NOVEL NEXT Chapter 887
Time passed, and alongside it, materials began to pile up at Hwan-gudan in Jung-gu, Seoul. Wooden pillars saturated with red sand were raised tall as if trying to encircle the Hwan-gudan, with metal spheres placed atop them.
And as if preparing for a performance, large stage lights started to fill the area surrounding the pillars, while drones awaited their launch day, napping in a simple warehouse.
Countless people shuffled about, sweat dripping from their brows, and finally, when no one was left at the bustling Hwan-gudan—
The time for the ritual of magic had arrived.
“….”
“….”
“….”
People gathered.
Those who appeared, their mouths covered with white fabric, remained silent as they began to perform their respective duties. The broadcasting station members adjusted their pre-set equipment, preparing for a live broadcast, while journalists, there for coverage, positioned themselves to capture the scene of Hwan-gudan packed with people.
And on the roof of a building offering a clear view of the Hwan-gudan—
“….”
“….”
“….”
There were seats.
Special VIP seats where one could observe the ceremony from above.
Dignitaries, scholars, and notable figures from Korea’s major organizations, the Korean National Defense Council and the Hongik Patriotic Group.
Each one of them, worthy of being called a heavyweight, tightly occupied the rooftop, looking down at the empty Hwan-gudan.
Just like those below, their mouths too were wrapped in white fabric, maintaining their silence.
And thus, within the silence, the ceremony commenced.
Step by step.
Stepping upon the golden sand that blanketed the ground, Park Jinseong advanced towards the Hwan-gudan.
Camera lenses followed him, and journalists’ cameras tracked his movement.
Even the dignitaries’ gazes from the rooftop followed him.
At the center of this attention stood Park Jinseong, the shaman officiating the ritual of magic.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The sound of empty metal resonated throughout.
With each sound that echoed, the dormant lights awakened, shooting beams of light across the sky.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
As Park Jinseong took each step, the lights flickered on rapidly, and finally, all the lights encircling the Hwan-gudan ignited, producing countless rays of light.
A shared vertex of light beams.
It formed a spectacle reminiscent of a roof made of pure light.
Zing.
Zing.
But that was far from the end.
The spheres atop the pillars began to resonate, emitting a golden light, while discharging electricity in all directions, producing strange harmonics.
The protruding electricity intertwined, becoming connecting lines, filling the gaps between the beams with light. The turquoise and crimson hues twinkled, forming a splendidly vibrant roof.
And upon reaching the center of this roof, Park Jinseong halted.
Facing the camera lens directed at him, he brought forth a bamboo slip from his robes.
Unfolding it, he seemed to read silently, merely moving his eyes. After finishing, he rolled the slip back into a cylindrical form, driving it into the ground, then ignited it using Samādhi True Fire, reducing it to ashes.
This entire process was silent, unfolding in a breathless stillness, as though disconnected from reality.
A scene as if watching a silent film.
For those experienced in state ceremonies, it was truly an odd sight.
Typically, national rituals were supposed to be boisterous and noisy, yet in this shamanic ritual performed by Park Jinseong, no sound could be heard at all… It felt far removed from reverence for the heavens and respect for the spirits.
To reach the heavens with sincerity, there should be noise.
To spread that virtue and grace throughout the world, there must follow ceremonial music and dance.
Yet Park Jinseong’s ritual of magic lacked precisely that.
It resembled the act of a thief secretly peeking at the sky, akin to a treasure hunter who slipped away with the gifts from heaven.
Thus, in silence, he continued to conceal himself from the heavens, trying to spy on celestial secrets to utilize them for the benefit of humanity.
And as if to affirm this suspicion, Park Jinseong began carefully moving, drawing patterns in the sandy ground.
Moving his feet slowly as if dancing, he traced lines, etching Chinese characters between the shapes created by the lines’ intersections. Fearful that the heavens might see him, he kept his head down, using the brilliant light as a shadow to shape the square patterns as he pleased.
The shapes he created appeared like the marks of a wielded sword, reminiscent of clouds lightly dispersed, resembling a child’s scribbles of frustration, or even a formation created by an amateur formation master.
At the very center of this formation, and at the heart of the temple constructed of light, Park Jinseong silently mouthed the words.
“Heaven.”
“Hide.”
This declared the bragging rights of the one who hid themselves from the heavens.
Park Jinseong proclaimed “Heavenly Hide,” celebrating that he concealed himself from the sky.
And then, as if the time had come, he lifted his gaze towards the heavens, conforming to its intentions as the beams of light began to shift subtly, creating a large opening at the center.
Electricity surged, attempting to fill that void, yet it seemed unwilling to yield to the will of the beams, dwindling and starting to shoot upward toward the sky.
Mimicking the flash of lightning striking upward.
This defied the principles set by the heavens; thus, such a sight would be considered reverse against celestial order!
Distorted and distorted.
Distorted, oh so distorted…
Thus, shrouded by the symbols of celestial reversal, Park Jinseong gazed towards the heavens.
The night sky, choked with smoke, offered only faint glimpses of the brilliant lights of satellites.
In the fog thickened by human hands, no stars were visible.
So, it seemed the heavens could not see this place, tangled in the ashes crafted by humanity.
Thus, Park Jinseong declared silently.
The heavens cannot behold this place.
Veiling the heavens and hiding in its shadows, they cannot punish the fault of peeking into celestial secrets.
Wooooo.
With that declaration, the drones took flight.
Drones loaded with black powder soared, igniting their cargo, causing the black powder to slowly ignite and twinkle like fireflies as they danced through the air.
They were like fireflies frolicking in the sky, or fish gliding through the darkened sky.
The drones moved freely, shining with the flames of burning black powder.
Eventually, swept away by the water’s flow, they began to move in formation, as if caught in a whirlwind, spiraling and circling in place.
From below, it appeared as if a comet was twirling.
Or perhaps like a long-exposure photo capturing the path of a star.
The light trails traced by fireflies filled the starless night sky, a sign of auspicious omens, neither crossing the center nor cutting across.
And at the center of this trajectory,
Park Jinseong quietly gazed at the sky, closing his eyes.
Though his eyes were shut, the afterimages of the swirling trails lingered, dizzying his sight, creating a contrast of light and darkness, making it feel as though the vast open night sky was watching him.
The medicinal herbs and alcohol he ingested beforehand melded, heightening his sensations and intent on scattering his consciousness with a flaring warmth and a dizzying awareness.
Flickering vision.
Darkness danced, and the twisting flames formed circular shapes.
The cold night air brushed past him, that icy touch stirring a synesthetic reaction, altering his perception.
Sharpness.
The sharp cold pierced through his eyes, following which a wave of warmth flooded his vision. Then, as if a mirage appeared, it brightened and vanished, only to be pricked by sudden chills that ruptured the mirage.
The light waves bloomed and faded as if flowers blossoming, and then, like the shape of a round sky, danced between the two-dimensional circles and three-dimensional spheres in a perpetual cycle….
In this illusion, a phrase crossed Park Jinseong’s mind.
“Fire and metal shall flourish greatly. The sharp metal with the underlying energy directed toward the heavens, while the heavens’ essence flows down to the earth. It shall be energy, and though its form cannot be perceived or touched, its existence shall manifest and radiate in all directions. The light of metal and flame shall dazzle the world, so formidable that it cannot be easily thwarted.”
This is not heavenly secrets (天機) but heavenly energies (天氣).
The hidden secrets of the sky, not of divine order, but the energies and omens of the heavens.
This was merely an expansion of the divination deciphering causality, reflecting the mere act of reading the flow of the heavens… the world’s current events.
Yet if one acknowledges the struggle of mankind lacking the foresight to navigate its own course, being able to read even a small fraction of the world’s flow is undeniably something remarkable.
While he might not have glimpsed the celestial secrets, it was certain that such a venture held its consequences—
Thus Park Jinseong, fearful that heaven might notice he read those secrets, buried his head deeper as he assumed the Five-Body Posture. His head was embedded in the sand facing north, remaining still, as if frozen in the night air.
Wooooo.
That posture of the Five-Body Posture did not falter.
Even when the drones burnt entirely through their black powder, the trails of light vanished.
When the beams that formed the roof slowly extinguished, and finally when all lights turned off.
Even when the spheres discharging electricity ceased functioning, and the wooden pillars saturated with red sand erupted in explosive sounds.
He merely maintained his state of the Five-Body Posture.
Fwoooosh—!
Fwoooosh—!
The red sand scattered across the land like a splash of crimson, turning the earth red.
The wooden pillars, preloaded with metallic powders of various types, began to flare up in five-colored flames, spewing thick black smoke, obscuring the sky.
And just as the black smoke that had seemingly transported the night sky faded away from the ground—
At its epicenter, Park Jinseong sat up straight, gazing into the camera.
Then, with the aura of completion enveloping the ritual, he smiled brightly and spoke to everyone present, as well as those beyond the camera.
“The flow of the heavens speaks; the essence of iron and fire shall flourish, and thus can vanquish the departed.”
Waaaaaa—!!!
It could not be anything but a fortunate and auspicious declaration.
It was propitious and indeed propitious.
The divination’s content was auspicious, and celestial energies decided to assist humanity.
Clap, clap, clap, clap—!!!
All those witnessing the ritual began to applaud in unison.
Amidst this applause, Park Jinseong moved, a smile upon his face.
The smile reflected joy for the favorable omen, pride in successfully completing a complicated ritual of magic, discomfort from the public adulation, and a hint of lifted spirits all mingled into one expression.
This was the visage of a ‘young and capable shaman, albeit still lacking substantial experience.’