Chapter 126 — Crossing the River of Death
It was a dark night.
Nothing could be seen before my eyes.
Am I dead.
The deeper the darkness grew, the clearer my thoughts became.
My body could not be felt, and my feet touched nothing.
I could not even tell whether I was standing or floating.
I had once heard that there is a path to the afterlife.
That light would open the way ahead, and one need only follow it.
They said one must cross a river,
that a ferryman rows a boat,
that a path stretches across the water.
But there was nothing.
I could not tell whether my eyes were open or closed.
There was no light, no sound.
Only darkness.
So I made the path myself.
I decided there was a river ahead.
I decided that unseen water was flowing.
I believed that if I stepped forward, there would be water beneath me.
One step.
I felt nothing.
No water, no ground, no resistance.
Still, I did not stop.
I took another step.
I believed this place was a river.
I decided I was crossing it now.
If I did not,
it felt as if I would never reach anywhere.
Within the darkness, I imagined waves.
I imagined unseen water brushing my waist.
Wrapping around my ankles, rising past my knees, pushing against my body.
I inhaled.
I felt cold air entering my lungs.
I exhaled.
I believed my breath touched the surface of the water.
I even created a ferryman.
I imagined the faint motion of an oar somewhere.
A presence that knew the way, though it spoke no words.
Only then could I keep walking.
The darkness remained unchanged.
The light never appeared.
Still, my steps continued.
One step, then another.
I did not know how far I had come.
I did not know how much I had crossed.
Only that I had not stopped.
At some point, I felt the water disappear.
Beneath my feet, there was only emptiness again.
I could not tell
whether I had crossed the river
or was still within it.
So I decided again.
That I had crossed.
The moment I decided that,
the darkness seemed to change ever so slightly.
A faint space to breathe appeared.
It was an extremely faint breath.
Something the size of a mustard seed remained there.
Even after being pierced by dozens of arrows,
beaten, trampled, and shattered,
that tiny trace of energy remained.
I remembered the word my master had spoken—
inner observation (內觀).
I did not know whether it meant to look inward
or to illuminate what lay within.
But now, there was no outside.
Only the inside remained.
I and that thing were separated.
The one who saw and the thing being seen were clearly divided.
And there, there was light.
In the darkness, something as small as a mustard seed trembled faintly.
That trembling was breath.
The final trace of life.
I gathered my focus toward that light.
I held onto it,
so it would not scatter,
so I would not lose it.
I inhaled.
I did not know where it entered.
I could not feel nose, mouth, or lungs.
And yet something flowed inward.
Like wind.
Like a current.
It brushed gently against the mustard seed.
The seed grew ever so slightly.
I exhaled.
I could not feel anything leaving,
but I sensed a hollowing within.
I inhaled again.
This time, it was clearer.
Energy entered and remained inside.
It did not scatter.
It gathered there.
The mustard seed swelled once more.
I did not lose it.
I continued to watch it.
Breath continued.
Inhale, hold, inhale again.
It did not break.
A flow formed.
Light spread.
What had been a seed was no longer a point.
It spread softly within, illuminating its surroundings.
That light traced through the body.
It reached blocked places.
It brushed hardened areas.
Warmth spread.
Broken parts began to move.
Severed parts reconnected.
What had been scattered gathered together.
Pain followed, belatedly.
Piercing, stabbing, crushing sensations surged all at once.
It was the sensation of a living body.
I did not release my breath.
I did not push the pain away.
I let the energy flow over it.
Inhale, hold, exhale.
I could see the path the energy took.
It stopped where it was blocked,
then turned and flowed again, widening the path.
The mustard seed had now become a mass.
The light grew clear.
The breath became distinct.
It moved on its own.
It was alive.
Youngwoo looked at it.
And it responded to him.
The breath deepened.
There was a sensation of the chest opening.
The abdomen followed.
From within to without,
from without to within,
the flow continued.
The body that had touched death
began to return.
He inhaled once more.
This time, it was certain.
He was alive.