"Whoa! That smells amazing! Murakami, I could smell the venison from way off! It's got the greedy worms in my belly rolling around. You know, venison stewed with winter snow is tender and delicious, nourishing when stored away, and when you blend in that pleasant rice aroma, the taste is truly something else! ..."
"Ha! Watanabe, you're a monk from a great temple in Kyoto, and you like eating venison too? ..."
"Eh! So what if I'm a monk? Does being a monk mean I can't eat meat? Monks not eating meat is what the exoteric schools transmitted from Tang say. My Myoho-in is esoteric! Our patriarch, Master Fuju Kongo Saicho, founded the Tendai Esoteric Sect precisely by fusing together the true transmission of Siddham esotericism. And the 'sumi' in my own name was passed down from Master Saicho too! ..."
A small bonfire had been lit on the freezing snowfield, and a crude tent was set up in a low hollow out of the wind. Several Wagoku warriors were busy tidying up around the camp, while the Joseon sailors collected branches and withered grass. At the center of the cramped camp, a large open iron pot hung from the bonfire's frame. The iron pot slowly melted the winter snow, and a gradually thickening aroma of meat drifted out.
At that moment, the two leaders of the Zheyang Ship, the monk-soldier Watanabe Masumi and the ship magistrate Murakami Suemichi, were sitting cross-legged by the bonfire, smelling the hot, steaming fragrance while rarely relaxing enough to chat.
"Ha? Watanabe, you make it sound so proper, Myoho-in this, Tendai Esoteric Sect that. Sounds very intimidating... But I heard the priests at the temples and shrines in town say that eating meat brings something called the Ten Sins of Meat Eating, that it's