Chapter 1797 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect
The air
around seemed to still, sinking into a quiet calm.
Those
shouting boisterously, those rushing in with tension etched across their faces,
those overcome by fear and thrashing wildly...
One by one, they
faded from view. Until only one person remained.
Tang Gunak
stared at that one individual standing before him with piercing eyes.
There was no
trace of the aura typical of the evil sect—no palpable sense of their sinister
energy. Yet it was far from the righteous sect either. Instead, there was an
overwhelming sense of freedom.
Tang Gunak
knew people who exuded such a feeling.
‘Ronin.’
Drifters
without affiliation, relying solely on the blade strapped to their waist to
survive. And because of this, they were destined never to step into the
pinnacle realm of martial arts.
And yet,
from within the body concealed beneath those clothes, he could sense explosive
power lying dormant.
"It’s
like a beast wearing human clothing and pretending to be one."
Tang Gunak’s
instincts spoke to him. The power of this man could rival the likes of Thousand-Faced
Manipulator or the Sun Palace Lord.
At that
moment, Jeok Ho’s sword moved.
Swoosh.
Tang Gunak
twisted his body and reflexively unleashed two daggers from his sleeve.
Clang!
Jeok Ho’s
sword aura grazed past Tang Gunak’s side, while Tang Gunak’s daggers ricocheted
off Jeok Ho’s blade and flew upward. Catching the airborne daggers, Tang Gunak
shot Jeok Ho a sharp glare.
Tension
thickened between the two.
The sharp
aftermath of the sword aura brushing past left Tang Gunak’s skin stinging.
It was Jeok
Ho who broke the silence.
"It’s a
well-deserved reputation."
"…That
doesn’t seem like the most appropriate phrase to use right now."
If the
saying that fame never spreads in vain is true, then those with true skill
naturally gain renown. But the man standing before Tang Gunak was the perfect
contradiction to that.
Someone this
skilled, and yet without a name...
Tang Gunak’s
expression hardened as a realization struck him. This formidable skill, and
that...
"The
Black Blade." [목도(墨刀)]
He stared at
the black blade in Jeok Ho’s hand, and one figure came to mind.
"The
one who led the pursuit when the Tang family retreated to Shaanxi."
Jeok Ho’s
gaze shifted.
"The
one who killed Elder Tang Wei and massacred countless members of the Tang
family... Jang Ilso’s dog."
"....."
"I
heard his favorite weapon was the Black Blade."
A murderous
aura flickered in Tang Gunak’s eyes.
"Was it
you?"
At the time,
Tang Gunak had arrived too late to witness the killer. But he had seen, in
vivid detail, the gruesome corpses of his kin torn apart by that blade. He
hadn’t forgotten for a single day.
"Answer
me."
"I
don’t want unnecessary emotions to get involved in the fight, but…"
Jeok Ho
nodded calmly.
"That
was my doing."
Tang Gunak’s
lips curled into a slow, twisted smile.
"You
dared to appear before me."
"I
merely follow orders."
Tang Gunak
chuckled darkly. He understood well that this man was nothing more than a
hunting dog. If a dog kills on its master’s command, the master bears the
responsibility.
However,
that was no reason to let the hunting dog live.
Fwoosh!
Clang!
The sound of
daggers being hurled and deflected erupted almost simultaneously. While the
clash resembled their earlier skirmish, the aftermath was markedly different.
Shudder.
Jeok Ho’s
Black Blade, which had deflected the daggers, trembled faintly. Jeok Ho glanced
at his wrist, his expression stiffening. Even after merely blocking small
daggers, his wrist throbbed as if he had faced a massive force.
"Then
let me make it clear."
"....."
"You
will die because of that command."
At Tang
Gunak’s low, grim declaration, Jeok Ho bared his teeth in a grin.
"As you
wish."
Jeok Ho
tightened his grip on his blade and charged at Tang Gunak.
❀ ❀ ❀
Shiiing!
Cheong
Myeong’s sword cleaved through those in his path, splitting them in half.
Even as his
opponents recoiled and retreated rather than charging forward, there was not a
trace of mercy in his strikes. It was a display far removed from what one would
expect of a Taoist’s sword.
If Cheong
Mun were to see this, he might furrow his brows. If Hyun Jong were to witness
it, he would likely turn his head away.
But Cheong
Myeong’s sword held no hesitation.
While his
opponents might appear weak before him, they could very well be absolute forces
of oppression to someone else. The mercy Cheong Myeong recklessly granted could
transform into an unchallengeable tyranny for others.
"S-Spare
me..."
Crunch!
As one man,
trembling and urinating in fear, desperately waved his hands, Cheong Myeong’s Dark
Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword plunged into his throat.
"Urgk..."
The man’s
bulging eyes brimmed with resentment, terror, and desperation. And then, all
those emotions faded into a dull gray.
To the dead,
and to the one who killed him.
"Cough."
Suddenly, Cheong
Myeong let out a faint cough. A metallic taste rose in his throat, but he
clenched his teeth and swallowed it back down.
‘Damn it.’
The energy
that the Dalai Lama had painstakingly suppressed within him surged forth the
moment he unsheathed his sword. The more he channeled his internal energy and
swung his sword, the quicker it gnawed away at him.
Even so, Cheong
Myeong had no intention of stopping.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
The cornered
members of the Evil Tyrant Alliance lunged at him in desperation.
"Die,
you monster! Gaaaah!"
The
threatening shouts pierced his ears, but the fervor carried nothing but
fear.
Cheong
Myeong deflected three incoming swords. Then, spinning his body in a fluid
motion, he slashed a perfect arc into the air with the tip of his sword.
Swish!
Three heads
simultaneously soared into the air.
Clang!
Cheong
Myeong followed through, swinging his sword to bat away the severed heads. One
of the heads struck the chest of an enemy who had been attempting to ambush him
from behind.
"Urk!"
The struck Evil
Tyrant Alliance warrior staggered backward, only to freeze in horror upon
realizing what had just hit him.
"W-Waaaaah!"
Even those
accustomed to the brutal nature of the martial world shrieked in terror at Cheong
Myeong's ruthless efficiency. And before the screaming warrior could process
it, his head was swiftly severed, just like the others.
Slash!
Hot blood
sprayed everywhere, speckling Cheong Myeong’s face. He didn’t bother wiping it
away; instead, he simply turned his cold gaze toward the remaining Evil Tyrant
Alliance warriors, who were still alive—for now.
"Ugh..."
"Ah...
ah..."
The ones
caught in his stare froze where they stood.
It wasn’t
just the overwhelming strength of their opponent. This was a primal fear—the
kind felt by a small animal standing before a colossal predator. The kind that
left one paralyzed in place.
And this
predator had no intention of sparing prey that had shown its weakness.
Boom!
Cheong
Myeong stomped on the ground with immense force, launching himself forward like
a tightly wound spring. The rotation of his body transferred every ounce of
energy into his sword.
Then came a
long strike!
Swoooosh!
Cheong Myeong's
sword cleaved through the air with force. The crimson sword aura extended
outward, swiftly and mercilessly sweeping through everything in its path.
The Evil
Tyrant Alliance warriors, panicking, tried to retreat, but their bodies, frozen
in fear, refused to obey their minds. In the end, the inevitable massacre
unfolded.
Slash!
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Heads,
torsos, arms, and legs—everything the sword aura touched was severed.
By the time
it was over, a massive semi-circular area around Cheong Myeong was littered
with broken bodies and pools of blood. Even in the chaos of this battlefield,
this spectacle stood out.
“Ah…”
In one blow,
dozens of lives were snuffed out. Those who witnessed the carnage trembled as
they instinctively retreated. Only the swordsman responsible for the scene
stood there, unmoved and indifferent.
Cheong
Myeong silently surveyed the survivors. His gaze, devoid of any emotion, sent
waves of terror through them.
Boom!
A deafening
explosion echoed from somewhere on the battlefield. Yet none of the Evil Tyrant
Alliance dared to turn their heads. They couldn’t afford to look away from this
demon in human form.
They was
afraid to look at him. But they was even more afraid to turn away.
But the
demon seemed unconcerned. Despite facing thousands of enemies, he calmly
shifted his gaze toward the source of the explosion. No, it was more than
that—he seemed to be observing the entire battlefield.
His eyes
landed on three individuals locked in fierce combat with the Sun Palace Lord.
Despite
facing an overwhelming foe, Hye Yeon, Namgung Dowi, and Lee Songbaek showed no
signs of yielding. Cheong Myeong quietly committed their images to memory.
Shaolin,
Namgung, and Zhongnan.
The three
sects that once symbolized the pinnacle of the martial world. Adding Mu Jin and
Jin Hyun, who were holding back the Sun Palace forces, meant that nearly every
sect that had once ruled the Kangho was now represented here.
Cheong
Myeong found himself unable to look away from them.
In the past,
they had fought as well—against the Demonic Cult.
But things
were different now. This wasn’t like before.
Hye Yeon’s
iron fist clashed with the Sun Palace Lord’s strength. Lee Songbaek desperately
blocked the retaliating energy aimed at Hye Yeon, allowing Namgung Dowi to
seize the opening and launch a powerful sword strike.
Meanwhile,
the Sun Palace’s forces were held back by Mu Jin and Jin Hyun’s relentless
defense, unable to intervene.
Zhongnan blocked
the enemies’ advance. Shaolin pushed them back. Namgung struck at their
vulnerabilities. And Wudang protected their allies.
Many were
watching this moment. Even without realizing it, they would learn from it. They
would understand what worked—what needed to be done to survive, to win.
Slowly,
change was spreading. One by one, individuals began moving into their rightful
places. They weren’t just fighters acting alone anymore. Together, they became
something greater.
Cheong
Myeong absorbed this scene entirely. Time seemed to slow. Though his expression
remained stoic, a faint stirring inside him brought forth a vivid memory.
A familiar
face appeared—not in his mind but almost as if it were right before him.
“… Jangmun
Sahyung.”
Cheong
Myeong’s soft murmur carried on his breath.
This scene
would have been everything his Jangmun Sahyung longed to see. He had dedicated
his life to this vision, yet had passed away without achieving it.
Was he
watching this moment now?
E Even as they fought against a
formidable enemy and faced the worst possible fate—complete annihilation—they
had never managed to truly unite. Yet now, they willingly lent their shoulders
to one another, standing together against the foe. Was he witnessing this?
Cheong Mun
had failed to achieve it. Despite giving everything, he hadn’t been able to see
it come to pass. But these people… these warriors had made it happen. It was
faint, but the change was undeniable.
And now, Cheong
Myeong understood why Cheong Mun had failed.
“You tried
to protect them, but…”
His voice
carried a trace of sorrow.
“….It wasn’t
about protecting—it was about trusting.”
That faint
sorrow transformed into a soft, radiant smile.
“You foolish
old man…”
As if
hearing him, Cheong Mun, who had been looking at him, smiled warmly.
— Ah, I
see it now.
It was the
kindest, most wonderful smile.
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