Chapter 351: Until The Mad Wind Army Arrives (3)

Potala Palace and the Dalai Lama provided the utmost convenience for Yi-gang’s group.

The Dalai Lama himself even assisted Yi-gang in cultivating the Sutra of Inexhaustible Mind and Body.

The Sutra of Inexhaustible Mind and Body focused on utilizing the upper dantian and helped strengthen Yi-gang’s mental strength.

Its effectiveness went beyond simply allowing him to indirectly experience the state of unity with the flesh.

In other words, Yi-gang received great assistance from Potala Palace.

However, help is fundamentally something that must be reciprocated.

Even in the face of the current invasion by the Storm Brigade, the lamas remained seekers of the true Dharma.

Though they were practitioners of the mysterious Tibetan Esoteric Buddhism, they couldn’t help but be curious about Shaolin’s Marrow Cleansing Tendon Changing Sutra.

All the more so because it was founded by none other than Bodhidharma, whom even the Dalai Lama held in high reverence.

Bodhidharma and the Divine Monk personally shared the training process of the Marrow Cleansing Tendon Changing Sutra.

Of course, to avoid interfering with the training, only one observer was allowed.

That person was none other than the second-highest authority in Tibet after the Dalai Lama—Panchen Lama.

Panchen Lama, also known as Banchenlama.

The person tasked with identifying the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama was the Panchen Lama.

Though he did not remember his past life like Yi-gang or the Dalai Lama, he was clearly a rinpoche, that is, a reincarnated being.

If the Dalai Lama was the embodiment of Guanyin—Avalokiteśvara, then the Panchen Lama was the incarnation of Amitābha (Amita Bul, 阿彌陀佛).

When that martial arts master was allowed to observe, Bodhidharma gave a word to the Panchen Lama.

「If Yi-gang enters this stage of the Marrow Cleansing Sutra, could you assist with his training?」

Just being able to observe was already a valuable opportunity—there was no reason to refuse if he could participate.

The Panchen Lama accepted without hesitation.

But inwardly, he had other thoughts.

‘The Dalai Lama has clearly misjudged… to call him a peer.’

He understood that Yi-gang was someone special, born without the mark of forgetfulness.

However, the Dalai Lama calling such a person his equal was something the Panchen Lama could not accept.

There was, after all, a thing called difference in class.

The incarnation of Avalokiteśvara, who had reincarnated for over a thousand years, versus a frail youth of a martial noble clan who merely remembered his past life.

That his martial prowess was outstanding for his age was impressive—but how important was martial skill, truly?

What mattered was the nobility of the soul.

It was the strength of spirit to face immense evil, and the caliber of the soul not to be swept away before great beings.

‘An extraordinary youth, but only to that extent.’

That summed up the Panchen Lama’s impression of Yi-gang.

He didn’t hold lofty opinions about the Marrow Cleansing Tendon Changing Sutra, either.

Martial arts from the Central Plains were ancient traditions.

But the true source of Buddhism was in Tianzhu, the land of Shakyamuni, and the true successor of its martial ways was Potala Palace.

Even if it was founded by Bodhidharma, the Panchen Lama assumed that if it was merely a martial art meant to keep monks healthy, it couldn’t be anything particularly great.

But it didn’t take long for that notion to change.

The Divine Monk, slumped weakly in a chair, spoke to Yi-gang in a near-death voice, “We will conclude the first stage of the Marrow Cleansing Sutra today.”

Yi-gang stood atop a block of ice cut from the lake.

Behind him was a tub filled with floating chunks of ice.

It was unclear what exactly was about to happen.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. I am.”

Then, Bodhidharma transformed from the shape of a small snake into that of a human.

He pressed his index finger and thumb together, just like the mudra taken by a Buddha statue.

And when he exhaled a breath—a strange flame burst forth.

Hwarururureuk—

The Panchen Lama was appalled.

The flame was so hot it made his eyebrows curl.

Even the indirect gust of heat was intense—and the flame, flicking its tongue, engulfed Yi-gang.

He had said he was going to teach the Marrow Cleansing Sutra, but now it looked as if he were trying to burn his disciple alive.

Yet the Panchen Lama held himself back just as he was about to leap in.

Yi-gang, his entire body engulfed in flames except for one arm, did not thrash about.

Even though there was an ice bath right behind him, he stood firm in place.

He didn’t even scream. One might have thought he wasn’t feeling any pain.

But the crackling sound of his burning skin and the palpable heat made it clear this was no illusion.

“W-what is this?!” the Panchen Lama cried out, forgetting his dignity.

Compared to the methods of the Central Plains, the practices of Esoteric Buddhism could be extreme and cruel.

But none of them involved setting a disciple on fire.

Just as he was about to shout that this was madness, the Panchen Lama heard a faint voice.

“ओं (Om)…”

It came from Yi-gang, engulfed in flames.

Yi-gang had placed his palms together—or more precisely, had assumed a half-prayer posture, with the hand not consumed by fire lowered.

Through the flickering flames, his lips moved.

“अमोघ (Amogha)…”

His voice flickered like the flames.

The searing pain Yi-gang was experiencing seemed to pass straight into the Panchen Lama’s spine, sending a chill down his back.

Regardless of what anyone thought, Yi-gang did not stop reciting the sutras.

“वैरोचन (Vairocana).”

“This is…”

Yes.

Yi-gang was chanting sutras without breaking his posture, even as his entire body was consumed by flames.

It unmistakably reminded one of a particular ritual.

The Panchen Lama murmured, “…Is this not self-immolation offering?”

It was something attempted by high monks whose spiritual power reached the heavens, as they approached the end of their lives.

No matter how talented a martial artist one brought in, such a thing could not be done.

This was asceticism beyond the mental strength and willpower cultivated through martial arts.

A grueling ordeal that only those who had trained for years, forging their spirit until their soul transcended human limits, could endure.

The Panchen Lama realized that his thoughts about Yi-gang had been narrow-minded.

He straightened his posture and placed his hands together in a prayer gesture.

The Divine Monk also sat and pressed his palms together toward the burning Yi-gang.

Only Bodhidharma remained standing, watching Yi-gang engulfed in flames—and it was only after Yi-gang had completed the entire mantra that the ordeal came to an end.

With a flick of Bodhidharma’s hand, the ice-filled water surged upward and poured over Yi-gang’s body.

His body had been heated for so long that the water sizzled on contact, splashing into droplets.

Thick white steam billowed throughout the room.

And through it, Yi-gang’s figure slowly emerged.

“Ooh…!”

For some reason, the Panchen Lama felt his eyes grow moist.

Yi-gang’s body had not turned into charcoal.

Though ashes and dead skin clung to his form, beneath it, smooth and pale skin was clearly revealed.

The scars that once covered his body were nowhere to be seen.

It was as if he had been reborn through fire.

The Panchen Lama murmured in a trembling voice, “An Arahant from the Central Plains has come to this land.”

Arahant, or originally Arhat, meaning an enlightened sage—by saying this, he acknowledged that Yi-gang had reached the pinnacle of human potential.

Yi-gang stepped down from the block of ice.

He swayed for a moment, but then stood tall, regaining his balance.

His clothes had burned away, leaving him bare, so he put on a new robe.

“With this, the first stage of the Marrow Cleansing Sutra is complete,” so declared Bodhidharma.

If this was the first stage, then just how terrifying must the second stage be?

The Panchen Lama willingly decided to assist in the shedding of this young Arhat.

The very next day, they began training for the second stage of the Marrow Cleansing Sutra.

It was just as grueling as the first stage.

Dozens of large acupuncture needles were driven deep into Yi-gang’s body, piercing down to the bone through his major muscles.

In that condition, he would spar with the Panchen Lama in perfect sync.

It was a horrific spar, during which Yi-gang had to maintain unwavering focus and continue circulating his internal energy.

Yi-gang continued such training.

While that harsh discipline was being carried out atop the tall spire of Potala Palace—

Dam Hyun was not idle, either.

He quietly roamed around Potala Palace.

As a guest, wandering freely through another’s home was neither polite nor proper.

Especially in Potala Palace, where many areas were strictly off-limits due to their nature.

Yet Dam Hyun acted as if he knew nothing, brazenly attempting to enter such places.

When the lamas sternly said, “You may not enter,” he would nonchalantly reply, “Oh! Sorry about that,” and casually walk away.

Using that method, there were quite a few restricted areas he managed to slip into.

As Dam Hyun’s actions began to spread, many of the lamas started to look at him with disapproval.

But Dam Hyun was not the kind to restrain his behavior just because of a few cold stares.

His eccentric conduct only grew more excessive.

At times, he would stand quietly pressed against a wall, observing the patterns engraved on it for over two entire hours.

It wasn’t something they could stop, so the lamas had no choice but to click their tongues and simply watch.

Today was no different.

In the White Palace of Potala Palace, there was an old thangka.

It depicted Shakyamuni preaching while bodhisattvas listened—technically classified as a “Shakyamuni Buddha Thangka.”

“Hmm.”

But it was far from ordinary.

Dam Hyun muttered to himself as he stared intently at the thangka.

“That’s strange.”

“What exactly is strange?”

“Hmm…”

That brusque question came from a middle-aged lama.

As of late, lamas had been following Dam Hyun around—clearly intending to keep an eye on him in case he tried anything suspicious.

“The bodhisattvas all look rather grim.”

The figures surrounding Shakyamuni were anything but ordinary.

A being with three faces and six arms resembling a demon—that was an Asura. Another, not human but with the head of a horse—that was a Kinnara.

There was one with a serpent’s head, a Mahoraga, along with fearsome forms like Naga, Yaksha, and others standing as if to protect the World-Honored One.

This was not a conventional thangka. If one had to label it, it would be considered a Divine Assembly Thangka.

The lama snorted.

He thought Dam Hyun was just nitpicking again—this time about the thangka.

He was about to rebuke him. What could a Taoist possibly know about the Dharma?

“What’s so strange abou—”

But then, the lama flinched in shock.

Dam Hyun, who had been standing right in front of the thangka just moments ago, had vanished without a trace.

The lama’s martial prowess was such that he would be considered a Peak master even in the Central Plains. Yet he had lost sight of Dam Hyun right under his nose.

Panicking, the lama searched here and there, but he couldn’t find any clue of where Dam Hyun had gone.

And Dam Hyun—

‘…Finally shook them off.’

He had just slipped out of the lama’s sight.

It wasn’t only one lama who had been tailing Dam Hyun.

Even if the lamas themselves didn’t realize it, the number of eyes watching Dam Hyun within Potala Palace had been steadily increasing.

In truth, even that was something that aided Dam Hyun’s deductions.

Which observations had triggered tighter surveillance, which places were newly marked as restricted—

Using his exceptional intellect, Dam Hyun had inferred many things.

‘As expected, they’re hiding something shady.’

And now, he was sure of it.

Potala Palace was hiding something from Yi-gang’s group.

And it was likely a scheme orchestrated by the upper echelon, including the Dalai Lama.

Dam Hyun maximized the activation of his stealth spell.

It was something he had refined after observing the ghost-like subordinates of Mang-hon in the Azure Forest.

He hadn’t even brought Cheongho with him in order to hide his presence more effectively.

The place where Dam Hyun stopped was a spacious area with a high ceiling.

Seen from above, it would surely be the very center of Potala Palace.

Potala Palace had been built upon a formation—specifically one based on the Nine Palaces Method.

Nine Palaces was originally a Taoist concept. That in itself was strange.

And this central space was precisely the spot where the mystical power of the Nine Palaces converged.

‘So that’s what I’ve been wanting to look at.’

Dam Hyun looked up at the ceiling.

A giant silk cloth hung down, easily the size of a two-story building.

The silk, embroidered with golden Sanskrit mantras, blended perfectly with the space.

Om Arana Arata.

In the language of the Central Plains—

‘Grant me entrance into the deep Arana Samadhi!’

Dam Hyun reached out his hand.

He was using telekinesis to directly uncover the Arana Samadhi concealed behind the silk cloth.

That was when it happened.

“Lower that hand.”

It was a youthful voice.

With a smirk, Dam Hyun turned toward the source of the voice.

A young lama stood there.

It was Hoje Lama, one of the strongest among the lamas even within Potala Palace—one of the Twin Wise Lamas.

Hoje Lama raised his vajra and pointed it at Dam Hyun.

“Your wrist might go flying. If you keep messing around.”

“My apologies. That was rude of me.”

Dam Hyun scratched his head with an embarrassed look.

Hoje Lama looked relieved when Dam Hyun backed off without resistance.

“I-I was just curious about what’s inside there.”

However, that meant he still didn’t understand what kind of person Dam Hyun truly was.

“I suppose I’ll have to open it.”

Jiiiiik—

And then, the silk cloth hanging from the ceiling tore apart on its own.

“You crazy bastard!”

The enraged Hoje Lama charged at Dam Hyun.

A thunderous roar burst from his vajra.

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