Chapter 1806 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect

Chapter 1806. If It Must Be Carried (6) ❀ ❀ ❀

Kagagagak!

Swords clashed against each other. Cheong Myeong's plum blossom technique was crushed by Jin Songwon's sword energy, dissipating before it could fully bloom. 

Blood trickled down, soaking the hand that gripped the sword. Cheong Myeong glanced briefly at his own bloodied hand.

The blood would leave a stain. The scent, too, would linger.

When this battle ended, his hands would be even more deeply dyed red. No amount of washing would erase it.

It was nothing extraordinary. Nothing to make a fuss about.

Cheong Myeong knew this better than anyone. Others might not notice, but he couldn't ignore this ‘staining’. After all, his hands had been dyed like this in the past.

Standing before him, Jin Songwon glared with eyes filled with resentment and hatred.

It was a strange thing.

Cheong Myeong had seen such eyes countless times and ignored them just as many times. He had faced hatred and resentment far worse than this before.

Yet, he never grew numb to it. Eyes that once meant nothing now weighed heavily on him.

Thus, he was forced to realize it anew:

No matter how cold the heart becomes, it can never turn to steel. Even when emotions dry up, they can’t completely disappear.

Jin Songwon’s gaze, his shouts, and his emotions flowed into Cheong Myeong.

The consequences of Cheong Myeong's choices now stood before him, lingering like remnants that refused to scatter.

These remnants clung persistently, like damp ashes, refusing to be shaken off. Just like the smell of blood staining his fingertips.

“You dare speak as if you know anything!”

Jin Songwon shouted, his voice trembling as if he might spit blood.

“You! What could you possibly know to dare speak as if you understand?!”

Cheong Myeong could offer hundreds, even thousands of answers. He could talk until dawn and still have more to say.

But what would be the point?

All of Cheong Myeong’s words would hold meaning only for himself. Just one step away, they would lose all value, reduced to insignificant excuses.

The corner of Cheong Myeong's mouth twisted upward. He agreed with one thing that Diancang Sect Leader had once said.

Yes. If you’re going to draw resentment, you should play the villain properly. It doesn't matter if it's a petty display of wickedness.

There’s nothing more pathetic than shedding tears after committing a sin.

Whooosh!

A fierce sword energy surged toward him.

Cheong Myeong thought it resembled tears. ears shed by one who could no longer cry with their eyes, instead weeping with their sword.

Slash!

The energy grazed Cheong Myeong’s body.

Pain like this had long become second nature to him. Yet this wound felt strangely different.

“You...!”

Claang!

Jin Songwon’s sword clashed violently with Cheong Myeong’s. It was a sword saturated with overwhelming resentment.

Of course, it would be.

‘Not being wrong’ doesn’t always mean being ‘right’. Likewise, being ‘right’ doesn’t guarantee mean ‘it can be understood’.

He lacked strength. He lacked the capability to carry out his will. He even lacked the resolve to uphold what he preached.

Thus, he had to face the truth. The weak are inevitably confronted with choices. And he was no exception to this rule.

The strong have no need to choose. They can do everything. But the weak are forced to decide, for they can’t do everything. They must forsake something.

That is why he gave it up.

To give up what must not be given up, he made comparisons where there could be none.

Dalai Lama’s face flashed in his mind. That stoic expression, like a stone Buddha. And yet, that faint trace of sorrow in the child’s bright, innocent face.

‘A living Buddha, huh.’

Cheong Myeong laughed to himself.

‘Even thinking about it now, it’s ridiculous.’

The Heavenly Demon had reappeared in the world. The moment Cheong Myeong sensed his presence, his body trembled [gyeongdong, 경동(驚動)], and became possessed [ibma, 입마(入魔)].

Yes, perhaps it was true. But Cheong Myeong knew better than anyone that wasn’t the whole story.

The heart demon [simma, 심마(心魔)] had already been within him. Since the moment he abandoned what must not be abandoned.

“Those words…!”

Claang!

Jin Songwon’s sword came at him again with terrifying speed. He had to block it. He could block it. It wouldn’t be that hard.

Crunch.

But the sword pierced Cheong Myeong’s shoulder. His body no longer obeyed his will.

“ Can you say those words in front of those who have died?!”

Jin Songwon’s cry stirred a memory within Cheong Myeong—a blurry moment from the past, the words he once said to Cheong Mun.

- Could you say those words in front of dead kids? 

Cheong Mun hadn’t replied. He had only given Cheong Myeong a cold, indifferent look as if he was wearing armor.

‘That’s right. That’s how it was.’

Cheong Mun had always been strong.

Even if weapons were lacking, even if the forces he commanded were insufficient, he was always strong. Cheong Mun himself must have known this, that everyone saw him as strong and depended on him.

And so, Cheong Mun could never say, “I am weak and have no choice but to choose”. Even if it was an undeniable truth, even if everyone already knew it, saying it aloud would have changed its meaning.

Cheong Mun had to choose those who should die and those who shouldn’t die, those who should survive and those who shouldn’t survive. Among those who shouldn’t die, among those who should survive.

Kagagagak!

Cheong Myeong’s sword energy struck Jin Songwon’s body. The wicked plum blossoms resembled the trembling guilt of a sinner.

Jin Songwon’s blood mixed with the plum blossoms.

This sword has shed blood to bring forth blossoms. This sword has shed blossoms to bring forth blood.

Slash!

Cheong Myeong’s sword cut deeply into Jin Songwon’s arm. At the same moment, Jin Songwon’s sword left a long wound on Cheong Myeong’s side.

Jin Songwon spat out his words, his voice dripping with venom.

“How does it feel?”

“......”

“To see the consequences of your own hands with your very eyes?” 

Jin Songwon, who had asked the question, turned his head. It was not the action of someone facing an enemy. Truly reckless.

But Jin Songwon seemed unafraid of losing his life to Cheong Myeong’s ambush. Instead, he extended his hand with surprising composure, pointing behind him.

“Do you see it? The hellscape you created?”

Cheong Myeong let out a faint laugh. Was this an attempt to invoke guilt?

Perhaps Cheong Myeong had suspected the true identities of the masked figures from the start.

Cheong Myeong sneered.

“So, all you do is vent your anger like this?”

“You…”

“To resent those who failed to protect you, to become the dog of those who held swords against you. Is that the noble choice you’ve made?”

Cheong Myeong expected a torrent of rage to follow immediately—if not that, at least an indignant protest.

But as soon as he finished speaking, Jin Songwon’s gaze darkened instead.

“Venting anger. Perhaps you’re right.”

“……”

“But what choice did I have? Without the strength to resist, all that’s left is to kneel.”

A hollow laugh escaped him, carried by the wind. Its deep self-mockery reminded Cheong Myeong of a laugh he had once known.

Cheong Myeong closed his eyes for a moment.

‘In the end, it’s no different.’

In the end, Jin Songwon was weak too. He had been forced to choose a path he couldn’t take, compelled to walk a path he should have avoided.

And at the end of that path, there must have been something he deemed worth enduring even this humiliation.

What could Cheong Myeong possibly do for someone like that?

Clang.

Cheong Myeong’s sword scraped the ground.

“…Enough.”

Cheong Myeong spat out the saliva pooling in his mouth and cast a chilling glare at Jin Songwon.

“I’ve heard enough of your pathetic whining. Let’s end this. You’ll feel better when it’s over. After all, once you’re dead, it’s all done.”

For a brief moment, the corners of Jin Songwon’s mouth twitched beneath his mask.

“With that body?”

Instead of mocking his ‘skill’, he said ‘that body’. From their clashes, Jin Songwon could tell that Cheong Myeong’s body was far from normal.

Glancing around, Jin Songwon spoke again.

“You must be in a hurry. The situation doesn’t look good for you.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tang Gunak and Namgung Dowi, on the verge of death, entered Cheong Myeong’s field of vision.

“I’m curious. Will you make another choice? You could, after all. You could issue an order to save those people dying before your eyes. So, what will it be? Will you do it again?”

Cheong Myeong didn’t answer the mocking question. Jin Songwon chuckled bitterly.

“At least be consistent. No, perhaps you have been consistent from the start?”

Yes, that might be true. To Diancang, it held no more value than that. That must have been all there was to it. Whether this is the truth or not holds no meaning. Discussing it now is nothing but absurd.

Jin Songwon raised his sword.

“Fine. Let’s finish it.”

It no longer mattered who was right or wrong.

All that mattered was that they could no longer coexist under the same sky. Their very existence was intolerable to each other. That was the only truth left.

Jin Songwon gripped his sword tightly.

So it had to end quickly. Before his resolve wavered in the face of those damnable eyes. Before the growing regret that emanated from their every clash rusted his sharp resolve.

Both Cheong Myeong and Jin Songwon pointed their swords at each other. Suppressing their surging emotions, they sharpened the energy surrounding their swords.

The standoff lasted only a moment before—

Flash.

Without a word, they dashed toward each other. 

Whoosh!

The Sail Sword Technique simply pierces. No matter the obstacle, even the sun hanging in the sky could not deter its unwavering thrust.

Swiiish.

On the other hand, the Plum Blossom Technique bloomed with each strike. No matter how many times it withered, it would bloom again and again.

Jin Songwon’s piercing sword shattered the blossoms of Cheong Myeong’s Plum Blossom Sword. Over and over, he pierced through, yet the endless flow of petals continued to block his path.

But the essence of the Sail Sword Technique was to pierce a hundred times, a thousand times, and more.

When he first held the Diancang sword, his master said.

- You should not hesitate even if you go forward and die. That is Diancang sword

Yes, his master had spoken those very words.

The razor-sharp intent at the tip of his sword tore through the fragile petals. Even as the petals he failed to tear embedded themselves into his flesh and the fragments of broken sword energy cut him again, Jin Songwon pressed forward without a moment’s hesitation.

To pierce was to advance. To advance toward a single point meant to waver not at all.

The delicate petals dared not become a wall before his sword.

The sea of sword energy—thousands, even tens of thousands of petals—was finally pierced through.

And as Jin Songwon reached the face of Cheong Myeong hidden behind it, he realized.

No, he admitted.

‘I….’

Cheong Myeong’s sword touched the tip of his sword.

Flash.

For the first time, Jin Songwon’s sword wavered. Ever so slightly, but unmistakably.

‘I’ve lost.’

The sword of Diancang could only embody its true meaning in the hands of the resolute. But Jin Songwon had discarded that resolve himself.

What remained in his hands was no longer the sword of Diancang. Ever since the moment he bowed his head before Jang Ilso, all that was left was a hollow imitation.

Flash.

Jin Songwon’s sword grazed Cheong Myeong’s face, leaving a long cut.

‘Master.’

There was no regret. Even if he faced the same situation again, he would make the same choice.

And at last, Cheong Myeong’s sword came flying toward him. It showed no hesitation, no wavering.

The unwavering resolve Jin Songwon had long yearned for lay in that sword—a strength that, no matter how shaken or wounded, never faltered in its forward stride.

Jin Songwon closed his eyes. This was the end.

But at that moment, the sound he heard was not the slice of a sword cutting through his neck but the sharp clash of metal against metal.

Clang!

Jin Songwon opened his eyes again.

A figure stood before him, their back turned to him.

It was a battered man, shoulders hunched and trembling violently, gasping for breath. He was covered in blood.

Jin Songwon stared, dumbfounded, at the man who had fought through the hellish battlefield to stand before him.

“Stop it.”

Baek Cheon. He had saved Jin Songwon.

“Stop this foolishness already.”

He had turned his sword on his own sect brother.

Next Chapter

❀ ❀ ❀

If anyone wants to donate to motivate me (I'll use the money to buy the RAWs from Naver Series too). Thank you so much!

- Buy Me a Coffee

- Patreon

- Trakteer (this one for Indonesian)