.

At the end of that truly empty death, what might they have thought of?

“A-mi…”

He couldn’t complete the Buddhist chant, not just because he had run out of strength.

‘Are you really watching over us?’

If so, why did you let so many of them go like that?

A single tear rolled down from Beop Gye’s wrinkled eyes.

His steps did not cease. He didn’t know where he was going. He just kept moving because he hadn’t yet run out of strength. Just like the way he had lived his life until now.

“The sea of suffering [고해(苦海)]…”

A murmuring voice was heard.

What was he carrying on his back now?

Was it something he was trying to protect? Or hope? Or was it just a suffering soul? Or perhaps… his karma?

Maybe it was all of those. His consciousness grew increasingly blurred.

“Live…”

Flash!

At that moment, a fierce blade energy flew towards Beop Jong’s back from behind. Beop Gye instinctively turned to shield Beop Jong.

Crunch!

The blade energy dug into Beop Gye’s body at a sharp diagonal. His blood-soaked body flew and tumbled like a kite with a broken string. The tied robe tore apart, and Beop Jong’s body was thrown away.

“…Persistent bastards.”

Step. Step.

True to his name [Red Tiger], Jeok Ho, whose entire body was stained red with blood, dragged his blade as he walked. The sound of his teeth grinding together reached Beop Gye’s ears despite the distance.

“Did you think you could escape?”

Shaolin’s disciples had desperately stood in his way. Even in death, their corpses clung to him, forcing him to cut them all down to get here.

Jeok Ho’s eyes, filled with murderous intent to its peak, gleamed fiercely.

At that moment, Beop Gye pushed Beop Jong’s back.

“Go, Sahyeong.”

“Beop Gye…”

“I said go!”

“…”

“Never forget this. You are the Abbot of Shaolin.”

With those words, Beop Gye stood up. He did not wait for Beop Jong’s response.

Beop Jong knew. Beop Gye had already expended all his strength.

But Beop Jong had no choice but to leave him behind.

Beop Gye would block Jeok Ho even if it meant his body would be torn to shreds. He would use every piece of his body to stand in Jeok Ho’s way.

Beop Jong planted his hand firmly on the ground.

He had to go. If he didn’t, everything would be in vain. Their deaths would be for nothing.

He clawed at the ground, struggling. His legs wouldn’t cooperate. Even in this moment, his body betrayed his will.

But he had to survive. Somehow, he had to survive.

Beop Jong gave up trying to stand and crawled forward on the ground.

It was a pitiful sight, hard to imagine for the esteemed Abbot of Shaolin. His nails broke as he clawed at the earth, and his frail hands trembled violently from dragging his heavy body.

The Abbot of Shaolin, crawling on the ground, begging for his life.

Yet Beop Jong, his face smeared with blood and tears, pressed his face into the dirt and continued to inch forward.

“Ha…”

A bitter laugh, mixed with sobs, escaped his dirt-covered lips.

What had he been trying to grasp?

Gaining something alone, it was nothing but an illusion.

Why hadn’t he understood what was truly important?

A brief slashing sound was heard.

‘Веop Gyе..’

He couldn’t turn to look. Beop Jong just desperately pushed himself forward with his feet. Tears kept streaming down his face.

How could he have believed?

Why hadn’t he uttered a single word of resentment until the end?

He must have known it was Beop Jong who had caused all this. And yet, he left without a single harsh word.

Why did he leave without releasing even a fraction of the resentment surely piled up in his heart?

“Hnn…”

He had to survive.

Step.

Whether it was a hallucination or not, he heard footsteps approaching from somewhere.

But Beop Jong just reached out his hand, crawling through the pain that felt like moving across a sheet of ice.

‘I…’

He remembered now.

When he was young. When he was still full of curiosity and desire for the world. There was a small novice monk who used to watch him. A bit slow, a bit simple-minded.

His Saje who couldn’t smile brightly, only shyly.

‘Beop Gye…’

The faces of countless others flashed in his mind.

His teacher, his disciples, and his fellow monks… the ones he should never have betrayed.

“Ugh…”

Beop Jong’s trembling hand reached forward desperately, as if trying to grasp something that could no longer be recovered.

And then it fell weakly.

Thud.

But the tip of his numbed and blunt fingers touched something other than the ground.

With effort, Beop Jong forced his heavy eyelids open. Something unfamiliar came into his blurred vision.

He stared blankly at it, struggling to lift his head. And then he met someone’s gaze.

It was infinitely cold and silent. Too cold to be a reprimand, too hot to be a punishment.

The person, who had fixed Beop Jong with a glance that rendered him speechless, began to walk slowly.

Not towards Beop Jong, but towards Jeok Ho, who had stopped in his tracks.

The person, gritting his teeth, slowly opened his mouth.

“Get lost. Before I kill you.”

At the voice, cold as ice, Jeok Ho’s body momentarily stiffened.