“Stop there,” she said, walking in front of me, toward the puffy clouds on the horizon.
The air was cold, and for a moment I felt like pulling my sleeves down to cover my hands. But then I remembered what I’d done the previous night, using my inner warmth, and while it was a little harder to do it now, perhaps because I wasn’t blindfolded, I tried to imagine a fire burning in my body, warming me.
It wasn’t long before my body was naturally warmed by the calisthenics Saruul’s mother put me through. What started off as push-ups became an excruciating exercise that saw me jumping from foot to foot, then down to a push-up position, and back up to my feet.
I kept waiting for Roger to laugh at me, but the bird had gone to the market with Saruul, something I was definitely glad about.
Tashi was there, however, and once I got the hang of some of the moves, Dohna instructed him to come closer to me, to create a circle of fire around me.
From there she had me doing squats, and then some modified yoga poses that reminded me more of the way a lion would move rather than a human. Tashi remained in a ring of fire around me, my body and clothing quickly covered in sweat.
By the time we finished, every muscle in my body was sore, my robes were drenched, and my lungs were barely able to oxygenate my blood. I started to fall and as I did, I stopped myself with one knee, pushing myself to my feet.
“Good,” Dohna said. “Now, let’s get inside and clean up. It’s time to visit the temple.”
Chapter Eleven: Lhandon’s First Transmission
“I am humbled by the fact that you can be here for this.” Lhandon sat on a raised platform. Jigme the lion monk was to his left and Altan to his right.
We were in a smaller, octagonal room on the west side of the temple which offered views of the clouds. Hanging from the wall were elaborate paintings featuring lion monks in various meditative postures with runic characters around them which matched the frescos painted above us.
Tashi sat on the tip of a candle that had been strategically placed on the low table before me. Gansukh floated to my left, its legs crossed in a seated position. Roger would have been here, but for some reason, his trip to the market with Saruul was taking longer than expected.
“Since some of this is being written as I speak,” Lhandon said, nodding toward Altan, “it will be used for the updated version of the Path of the Divine. I will start with a recap, including why I have decided to update the commonly read version, and mass produce it as well.”
Lhandon cleared his throat and looked to Jigme, who simply nodded.
“The Way of the Immortals is a collection of text and oral traditions that describe the various paths toward enlightenment through the cultivation of karma. It is generally divided into five paths. The Path of the Divine is, in my humble opinion, the most beneficial way to truly cultivate good, to cultivate inner power, and to aid in a mutually beneficial rebirth. I use the term ‘mutually beneficial’ because the practitioner’s rebirth will not only be good for the practitioner, but it will also be good for the public at large.”
There was something different about Lhandon, a leadership component to his persona that I had only seen a few times, which was naturally aided by where he sat and who he was surrounded by. It made me proud of the man and how he had progressed.
“For the betterment of all humankind, it is important that people know who the Immortals actually were. With this in mind, a summarized version of the Book of the Immortals will appear in the updated book of the Path of the Divine.”
Lhandon paused for a moment as one of the younger lion monks entered, whispered something in Jigme’s ear, and left.
He continued. “The Path of the Divine has traditionally been broken down into seven stages. Those stages are the novice stage, or Broken Sword; the cultivator stage, or Wheel with a Rusty Axle; the advanced student stage, or Ink in the Sea; the teacher stage, or Wolf Stalking a Lantern; the master stage, or Hollow Peacock; the divine master stage, or Spineless Book; and the reborn student stage, otherwise known as a Golden One. The updated version will continue to utilize these stages, but it will break them down into steps that a practitioner, be they a monk or a layperson, will be able to follow and gain benefit from. To build a sense of community, and to accurately manage people’s progression, only those at the teacher stage or higher will be able to certify that someone has officially moved to the next level.”
I nodded, glad for the recap. There were a lot of terms thrown around regarding the Way of the Immortals, and I knew it would benefit the public to put it into concise terms.
“The monastic setup will be aided by this relationship between teachers and masters. To clarify, teachers, traditionally taking part in the Wolf Stalking a Lantern stage, aren’t at a different level than the master, or the Hollow Peacock stage. It is good to think of them as on the exact same plane, the teacher path for a monk who wants to move to a level that allows them to initiate others, and the master path for hermits, and in this case, for those aspiring to be hermits, who go off to caves and other retreats to practice karmic cultivation in a more abstract away. So, it is best to think of them as on the same level. The only way to become a divine master at the Spineless Book stage would be to have done both the teacher training and the master training. But more on that later. Today, we’re going to focus on just the novice level, Broken Sword. Before we begin, are there any questions?”
Lhandon looked at me, and I shrugged.
There were three of us seated before him, and it seemed a little strange to ask questions at this point, but he waited patiently for one, and a question eventually came to me: “You mentioned the power as something that is cultivated, but is this the same Power that I possess, that we’ve used to describe what I can do?” I asked, referring to my ability to slow down time.
“A very good question, and it is something I will touch on in the new version of the Path of the Divine, albeit later on in the book. But to answer your question briefly, no, it is not the same power. If I tried my entire life to cultivate karmic power, I would not have your ability, although there are other powers that I would gain because I’m not a Golden One.”
“That is correct,” Jigme said, taking over. “The whole point of becoming a Golden One is to start the cycle again, and according to the Path of the Divine, and not only this path, but other paths through the Way of the Immortals, the only true way to become a Golden One is to come to this world from another. It is something to aspire to, something to possibly look forward to if one makes it through all the stages, or if we are looking at the past interpretation of it, to have cultivated enough karma to actually be reborn in a different world, and then return to this world.”
“What if someone is reborn in the Underworld or the Overworld and they come back here? Are they considered a Golden One?”
Lhandon looked to Jigme, and Jigme continued: “From the interpretations that I have read, based on some of the older manuscripts in our library here at the Temple of Eternal Sky, the answer to that question is no. For one to go from the Overworld or the Underworld to the Middle Plane, to where we currently are, they have to be reborn. So it is in no way breaking that cycle. They are simply born there, cultivate enough there to be reborn here, but they don’t reach the stage of a Golden One.”
“To be clear, if you agree with the assumption that I’m a Golden One, which everyone seems to, because I came through a portal from a different world, does that mean that a past version of myself went through all of these steps?”
“Yes, we believe so,” Lhandon said, taking over. “The Path of the Divine has yet to be codified, until now. It was more of a tradition based on new lessons once a student had memorized older ones, same with scripts, and, to be fair, a lot of it was based on how the head monk interpreted the student’s progress, so there was room for bias in the past version. You are not a Golden One until you come here from a different world entirely, a world not officially connected to this world, similar to the first
Immortals. And to make it even rarer, from what the texts say, the condition for someone to come from your world to this world only happens every thousand years or so. So yes, you must have cultivated in a previous life, and yes, you are technically a Golden One already.”
“Yet we think,” I said, motioning between Lhandon and me, “that the reason I came here was because somebody did something in the Overworld, correct?”
“Correct,” Lhandon told me, “but there is always room for error, and as we progress on our journey, we may discover that we are wrong. We have to be ready to admit and work with that. Does that answer your question?”
“In a way. To summarize: anyone that comes from my world, planet Earth, to this world is considered a Golden One. To be a Golden One means that you instantly reach that level and then start back again at the novice stage, or Broken Sword. To have become a Golden One in the first place means that a former version of me must have cultivated enough karma, negative or positive, to be reborn on my planet. Finally, a Golden One cannot be from the Overworld or the Underworld.”
“Because if they could be,” Tashi said, jumping into the conversation, “what’s to stop a demon from the Underworld getting powerful enough to simply create a portal to come here and claim they are a Golden One?”
“Precisely,” Jigme said. “Lesser demons have already come here, and according to what Lhandon has told me, you may have already faced off against one.”
“You mean Madame Mabel?” I asked, recalling the terrifying monster she had morphed into in the end.
“Precisely.”
“So, getting back onto the topic at hand,” Lhandon said, “let’s talk about the new way the Broken Sword level, or novice, will be handled.”
He waited for a moment for Altan to scratch the notes to the parchment. Once the former slave was ready, he looked up and Lhandon continued: “All of the stages on the Path of the Divine must be initiated through being blessed by a holy object, the same ritual must take place for a merchant and for a young monk. For the first stage, the practitioner will start by being blessed, and then they will be given instructions on a meditation series regarding compassion and the cultivation of karma. These instructions will be in the book of the Path of the Divine. Monks will learn the basics, including folding robes and making candles and incense, and the layperson will satisfy a similar requirement in their own homes to be determined by their teacher. There will be a physical component as well, the practitioner being required to make one thousand prostrations. A quick note I should make regarding a layperson versus a monk: we want the people of Lhasa and the rest of the world to be able to embrace and utilize these techniques, however, they cannot move past the stage of a cultivator, or Wheel with a Rusty Axle, without becoming a monk, at least for the time being. I wanted to clarify that.”
“How will the teacher know if the student has actually performed all of the prostrations?” I asked.
“Good question. The teacher will know through a modified Rune of Inquiry. Jigme and I are developing it now, but it basically allows one to lay out rice or another grain, cast the rune on the rice, and then get the number of prostrations that have been made. Of course, as the student progresses, they will be able to learn runes as well, but not for the first stage. For the first stage, we want things to be as clear-cut as possible; we want the practitioner to truly embrace the limitations of the Path before discovering its benefits and secrets.”
I waited patiently with my blindfold over my eyes, knowing full well that the odds of me winning a fight against the lion man in the black mask were slim to none.
It was late, cold, and as I stood there, I thought back to what Lhandon had said earlier in the day.
It was starting to become clearer why Baatar had wanted us to come here.
It was the spark we needed, from my combat and mindfulness training, to Lhandon being able to work with Jigme in restructuring the Path of the Divine.
I only wished that I could read the language, so I could read the Book of the Immortals myself. I had taken yet another look at it back at the temple, and sure enough, none of the text made any sense to me.
Sure, I recognized a few of the characters, but that was about it.
Altan and Lhandon were alternating the copy making process, and Lhandon claimed to know the owner of a printing house back in Bamda, which was where he would send a copy of the Book of the Immortals, and the revised book detailing the Path of the Divine.
I smirked.
There were so many titles and concepts that sounded similar that it was hard to wrap my head around it at times. I was glad that they had recapped things in the way that they did, and that they were always generous with their explanations and gentle with their time.
What an experience.
As I stood blindfolded, waiting for my opponent, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the grunt that signaled I needed to remove my blindfold.
And for my inattention, I was rewarded with a strike to the face that sent me straight to the ground.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself as I pulled my blindfold off, slowly pressing back to my feet.
The masked man came at me again; I barely managed to sidestep his attack.
Dohna had taught me some about being light on my feet, and I tried to take her advice as I avoided yet another one of the lion man’s attacks, pretending as if there was a ball attached to my heel giving me an added spring.
While I wasn’t allowed to heal myself or use runes, no one had said anything yet about not using my power to slow time. And while I couldn’t simply turn it on, I knew that there were ways it could be triggered, including extreme punishment or apprehension.
But I wanted to activate it in a different way, a more balanced way.
As I took my first swing at the man, which was quickly blocked, I again honed in on my breath.
Even as a leg swept me to the ground, knocking the air out of me, I managed to sustain the blow, shift to my side, and avoid a stomp as I rolled back to my feet.
The man jumped in the air to kick me, and as he did, time came to a stop.
I stepped to the right of his foot, and brought my hand back, smashing my fist into the side of his face as time returned to its normal pace.
The man flew to the left, an arc of blood trailing him. Amazingly, he landed on his feet by way of an aerial.
He jumped into the air and I did so at the same time, both of us rising as I blocked his punches, gravity no longer a concern.
As we moved higher into the air, I focused on blocking his attacks, the man punching even faster, his eyes narrowing behind his mask.
Once we were about eight feet up, time stopped again, and I used this as an opportunity to kick off the man’s body.
I slapped both hands on the back of his head and pressed off the air as if it were the ceiling of the world, sending both of us careening to the ground, where I slammed the man’s head into the rock.
For a moment I was certain that I’d killed him, even lifting my hand to activate my healing ability hoping to help him.
I learned of my mistake when he flipped back to his feet and delivered a kick to my chin that sent me straight onto my back.
He got on top of me, holding my shoulders down with his knees as he started to sink punches into my face. Each hit sent an explosion of colors through my brain, my arms barely able to get up in time and block his attack.
Using all my might, I rolled him over and tried to get on top of him, only to be kicked off, the wind knocked out of me yet again. I took a deep breath in just as the masked man leaped into the air and brought both fists down onto my chest.
The impact instantly knocked me out, and it was only later, I had no idea how much later, that Saruul’s mother woke me up.
“You need to heal yourself,” she said, a concerned look on her face.
“I’m okay,” I said, wheezing, blood on my lips.
“No, you’re not.” Dohna helped me lift my hand, and as s
he did, I traced up my healing rune.
I lowered my hand over my chest, feeling the bone start to mend itself, a deep breath reaching all the way down to the bottom of my lungs, a sense of euphoria spreading into my head.
“I’ll help you get inside,” she said once I was able to stand. “You did good, but tomorrow night, you will do better.”
Chapter Twelve: Winter Moon Festival
I awoke, and for a moment I thought I saw Dema standing before me, my dakini staring down at me with fondness in her eyes. But blinking a couple more times adjusted my vision. It wasn’t her at all, it was Saruul, who quickly hopped back into the bed and got under the blankets.
“How do you feel?” she asked as she pressed her body next to mine.
“Not too bad considering…” I closed my eyes, recalling my fight with the black-masked lion man. I shook my head, disappointed that I hadn’t done more damage.
“You will do better tonight.”
“Your mom seems to think the same thing as well.”
Saruul smiled, her canines suddenly visible. “There’s a festival tonight, and I was hoping you and I could go together.”
“You’re not worried that I will attract attention?”
She tucked her head under my chin, one of her ears grazing against me. My right hand was on her lower back now, just above her tail. “I am fine if you attract attention. Your being here has been nice for me, and my mother likes you, Nick. I like you.”
“I just wish we could spend a little more time together,” I told her. “With the stuff at the monastery and the constant training…”
“It’s fine. I understand the importance of what you’re doing, and…”
“Yes?”
“I believe it will be hard when you go, but that is something I will have to deal with at that time.”
“You could come with us,” I told her. “I’m sure a snow lion has never visited the Island Kingdom of Jonang.”
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