Chapter 347: Potala Palace, Dalai Lama (3)

“Ahahahaha!”

The Dalai Lama laughed heartily.

He enthusiastically shook Yi-gang’s hand, as if greeting an old friend. Then, he patted Yi-gang on the shoulder and inspected his face from different angles.

Yi-gang stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Then, he stared intently at the Dalai Lama’s face.

His eyes were round, and his head was shaved clean, yet his short hair was still dark.

Overall, he was a well-groomed young man.

The only distinctive feature was a slightly protruding canine tooth revealed when he smiled.

‘As I thought, this isn’t just a misunderstanding.’

Yi-gang had no recollection of ever meeting him.

Yet, why was the leader of Potala Palace and the ruler of Tibet acting so friendly?

Had he perhaps seen Yi-gang while traveling in the Central Plains?

“I always wanted to meet you. But unlike me, your face is so pale and refined.”

From the Dalai Lama’s words, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Do you… know me?”

“Of course! How could I not!”

The reason he was so delighted to see Yi-gang was clear.

“You are the one who can truly understand my solitude.”

“…Excuse me?”

He called him “the one.”

Yi-gang began to feel uncomfortable around this young lama, who was said to be the reincarnation of Guanyin.

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else?”

“I am saying that you are a reincarnate without the Mark of Oblivion.”

Yi-gang shut his mouth tightly.

It had happened before.

There were those who could recognize that he was born with the memories of his past life.

Only beings who had transcended humanity, like Gumiho, could perceive it.

“I, too, remember my past lives, so I understand the loneliness of existence more than anyone. That is why you and I are kindred spirits.”

The Dalai Lama smiled faintly.

“Then, Lama, you are…”

“I have been conscious through the cycle of reincarnation even before I first took the name Dalai Lama. Yes, for at least a thousand years.”

The sheer weight of a thousand years felt overwhelming.

「Among all the people I have met, the most resolute one is this the Dalai Lama.」

Just like the monk who had once cut off his own arm to be accepted as a disciple.

If he spoke that way, then the Dalai Lama must be even more extraordinary.

「He was less talented in martial arts than even a farmer, yet when I met him again, he had become a Supreme Peak master.」

As with everything in life, martial arts was 90% talent.

Effort accounted for only 10%, while external factors like one’s birth environment played a role as well.

A talentless farmer could train in supreme martial arts for a hundred years and still never reach the realm of Supreme Peak.

The Dalai Lama had overcome this lack of talent through countless cycles of reincarnation.

「A thousand years have passed since then. What has he become now…?」

Yi-gang felt a chill run down the back of his neck at that thought.

The Dalai Lama looked like an ordinary man. But was that simply the illusion of one who had reached the state of returning to simplicity?

The Dalai Lama now turned his gaze to Yi-gang’s arm.

“It has been a long time.”

At that moment, something coiled around Yi-gang’s arm unwrapped itself and slithered downward.

What was once as small as a thread-like snake grew larger and slowly took the shape of a human.

A handsome man with curly hair, dressed in ornate clothing—more precisely, the attire of an Indian prince.

A familiar sight from Mount Song.

Bodhidharma spoke to the Dalai Lama, “It has been a long time.”

“Yes, it has been a long time, Prince.”

At the mention of “prince,” Yi-gang and the Divine Monk flinched. It was an unfamiliar term to hear in this context.

Bodhidharma also cleared his throat.

“Khmm. Prince, you say? The kingdom has long since disappeared.”

“I once received help from Kanchipuram, so I accidentally brought up its old name.”

For someone showing such humility, hadn’t he previously introduced himself as the prince of Kanchipuram?

Yi-gang suddenly recalled that fact.

“I have been waiting for you to arrive here.”

“I, too, have awaited my arrival in this place.”

“Have you found what you sought?”

“If I had not found it, you would already know.”

“Perhaps you have found it within your heart.”

“Do not test me, Prophet.”

Was it because both of them possessed divine insight?

Even their verbal exchanges felt extraordinary.

Regardless, the Dalai Lama maintained an attitude of respect toward Bodhidharma.

“Welcome.”

The Dalai Lama gestured toward a table and chairs in the center of the artificial pond.

The group sat around the stone-fixed table.

The Divine Monk spoke first, “We received a letter stating that Shaolin and this humble monk’s assistance is needed. Amitabha…”

He got straight to the point without any unnecessary words.

The reason they had traveled all the way to this distant land of Tibet was none other than Potala Palace’s request for aid.

However, after arriving, they realized something.

Potala Palace was neither engulfed in the flames of war nor did it appear weak. On the contrary, it looked immensely powerful.

The Dalai Lama responded, “The Demon Cult’s Mad Wind Temple—no, they are now the Mad Wind Army. They are invading this place.”

“…Mad Wind Army!”

“Yes, those so-called ‘Ghosts of the Great Desert’ are charging across the plateau toward Lhasa.”

Although the Demon Cult was preparing for an invasion, it seemed that Tibet would be the first to bear the brunt of the attack.

And the Mad Wind Army it was sending was not to be underestimated.

The Mad Wind Army was originally an organization known as the Mad Wind Society.

It was a massive bandit group that operated in the desert.

Thousands of bandits swept through the Great Desert.

Neither the Ming army nor the remnants of the Yuan Dynasty could do anything to stop the Mad Wind Society.

Eventually, when their leader attempted to proclaim himself king, the Demon Cult intervened.

The supreme masters of the True Demon Palace descended in force, eliminated the Mad Wind Society’s leader, and absorbed the society into the Demon Cult.

Thus, the cavalry unit of the Demon Cult, the Mad Wind Army, was born.

In other words, nearly a thousand elite warriors on horseback were charging toward Potala Palace.

The Divine Monk asked in disbelief, “Then shouldn’t you have called for more people? If we had known, we could have brought more…”

“The same could be said for the Central Plains—it is also on the brink of disaster.”

That was indeed true.

The main force of the Demon Cult, far greater in scale than the Mad Wind Army, was advancing southward toward Kunlun.

Even if the Dalai Lama had formally requested aid, how many reinforcements could they have sent?

The Dalai Lama elaborated further, “And besides, we are enough to stop the Mad Wind Army. It is our duty as lamas to protect Potala Palace and Tibet.”

This land belonged to them.

Thus, it was also their responsibility to defend it from foreign invaders.

Then why had they requested aid in the first place?

“There is something we must accomplish beyond merely stopping the Mad Wind Army.”

And what came from the mouth of the Dalai Lama, Jinam Gachö, was something Yi-gang had not expected.

“The Bishop of the Evil Cult, the Cardinal, is leading the Mad Wind Army.”

“…!”

“This is our chance. A rare opportunity to eliminate one of the Three Pillars of the Evil Cult.”

Yi-gang swallowed hard.

The true mastermind behind the bloodshed sweeping across Central Plains was the Evil Cult.

However, the Evil Cult’s inner workings remained shrouded in darkness.

All that was known was that the Cardinals, who ranked just below the Cult Leader, were the most dangerous individuals.

Other than the Azure Forest, no one knew the full extent of the Evil Cult’s secrets. Was Potala Palace also keeping them in check?

The Dalai Lama, seeing Yi-gang’s hardened expression, smiled faintly.

“The Evil Cult differs from other sects and heretic cults. Their Cult Leader worships the Evil God and is said to wield the Three Divine Artifacts.”

He continued, explaining that under the Nine Heavens, there was the Heaven of Severed Serpents.

The Lord of Heaven possessed the Three Divine Artifacts, known respectively as the Blade, the Mirror, and the Bell.

“The Blade is Heuk-am, the Mirror is Mang-hon, and the Bell is Gwi-ryeong. The one leading the Mad Wind Army is none other than Mang-hon.”

Yi-gang’s face stiffened more than ever before.

To think that a lead on the Evil Cult would appear here of all places—moreover, if he was a Cardinal, then he was one of the most influential figures in the Evil Cult, second only to the Cult Leader.

“Mang-hon is the high priest of the Evil Cult, a master of the darkest sorcery, and an expert in mystics. He commands swarms of monstrous creatures and deadly poisons.”

“Then the Gu Poison, including Guiyi Gu…”

“There is a high likelihood that it originated from Mang-hon.”

The Divine Monk let out a heavy sigh.

If even the highly revered Dalai Lama spoke of him with such weight, then Mang-hon must be an incredibly formidable sorcerer.

“Should we be the ones to face him? However, I can no longer use martial arts…”

“Heh…”

When the Divine Monk spoke with uncertainty, the Dalai Lama laughed.

The laughter felt out of place, causing the Divine Monk to stare at him. The Dalai Lama then explained, “Even if you had retained your original martial prowess, you would still be unable to defeat the Cardinal.”

“…Did you not say he was a sorcerer? A high priest…?”

Naturally, those who specialized in sorcery or dark arts tended to be weaker in direct martial combat.

Moreover, the Divine Monk was an Absolute master of Shaolin.

Had he not trained in the very Buddhist martial arts designed to counter wicked beings?

“All three Cardinals are powerful Absolute masters. Especially Heuk-am, who serves as the ‘Blade’—he is beyond even that level.”

“…Hah!”

The Dalai Lama had no reason to exaggerate.

He truly believed that Mang-hon was stronger than the Divine Monk at his peak.

“Do not worry. We will handle both the Cardinal and the Mad Wind Army.”

The Dalai Lama himself was surely an Absolute grandmaster by now, and the Panchen Lama standing beside him was no weakling either.

Yet, for some reason, Yi-gang found the Dalai Lama’s confidence somewhat unsettling.

“The reason we requested your aid is for something else. While we subdue Mang-hon and the Mad Wind Army, we have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

The Dalai Lama rose from his seat.

Then, raising a finger, he pointed at his feet.

The group sensed that something was present there.

At the bottom of the artificial pond, where the water had collected up to their feet, there was something resembling a different type of stepping stone.

“These are the stairs leading underground. They lead to a labyrinth beneath the palace.”

“A labyrinth…?”

“It is one of the two reasons the Cardinal of the Evil Cult came all the way here. What is hidden here…” the Dalai Lama looked directly at Yi-gang and spoke, “Since you are a disciple of the Guardian Sect, you will understand well. This is one of the keys to the Seal of the Evil God.”

“Ah!”

This was exactly what the Evil Cult had been searching for.

The Dalai Lama turned to the group and said, “Usually, we use our dharma power to hide the entire labyrinth, but it seems they have sensed its existence. Please stay here and, when the time for battle comes, be prepared for any eventuality.”

“What do you mean by ‘any eventuality’?”

“If we are unable to stop the Cardinal and the Mad Wind Army, take this key and escape to the Central Plains.” He added, “There is a secret passage, so you need not worry about looking back.”

Only then did the group realize why the Dalai Lama had called them.

He had carefully arranged to include a small, elite force—especially Yi-gang, a member of the Azure Forest—so that even if Potala Palace fell, the Evil Cult’s objective could not be accomplished.

A brief silence passed.

As the group organized the new information they had obtained, Yi-gang pointed out an important detail, “What is the other reason?”

“Hmm?”

“The reason the Cardinal personally invaded this place. You mentioned there were two reasons.”

Indeed, that was what the Dalai Lama had said.

The Dalai Lama grinned and, acting casually, draped an arm over Yi-gang’s shoulder.

“That’s right. If anyone should know, it should be you. After all, we are in the same situation.”

“We are the enemies of the Evil Cult.”

Enemies of the Evil Cult.

Yi-gang felt a sense of déjà vu.

It reminded him of the time deep in the Five Elements Tomb when he met the Master of the Ghost Valley.

A collaborator of the Evil Cult, he seemed to see right through Yi-gang’s true identity, saying, “You are an enemy of the cult. Mang-hon was right.”

The Dalai Lama’s explanation continued, “The Evil Cult has received a prophecy. A reincarnate born without the Mark of Oblivion will rise to oppose them… just like us.”

Yi-gang felt a foreboding sense of dread in the Dalai Lama’s words.

The dark fate with the Evil Cult. It might not be a mere coincidence.

“From the very beginning, it was destined. The enmity between you and the Evil Cult.”

It felt like a long-hidden secret was finally being revealed.

The Dalai Lama gave Yi-gang’s shoulder a light pat.

“Let’s rest for a day and recover from the journey. I’ll explain everything in detail.”

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