It’s nice that it’s simple, isn’t it? (3)
“…And watch this bastard’s head come off.”
Swoosh!
At the moment the sharp blade flew towards his neck, Baek Cheon sensed his impending death. There was no escaping it now.
‘I…’
Faced with the final moment of his life, only one thought echoed clearly in Baek Cheon’s mind.
‘I gave it everything I had.’
That, at least, he could say with confidence. If King Yama asked him in the afterlife whether he had sinned, he would be forced to nod. But if asked whether he had done his utmost, he would nod without hesitation.
Baek Cheon slowly closed his eyes. It wasn’t resignation, but acceptance – acceptance that this was indeed his end.
Regret?
Perhaps.
To live without regret was impossible. Indeed, he was overflowing with regrets and lingering attachments. Yet at this very moment, Baek Cheon understood the futility of them all.
A life without a single regret is impossible. But having regrets did not mean one’s life had been a failure. One merely needed to accept them – both the life that had passed and the regrets left behind.
Whatever remained unfinished was now up to those left behind. That was enough.
Baek Cheon had done all that he possibly could. No one could deny that he had run with all his might.
At last, a quiet peace settled within him. He felt he could truly accept death now.
But… was that really so?
Baek Cheon opened his eyes once again. The blade’s edge was now nearly touching his neck.
Even now it was slowly drawing closer, yet that moment felt incomprehensibly distant.
A single moment split and stretched into what felt like an eternity [eons].
Yet even Baek Cheon could do nothing but exist, bound within time. In this grotesquely distorted moment, he sank deeper into thought.
Everyone leaves regrets behind. At the moment of death, one either accepts these regrets – or turns away from them.
Perhaps one might deceive oneself under the guise of satisfaction. Or perhaps one would be unable to relinquish their attachments, meeting the end with bitter sorrow.
Then, what is the purpose of life itself?
If regret inevitably accompanies life, then is it safe to say that life ultimately exists for the sake of regret? Seen this way, human affairs amount to nothing but suffering – so what drives people to struggle so desperately to live?
Though one may claim to harbor no regrets or lingering attachments, if one had foreseen this end from the beginning, would they still have chosen the same path without hesitation?
Only if one can say ‘yes’ to that question can one truly speak of ‘satisfaction.’
Had his life been truly satisfying? If he wasn’t satisfied, did that mean his life had failed? And if one could be satisfied even with a life riddled with regrets, wouldn’t all human effort become meaningless?
Everything suddenly became clear. And at the same time, it became vague.
‘I…?’
The only one capable of finding an answer to that question was Baek Cheon himself.
He had to answer. What had his life truly been for?
The Tao he had pursued – what exactly was it? Was it truly worth devoting his entire life to something intangible?
But in that moment, a grand vision unfolded before Baek Cheon’s eyes. It felt as though his mind was suddenly illuminated with clarity.
‘Ah…’
A towering, majestic mountain, its sides rising sharply as though carved by a blade.
‘Hwasan…?’
A rocky range whose peaks thrust up like swords stabbing the sky. Plum blossoms bloomed across the mountainside, covering it completely. The sight was truly magnificent.
But it lasted only a fleeting moment. The blossoms withered in an instant, and the mountain swiftly faded into shades of grey. Bare branches trembled, and fallen petals scattered into the empty sky before completely vanishing.
And so winter arrived.
The entire mountain was cloaked in white. Beautiful, yet cold. It was like death itself – no matter how one tried to escape, it would inevitably arrive. Winter settled upon the mountain like a quiet end.
Baek Cheon stared vacantly at the unfolding scene.
Everything has an end.
No matter how splendidly the flowers bloomed, no matter how brilliantly the mountain was colored, the conclusion remained unchanged: an impartial ending named ‘fading [백화(白化)*].’
With the end already predetermined, had it truly been worth giving everything to nurture a single fleeting summer? Perhaps he had clung to something meaningless.
Cold doubt, suspicion – emotions that might merely be despair.
Baek Cheon’s consciousness sank into an endless abyss. He wondered if he had already died and fallen into hell – a hell where he endlessly doubted and questioned himself.
‘What was I…?’
At that instant, Baek Cheon’s consciousness was suddenly swept away towards a single point. His mind became the wind, crossing streams and leaping over mountain peaks. He climbed higher and higher up the mountain buried in snow and ice, reaching the summit in an instant.
At the blade-like peak where the white mountain of ice met the dark night, Baek Cheon saw it: a single crimson bloom that pierced through the snow piled softly. The snow plum [설매(雪梅)**] that blossomed alone in winter, unaware of the seasons.
It was so breathtakingly beautiful that words failed him. Nothing Baek Cheon had ever seen could compare.
Not flamboyant, yet refined; not overwhelming, yet profound. That unassuming blossom slowly seeped into Baek Cheon’s very being.
‘Ah…’
Yes. It was beautiful precisely because it bloomed after overcoming winter. Life held meaning precisely because it had hardships.
A life without regret could never be complete.
The sea of suffering that filled human existence left behind regrets, yet it also created meaning. Like the plum blossom that finally bloomed after enduring the long winter, Baek Cheon’s life had been perfected through hardship.
Even if no one acknowledged it, his life held meaning. It was unmistakably vivid and radiant.
Therefore there was no reason he couldn’t be satisfied.
Slowly, Baek Cheon smiled.
Everything was perfect. Even if his life were recorded as a failure, people would remember that there was a hero who gave his all for the world.
Yes, this was the conclusion of the life he had desired. This was the path he had pursued.
Within the vision unfolding before his mind, Baek Cheon smiled brighter than ever before. Just as that smile blossomed at its peak, Baek Cheon slowly parted his lips.
“No.”
The radiant, vibrant world froze abruptly.
The fierce, frigid wind that had been sweeping past, the fluttering petals, even the dawn that stained the distant sky – everything came to a standstill.
“This isn’t what I wanted.”
Although no one was there to hear him, Baek Cheon spoke calmly, as if addressing someone standing right before him.
“I never wished to become a hero. I never sought to shine by overcoming hardships.”
Everyone had their own Tao.
If perfection itself was the Tao, then that same perfection could never truly become the Tao. That was why the universally revered conclusion of life could never be Baek Cheon’s Tao.
“What I truly wished for was…”
Crack.
The world began to crack.
The faint line that started subtly soon spread quickly and greatly enough to cover the entire world. Soon, everything shattered. Behind the shattered world stood Baek Cheon’s father, Jin Chobaek.
No, it was Jin Geumryong’s face. No, Jin Eunryong’s. No, it wasn’t. It was Jongnam.
Everything from the place where his life had begun swept past. It rippled like waves, blew past like wind, and vanished like a dream.
And then, as everything vanished, something else took its place.
A steep mountain and weathered pavilions.
Old men in shabby clothing and young men wearing innocent smiles.
The scent of earth, the chill of early morning air.
At the end of this dreamlike vision, Baek Cheon spotted the backs of several people. Though only their backs were visible, he knew exactly who they were. Even after hundreds of years – even if his soul wore away – he would recognize them instantly.
Baek Cheon smiled softly.
It wasn’t the radiant smile he’d worn when he believed he’d accomplished everything. It was a modest, almost bashful smile – a small smile indeed.
“Yes, I merely… wanted to find the place where I belonged.”
He stepped forward. Then took another step. Without hesitation, he walked naturally towards the place he was meant to be.
The place he belonged to. The place where he wished to be.
The one place where Baek Cheon could truly be himself.
Baek Sang felt as though he might go blind at any moment, yet he forced himself to open his eyes even wider. Soon, through the blinding light, the silhouette of someone wrapped in radiance became faintly visible. Even straining desperately, he could barely confirm that it was human – the outline was that vague.
Nonetheless, in that instant, Baek Sang felt instinctively that he had to protect this moment, no matter the cost.
On the contrary, the warriors of Sapaeryeon felt exactly the opposite.
“S-Stop iiiiit!”
Of course, they had no clear idea what was unfolding. But instinct told them if they didn’t stop it now, an irreversible disaster would strike.
Their bodies moved faster than their thoughts. Like moths drawn blindly towards a blazing flame, the members of Sapaeryeon kicked off the ground and charged into the heart of the dazzling light.
Baek Sang’s eyes widened in horror.
“N-Noooo!”
Moths flying recklessly towards the fire could only expect one end – death. Yet these men weren’t moths, and although the radiant aura surrounding Baek Cheon looked intense, it wasn’t fire. Ultimately, it wouldn’t harm anyone.
Baek Sang tried to push himself forward, but his body would no longer obey. Desperately, he hurled his sword. It pierced cleanly into the back of one enemy who had been entranced by the brilliant light – but that was all he could manage.
‘Please!’
For the first time, Baek Sang pleaded desperately to the heaven.
He had survived countless crises, enduring so much just to reach this point. Wasn’t it cruel, far too cruel, to face such an end now? Why was heaven so ruthless?
The members of Sapaeryeon swung their blades fiercely towards the radiant figure. That human-shaped form seemed about to shatter into countless pieces at any moment.
At that very instant.
“Hyaaaaaaah!”
Instead of the heaven, a single person answered Baek Sang’s desperate plea. Or perhaps he was moved by his own desperate will rather than anyone else’s.
Whooooosh!
White sword energy scattered like snow over the heads of Sapaeryeon’s members. The white sword energy dissolved into the brilliant radiance, existing and yet nonexistent, sweeping away the enemies in an instant.
“Aaaaaaargh!”
Those who had charged forward collapsed, each one bloodied and flung violently aside. And one person landed on the spot that was created.
He was the man who, thanks to the torrent of dazzling light, had at last found what he had searched for so desperately.
“How dare you bastards raise your swords against…”
Jin Geumryong of Jongnam, his face twisted into a visage of a blood-hungry demon, glared fiercely at the members of Sapaeryeon.
“I’ll make you pay for pointing your blades at the blood of the Jin clan. Your deaths will not be graceful.”
Growling like an enraged tiger, he tightened his grip on the sword. Sword energy white as snow began to scatter once again through the air.
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*백화(白化) – whitening/bleaching/losing pigment – as i think the best conclusion to translate it here would be fading, as in ‘losing the pigment and color.’ Bleaching of the coral reefs, whitewashing – is also this word.
**설매(雪梅) – “snow plum,” a plum blossom blooming in the snow – a symbol of perseverance and quiet beauty in East Asian literature
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Return of the Mount Hua 
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