Longevity - Chapter 53

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 53: Forging the Bond of Practice
The four Dharma Protectors positioned Jangseong in the center of the room.
The door closed from outside. As the footsteps of the practicing monks faded, only Jangseong and the four remained in the chamber.
The Northern Elder Monk, seated to the north, regarded Jangseong’s rigid face and spoke.

“Upasaka, we four shall now unfold a Secret Method to correct the old injury in your left leg. We will not touch your body directly, and there will be no pain, so do not be anxious.”

Jangseong nodded, yet his fingers remained knotted in his robe.
The Celestial Gold Benefit Manual contained even the technique of breaking and rejoining fractured bone. But his left leg, broken in childhood, had long since set rigid—the joints twisted permanently in place. Even if broken again, it could never be made whole.
What medicine could not do, these four would accomplish.

“How long will it take?”
“Less than half an hour. Half a stick of incense will suffice.”
“I am grateful for your aid.”

As Jangseong brought his palms together, the four Dharma Protectors positioned themselves at the cardinal points and settled into lotus posture.
Low Sutra Chanting soon filled the room.
Jangseong did not understand the words. Yet as the syllables unfolded, the air grew heavier. There was a solemnity to it, and strangely, a peace beyond measure.
The four sat with closed eyes, their fingers utterly still.
Then a chill settled upon Jangseong’s right thigh.
It was as if an invisible hand grasped flesh and bone together. From thigh to knee, from knee to shin, it descended slowly, pressing and probing inch by inch.
Jangseong held his breath.
The injured leg was the left, yet they were examining the right first.
For a moment, he wondered if they had made an error. But the Dharma Protectors’ chanting never wavered. Jangseong swallowed his doubt and followed the sensation’s path. When the current reached his right ankle and faded, that same sensation appeared at once upon his left thigh.
Now he understood—they were using the right leg as the measure, the standard of proper length and joint alignment, to restore the left.
The sensation descended smoothly past the knee. It pressed and kneaded, but brought no pain.
Then, the moment it touched the hardened scar,
A sharp, tingling buzz.
A powerful numbness radiated from deep within the bone.
It was unlike the ordinary sensation of a limb falling asleep. Not the flesh or the meridians, but the interior of the long-rigid joints themselves was resonating.
The tingling moved downward in minute increments. The four monks’ chanting quickened to match.
Jangseong watched them, eyes open.
Sweat beaded first upon the Northern Elder Monk’s temples. Thick beads of perspiration rose on the foreheads of the other three, and a faint white aura shimmered above their crowns like heat haze.
The work was difficult, though painless.
Jangseong remained motionless. With each inch the tingling traversed, the shape of the bone seemed to shift.
At last, the sensation descended to his ankle and vanished.
The chanting ceased abruptly.
All four Dharma Protectors drew their hands together in a circle before their lower dantian.
A long exhale.
The Northern Elder Monk breathed out deeply.

“It is done. Try to walk.”

Jangseong could not lift his feet at once.
The monk gestured again, and Jangseong cautiously took a step.
His body tilted to the left.
He still limped.
Jangseong’s face hardened. He walked two more steps, then three, but nothing had changed.
Yet the sensation was different.
Before, his left leg had been short and stiff, so his body bent inevitably to one side. Now, though both legs were equal in length, his body still tipped habitually in that same direction, as if by long memory.

“The old ailment has passed, but the gait still follows its old habit.”

The Northern Elder Monk’s voice held no tremor.

“You have walked with a limp for many years, so your body remembers that posture. As you slowly relearn your step, you will naturally stand upright again.”

Jangseong took another step.
This time he deliberately straightened his spine and distributed his weight evenly between both feet. The gait felt awkward, but his left leg now touched the ground at the same height as his right.
It was truly healed.
Words of gratitude rose to his throat, then stopped.
Exhaustion marked all four faces. Sweat still glistened on their foreheads, and the pale luminescence had not entirely faded. What they had given was too great to repay with a few words.
* * *
The four Dharma Protectors rose from their seats.
The Northern Elder Monk pressed his palms together.

“We must escort the Dharma King back to Gelusi Temple. I have already sent word to the lay practitioner Liu—shortly, he will arrange a carriage and horses to take you wherever you wish to go.”

“May I ask why you have done so much for me?”

Jangseong wanted to ask, but he held his tongue.
The elder had already taken his leave, and the other three had imposed no conditions in return.
The four men opened the door and stepped outside.
Jangseong followed them across the threshold.
In that moment, his foot did not catch.
Ordinarily, he would have extended his staff first to keep his left foot from grazing the threshold. Now both feet crossed over naturally, at the same height.
Jangseong turned to look back at the threshold.
In his mind, scattered pieces suddenly aligned.
Before the Buddha Bone Relic, two different lights had appeared—one from Jeong Dae-joong, one from himself. The four Dharma Protectors had chosen Jeong Dae-joong as the Dharma King while concealing their own downward light. That night, Jeong Dae-joong had told him they had said he might be an even more significant figure.
Only that their paths were not the same.
The great teachings of Zhongtu were divided into the Buddhist Path and the Daoist Path. If Jeong Dae-joong was the Dharma King of the Buddhist Path, then the path revealed in himself was likely the other.
He could not be certain this reasoning was correct. None of the four Dharma Protectors had directly called him a man of the Daoist Path.
Yet one unexplained memory surfaced.
When he lived in Wanggagwang, thunder had fallen near his house even on nights when rain did not come. He had thought it then a strange lightning summoned by demons. But if that lightning was no ordinary strike—if Yi-ryu had drawn it down, leaning on his own Spiritual Qi to escape the Heavenly Tribulation—then everything made sense.
There was something else.
On the day he first bowed to his master, Na Yang-ja had accepted only two prostrations and blocked the third. He had thought then that his master, infirm, had simply raised him quickly.
What if Na Yang-ja had recognized the Spiritual Qi within him and refused to accept the three deep bows?
All of it was conjecture.
Yet the Dharma Protectors’ actions were certain.
They had known he might walk a path different from the Buddhist Path, and they had not destroyed him. Now, with not a shred of Spiritual Qi left in him, it would have been easy to erase him without a trace.
Jangseong had heard that fifty years ago, during Emperor Wu’s Suppression of Buddhism, over four thousand six hundred temples had been destroyed and more than two hundred sixty thousand monks and nuns had been forced to return to lay life. The Buddhist Path and the Daoist Path had been at odds so long that the enmity ran far deeper than mere coldness between rivals.
Yet these four had let him live.
They had even mended his leg.
Now he understood why they had made him spend time with Jeong Dae-joong. Before anything was revealed, they had helped him; they had made the two friends, sowing seeds for a future connection.
And they had never demanded repayment.

‘Walk according to your true nature, whoever you may be.’

He had not heard these words spoken aloud, but their actions had conveyed them.
Jangseong watched the four figures moving ahead.
Perhaps there were other reasons behind the thunder and the third bow. Yet it changed nothing that the four had harbored no ill will and had given their grace without condition.
* * *
The four Dharma Protectors passed through the Central Courtyard toward the Front Courtyard.
Outside the Prefect’s Residence, hundreds of monks and believers had already gathered. Jeong Dae-joong sat in the Dharma King’s palanquin, searching for Jangseong among the crowd.
Jangseong did not follow them to the gate.
There were too many people. A careless word at the Dharma King’s farewell might spread as mere gossip.
He stopped midway and pressed his palms together.

“May all four of you journey in peace.”

The Dharma Protectors halted their steps.
Jangseong chose his words carefully.
He could not promise to aid them in all things. If the Buddhist Path and the Daoist Path ever collided, he did not yet know which side he would stand on.
Yet he could not forget this debt either.

“A great kindness cannot be repaid in words. Should I ever find myself facing the Dense Sect, I will remember today’s grace and leave a measure of restraint.”

As he finished, heat flooded his face.
Now he was only a fourteen-year-old boy with no Spiritual Qi at all. Still, he could promise nothing greater.
The four Dharma Protectors looked at each other. Joy bloomed across their faces.
The Northern Elder Monk pressed his palms together first.

“Namo Amitabha Buddha. Your words as a lay patron are more than sufficient.”

The other three bowed in unison.

“Please, take care of yourself.”

Jangseong bowed again.
The four men stepped outside, their faces lightened.
Boom! Boom!
The sound of the dharma drum rang out.
A long procession began moving westward amidst chanting and instrumental music.
Jeong Dae-joong turned in his palanquin and waved.

“Limping friend! Come visit sometime!”

Jangseong raised his hand in return.

“Not limping anymore!”

Jeong Dae-joong called back something as he receded, but the drum drowned it out.
Jangseong turned toward the Back Garden before the entire procession had cleared. He couldn’t afford to leave his belongings unattended for long.
* * *
There wasn’t much to call luggage.
A money pouch, a letter, worn clothes, and a Paulownia branch he’d carved to use instead of a staff—that was all.
Jangseong tied his bundle and walked slowly back and forth across the room.
The first few steps still tilted his body leftward. He stopped, adjusted the spacing of his feet, and tried again.
One, two.
His right foot and left foot advanced in equal measure.
One, two.
This time his hips swayed less.
A smile rose unbidden to his lips.
To say he wasn’t pleased would be a lie. No one wanted to spend a lifetime limping. The gift those four Dharma Protectors had given him was beyond the price of anything he possessed.
He didn’t know when he’d be able to repay it.
But he had no intention of forgetting the promise he’d made today.
Even after walking for some time, Liu Youcheng hadn’t returned. Jangseong didn’t grow impatient. To the Prefect’s Residence, the Dharma King was no ordinary guest. He would return only after escorting the procession beyond the city gates.
It was nearly noon when Liu Youcheng came to the Back Garden.

“I’ve kept you waiting long.”
“It’s no trouble.”

Liu Youcheng’s eyes widened when he saw Jangseong standing without his staff.

“Your leg has truly healed?”

Jangseong took a few steps to demonstrate. Still awkward, but he no longer dragged one leg as he had before.
Liu Youcheng marveled in succession, then asked his destination.

“Where are you planning to go? The Dharma King instructed me to prepare a cart, horses, and traveling expenses for you.”

Jangseong didn’t mention Gakjoshan.
By land it was far too distant, and he would need to use the water route. There was no reason to reveal his destination in detail.

Xiangzhou.

That’s the direction I’m planning to go.”
“Then I’ll see you to the Wharf. If there’s an official vessel, I’ll arrange for your passage.”

Liu Youcheng provided the carriage, travel provisions, travel funds, and even a change of clothes.
Jangseong did not refuse again.
* * *
As the carriage made its way toward the wharf, Jangseong rapped on the carriage wall.

“Stop here a moment, please.”

He bought a small knife from a roadside vendor—something to peel the bark from a Paulownia branch.
Now, dressed in clean clothes and carrying a branch, he would stand out far less than he had as a beggar. He meant to strip away the bark and knots until it resembled a proper staff.
When the carriage reached the wharf, Jangseong’s steps faltered.
The river stretched before him, vast and utterly unlike any stream he had known. In this season of rains, it swelled bank-full and drove eastward in muddy waves.
Splash!
The water struck the wooden pilings of the dock.
Xiangzhou

was the destination he had claimed. His true goal lay further downriver: Ganzhou.

Fortunately, an official vessel bound for Ganzhou

lay moored at the wharf.
The clerk from the Prefect’s Residence escorted Jangseong aboard and introduced him to the official overseeing the grain shipment.

“A relative whom Prefect Liu holds dear. Show him every courtesy as far as Xiangzhou,

if you please.”

The logistics officer was a man in his early thirties.

“My name is Pa Jo-mun.

If you’re kin to Liu the Prefect, then you’re a guest on my vessel.”

He led Jangseong below deck and gave him a small cabin.
The official vessel rose three stories and was large enough to carry a thousand bushels of grain. Nearly a hundred passengers crowded the decks—mostly the officer’s staff and family, with a few merchants scattered among them.
Jangseong came aboard in the afternoon.
Cargo and supplies were loaded until sunset. In his cabin, he slowly peeled the bark from the Paulownia branch with the small knife, biding his time.
As night fell, the sound of a gong rang out across the deck.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Three peals echoed across the water.

“Raise the anchor!”

At the captain’s shout, the ropes went taut.
Creak, clang.
The heavy anchor broke the surface, and the sails unfurled.
The vessel caught the swift current and slowly pulled away from the dock.
Jangseong stood at the rail, watching the receding lights of Yuzhou

fade into darkness.
He had entered the city a cripple. Now he was walking out on two feet.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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