White Lotus

By Seb Cielens

The year is 1799 and a woodblock engraved with a mysterious message in an unknown script is unearthed near a Korean temple. A novice monk, Kyetsu, is sent north by the Abbot on a mission to deliver it to the King. With great reluctance, he sets out on a journey north to deliver the message to the King. On the journey, he will receive help in unexpected places. That help comes from a great warrior, a member of a secret society called the White Lotus, who accompanies him and a gang of street urchins. Kyetsu soon finds he will need all the help he can get, as there are powerful forces working against him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewLink Publishing
• Release date: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781948266147

Seb Cielens

Seb Cielens is a South Australian writer and teacher who has immersed himself in Asian culture and history since he was a child. His stories recount the turmoil of life in late imperial Korea and China, weaving hundreds of hours of historical research into vivid and inspiring fictional tales. After training in Chinese, Japanese and Korean martial arts for much of his life, Seb began putting it together with his passion for writing.Seb holds a Master of Arts in Writing and Literature and a Bachelor of Education. White Lotus is his first novel, with The Golden Drum and Three Thousand Realms coming soon to complete The Tripitaka Chronicles.

Book preview

For my wife, Louise, and my children, Ché, Elwood, and Coral.

CHAPTER ONE

Kimi Year (1799 CE)

Gyeongsang Province

Kyetsu knelt by the bank, drawing a bucket of crystal water from the fast-flowing river. Had he the slightest inkling life was about to irrevocably change, he might have savored the dappled morning sun filtering through branches of the ginkgo trees, and the fallen golden leaves swirling in the late autumn wind. He placed the first bucket down and was about to fill the second, when a ticklish sensation caressed his toe. With an unsteady balance on one knee, he tried shaking his foot, but the irritation moved under the strap of his sandal.

Get a move on, Chui said, looming over him.

There is something on me. Kyetsu gave his foot another shake.

Do you think I care? If we are late again, I will make sure you pay for it.

He fought hard to hold his tongue. Not only was Chui two years older, he happened to be a newly ordained monk. And I am just a lowly novice.

Dunking the second bucket into the water, he felt a nasty sting on the soft flesh of his calf. He cried out in a most undignified manner. Kyetsu relinquished his grip to brush away the pest but the powerful current took the bucket far from his reach. Helpless to stop it, he watched the bucket race downstream at the mercy of the rushing water.

You idiot! Chui yelled.

It bit me. Kyetsu moaned, rubbing the back of his leg.

Bit you? What on earth are you talking about? Chui hurried off along the bank, in pursuit of the bucket. Stay there, he yelled over his shoulder as the woods enveloped him.

In the name of Bodhidharma, he does not think I am capable of retrieving a bucket! He would have stewed longer if not for another sensation, this time on his thigh. Kyetsu brushed the spot with his hand to flick the intruder away. Peering down, he noticed a golden ant, about the size of a grain of rice. His curiosity turned into alarm at the realization that dozens of tiny golden specks were now swarming up his legs and robe.

Kyetsu hopped from one foot to the other, flailing in a desperate attempt to brush the ants away. Trying not to crush any of the tiny insects made the process much more difficult. The teachings were unequivocal on the matter of harming living creatures, no matter how small or annoying they were. The task proved impossible, so he ripped off his robe and left the little creatures to it. Now standing in his naked and wiry seventeen-year-old body, Kyetsu wondered what Chui would think.

He noticed a trail of golden ants stretching into the forest, their tiny exoskeletons glowing in the sunlight. Captivated by the scene, he made up his mind to follow the procession and discover where they were coming from. The line snaked through the undergrowth, weaving around trees, over rocks, and under logs. Kyetsu must have walked more than a li before reaching a clearing ringed by young, sweet-smelling pine trees. It took him a few moments to register what he saw, but when he did, his pulse raced. Before him writhed a giant mass of golden ants, thousands upon thousands, in a huge, glittering heap.

He approached the center of the clearing, taking one tentative step at a time. It looked as if something lay at the bottom of the swarm, something large. When he stood within a few feet, he could see that it was a flat, rectangular shape. A better monk would have left the ants in peace, but the intriguing object drew Kyetsu closer. Lifting the corner of the object scattered the ants in a frenzy. It was a heavy block of wood—almost a foot wide, two feet long, and an inch thick. He seized it with two hands and lifted it off the ground. By its weight, it felt like solid hardwood, but he had no doubt that this was fashioned by human hands. The sides were straight, and the edges rounded.

Despite the golden ants hurrying this way and that, he could see carvings on the surface. It did not take him long to realize he held a woodblock. He was familiar with them. Back at the temple there were over eighty thousand almost identical to this one. Known as the Tripitaka Koreana, the collection provided spiritual protection for the Kingdom of Joseon. At first, he thought that one of the Tripitaka woodblocks had somehow ended up here by the river. The strange script made him think otherwise. The characters appeared to read horizontally rather than vertically, and many were connected. This definitely was not written in Hangul.

What in the four realms of darkness! Chui’s voice snapped him out of his spell. Kyetsu turned to see him storming over, red-faced, carrying his robe in one hand and a broken bucket in the other. What are you doing? It was more accusation than question.

I was… Kyetsu searched for an explanation, the robe hanging from Chui’s arm reminding him of his nakedness.

What is that?

A woodblock, I think.

You have really done it this time. Chui shook his head.

It was just lying there.

It is never your fault, is it?

That is not what––

You are a disgrace. Put your robe back on.

What should I do with this? Kyetsu held up the woodblock. Only a few dozen golden ants remained, most had dispersed into the undergrowth.

Chui glared at the object. "Bring it with you. You can explain yourself to Master Hirang. I am sure he will want to hear everything." His last word radiated menace. Kyetsu could visualize the abbot’s reaction. He had heard many stories about punishments at the temple and had seen enough for himself not to doubt their veracity. Master Hirang once made a novice stand in the snow for two days as punishment for drinking rice wine. There were worse stories too, the kind that crippled novices with fear. This is not an auspicious day.

After retrieving the other buckets, the pair headed back up the mountain. Kyetsu struggled along the path, carrying a full bucket in one hand while trying to balance the woodblock and broken bucket in the other. His anxiety grew with every step. By the time the three entrance gates came into view—adorned with paintings of red lotus flowers and exquisite patterns of turquoise, ochre, and royal blue—he had worked himself into an almighty fervor. A low, rhythmic chant coming from the Sacred Hall indicated that the rice-offering ceremony was underway. They passed the colorful prayer-maze lanterns and ascended the huge stone stairway leading to the upper courtyard.

After depositing the buckets inside the empty kitchen, they headed up to the Sacred Hall. Chui walked so quickly that Kyetsu fell behind, still gripping the woodblock awkwardly under his arm. Chui had already entered the hall when Kyetsu arrived at the final set of stairs. He hesitated, trying to muster enough courage to slip inside. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped into the dimly lit hall. Kyetsu bowed to the wooden statue of the Celestial Buddha and found a seat on the floor, relieved that none of the assembled monks took any notice of him.

The air and earth resounded with chanting. Though Kyetsu’s lips moved, not a hint of sound emerged. The chanting came to an end and a procession of monks approached the Buddha statue. They carried bowls containing rice, fruits, and colorful flowers, as well as sticks of incense diffusing aromas of sandalwood and pine. The monks placed the offerings at the foot of the statue, then bowed, touching foreheads to the ground. The last monk approached with a tray of lighted beeswax candles. For no discernible reason, he stopped short. He turned in Kyetsu’s direction. The vacant, eerie gaze the monk fixed on him sent a chill down his spine.

Hungry ghosts, said the monk in a wailing tone. He tottered for a moment before collapsing like a sack of rice on the floor. The candles scattered everywhere. Several monks in the front row rushed to his aid, and others set about gathering up the candles. Amidst the commotion, they missed a candle that had rolled beneath a wall tapestry. Kyetsu watched in horror as flames climbed the beautiful fabric, quickly filling the hall with pungent smoke. A group of monks beat the tapestry with their hands, ensuing a chorus of coughing. Sheer panic replaced the serenity that had quietly reigned only moment before. Monks rushed in all directions, issuing instructions and admonishing one another.

Once the limp body of the monk was carried off and the fire extinguished, all eyes fell on Kyetsu. He scanned the room for a friendly face amongst a sea of acrimony. Where are you, Seong? But he could not see his friend. Master Hirang, who had been calmly watching the chaos unfold, rose and walked to the front of the hall. To Kyetsu’s immense relief, all eyes shifted to the abbot.

Gather your senses. Master Hirang’s firm voice made plain his reproach. What good is it to be composed when all is well, only to throw it away in times of trouble? With these words, tranquillity returned to the hall. The ceremony is finished, now go about your work. Master Hirang bowed to the Celestial Buddha and made his way out. The other monks followed, in order of seniority, and soon only Kyetsu and one other novice remained. Seong inched near, a dark expression shadowing his usually sunny face.

Are you alright? his friend whispered.

Of course, Kyetsu said.

What is that?

Kyetsu stared at his friend, his face momentarily blank. He followed Seong’s gaze to the woodblock tucked under his own arm.

Oh, nothing.

We should go and wash the dishes, Seong said. His voice sounded as if it came from somewhere off in the distance.

Alright.

Seong headed for the doorway but Kyetsu remained seated, his gaze fixed on the Buddha statue.

I will see you in a moment, Seong said, exiting the hall.

Kyetsu sat in silence for a long while, his mind swirling. For as long as he could remember, his only aspiration had been to become an ordained monk. It was so close now that it occupied almost every waking moment. He feared what had happened in the Sacred Hall was his fault, and that it threatened to ruin this aspiration. I cannot sit here all day. Yet, at the same time, he wished he could. Against his better instincts, Kyetsu rose and made his way out, holding the woodblock.

Descending the stairs, he noticed a group of senior monks gathered in a circle beside the path. Two of them broke away from the others and approached. Kyetsu’s knees wobbled, the ground seeming to shift underneath. His vision blurred, and then––

Darkness.

Emptiness.

When light eventually filtered in, it was not the harsh light of day but a soft, yellow glow. There was a momentary feeling of peace before memories returned––unwelcome memories. Kyetsu noticed that he laid on a pile of cushions. The room was cool and airy but, most of all, it was silent. He almost overlooked the abbot, sitting cross-legged just a few paces away—so still he was. He wore a robe of white and orange, his palms turned upward. The abbot’s eyes were open yet unfixed. The picture of serenity.

Join me, Master Hirang said in a calm voice. In front of him, the woodblock rested on the floor.

Despite the abbot’s composure, Kyetsu fought a rising panic. He crossed the room and sat, staring at the polished floorboards.

Long ago, Master Hirang said, a merchant booked passage on a trading ship along the coast. On board was a cargo of exotic foods and spices worth a fortune in distant ports.

The tension in Kyetsu’s shoulders eased a little bit. He had expected a scolding, along with a dreadful punishment. While both were still distinct possibilities, this seemed like a promising start.

On the voyage, the merchant grew wary of the captain, fearing he intended to throw him overboard and steal his precious goods. He stayed with the cargo day and night, not speaking a word to anyone. Seeing the merchant’s troubled state, the captain asked if there was some way he could help. This only made the merchant more suspicious, so he stowed away in one of the crates. In the middle of the voyage, the ship was caught in a terrible storm and began to take on water. The ship was heavy with goods and so, fearing for the lives of the crew, the captain sought the merchant’s counsel, but could not find him anywhere. Master Hirang fixed his gaze on Kyetsu. What do you think the captain did next?

Kyetsu considered the story for a few moments. Sent someone to search for him?

Yes, the master said. But not before he had tossed the cargo into the sea. He searched for a year before giving up on the man, and finally set sail for home. Which brings us to this. The abbot pointed a long, bony finger in the direction of the woodblock. Read it.

With a jolt of terror Kyetsu picked up the woodblock. Casting a hesitant gaze over the characters carved in even rows, he began to read.

Aloud, Master Hirang said.

Aloud? Kyetsu gulped.

The abbot nodded.

They will see the whole Three Thousand Realms, the exposed and hidden Mount Meru, Mount Sumeru, the Iron Circle Mountains, and all the other mountains and forests.

As the first lines rolled off his tongue, Kyetsu’s imagination floated across the mountaintops and through lush green forests. He found something comforting and familiar about the lines.

Continue, Master Hirang said.

The pains of the multitudes in purgatory, the sound of hungry spirits driven by hunger and thirst, the teachers and transformers of living beings, can all be heard by one who embraces the dharma flower.

Instead of floating across mountains and forests, he saw a troubled vision of pain and suffering. Kyetsu thought back to what the monk had cried out during the ceremony. Hungry ghosts. It occurred to him this was not the first time he had heard the phrase. Supernatural beings—the tortured spirits of evil and greedy people. It was said, they came out at night to scavenge the flesh of the newly deceased. Kyetsu blinked, realizing he stared into the abbot’s piercing eyes.

That is interesting, Master Hirang said, stroking his chin. I was not aware of our novices being taught to read Sanskrit. Where did you learn such an art?

Kyetsu could not comprehend what the abbot was talking about. He studied the script again, the truth slowly dawning on him. I…do not know.

Hmm, Master Hirang said. Is that all you see?

He inspected the woodblock more closely but did not notice anything apart from the two verses. Under Master Hirang’s gaze, his anxiety increased. Two small carvings in the bottom-right corner of the woodblock stood out.

It looks like a dragon, Kyetsu said, hazarding a guess, and…a lotus.

It is said that the dragon moves in four directions at one time, Master Hirang said. How many claws does this dragon have?

Five.

The four directions become one when the dragon and the king are in harmony.

The king?

The dragon is the symbol of Joseon Kings.

Kyetsu furrowed his brow. What about the lotus?

You have studied long enough to know that, Master Hirang said.

Purity? If Kyetsu’s guess was the right answer, Master Hirang’s expression did not show it.

What do you think it means?

Kyetsu did not comprehend the question. "Forgive me, Master Hirang…what does what mean?"

Everything. The merchant, the verses, the symbols?

The symbols made no sense alone. Together they were a tangled patchwork of bewilderment. What else could Kyetsu say? I do not know.

Then it seems you have much to learn on your journey.

Journey? Kyetsu choked on the word.

To deliver the message.

Message… Wait! The cogs of understanding started falling into gear. Is this a message for the king?

Of course.

Master Hirang acted as if it were all perfectly natural, but the quiet solitude of Kyetsu’s world at the temple was slipping away. He fought the panic threatening to take hold. Forgive me, master. Kyetsu said. If this is a message for the king, why should I be the one to deliver it?

Why were you the one to find it? How are you able to read it? There are many things in this world I do not pretend to understand.

But I am just a novice. There must be others more qualified for such an important task. Kyetsu stood on the edge of insubordination. He studied the abbot’s face for a sign of rebuke, but there was none.

You do not need to be ordained to deliver a message.

"The capital must be at least two hundred li from here," he said, desperate for any excuse that might save him from this fate.

Much further, Master Hirang said.

My ordination is less than two months away.

We need to accept when the time to take responsibility is upon us.

What do you mean? Kyetsu said in exasperation.

You will know in time. It has been a good meeting, and now you should go and get some rest.

Kyetsu would have preferred if he had made him stand outside in the snow for two days, or even three or four. Anything would be better than leaving the temple and missing his ordination. But what was he to do? Master Hirang was the abbot, after all. Kyetsu stood and bowed, then turned for the door.

Remember, Master Hirang said. Kyetsu turned to face him. "It is better to travel ten thousand li than to read ten thousand books."

Yes, master. He bowed again and departed.

Outside, shock washed over Kyetsu. It was dark. The moon and stars were blanketed by clouds, leaving him virtually blind as he navigated the path to the sleeping quarters. His thoughts, a storm of worry and confusion, didn’t help either. He found the inside of the room even darker than the world outside. He tiptoed over to his bamboo mat next to Seong. His friend turned over with a muffled grunt but did not wake. It took sleep a long time to come. When it did arrive, it brought not a hint of peace.

Kyetsu! hollered someone with an irritating voice. Wake up!

Kyetsu’s head, murkier than a pot of cold stew, struggled to respond. What?

Get up, the voice said again.

Leave me alone. Rubbing his bleary eyes helped Seong’s shape materialize in front of him. He stood a foot away from Kyetsu’s sleeping mat, a broad grin on his face.

Just a few months younger than Kyetsu, Seong stood only slightly shorter but more muscular than him. Everyone at the temple had taken a shine to Seong from the moment he arrived three years ago. Seong’s charisma did not make Kyetsu jealous. He was happy to have a friend, something that had eluded him in the years beforehand.

You look terrible. Seong grinned.

You are enjoying this.

What was all that about, yesterday?

All what? Kyetsu feigned ignorance and eased himself upright.

You know, at the rice offering ceremony.

Kyetsu scratched the stubble on his shaved head and stared at the floor, unsure if he should answer the question.

Not one to give up, Seong tried again. What did Master Hirang want?

I do not know.

You do not know?

That’s right. Kyetsu glared at him. "I do not know."

You did meet with Master Hirang, did you not?

Yes, I met with Master Hirang, he said, but I have no idea what it was all about. Kyetsu wanted to confide in Seong, but he was having trouble making sense of it himself. More than anything he wished, that with a new day, everything would be forgotten.

I give up. Seong puffed out his chest and turned toward the door.

Wait, Kyetsu said.

Seong stopped and turned. What is it?

Kyetsu was not sure if confessing his worries to his friend would be wise, but there was nobody else. I don’t want to go.

Go where?

Once the words began to pour out, he could not stop them. He told Seong everything, from finding the woodblock to the meeting with Master Hirang. Seong did not interrupt nor ask any questions, until the whole tale was finished.

You are so lucky, Seong said.

What? Kyetsu’s body recoiled at the comment.

This is exciting.

Exciting? Are you serious?

Think of what you will see…far away cities, grand temples...you will even get to meet the king.

I live in a grand temple. Kyetsu folded his arms. I have no interest in faraway cities, and I am sure the king has no interest in me.

Don’t be so tedious, Seong said.

Think of what I will miss out on.

Seong’s eyes lifted toward the ceiling, his expression one of ponder. Yes, I see what you mean. How could you possibly survive without all the praying, cleaning, chanting, praying, cleaning–

The ceremony, Kyetsu said, cutting in.

What ceremony?

The ordination! Does that not ring a bell?

"Oh, that ceremony. You might be back in time."

That is unlikely. In fact, I will probably never make it back.

I don’t see why you are making such a fuss. If Master Hirang has ordered you to go, then you should at least try to enjoy yourself.

That is easy for you to say, Kyetsu said, muttering under his breath.

Who is going with you?

What do you mean?

No offense, but it does not seem likely that Master Hirang would send you on your own.

None taken. Kyetsu pursed his lips. Master Hirang did not mention anyone else. Though the idea caused Kyetsu to envision a whole party of monks, with cartloads of supplies, snaking through the mountains. That idea seemed more palatable.

"I wish it were me going, but seeing as how I