Chapter 1880 – Return of The Mount Hua Sect

Chapter 1880 ‘The me in the past’ and ‘him, in the future’. (5) ❀ ❀ ❀

The footsteps that had continued came to a halt.

For a brief moment, silence settled in.

The Dalai Lama, who had been standing still, slowly raised his head and gazed silently at the sky where dawn was spreading, then turned around.

It was difficult for others to discern what was contained within the calm, sunken eyes of the Dalai Lama.

One could only sense a faint trace of sorrow passing through their depths. No, perhaps it was something that ought to be called melancholy. That was all anyone could cautiously guess.

Panchen Lama asked cautiously.

“Master, what is it that saddens you so?”

“......”

“Are you thinking of him?”

The Dalai Lama gave no reply.

Panchen Lama joined his palms in deep prayer toward the young man standing before him. The Dalai Lama was like the embodiment of the Buddha himself. Everyone asks him questions, but he does not answer everything. He is merely a mirror that reflects, if one seeks something, they must find the answer themselves instead of waiting for it.

“How could I not understand the heart that wishes to show compassion to those trapped in suffering? But, Master. You have already shown him the way. Since he refused that path, what more can we do?”

Even at Panchen Lama’s words, the Dalai Lama’s gaze did not waver. He merely cast his heavy eyes into the silence for a long moment, then finally opened his mouth slowly.

“Did I show him the way?”

“Master, you….”

“Can it truly be said I showed him the way, when all I did was offer him a thorn-covered path instead of a pit of fire?”

Panchen Lama could not bring himself to answer. Not because he lacked words, but because the Dalai Lama’s expression looked unbearably sorrowful.

“Master……”

The Dalai Lama was like a Buddha walking among mortals. For him, emotions should have long been worn away, mere traces of the past, so how could he show such deep emotion now?

The Dalai Lama, seeming not to expect an answer, lifted his gaze to the sky again.

“Morning is coming.”

At the sudden remark, Panchen Lama quickly nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

“It is the nature of things that when the night deepens, morning comes.”

“That is why people can endure the depths of night, isn’t it? No matter how long and dark the night, they know that dawn will eventually break and morning will arrive.”

“If one wishes for it, so it shall be.”

Panchen Lama, who had been about to nod unconsciously, hesitated slightly. A look of puzzlement passed through his eyes. He had sensed something different in the Dalai Lama’s voice.

“Lama.”

“Yes, Master.”

“But what if….”

The Dalai Lama fell silent for a moment, as if struggling to speak of something difficult, then continued with effort.

“What if there is someone who does not wish for morning?”

Panchen Lama could not immediately understand what he meant.

“Not wishing for the morning, what does that mean….”

Today, the sky was unusually red. With his gaze fixed on that light, the Dalai Lama spoke quietly.

“Whether one wishes for it or not, morning still comes. It is like an inescapable fate.”

“Master….”

“The reason human life is a sea of suffering is because there are things that cannot be avoided. Simply by being alive, one must endure countless pains. Even if those pains....”

Trailing off for a moment, the Dalai Lama resumed, his voice thick with sorrow.

“...are things a human simply cannot endure.”

Panchen Lama found it difficult to understand the weight behind his master's words.

“Then what should be done?”

“.....”

“If a weak soul must face something they cannot endure... then what can they possibly do?”

The Dalai Lama slowly lowered his gaze and looked at Panchen Lama. Then he gently closed his eyes.

“Humans can forget. Forgetfulness may be the only lantern given to those adrift in the sea of suffering.”

“......Forgetfulness, you say.”

“And that is why it is so sorrowful.”

The Dalai Lama murmured with his eyes still closed.

“In other words, for those not granted that lantern, it is like wandering an unlit path forever.”

The Dalai Lama cast a heavy gaze toward the distance, the direction they had come from.

“The tiny light he found... I can only hope, and hope again, that it will guide him.”

The remnants of emotion that had faintly risen in his eyes sank back down, deeply.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Huff. Huff.”

Catching his breath, Namgung Dowi forcibly raised the unmoving sword.

‘Pathetic……….’

Although the Namgung family’s sword was known for its size and weight, being designed to contain Namgung swordsmanship, it was still just a sword. Its weight did not even exceed three geun. [note: approx. 1.8 kg]

But now, Namgung Dowi’s body could no longer even bear that much weight anymore.

“Siju!”

As his consciousness gradually faded, Hye Yeon’s voice rang in Namgung Dowi’s ears. In that instant, his mind snapped back to clarity, and only then did he realize that his head had begun to droop. When he suddenly lifted his head, Hye Yeon asked with concern.

“Wouldn’t it be better to step back?”

Namgung Dowi let out a hollow laugh. With a hole in his stomach and blood pouring out, the one worried here was Hye Yeon instead. That monk really was something else.

“Yeah. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Tang Soso, who had joined in, was no different.

Her beloved father had just passed away. No matter how much she tried to compose herself, she must have been struggling internally. Yet now, concern and care for Namgung Dowi were clearly visible in her eyes.

‘Seriously, at this rate……’

“Siju.”

“Haaaah!”

Summoning strength from the depths of his being, Namgung Dowi swung his sword again. A faint white sword aura shot from the tip and flew toward the enemy.

Kwakwang!

Whether it caused any real damage, he couldn’t tell. But at the very least, he believed it hadn’t been a hindrance to these great people.

“…To think I’ve become a half-dead corpse…”

“What are you even doing?”

“Of course… I admit it. I admit it.”

Namgung Dowi’s gaze turned toward Cheong Myeong in the distance.

“…But when someone worse off than me is still fighting, you want me to sit back and whine? I’d rather drown myself in a bowl of water and die.”

[note: 접싯물에 코를 박고 죽다: a Korean idiom meaning to die from shame; literally ‘to drown oneself in a shallow dish of water’, implies I’d rather die of shame than act disgracefully]

At those words, Hye Yeon let out a soft laugh. He seemed to feel the same.

“Honestly, it’s impossible to reason with people who have nothing in their heads but swords.”

Tang Soso shook her head with a disapproving expression, but she didn’t try to stop Namgung Dowi anymore.

“Huff.”

Namgung Dowi desperately gripped the sword that threatened to slip from his hand at any moment. If he relaxed even slightly, he felt his consciousness would snap. His body couldn’t move anymore.

But Cheong Myeong was still fighting, even in a worse state than he was.

Knowing that, how could he back off just to save himself? And he was the direct heir of the Great Namgung Family, no less?

If he tried to run and got stabbed by a stray sword and died, Namgung Hwang would definitely cut off Namgung Dowi’s head the moment they met in the afterlife.

Namgung Dowi looked at the enemies before him and exhaled a ragged breath.

“And those guys over there… don’t seem all that aggressive either.”

At his comment, Tang Soso nodded.

‘They all know.’

No, perhaps they simply didn’t want to take their eyes off it. That fight happening behind them. That clash, which now felt too pitiful to even call a battle, was simply a contest of stubborn pride.

And the result of that fight would decide everything. Everyone instinctively knew it.

Tang Soso clenched the hand hidden within her sleeve.

‘Sahyung…… please… don’t lose, Sahyung.’

So that no one could see this trembling.

❀ ❀ ❀

Kwaang!

As sword and saber clashed with full force, Baek Cheon gritted his teeth. It wasn’t because of the pain he felt in his wrist.

‘Damn it!’

It was because of Cheong Myeong and Jang Ilso, still locked in his field of vision.

Baek Cheon could tell. There was not a shred of strength left in Cheong Myeong’s body. What stood there now was nothing but a shell named Cheong Myeong, moving only by sheer willpower.

Baek Cheon’s sword surged with stronger energy.

Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!

The sword, wrapped in red sword qi, collided repeatedly with the thick sabers.

He was holding his own against multiple Red Dog warriors. Yet the look of anxiety on Baek Cheon’s face never faded.

“You bastards……!”

Grinding his teeth, he swung his sword with full strength again.

“Get out of the way!”

Kaaang!

At that moment, the clashing saber let out a sharp noise and split in half. Even Baek Cheon, who had delivered the blow, hadn’t expected that. Unable to steady himself in time, his body swayed and lurched forward.

Paaaaat!

In that moment of vulnerability, sabers came flying in from both sides. Clenching his jaw, Baek Cheon prepared to strike, even if it meant getting injured, but suddenly, red sword qi flew in from behind.

Slash! Slash!

The charging Red Dog warriors clutched their slashed necks and quickly retreated.

“You’re in a rush.”

A familiar voice rang out. But Baek Cheon didn’t even turn his head.

“Do you not believe in him...  in Sajil?”

“…How could I not?”

To Yoo Iseol’s calm question, Baek Cheon clenched his teeth.

He trusted him. He’d never admit it out loud, not even under torture, but if asked who trusted Cheong Myeong more than anyone in the world, the answer would be Baek Cheon.

He had never once doubted Cheong Myeong’s victory. Even if the opponent was Jang Ilso—if it was Cheong Myeong, he would surely win. He would bring back that bastard’s head.

Yes, he believe it. But…

“It’s… different……”

Baek Cheon’s grip on his sword tightened.

This wasn’t simple doubt. It wasn’t something like uncertainty. It was something else... something much stronger, an inexplicable premonition that gripped a corner of Baek Cheon’s heart and wouldn’t let go.

He had to go there immediately. If he didn’t, something irreversible was going to happen. Something utterly horrifying, something unbearably tragic.

So he was terrified—terrified that this misfortune would completely destroy Cheong Myeong. The feeling was so intense it was driving him mad.

“I can’t explain it. But… I have to get there! No matter what!”

He didn’t expect them to understand. Honestly, even Baek Cheon himself couldn’t make sense of it. How could he ask others to believe in a baseless feeling that not even he understood?

And yet, Yoo Iseol moved without hesitation.

“If we just open a path, that’ll be enough, right?”

She stood beside Baek Cheon.

“Samae… you understood?”

“Not at all.”

Yoo Iseol cut him off bluntly. Baek Cheon shut his eyes tight. Then she slowly continued.

“But I trust you, Sahyung.”

“.....”

“That’s enough.”

Baek Cheon stared blankly at Yoo Iseol.

“Why?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

He always forgot, from time to time. Just as he placed his trust in others, Baek Cheon was also someone others could trust with their lives.

Strength began to return to his exhausted body.

“You’re right. We just need to open a path.”

“I’ll go all out.”

“I’m counting on you.”

Baek Cheon bit his lip and stared straight at Cheong Myeong’s back.

‘Just hold on a little longer, Cheong Myeong.’

Whatever it is you’re about to face, I won’t let you face it alone.

❀ ❀ ❀

Thud!

Jang Ilso’s knee slammed into Cheong Myeong’s solar plexus.

“Ugh....”

Cheong Myeong opened his mouth wide, unable to withstand the pain. He had thought he had already vomited out everything inside him. But once more, bitter bile came surging up.

Paaaaat!

Despite that, Cheong Myeong’s elbow struck fiercely at Jang Ilso’s chin. The blow was so brutal it looked as though Jang Ilso’s jaw might be completely shattered. Blood sprayed from his mouth like an arrow.

Kwak.

Jang Ilso, his jaw soaked in blood and half-conscious, seized Cheong Myeong’s hair.

Kwang!

His fist smashed into Cheong Myeong’s face.

Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!

A second time, a third, a fourth.

This was no longer martial arts. It was no different from a back-alley brawl. The two of them, having spent every last ounce of strength, tore into each other at the very bottom of human endurance.

Crunch!

Just as Jang Ilso prepared to strike Cheong Myeong’s face again, Cheong Myeong stomped hard on Jang Ilso’s toes with his heel.

“Ugh…!”

The pain of his toe bones being crushed shot through him. But even then, Jang Ilso forced in one more blow.

Kwang!

In the end, Cheong Myeong was flung backward.

Jang Ilso, trying to charge after him, kicked off the ground—then staggered and collapsed to the ground. Neither his legs nor his feet could move as he comanded anymore.

“Heh...”

Jang Ilso let out a hollow laugh.

Thud.

With trembling hands, he forced himself to push up from the ground. Even as he bled profusely, he somehow managed to rise once again.

Cheong Myeong was the same.

Though there was no part of him that looked unscathed, he, too, got back up as though he had never fallen. His swollen eyes tried to force themselves open, but even so, he could barely see anything. Everything before him was pitch black.

‘It’s dark.’

A darkness as thick as fog.

No light remained. The path before him sank deep into a darkness without end.

Next Chapter

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