“Sob...! The Heavenly Master has not forsaken us! To think he would send us the Nāgarāja for our sake!”

At the emotional cry of the man who appeared to be the leader of the robed monks, the other prostrated monks also began to shed tears.

“O Nаgarаja!” (translated from Tibetan)

“O Nаgarаja, guardian of the Dharma of the Heavenly Master! Thank you for appearing to protect the Dharma!”

“To think the King of Nаgas himself would be sent to us!” (translated from Tibetan)

What should have escalated into conflict suddenly transformed into an atmosphere of worship.

It was a scene straight out of a documentary I had seen in my past life—one of those mass gatherings of fanatics in a cult.

‘I know Buddhism isn't a cult, but this sure feels like one right now.’

“What’s going on here?”

“What in the world is happening?”

Everyone turned their eyes toward Ji-ryong, apparently thinking he was the only one who could make sense of this.

But he just looked just as confused, his expression clearly stating he didn’t know either.

Perhaps it required a deeper religious understanding—while Ji-ryong was smart and well-educated, religion wasn’t exactly his specialty.

Still, there was a clue in the last thing they said.

They seemed to be mistaking Lady Cheong-yu for Nаgarаja, King of the Nаgas.

‘Wait... Did Tibetan Buddhists also revere Nаgas?’

I tilted my head in thought as I watched the monks.

It would make sense if they were Indian Hindus—Nаgas are divine beings in Indian mythology, often depicted with a human upper body and a serpent lower body.

In fact, Lady Cheong-yu’s current appearance did resemble that image, so I wouldn’t blame Hindus for seeing her as divine. But these people were Tibetan Buddhists—specifically of the Lamaism branch.

It was hard to wrap my head around.

‘Well, I guess I’ll have to talk to them and find out.’

Nothing came to mind no matter how hard I thought, so I decided to step forward, thinking we could gather around the campfire and talk, especially since some of them were injured.

The flickering flames illuminated the monks’ worn faces—they didn’t look well.

One man had his arm and chest wrapped in cloth for bleeding, but the fabric was already soaked through. The others bore scratches and wounds on their faces and exposed limbs, looking as though they had been through an ordeal.

Given that the atmosphere had shifted from hostility to reverence, I figured it wouldn’t be too risky to approach.

—Step.

“Um...”

But just as I stepped forward, I was blocked by Lady Cheong-yu, Yeondu, and Orange.

Lady Cheong-yu wrapped herself protectively around me, while Yeondu and Orange let out warning sounds.

—Sia! 『So-ryong, it might be dangerous!』

—Shaaa. 『Be careful, So-ryong-nim.』

—Ska! 『Hyungnim, step back. These people seem off.』

It seemed they were concerned that these unfamiliar people might pose a threat.

As the three of them surrounded me protectively, the monk leader cried out again.

“Co-could it be?! T-tolku!”

‘Tolku?’

Now the monks were staring at me with astonishment in their eyes.

‘Tolku? Dolchu? What the hell is that?’

***

Just as I blinked in confusion at the word “Tolku,” a groan rang out.

“Urgh...”

“Awang! Are you alright?!”

Looking toward the sound, I saw an injured monk collapsed and groaning in pain.

Likely from having prostrated in that state—blood was now seeping through the bandages wrapped around his wounds and dripping to the ground.

Seeing this, I quickly called out to Hwa-eun.

“Hwa-eun. I think we need to tend to the injured.”

“Understood, So-ryong.”

“We have Boheoldan and Gold-Wound Medicine with us. Could we care for the patient?”

“Of course. T-thank you so much!”

When Hwa-eun stepped forward and offered to treat the injured man, the monk leader pressed his forehead to the ground in gratitude—completely different from his earlier demeanor.

The wounded man was moved near the campfire, and Sister Seol and Hwa-eun began to examine the wound.

It was a deep cut, starting from his left arm and slashing across his chest. Blood was still slowly oozing from it.

“The wound is deep.”

“Is it difficult to treat?”

“No. It’s deep, but with Gold-Wound Medicine and a Boheoldan pill, he should recover without issue.”

Hwa-eun’s assessment relieved the worried monk, who bowed his head again.

“O-oh! This is the providence of the Heavenly Master! Thank you.”

As Hwa-eun began tending to the wound and administering the Boheoldan, I had another request for the interpreter.

Since we had more guests now, we needed to prepare more food.

“Can you prepare more food? I think we’ll need at least twice as much.”

“Of course. Increasing food is a beggar’s virtue.”

I wasn’t sure it would be possible on such short notice, but he simply smiled and began tossing more ingredients and water into the pot like it was nothing.

I was startled by one of the things he added.

“Wait... aren’t they monks? Shouldn’t we avoid putting meat in?”

He had just thrown in marmot meat—today’s main dish seemed to be a marmot and rice porridge, but monks usually avoid meat.

Normally, when making something like this, we’d set aside a portion of plain white porridge for Monk Jaheo before adding the meat.

I noticed a bowl of plain white porridge had indeed been set aside, likely for Monk Jaheo—but the others were also monks, so I asked, somewhat concerned.

At my question, the interpreter gave another calm, smiling answer.

“It’s fine, So-ryong-nim. The monks of Podarlap Palace do eat meat.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Tolku-nim.”

“Hiiik!”

A large monk had crept up beside me and was now rubbing his hands together.

Startled, I stepped back, and again Yeondu and Orange moved to shield me.

—Ska! 『Back off, you bastard!』

—Shaaa! 『Get away from him!』

Startled by the kids’ sharp response, the man immediately apologized.

“S-sorry! My deepest apologies, Tolku-nim!”

Given all this talk about Tolku and the injured man, it was clear we had a lot to discuss. So I calmed everyone down and invited them to sit around the campfire.

“Well, for now... shall we sit around the fire and talk over a meal? There’s a lot I’d like to ask.”

“Of course! Ahem, from now on, let’s only speak in the Central Plains language. Since Tolku has shown us mercy, let us all sit and give thanks around the fire!”

“Yes, Lama.”

“Thank you, Venerable Master.”

Once everyone was seated, I clasped my fists and greeted the monk who appeared to be the leader.

Now that I thought about it, we hadn’t even exchanged greetings yet.

“Ah, I suppose we haven’t introduced ourselves.”

“We’re sorry. We thought you were Central Plains martial artists sent to interfere with us...”

“There must have been a misunderstanding. That happens. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am So-ryong of the Beast Palace.”

“Oh! The Beast Palace! So you’re from the Beast Palace, which the Central Plains people call the ‘Outer Martial World’ along with our Podarlap Palace! Now it all makes sense, Tolku-nim!”

“I am Dorje. In the Central Plains tongue, my name is Dagil, which translates to Vajra. I am a lama of the Podarlap Palace. In your terms, I suppose it would be equivalent to something like Master Vajra or Venerable Vajra.”

I had always assumed lama was a general term for any monk, but apparently, it’s actually a title that denotes a rank.

In other words, this man was quite a high-ranking monk.

If he’s being compared to something like Master So-and-So, then that means he’s what you’d call a revered senior monk.

“Ah, so you’re Master Dorje.”

“Yes, O Tolku.”

Just as we {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} were finishing our exchange of greetings, Hwa-eun approached, wiping blood from her hands.

Her appearance was a bit intense, but judging from her expression, it seemed the treatment had gone well.

“The patient?”

“The treatment went smoothly, So-ryong.”

“I’m relieved. Well done, Hwa-eun.”

As expected, she confirmed the patient was stable, and Master Dorje bowed once again in thanks.

“Thank you. Podarlap Palace will never forget this kindness.”

A very polite show of gratitude.

That seemed enough formalities for now. I waited until Dorje straightened his posture again and then decided to ask what had been weighing on my mind.

“Forgive me if this is too forward, but could you tell me what exactly happened? Starting with the injured man... and also—what is this Nаgarаja Tolku, or... Dolchu?”

At my question, he tilted his head and asked back,

“Could it be... you don’t remember?”

“Pardon? Remember what?”

Startled by the sudden question about my memory, I blinked—and then, from his mouth came something almost too absurd to believe.

“You haven’t... remembered your past life yet?”

Re... reincarnation!?

My eyes went wide in shock, though I quickly corrected my expression.

He clearly seemed to know—or believe—that I was someone reincarnated.

And then, a faint smile formed at the corner of his mouth as a quiet voice rang near my ear—transmitted through internal voice transmission:

[That’s perfectly understandable. If others were to find out, they’d think you were mad. The past life is important, but so is the present one. I, Dorje, shall pretend I know nothing.]

Then he began to speak aloud once again.

“It matters not whether you’ve remembered. For if the Nаgarаja guards you, then surely it means that He has manifested in this world Himself.”

“He...?”

“The Heavenly Master.”

“Heavenly Master?”

The answer didn’t come from Dorje, but from someone beside me.

“In the Central Plains, you call Him the Buddha.”

“...Excuse me!?”

So, what they were saying was—they believed I was a reincarnated Buddha.

And as much as I wanted to argue, their explanation was, frustratingly, kind of coherent.

Apparently, in Buddhist texts too—not just Hindu mythology—the Nаgarаja appears as the king of Nаgas.

“I always thought the Nаgarаja only appeared in Hindu stories, but it turns out he shows up in Buddhist lore too. When the Heavenly Master was gaining enlightenment beneath the Bodhi Tree, there came a day when a storm struck.

Then the serpent king, Mucalinda, who had been dwelling in the tree, emerged and wrapped himself around the Heavenly Master seven times, shielding Him from the storm for seven full days.

After that, he became known as a protector of the Dharma.”

So when Lady Cheong-yu, Yeondu, and Orange—appearing in the form of Nаgas—stood guard around me, it looked almost exactly like that moment in legend.

It was no wonder they mistook me for the Buddha.

And their current desperate, faith-stricken state only intensified the misunderstanding.

“Are you aware that Buddhism has vanished from the Western Regions?”

“Buddhism vanished from the West?”

“Yes. Over two hundred years ago, Islam came sweeping in from beyond the lowlands, spreading through the Western Regions. As it took root, it began persecuting Buddhism. Many temples were burned, and countless lamas fled elsewhere.

Podarlap Palace, which is now based in Tobo, was founded by those fleeing monks.”

“I see...”

“Even now, we make secret journeys back to the Western Regions, salvaging Buddhist scriptures from the burned ruins of temples and homes... but this time, we were attacked by Muslims and suffered greatly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“To be honest, when Awang’s life was on the line, even I began to question whether the Dharma had forsaken us. I was shaken.

But now... to have the Nāgarāja and the manifestation of the Heavenly Master Himself aid us in our mission to preserve the scriptures!

I reflect deeply on my own weakness of faith! Everything was prepared... and I couldn’t see it!”

It all began as a history lecture about the suppression of Buddhism and Hinduism by Islam, which I vaguely recalled from school.

And now it had ended with the conclusion that I was the Buddha reincarnated.

“Well... I suppose one could see it that way. I mean, it’s not every day that spiritual beasts follow a person around.”

Even Monk Jaheo looked shaken.

‘Come on, man! I need you to deny it, not fall for it too!’

While I stood there bewildered, Sister Seol spoke up next to me.

“So... does that mean our So-ryong has to shave his head now?”

“W-what are you saying, Sister!”

And before I could respond, Hwa-eun wrapped her arms tightly around me.

As if to say, “You’re not giving up your precious hair. No way.”

...Or maybe, “I’m not giving you up to anyone.”