act16d5

That's right.

He had scraped the soles of his feet, he was starving, and he walked three full days and nights of hunger.

He prayed many times, as many as two thousand and a score, and yet he never thought a thing about his life and death. He merely felt sadness and lamented his inability to understand.

Did you save... my head priest?

I had already saved him once at the K'u-t'an River. I didn't help him this time.

Think about it. At his young age, he had already been through such hardships.

Think about how he went from that to the warm, caring head priest that you know.

And how he added the word 'risen' to the painting's title.

Head Priest...

The lands he walked were filled with starvation.

All that he could see, hear, and tell were nothing but tragedy.

With each step, the young Higashi monk paused to recite the sutras.

Time passes like a flowing river, and this moment is everlasting.

On the day I left the monastery, my head priest bestowed upon me my name, Saga.

That's right.

He had seen the coldness of mankind, yet he was never disheartened. Even the collapse of Mount Sky did not sway him.

After the young wandering monk made his way back to Higashi, he decided to take in a group of children with nowhere to turn to. He built a monastery in the mountains, and that's how he became the head priest you often speak of.

It's not that uncommon of a story.

The crude mounts had not fallen... That was the meaning the head priest sought to give the painting.

Very well! Then, in his stead, I shall see all the sights there are to see in this vast world!

Well, as you please.

Now that you got that weight off your shoulders, it's time for you to leave.

W-Wait, master!

This is merely the original source of my perplexity. Having traveled the scrolls some ten years, I am afraid there are certain things I must ascertain for my worries to dissipate.

Ask away.

But know that this is the last chance I'm giving you. I'm not fond of blabbering people.

The inhabitants of the paintings. Are they real or not?

That's an interesting question. You know they are from the painting. Why ask if they are real or not?

Oft did I nod off when we studied our scriptures, yet in my languidness I was able to constant seek out truth... For ten years have I walked the landscapes in thy painting, though I yet remain befuddled.

Pray tell, what is real?

...Real.

When we look at those who are unreal in the painting, as those who are real, we are able to laugh off all the fake lives and deaths depicted therein.

But if we are yet inhabitants of a painting, and we will one day vanish into the thin air, would you still be able to remain so calm?

All men will one day cease to be. There is little reason to be tormented by that which is inevitable. By approaching all things from the heart and living my life naturally and freely, there is naught to fear.

Man is not necessarily free. Everything that I've drawn, be it real or otherwise, is merely my way of interrogating myself.

Man is naturally free.

Wrong. Both you and I are habitants of a painting.

You seek to solve this problem by yourself, yet you know not a thing about yourself. How do you mean to seek truth?

In the end, what is real, and what is false? Are you sure you can truly tell them apart?

And why take it so seriously?

So thou meanst... I am yet within the painting right this moment?

...You've truly left my scrolls, that I can assure you.

I'm only asking, how do you prove that these landscapes before your eyes are not yet another boring painting scroll?

The roads you've trodden, the people you've met, their births and deaths, and their setbacks in life. All of these things might merely be events drawn at the whim of an artist without any particular meaning assigned.

The so-called reality that you people spend an entire lifetime looking for is yet another fantasy.

We are merely characters in a scroll. The viewers see the events that transpire in the painting and either applaud or criticize its contents.

Our lives are but a fantasy, like a dewdrop or lightning, leaving not a trace in the end.

Let's stop here. You're wasting both your time and mine, and it's getting on my nerves.

I will find a chance to pluck the other ones out. You should get going.

Lava came a long way solely for the chance to meet thee... yet thou wouldst not grant her an audience?

That's none of your business.

You don't know why they came, so stay out of it.

But—

—Don't push your luck, Saga.

One more word, and I'll have you truly regret it.

But I promised Lava to present this to thee, at the very least.

You—This...?!

Found you...!

Starshrouded snow. Hidden moon.

(So... this is Lungmen.)

(I must hurry—)

Kind sir, would you spare me a moment?

Hmm?

There is something I would like to ask.

Is Master Tung's finball stall nearby?

You... You are not from Lungmen, are you?

Came to sample his reputed finballs, have you?

Uh, yes, but of course! They're famous far and wide, hahaha—

Well, what time do you think it is? They closed for the day long ago.

If you truly want a bite, you'll want to line up at eight in the morning.

It has closed? Do you perchance know where Master Tung lives, then?

Hm...

Kind sir?

You're here to sample his finballs. Why would his name or address matter to you at all?

Err... Hahaha, quite right. Haha... I'll wait till the morrow then—

Young man...

Mmh—

—K-Kind sir? What is the meaning of this? Please, lower your cane—

What do you want with Tung?

I... I—

I suggest you behave yourself here, young man. Now, explain.

You covered practically the entire town within just one night, from the old folks to the Greytails' boss. Now, you even ask for a finball hawker.

No one would come to this place to seek him out at this hour. Moreover... I know what it is that you are holding.

—You... Are you...?! Mmph!

Don't move, young man. Answer me first. Who else do you seek?

Only those I've already asked about! I am looking for Uncle Tung only because I have no choice—!

Is your name Lien?

No! No, it is not! Please, listen to me—

Stop.

I am not one to mistake a man trained in the martial arts for a hooligan... And you hold the Lien clan's Yin-ch'ing fan. How are you related to Lien Tzu-hsu?

—She's my master!

What became of her?

My master...

What became of her?!

She passed!

...How?

She... She was damned well murdered... because of me, an imbecile of a disciple!

...A shame.

Master Lin—!

Hmph... You know my name. How?