Chapter 1942 - Return of The Mount Hua Sect

Chapter 1942. Just Like Back Then In The Past. (2)

The Xar Moron River.

[Xar Moron River. Seonap Mokryunha. 서납목륜하(西拉木伦河). A 380-kilometer waterway in Inner Mongolia, in northeast China. Its name translates to “Yellow River” in Mongolian.]

Across the boundless, sprawling grasslands, a yellow river, like a Yellow Dragon, stretched from one end to the other.

The people of the Central Plains, to distinguish it from the Yellow River, had named it the Yellow Waters. Along the vast basin of that river stood an army so immense that it was impossible to count in full.

[Yellow River. Hwangha. 황하(黃河). China’s great Yellow River. Flows across northern China into the Bohai Sea.]

[Yellow Waters. Hwangsu. 황수(黃水). A name used by the people of the Central Plains to distinguish the Xar Moron River from the Yellow River. Flows through eastern Inner Mongolia.]

At the very front, where the army met the Yellow Waters, several men clad in splendid armor stood facing the wind blowing across the river.

The old general standing at the center silently gazed upon the flowing waters. His wrinkled face was filled with regret. His tightly closed lips and rigid expression alone were enough to reveal his stubborn disposition, yet even such an appearance couldn’t conceal the faint sorrow leaking through.

“General. We must depart now.”

“...I know.”

The lingering reluctance in his reply was unmistakable.

“I know. And yet... I can’t bring myself to take that first step.”

The adjutants standing at his sides didn’t even dare attempt to console the old general. Who could presume to understand the heart of a commander forced to withdraw his army because he could no longer withstand the enemy?

The old man stared at the river with moisture gathering in his eyes as he murmured,

“....It is merely attachment.”

[miryeon, 미련(未練) refers to lingering attachment, lingering regret, or an inability to let go despite knowing one should. It is not simple nostalgia but emotional attachment to something already lost.]

Once upon a time, they had crossed that river and conquered the boundless grasslands. They had ridden on and on as though determined to see the very end of the world. Across plains. Across rivers. Across mountains. Across seas. Nothing in the world had seemed capable of stopping them.

But now, all of that was nothing more than a tale of the distant past.

The men of today no longer possessed the strength. Not the strength to stand against the enemies pouring across that river.

No, perhaps they had already lost that strength long ago.

‘It was a lingering attachment that should have been discarded long ago.’

Even while knowing they could no longer oppose them, they had spent decades repeating a drawn-out war of attrition.

Even as the Central Plains were devastated and the authority of the imperial family was crumbling.

Perhaps...

Withdrawing the army behind the Great Wall now, severing this endless cycle of attrition once and for all, might well prove to be the wisest decision made in the past several decades.

‘Yes, surely it would. But....’

Even knowing that, there remained only one reason such profound regret still lingered within the old man’s heart.

The ones who had brought to frustration those who had once seemed poised to conquer the entire world were neither the foreign tribes beyond that river nor the power-holders within the Great Wall, but nothing more than fanatics driven mad by a single religion.

At last, a hollow laugh escaped the old man’s lips.

“General.”

“Withdraw.”

The old man quietly closed his eyes.

There had once been a time when hundreds of banners fluttered before this river. But now, all that remained were merely a few dozen tattered banners. And now... even they would no longer be raised here. Perhaps never again.

‘Would things have been different had the Great General been here?’

It was a meaningless assumption. Wasn’t the strength of a nation something no one or two individuals could change?

“We may never set foot upon this land again.”

The old man spoke as though to himself.

“The reason I can’t bring myself to leave isn’t merely because of lingering attachment. If we withdraw and ultimately leave this land empty, they’ll claim it, graze their horses here, and raise their cattle. And someday, they’ll slaughter that cattle to fill their bellies, mount those horses, and ride to bring us down.”

“...Horses cannot cross the Great Wall, General.”

“Heh heh. Is that so?”

The old general said nothing further.

Whatever happened, one thing alone was certain. His era had come to an end. The world that followed would have to be entrusted to those who remained. Even if its outcome was painfully obvious.

‘They are strong.’

Cruel. Relentless. And even when they seized land, they never remained upon it.

That was why they were so terrifying. There was nothing they could take from them except land. Yet if they surrendered even that land... How could they ever hope for victory?

“Let us go. We’ll be late.”

“Yes, General.”

The old general turned his body. No, he tried to turn. But at that moment...

“W-wait. General! Look! Look over there!”

At the adjutant’s desperate cry, the old general immediately turned his gaze forward again.

“What are you—”

“Beyond the river! The horizon!”

The old general drew his brows tightly together.

It was too distant for his failing eyesight to make out clearly. But he immediately realized that a massive group had appeared beyond the horizon the adjutant pointed toward.

“Cavalry?”

“It’s heading this way! Toward us! They’re driving their horses at full speed!”

“What...?”

Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, the old general frowned.

“An attack? No... That can’t be...”

Why had they established their formation before the Yellow Waters? Because horses couldn’t cross the river. And yet...

Why were the northern cavalrymen, who knew that fact better than anyone, charging toward them with such desperation?

“...Surely they aren’t coming to see us off.”

[tl note: “배웅” literally means “seeing someone off” when they depart. The general’s remark is dry sarcasm, he dismisses the absurd notion that the northern cavalry would race over merely to bid the retreating army farewell.]

Then what in the world was their intention?

“General! Your orders—!”

“Wait for now.”

They never acted without reason. If they were spurring their horses on like that, then they must’ve been prepared to spill blood.

‘Then... what are they after?’

Until he understood the enemy’s objective, he couldn’t afford to move rashly. Wasn’t that the lesson he had earned after devoting his entire life to the northern frontier?

Krrrrrung!

The world began to tremble.

The yellow forces that stained one edge of the horizon steadily swelled in number. At the same time, the earth beneath their hooves trembled with increasing violence.

“It is a massive army! Their numbers are beyond anything ordinary!”

“They aren’t slowing down! They’re driving their horses even harder!”

“It’s an attack! They’re coming to strike us!”

“.....”

“General!”

“I said wait!”

Raising his voice, the old general cut off his subordinates’ frantic urging. He bit down on his lower lip until it turned white.

‘What in the world are they aiming for?’

If they intended to stop before the river, they should’ve begun reducing their speed by now. Bringing an army of that size to a halt was no easy task. If, by some chance, they intended to charge straight into the river, they should at least have prepared something. Yet there wasn’t the slightest sign of any such preparation.

Then... Were they truly charging toward the river without any plan whatsoever? Unless every last one of them had suddenly gone mad overnight... How could they possibly do something like—

‘Wait... an attack?’

At that instant, a single thought flashed through the general’s mind.

It wasn’t merely absurd. It was so utterly impossible that the very act of considering it bordered on the ridiculous. And yet... There was no other explanation for the enemy’s bizarre conduct.

The old general knew. No matter how preposterous a hypothesis might seem... If, after eliminating every impossibility, only one possibility remained... Then that was the answer.

But, could such a thing truly be possible?

Those enemies who had been so swift, so relentless, so merciless, the very embodiment of despair to the old general...

‘Surely not...’

“General! B-Behind them! There’s something behind them! It appears to be a different force from the cavalry in front!”

The general’s shoulders trembled violently. The moment the adjutant’s shout, almost a scream, rang out, something shot upward into the sky from behind the fleeing riders.

‘A horse?’

It was a sight too unbelievable to trust even with his own eyes.

It was true that the horses ridden by the northern nomads were smaller than those of the Central Plains. But even so, a horse was still a horse. By weight alone, it would naturally weigh nearly four times as much as a sturdy grown man.

And yet...

That massive, heavy horse, carrying its rider, was hurled into the air. It was something he had never even imagined. Naturally, he couldn’t believe it.

‘Am I dreaming?’

Craaaash!

But it wasn’t a dream.

The horse that had been flung into the air slammed back into the ground, tumbling together with the galloping riders. Despite the considerable distance between them, the dying screams and deafening crash reached them with terrifying clarity.

Another mounted warrior was launched skyward, reduced to a mangled mass of flesh. Then another. And another.

Only then did the old general fully understand what was happening.

‘They aren’t charging to attack.’

At the head of the riders rushing toward the Yellow Waters... Every one of those foreign warriors, urging their horses forward like madmen, wore a face twisted by unspeakable terror. It was a raw fear unlike anything even the old general, who had fought them his entire life, had ever witnessed.

‘They’re running away!’

But from what, exactly?

What could possibly have driven those battle-hardened warriors, who had ultimately forced his great army to retreat from the Yellow Waters, into such overwhelming terror? What could possibly make that immense forces, so vast it covered the horizon itself, to flee in such a frenzy!?

It was a sight he could neither understand nor accept. However, it was obvious that those riders had no interest in waiting for the old general’s understanding.

The cavalry, having charged toward the Yellow Waters with every ounce of strength they possessed, hurled themselves toward the raging river before them without the slightest hesitation.

Hiiiiiiiiiing!

The horses, maddened with terror, screamed almost as though crying out in agony. Yet even those speechless beasts didn’t stop their feet.

[tl note: “말 못 하는 짐승” literally means “speechless beasts” or “animals that cannot speak.” It is a traditional Korean literary expression for animals, emphasizing that even creatures driven by instinct were so terrified that they willingly plunged into a deadly river rather than face whatever pursued them.]

The horses that plunged violently into the current gradually found their bodies swallowed by the water, their movements slowing. Then... The riders charging from behind crashed directly into those horses struggling in the river.

“AAAAARGH!”

Horses and men crashed atop horses and men. Without slowing in the slightest, more horses and riders hurled themselves forward. Upon the vast current of the river, men and horses began to entangle into utter chaos.

“G-General...”

The old general’s eyes trembled without end.

‘What is happening? What in the world is happening?’

He had spent his entire life upon the battlefield. He had seen death until he was sick of it. He had reached the point where the sight of another person’s death stirred not even the faintest emotion within him.

And yet, the incomprehensible spectacle unfolding before his eyes kindled a fire called fear within the old general’s long-cold heart.

Once, he had despised them. At another time, he had feared them. And now, he respected them. Though different blood flowed through their veins, weren’t they the enemies he had spent his entire life fighting?

And yet, those enemies he had come to hold in such awe were now dying before his eyes like ants crushed beneath a child’s foot. No, it had reached the point where it looked as though they were choosing death of their own accord.

What in the world could they possibly be? The ones who had driven those once-great enemies to flee into the refuge called “death”.

And at that moment.

“KKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

With a roar that sounded as though some beast... No, a demon from hell itself had screamed... Something leapt above the cavalry filling the Yellow Waters.

“T-That...”

The old general’s entire body began to tremble.

It was unmistakably a person.

A figure clad in black garments little better than rags, with disheveled hair flying wildly. In both hands, he gripped something that was unmistakably torn from a human body. Throwing back his head, he roared until his voice threatened to tear apart.

Within the old general’s mind, a single character surfaced.

‘Demon.’

[Ma. 마(魔)]

The instant dozens more fiendish figures of the same kind appeared behind him, the old man remembered. He remembered how those who had once seemed poised to conquer the world had ended up reduced to desperately defending these Yellow Waters.

“...Run.”

“Yes?”

The old man threw his eyes wide open and screamed with desperate anguish.

“Run! Run this instant! Anyone who survives, call for reinforcements!”

“G-General?”

The old general spun around violently and struck the bewildered adjutant hard across the face.

“Pull yourself toge—”

“G-General! Behind you!”

“What?”

Crunch!

The old general’s body lurched violently.

“...Urgh.”

The old man, spitting out a stream of red blood, slowly looked down at his stomach. A blood-soaked, black hand was sticking out.

“G...go...”

“GENERAAAL!”

“G-Go, you fool... Go. The demons from a hundred years ago...”

The old man’s words never continued.

Crunch!

The Demonic Cultist who had torn the old general’s head clean from his body let out a grin so horrifying that no words could describe it, then turned and moved toward the soldiers standing in formation.

The soldiers, their faces drained of all color, immediately erupted into horrific screams.

Those who tried to fight. Those who tried to flee. Those overcome with grief. Those who screamed in terror.

However, in the eyes of the Demonic Cultists charging toward “people”, there existed no distinction whatsoever. They hated every living thing. That was their mission.

The Yellow Waters, where countless things had become intertwined through the ages. Its banks were swiftly stained with an impartial death.

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