Chapter 200. Oryang Mountain 2 – Reading the Heavenly Pattern
"My master told me that if I ever went to Gaegyeong, I must be sure to stop by."
At Youngwoo's words, Oryang smiled faintly.
"Perhaps he told you to come because my junior brother has such a hasty temperament, and he feared something might happen. But it seems you have already caused trouble."
Oryang had already read the energy.
Whether he had known it by looking at Youngwoo, or whether he had seen it in the unseen flow of heavenly patterns, Youngwoo could not tell.
"I went to the palace to report what had happened, and I added a verbal request to the resignation letter I had already sent."
"Ahaha. I doubt that was all."
"One senior general acted insolently, so I beat him half to death."
Oryang laughed as if it were only natural.
"Is the military command still hostile toward you, junior brother?"
"Yes. I drove out all the high-ranking men of the Jungbang."
"Did others not rise to take their places?"
"They are the same kind of men. How could they be different? Once personnel changes are made, the same sort rises again. It only seems to have changed for a moment."
Oryang asked in a clear voice.
"Why do you think that is? You must know the cause."
"Vest interests and hunger for power. Those two things."
"Are you certain?"
"Well, I heard something recently when I went to a temple. They say such men do not long for the afterlife."
"Hmm, the afterlife. Who would not wish for a beautiful, peaceful, and happy afterlife?"
"It is not that they lack such belief. They say the present is better than that."
"Ah!"
Oryang struck his knee and sighed in wonder.
Youngwoo continued his explanation.
"If there is an afterlife, they pray that it will be just like here and now."
"Oh dear, oh dear."
"Do you know why a painting this size is more expensive than the great Buddhist paintings used in ceremonies?"
Youngwoo spread his arms wide.
"Why is that?"
"Because the size nobles hang in their rooms is the most expensive and sells the best. So paintings of that size are the most costly and the most common, they say. Ahaha."
"That is quite stark. A criticism of society itself."
"They say it is the harm brought by a hundred years of peace."
"A hundred years of peace?"
"Yes. They say Goryeo has been at peace for a hundred years after defeating Liao."
"That would be the Battle of Gwiju."
"Ah, yes. So they say what Goryeo does now is important. If it does well now, Goryeo may last another five hundred years."
"Oh, five hundred years."
"But now, incarnations of vested interests and hunger for power sit at the top. Can that work? Of course not."
All of his evidence came from things he had heard from others.
And yet the way he linked those stories together and reached the conclusion that Goryeo could not be changed was a remarkable insight.
Youngwoo seemed like a man without many thoughts, but he grasped the essential points of a problem and connected them well.
Oryang's hand stopped.
His breath settled once, evenly.
The fingers holding the counting sticks slowly relaxed.
The scattered sticks touched the wooden floor with scarcely a sound.
He gathered them again.
His fingertips moved lightly, with no trace of force.
He held them, divided them, and let them fall.
There was an order to it.
That order was neither fast nor slow.
There was no sign that he was calculating with his head.
His eyes were half closed.
He seemed to be looking, and yet not looking.
When he cast the sticks, the pattern in which they scattered settled into place.
He did not correct it.
He did not arrange it again.
He left it as it was.
His hand moved once more.
He divided the scattered sticks into two streams, removed one part, and counted what remained.
He was not counting numbers.
He was tracing the flow.
A wind passed once.
The bamboo grove brushed against itself, and the sound stretched long.
As if in time with that sound, Oryang's hand stopped.
Only then did his eyes open fully.
The counting sticks laid upon the floor had already formed a single shape.
It was not a shape he had intended.
It was the result revealed as it was.
Oryang did not gaze at it for long.
He swept his eyes over it once and then raised his gaze.
As if he had merely confirmed what he already knew.
"Hmm. It truly is so."
Youngwoo swallowed hard and asked,
"What is so?"
Youngwoo did not lower his speech even to young Oryang.
At first, Dorogan had found it awkward, but after recalling the various signs the young mountain recluse had shown, he accepted it as it was.
Oryang lightly touched the counting sticks on the floor with his fingertips.
The scattered lines interlocked with one another and formed a single flow.
"The energy is short."
His words did not break off. The next words followed at once.
"It is a form that gnaws at itself. It does not collapse from the outside, but crumbles from within. The outside may harry it as well, but in the end, the inside is rotten, so it cannot respond. The cries of the people do not cease."
His fingertip slowly followed one line.
It paused at a crossing point.
"Here, it is cut off. If it continues as it is, it cannot endure long."
His gaze lifted.
For a moment, his eyes seemed to look far away.
"But…"
His breath stopped briefly.
"Another flow enters. It does not come from outside. It changes from within."
He nudged one counting stick slightly aside.
Though it had already been placed, it now seemed as if the pattern had changed.
"At this point, the direction bends. If it bends, the road lengthens."
His voice was quiet.
"It is short. It will not even reach five hundred years. If it is turned properly, one may even see a thousand."
Oryang withdrew his hand.
"The problem is…"
He paused for a moment.
"Whether there is anyone who can turn it that way."