It had been over two years since Mìngyùn left the ruins of Taenarum and Cape Tainaron on the edge of mainland Greece. The journey back to his homeland was long and arduous, over 5000 miles taken in a combination of horseback, by foot, and by sea. He could have stopped at his home in the Shaolin Monastery along the way, but he had promised Zhīshì that he would not return until his tasks were complete. Nearing five years into fulfilling the prophecy of the one who finds the hidden doors and Mìngyùn was determined to see this through.
His final destination lay hidden deep in Mount Tai. The mountain was some 320 miles northeast of his home. Being back in China gave the Shaolin monk a renewed sense of energy and purpose. Approaching the mountain on horseback, his now long black hair caught in the breeze. There were trails that would take him up and into Mount Tai, but he knew that Wěndìng de jiǎo, the horse that had carried him for much of his journey, could go no further.
"You have been a good and faithful companion," Mìngyùn said to the horse as he removed the last of his belongings from the mighty steed's back. Patting his face and neck, Mìngyùn leaned into Wěndìng de jiǎo, forehead to forehead. "Go now my friend. From here I must journey alone. May our paths cross again one day." Turning from the horse, he collected his few items, looked up at the summit of Mount Tai and remembered the words of the Buddha, "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." With a long, deep breath, the monk began his march to the final door.
The trek up the mountain was slow. Mìngyùn knew the door would be somewhere near the top. He had seen it before with the visions of the other doors and what hid behind them. Finally he came upon a crack in the side of the stone wall. Unlike before, there was no heat or cold seeping through the rocks, but there was a buzz of energy that filled the air, like the static of electricity during a thunder storm. He had found the door to the maze of judgement, the Ten Courts of Hell. He stood before his final test, the door to Diyu and its King Yama, the god of death. From his bag he pulled the stack of joss paper, the Hell money, Zhīshì had given him to burn as an offering to Yama at the entrance of Diyu. The smoke curled up from the fire and danced, swirling in the air before coalescing into the crack and becoming the mouth of the maze.
Mìngyùn stood for a moment before the smoke entrance, taking a measure of himself and the task ahead. Around his neck hung the charm, Zhīshì's last gift. It would not only help guide him through the maze but stand before the king himself. And even though he was still among the living, all who passed through Diyu would face the harsh stare of judgement. Unlike his two previous destinations, Diyu was neither a final resting place nor an eternal damnation. King Yama ruled over the Ten Courts of Hell at which a soul would receive judgement and punishment depending on the severity of that person's sins before eventually being sent off for reincarnation. Mìngyùn had been a monk at the Shaolin Monastery since he was a young boy. He was a servant of the Buddha, the Tao, the Earth, and all who dwelled on her. He was also the one chosen to find the doors and enter the realms of the dead. From a near-by tree Mìngyùn collected a small branch and wrapped one end in a piece of cloth forging a makeshift torch, Drawing his sword, he lit the torch with the fire of the joss paper, taking some of the magic of the offering with him as he crossed through the smoke door.
As he followed the path into the maze, Mìngyùn pulled the charm that hung around his neck from under his tunic. Its gold and silver shimmered in the light of the torch. As he walked he could hear the sounds of judgement, punishment, and torture as souls cried out for mercy of their past sins. The path was straight and he could not see anyone else but he knew they were there. He knew the eyes of the Ten Courts were watching him, studying his every step and searching the depths of his life. He could feel their eyes piercing his soul, but no one appeared. No one blocked his path or hampered his advancement deeper into the land of the dead. Finally he came upon a lone man, standing in the middle of the path. He wore traditional robes, had a long beard, bulging eyes, and a scowling red face. Atop his head he wore a judge's cap adorned with a single logogram, the character for king.
"Yama," Mìngyùn breathed as he bent to one knee, placing the tip of his sword on the ground before him with the hilt in both hands, bowing his head.
King Yama approached and placed a hand on the monk's shoulder. "Rise." Mìngyùn stood and looked deep into the eyes of the god of death.
"You are the one," Yama stated more than asked looking at the charm around Mìngyùn's neck. "That," the god rumbled pointing at the disc of silver and gold, "belongs to me."
"And it will be yours again, once I have what I've come for," the monk replied in a calm soothing voice.
Yama's eyes bored into Mìngyùn, face turning a darker shade of red. The monk held the deity's gaze, saying nothing, making not a single movement or sound. This was his test. He was being judged by the king of Hell and if he wished to survive, he had to hold with unflinching determination.
After what felt like an eternity, the god smiled. He turned and retrieved a small pouch and piece of joss paper. First he handed Mìngyùn the Hell money and instructed, "Place this in the fire you set at the door." Yama then took the pouch, unfastened its draw string, and pulled the mouth open. Looking deep into Mìngyùn's eyes, the god inhaled a slow, deep breath and exhaled into the bag, quickly tightening the draw string and casting a low spell on the bag. "This pouch is made from the lung of a dragon and holds the breath of the king of Hell," he explained handing the bag to Mìngyùn. "You have the earth and the water?" he inquired.
"Yes," Mìngyùn replied as he put the pouch in his bag next to the dirt from Gehenna and the water the River Styx.
"Now," said the king, "sheath your sword and keep this joss paper in your hand and return to me the charm." The monk did as instructed, taking the charm from around his neck and placing it in Yama's outstretched hand. "Close your eyes." Once Mìngyùn's eyes were closed, Yama placed the index and middle finger from each hand on the monk's temples and blew into his face.
When he opened his eyes, Mìngyùn found himself standing back in front of the crack in the stone on the side of Mount Tai, next to the fire he had set to gain entrance to Diyu. He placed the joss paper on the dying embers that flashed back to life with the touch of Hell's money. He watched the fire blaze and then go cold a moment later. As the last bits of smoke wafted into the night, Mìngyùn turned and headed back down the mountain. It was time to go home.
Author's Note: In this story, the main character is searching for the Chinese realm of the dead, Diyu. One of the possible locations of Diyu is Mount Tai. For reference, I have included two maps below. One displays the distance between Cape Tainaron (known now as Cape Matapan), Greece and Mount Tai in China. The other shows the distance between Mount Tai and the Shoalin Monastery. I decided to not require Mìngyùn to make any additional stops to gather any items he would require to gain access to Diyu, figuring it would make sense that Zhīshì would already have what the monk would need. The name of the horse, Wěndìng de jiǎo, is Chinese for "steady feet." Before Mìngyùn took the first steps into the final part of his journey, I wanted him to think of a Buddhist saying or proverb that would help give him some extra strength to finish the mission; that's where the "Do not dwell in the past..." quote comes from. At the door to Hell, the rocks were hot and at the door to the River Styx, they were cold and I wanted the entrance to Diyu to have its own feeling or vibe but couldn't find anything specific in my research so I just made up the feeling of electricity. Hell money is a form of joss paper that is burned as an offering to the dead. Per Wikipedia "Joss paper, also known as ghost or spirit money, are sheets of paper or papercrafts made into burnt offerings common in Chinese ancestral worship (such as the veneration of the deceased family members and relatives on holidays and special occasions). Worship of gods also uses a similar paper. " Yama is a god who presides over the dead in East Asian, Buddhist, and Hindu mythology. In Chinese mythology he is the god of death and the ruler of Diyu. In Diyu a soul goes through a maze of judgement prior to reincarnation. One version of this process is the Ten Courts of Hell. I opted to use that version because the Eighteen Levels of Hell just seemed to daunting to incorporate into my story. The charm around Mìngyùn's neck is something I completely made up. I had the monk collect dirt from Hell and water from the River Styx in the first two stories and sticking with the theme of the elements, I wanted him to collect some type of air from Diyu. Having it be Yama's breath just seemed logical. I decided to have the pouch used to collect the breath be made of out dragon lung because dragons are sacred animals in China. I returned to the joss paper because I thought it would be a nice bookend that Mìngyùn would basically need to pay a toll to get in and get out of Diyu.