‘What exactly do you mean by “show me something”?’ Yeon asked, prepared to end things entirely if Myoeun said something absurd again. Myoeun seemed to sense it. ‘If you mean your memories...’ [Exactly what I said. I’ll show you what happened with the Ice Palace Lord.] ‘Is that even possible?’ [I think it is. I feel like it is.] Yeon hadn’t expected that. She glanced at her companions. Should she excuse herself and go look at it alone in a room? As she hesitated, Myoeun spoke again. [No, you should all watch. It’ll be better that way.] ‘What about Monk Gongye?’ [Just tell him, too.] [I don’t know. I don’t even know anymore.] Leaving Myoeun—who kept repeating that he didn’t know—Yeon called the others over. She looked especially at Gongye. “What is it, Benefactor Hwangbo?” Sensing the atmosphere wasn’t ordinary, Gongye watched Yeon carefully. “There’s something I haven’t told you, Monk.” “It’s about Monk Myoeun.” Not sure how to explain it, Yeon simply took off the prayer beads and held them out to him. “If you try these on, you’ll understand what I mean.” With a blank look, Gongye accepted the beads. A moment later, he gasped and dropped them in shock. Gongye looked at Yeon as if he’d just seen a ghost on a night road. Seeing how rattled he was, Yeon quickly added an explanation: the spirit of Myoeun was inside the beads. “B-But Master achieved enlightenment...” So Myoeun had been Gongye’s teacher. That was unexpected. Gongye didn’t even seem to realize he’d said it. He simply gulped, then picked the beads back up. “Uh... Are you there?” He flinched slightly—perhaps he could hear a response. But this time, he didn’t let go of the beads. After nodding sporadically and giving brief replies, he finally turned to the others. “M-My master says, ha ha...” “Ah. Forgive me, Benefactor. I still can’t quite believe it.” Gongye shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “He says we should all touch the beads. Every single one of us.” That was Soso. Yeon remembered how Soso was afraid of ghosts and refused to touch the beads last time. “Soso. Monk Myoeun says he has something to show us.” Though a bit reassured by Yeon’s words, Soso still looked nervous. Cheongang, as always, was calm. “I don’t think the monk has bad intentions. So there’s nothing to worry about. But if you’re really scared, you don’t have to.” Soso hesitated for a moment, then steadied herself and reached out. With Soso’s decision, everyone reached for the beads. Usually worn doubled around her wrist, they weren’t exactly small once unfurled. Big enough for ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) four people to each hold a part. As they all gathered around the table, Yeon looked at Cheongang. Everyone nodded. Yeon sent a message in her mind. A faint sigh followed his words. Despite what he said, Myoeun didn’t sound certain. But soon, his voice grew resolute. [Everyone, close your eyes and concentrate. If this doesn’t work... there’s nothing I can do.] One by one, their eyes closed. Yeon was the last. Darkness fell over her vision. In moments , one would usually hear ambient noises—yet there was nothing. It reminded her again how silent the Ice Palace was. Yeon was just about to ask when something yanked at the back of her head—and her vision flipped. Myoeun stood on an open plain. There wasn’t a single obstacle in sight. In other words, nothing to block the damn freezing wind either. Hugging his thick fur coat tighter, he grumbled. “It’s cold. Way too cold!” His disciples smiled quietly at his fussing. A few began to chant sutras, as if to remind him to keep his dignity. Myoeun turned away from them. “I was an idiot to expect empathy from you lot.” “Elder Brother. Should I give you my coat?” The one who approached—softly—was Myojeong, the disciple Myoeun favored most. Among all the stifling monks of Shaolin, Myojeong was at least somewhat human. Below him, in the generation of disciples bearing the ‘Gong’ character, there was another like him—probably back at the temple, face drawn in prayer right now. ‘Still young now, but that one might surpass even me someday.’ Myoeun shook off his wandering thoughts at Myojeong’s voice. His mind always drifted during conversations. No matter how many times the Head Monk scolded him, he couldn’t fix it. Humans are thinking beings. What’s wrong with thinking? “Don’t do this, don’t do that”—Shaolin really didn’t care about personal freedom... Myoeun barely pulled himself out of another mental rabbit hole. “U-Uh. What were you saying?” “Should I give you my coat?” “No thanks. If I stole your coat, even the Buddha would frown.” Myojeong lowered his clear eyes and smiled. He didn’t insist or take off his coat, but he fidgeted with it like he still wanted to. His kindness was almost a flaw. ‘If he hadn’t become a monk, he’d have been ruined. Toss him into the secular world, and he wouldn’t even keep his own rice bowl—he’d be too busy giving it away. Some say pure animals are occasionally born human. Maybe he’s one of them.’ Shaolin was full of naïve disciples who got chewed up and spit out by scoundrels in robes. But even among them, Myojeong was special. True goodwill like his was rare—even in Shaolin. To save his disciple from giving away his coat, Myoeun changed the topic. “Anyway, why are we meeting in a place ? The Northern Sea Ice Palace? Is that how the leader of a mystical sect behaves? She could’ve come to Zhongyuan herself.” “She said she already came down quite a bit, Elder Brother. The Ice Palace is apparently very far.” “How do we know? That’s just what she said. Could be a lie.” “Elder Brother, she wouldn’t lie about that.” Myoeun clicked his tongue, looking at Myojeong’s trusting face. “Disciple, people in the secular world aren’t like you. For them, lying is... how do I put it... kind of like how we say ‘Amitabha.’ Something you toss around when you’re bored.” “S-Senior Brother, how could you say something so blasphemous...?” Myoeun didn’t know what exactly was so blasphemous about it, and simply turned his head away. He thought to himself, Should I even bother talking anymore? “Anyway, it’s about time she showed up.” Just as he was mumbling, a figure appeared in the distance. Still faint and undefined, but it couldn’t be a nomad—nomads didn’t travel alone. “She’s coming. Speak of the devil, and she appears.” Quoting a worldly proverb, Myoeun’s mouth curled into a grin. He was, in many ways, a monk specialized in dealing with people from the outside world—because he couldn’t be deceived by lies. Ordinary monks would need years of deep cultivation to reach that level. And by then, they’d be too old to travel to places . “Well then... let’s see what kind of person our Ice Palace Lord is.” Just then, a sudden gust of wind howled through the plains. Myoeun and the other disciples flinched, but the Shaolin monks didn’t stop walking. The wind sliced past their faces like blades, making it nearly impossible to keep their eyes open—some even teared up. Guess our first meeting’s going to be a tearful one. As the presumed Ice Palace Lord came closer, Myoeun and the monks came to a halt. The temperamental wind began to settle. When Myoeun raised his head, what he saw was a frail woman who looked like she might collapse at any moment. He muttered, and the other disciples stirred. They hadn’t expected that either. She walked toward them. Curious eyes peered out from a face pale enough to fade into the snow. Eyes wide and pure, like the untouched surface of the first snowfall. Meeting that gaze, Myoeun unconsciously shrank his shoulders. The clever line he’d prepared to assert dominance, the arrogance that said let’s see what kind of lie she tells first—it all vanished. Like freshly fallen snow covering a dirty, trampled field, she blanketed the mess of pride and prejudice in his heart. The greeting floated from her small, red lips. Myoeun couldn’t reply. She spoke her name and smiled, almost shyly. That smile sparkled like a silver snowflake. That was Myoeun’s first impression of Eunseol. Ha Eunseol was clumsy in many ways. Not just in daily life, but in her interactions with people. Myoeun honestly wondered how she’d even made it here alone. She wasn’t quite a secular person—more like a nun. That was the conclusion he came to. At the very least, from the moment they met, she had never lied to him. It was even more surprising when they ate together—her diet was more restrained than the Shaolin monks’. It seemed she barely ate anything at all. No wonder she’s so thin. While the monks ate, she usually sat in meditation. Eventually, Myoeun couldn’t hold back and asked, “Do you follow a religion or something?” The immediate answer caught Myoeun off guard. He’d considered it, but still. “Is the Northern Sea Ice Palace some kind of religious sect, then...?” “Northern Sea Ice Palace?” “Yes. The Ice Palace. Isn’t it?” Ha Eunseol gently corrected him. It was just the Ice Palace, she said. Or more precisely, the Palace of Frozen Purity. But Myoeun didn’t think that part mattered much. “Anyway, what you want is to go to Zhongyuan, right?” She fell silent for a moment, then made a sudden suggestion. “Would you... like to see the Ice Palace?” “Yes. Before we go to Zhongyuan, I wanted to show it to you...” Caught off guard, Myoeun glanced at his disciples. Personally, he didn’t mind. If anything, he was curious about the Ice Palace. But he wasn’t sure how the disciples would feel. “What do you all think?” At his question, the disciples all avoided eye contact. Ever since learning the Ice Palace Lord was a woman, they’d been . Most had grown up entirely within the temple walls—it was understandable. As Myoeun grew frustrated, Myojeong stepped forward. “Why not do what you want, Elder Brother?” “I mean, I do want to go. But it’s not like I can decide that on my own.” “Everyone will follow your lead. Even the Head Monk entrusted this mission to you.” “I believe your judgment is right.” Myojeong’s eyes shone with deep trust. He could be such a burden sometimes. Most people found Myoeun difficult, even strange. Some of the older monks even openly disapproved of him. It was probably because of his martial skill. Despite his young age, Myoeun had learned Shaolin’s secret techniques and was on the verge of mastering them. The elder monks couldn’t criticize him too directly because of it. Meanwhile, Myojeong had no real talent for martial arts, despite being a martial monk. Why was kindness never proportional to skill? Maybe it was because he was kind that he lacked it—after all, martial arts were, at their core, made to hurt others. Myoeun averted his gaze from Myojeong’s earnest eyes and gave a half-hearted reply. “Alright, fine. Send word to the Head Monk.” “Yes, Elder Brother. Don’t worry.” And so, instead of heading to Zhongyuan, they turned toward the Ice Palace. This kind of change in plans was practically unheard of in Shaolin. As excitement bubbled in Myoeun’s chest, he leaned toward Ha Eunseol and asked slyly: “We’re probably the first people from Zhongyuan to enter the Ice Palace, right? Should we feel honored or something?”