Chương 393: Chapter 364. Back to Guangyou Temple

Youngwoo went to Guangyou Temple near dawn. Once again, he was drenched in blood. Perhaps because he was the man who had left behind a silver ingot, the monk said nothing and simply led him inside, opening the door to one of the rooms. The moment Youngwoo entered, the monk tossed him a change of clothes and pointed toward the washing area.

"There is a well over there. Wash before the laywomen come out." Youngwoo bowed his head.

"Thank you." The monk looked in turn at Youngwoo's bloodstained clothes, his face, and the backs of his hands, then found himself at a loss for words.

"What in the world..." He let the words out like a sigh.

"They say the fighting is over. Why do you look like this again?" Youngwoo removed his cloak and answered,"I could hardly let them kill me. When I returned to my lodging, assassins came at me." The monk stared at him in disbelief.

"How many people do you have to kill to get your clothes into that state?" Youngwoo glanced casually at the bloody sleeve.

"If I soak it in cold water for a while, the blood should come out. I suppose I put down about a hundred." The monk's face stiffened. He brought his hands together and murmured,"A Heavenly Killing Star indeed. Namo Guanyin Bodhisattva." Youngwoo raised his head as if unfairly accused.

"The problem lies with the men who attacked me. What wrong is there in defending myself so I can stay alive?" The monk narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"One lot or the other, you are all the same." Youngwoo closed his mouth. He considered arguing, then decided against it. The predawn air of the temple was cold, and there were still no voices from the direction of the well. Carrying his bloodstained clothes rolled under one arm, Youngwoo headed where the monk had pointed. He could hardly ask a temple to heat bathwater for him before dawn. So he sat blankly beside the well for a while, then washed quickly before the cold could settle too deeply into his body.

The moment the water touched his skin, his breath stopped on its own. Still, it was better than leaving the blood, sweat, and smell of poisonous smoke clinging to him. Once he changed clothes, the world seemed a little cleaner. Of course, the world itself had not become clean. But the dried blood was gone from his body, and his clothes no longer smelled so strongly of iron. That alone helped his mind settle. Had anything ever been easy? A sigh escaped him.

Youngwoo sat blankly on the narrow wooden porch outside the guest room. Before long, a young monk opened his door and walked toward the bell pavilion. A little later, the low sound of a bell spread through the morning air. It was not loud, but it was enough to wake the entire temple. Six or seven monks emerged into the courtyard. Without speaking, they picked up brooms and began sweeping the snow. The grounds were too broad to clear all at once.

They started with the path from the mountain gate to the main hall, then the paths between the dining hall and living quarters, and the path to the well. Youngwoo watched for a while, then stepped down from the porch. He picked up one of the brooms leaning nearby and joined them. The monks glanced at him. A warrior who had arrived before dawn covered in blood was now silently sweeping snow. Naturally, it looked strange. But no one stopped him. The temple was busy in the morning.

They swept snow, drew water, rekindled fires, and prepared the morning meal. Soon the dawn service began. Youngwoo sat in the back and followed along as best he could. Unlike the night before, he did not accidentally bow far too many times. He had learned to watch the room a little better. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. By the time the morning meal was finished, the sun had risen.

It was a pale winter sun behind clouds, but when its light touched the snow-covered courtyard, the temple quietly brightened. Only then did Youngwoo think he might finally lie down for a while. But word came that the wonju —the monk in charge of the temple's daily affairs—wished to see him. He had not so much as glanced at Youngwoo the day before. Perhaps the silver ingot had finally reached his attention. Or perhaps it was the blood-soaked arrival before dawn. Maybe both.

When Youngwoo sat before the wonju, the monk brought his hands together.

"Namo Guanyin Bodhisattva. I hear you are a warrior?" Youngwoo answered with due courtesy.

"I am Yi Youngwoo, formerly a Commander of the Shinho Guard attached to the Goryeo force dispatched to Jurchen lands. A few days ago, I resigned after a disagreement, then followed the Balhae army here and helped retake Liaoyang."

"Ohhh." The wonju was visibly startled. He had assumed Youngwoo was simply some wandering warrior. But the history contained in those few words was not ordinary. Goryeo army. Jurchen expedition. Shinho Guard. Commander. Resignation. Support for the Balhae army. Not one of those was a word that could be brushed aside. The wonju looked at Youngwoo again. Now he seemed to understand a little better why this man had walked into the temple before dawn carrying clothes soaked in blood.

He had not watched the war from somewhere beyond its edges. He had crossed straight through the center of it and come to sweep the temple courtyard before the blood had even dried. And considering that he had still thought to help sweep the yard after all that, perhaps he was a decent man after all. At least he knew courtesy. The wonju studied him for a moment before asking,"How did things come to this?" Youngwoo did not explain at length.

He only said that Liaoyang had been retaken, that some among the Balhae people had begun talking of founding a country, that arguments had broken out over a throne and a state name, and that when he returned to his lodging, assassins had been waiting for him. The wonju clicked his tongue.

"Aiyoo. That must have been difficult." Youngwoo turned his head indifferently.

"It happens often enough." That answer troubled the monk even more. Bloodshed like that ought not to be something that happened often.

"So what will you do now?"

"If you permit it, I would like to remain here for a while and see how matters develop."

"And if they found a country? Will you kill them all?" Youngwoo gave a faint laugh.

"I threatened them that way, but surely it would not come to that." The wonju shook his head.

"If they are the Balhae people I know, they may very well do it." Youngwoo looked at him.

"You know them?"

"They want their country back. They have wanted it for a very long time."

"They have all failed. This would only add one more failed rebellion."

"Even so, imagine how painful it would be to be told not to try." Youngwoo narrowed his eyes.

"Are you Balhae as well?" The wonju answered calmly,"No. Until a few days ago, this was Liao territory. Best to stay on Liao's good side." Youngwoo gave a short laugh.

"Hm. I suppose so." The conversation looked likely to grow long. Youngwoo went straight to the point.

"Even without all this, I had already been thinking of studying here."

"Studying?" The wonju looked at him again. A man who had fought with swords, arrived before dawn covered in blood, and now spoke of cultivation and study. His words and appearance did not seem to belong together. And yet when the monk remembered Youngwoo sweeping the courtyard and sitting quietly in the Mahavira Hall, it did not sound entirely absurd either. Youngwoo nodded.

"Yes. I am a student of cultivation. It is quiet here, and my practice went well. I would like to ask your permission." The wonju thought for a moment, then asked,"Will any of that sword fighting follow you here?"

"I ordered the Go estate emptied."

"Isn't that the Go family's home?"

"You may threaten men with violence when they do senseless things. I told them that if I went there this morning and found even one person still inside, I would kill them all." The wonju had never seen such unreasonable confidence. His face stiffened.

"You are not truly going to do that, are you? That is the Go Family Grand Estate. It belongs to the Go clan." Youngwoo answered with complete calm.

"I will. If necessary, I was going to tell them to leave Liaoyang altogether. Cowardly traitors." The wonju was speechless. There was neither bravado nor anger on Youngwoo's face. Only the calm of a man stating something he had already decided.

"Namo Guanyin Bodhisattva. Why would you do such a thing?"

"Perhaps they will learn that life is, in the end, little more than living in someone else's house."

"Huh... huhuh." The strange metaphor drew a bewildered laugh from the wonju.

"If they were useless from the beginning, perhaps I could understand. But they possess power and refuse to use it properly, which makes them an even greater burden. Those people... they claim to act for the Balhae people while serving their own hunger for power." Early in the morning, once he confirmed the sun had risen, Youngwoo went to the Go Family Grand Estate. The gate was tightly shut. When he entered, there was not a single person inside, just as he had ordered. He checked room after room to make sure.

Everywhere were signs of a hurried departure. Belongings that had not been packed in time sat against the walls. Open chests held clothes and miscellaneous objects thrown together. Things servants would normally have cleared away immediately had been left untouched. Youngwoo went to the reception room where he had sat across from Okjeong. It was the room that had held the scent of tea the night before. The splendid table and high-backed chairs remained.

The paintings on the walls and the carefully arranged bookshelves were still there. In that room, Okjeong had asked him to help Go Youngchang. Youngwoo had written out the ten reasons for her. A place where they had once spoken of the future of a country now felt like a room abandoned by its owners. Youngwoo sat there for a while. There were no teacups. No new fire had been lit. Only the pale reflection of snow entered through the window. He stared silently at the tabletop, then slowly rose.

When he went to the detached compound, the bodies had been removed. The broken doors and shattered furnishings had also been carried outside. But because everything had been cleared away in such haste, traces remained everywhere. Marks from dragged bodies tangled across the snow. Shoes and scraps of clothing lay scattered at one side of the courtyard. Broken arrow shafts were embedded beneath the wall. Dried blood had darkened across the threshold of the detached residence.

The smell of blood still hung thickly in the air. Youngwoo walked slowly through the compound. Inside the room, the acrid scent of poison smoke remained faintly. The small holes in the ceiling were still visible. Deep sword cuts scarred the doorway where he had thrown the bedding. The events of the night already felt strangely distant, almost like a dream. The traces left behind were anything but. Could he use this place as his lodging? Youngwoo stopped in the middle of the courtyard and considered it.

Guangyou Temple was quiet. But a temple was still a temple. If an armed warrior stayed too long, he would eventually become a burden to the monks. This place, on the other hand, was empty now. There were rooms. Walls. A well. With a few men brought in to guard it, it would serve well enough as temporary quarters. Then why had he driven them all out? Calling it mere spite would be too much. No. They had gone too far first. They had invited a guest into their home and allowed assassins inside.

Poison through the ceiling. Swordsmen outside the door. Archers and spearmen in the courtyard. If they truly knew nothing about all that, then they lacked the ability to govern their own household. If they knew and allowed it, the crime was deeper still. Youngwoo looked up again at the small holes in the ceiling. They were tiny and carefully placed. Not something an outsider could have made by chance. Someone who knew the structure of the estate. Someone who knew where the room was.

Someone who knew exactly where Youngwoo would lie down. Someone had opened the way. It left him feeling bleak. Betrayal always left loneliness before anger. Not merely because trust had been broken. But because it confirmed yet again that people would choose to hurt one another in this way. Youngwoo stood there for a long time, then adjusted the hwando at his waist. He could not simply leave this detached compound as it was. He had to learn who had entered. Who had opened the way. Who had given the order.

The Go Family Grand Estate stood empty. But in its emptiness, it was speaking.