Chapter 1952 - Return of The Mount Hua Sect

Chapter 1952. It’s Damn Fucking Good to See You Again. (2)

“W-Wait!”

Hong Daegwang reached out, looking as though his breath might give out at any moment.

“You’re... too, too fast...!”

The beggars of the Beggar Union were, as a rule, highly skilled in lightness arts.

Part of it was because the Beggar Union’s movement arts possessed certain advantages over those of other sects, but that wasn’t the only reason.

To be precise, it was because the Beggar Union disciples themselves believed that while they might lose to others in martial arts, they would never fall behind anyone in lightness arts.

As a disciple of the Beggar Union himself, Hong Daegwang was naturally confident in his lightness arts. Yet the speed of those surging ahead now had reached a level even he couldn’t possibly keep up with.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to ask them to slow down.

The expressions of those running at the front were far too grave. Even the consumptive Im Sobyeong was running with all his strength, his face set hard.

In the end, Hong Daegwang had only one choice.

“Keugh!”

“Union Leader?”

“G-Go on ahead!”

Hong Daegwang gritted his teeth. This wasn’t the time to cling to something like pride.

“Go! I’ll catch up soon, so don’t look back. Just go ahead!”

There was no answer. It had been decided from the beginning that this was what they would do.

They could clearly sense Hong Daegwang slowing, his legs giving out beneath him, and his body tumbling across the ground. Yet not one of them so much as glanced his way. It wasn’t because they were heartless. It was because they knew that even in the time it took to turn their heads once, someone’s life would be severed.

And perhaps, more than that...

Whoosh!

Perhaps it was because keeping up with Cheong Myeong, who raced at the very front, was so overwhelming that they could think of nothing else.

‘Damn it.’

Baek Cheon pressed down on his chest, which felt ready to burst at any moment.

After recovering from his injuries and undergoing the process of “casting off the mortal shell” a phrase too embarrassing to utter with his own mouth, his body had become so close to perfection that it was difficult to imagine anything beyond it.

[Casting off the mortal shell. Taltae. 탈태(奪胎). Literally “seizing or casting off the former body”; a profound physical transformation in which the body is remade into a superior state; in short, body transformation.]

He didn’t tire easily, and vitality surged through him without end. Enough to make him wonder whether this truly was his own body. Yet even this perfect body was revealing its limits beneath a forced march bordering on abuse.

“Huuugh!”

His breath had risen all the way to his throat. His internal force was gradually ceasing to circulate properly, breaking apart strand by strand.

‘How?’

That was precisely why he couldn’t understand it. That bastard running ahead of him.

Not a single drop of sweat flowed from him.

They had run here from distant Shaanxi without taking even a single rest, yet that bastard’s breathing hadn’t so much as roughened.

Even while driving everyone else to their limits, he seemed to have plenty of strength left in reserve.

‘Just how much stronger has he become?’

The Cheong Myeong of the past had undoubtedly been strong. So impossibly distant that Baek Cheon hadn’t even dared look up at him. Yet the Cheong Myeong of the present made even that former Cheong Myeong seem pale by comparison.

‘That damned bastard!’

Baek Cheon, too, had grown incomparably stronger than he had been during the battle against the Evil Tyrant Alliance. That was why he had finally begun to feel as though he had caught up, if only by a little.

“Sasuk.”

“Hm?”

As though he had read Baek Cheon’s thoughts, Cheong Myeong’s emotionless voice reached him.

“This won’t do. You’re too slow.”

“Y-You want us to go even faster than this?”

Impossible. Even Baek Cheon would struggle to go any faster. The others would never be able to keep up.

But Cheong Myeong’s next words were completely different from what Baek Cheon had expected.

“Sasuk, bring them with you. I’m going on ahead.”

“What?”

Whoosh!

Before Baek Cheon could even reach out to stop him, Cheong Myeong accelerated and surged ahead in an instant. The back that had been so close grew distant in the blink of an eye.

“.....”

At that bewildering speed, Baek Cheon could only let his jaw fall slack.

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“I told you not to stop!”

“I... can’t go any farther...”

“Damn it, we don’t have time for this!”

Jwa Gohak all but threw the fallen man onto a cart carrying people.

“N-No...”

The man who had collapsed struggled desperately as he stared at the supply cart being abandoned, but Jwa Gohak coldly struck his hand away. No matter how precious the belongings were, they weren’t worth more than a life.

“Go, quickly!”

“S-Sahyung...”

The man pulling a cart packed with refugees looked at Jwa Gohak in despair. Jwa Gohak bit down hard on his lip.

They had reached their limit.

It was only natural. They had spent two entire days without a moment of sleep, pulling carts carrying nearly dozens of refugees.

Once, they had walked a path close to that of martial artists, and even after entering the Imperial Capital, they had continued training at least their internal force. But even so, this had gone far beyond what they could endure.

But instead of sinking to the ground, Jwa Gohak ran forward and snatched hold of the cart.

“Stop whining, you idiot!”

Gritting his teeth, he began pulling the cart in the man’s place.

“It’s impossible. We can’t go on anymore, sahyung. We should... abandon this place and...”

“Shut your mouth!”

Jwa Gohak roared. He knew they had nearly reached their limit. Even so, he couldn’t abandon them.

Because he refused to lose even one person? Of course not.

Without realizing it, Jwa Gohak looked back. The official road, stained with blood and corpses, entered his sight.

The whites of his eyes were threaded with blood.

They had already lost people. More than he could count.

Dozens, then hundreds of refugees had died at the hands of the Demonic Cultists. The hundreds of beggars who had come to aid them and hold the enemy back had also fallen along that road, reduced to cold corpses.

One might say that, having already lost so many, what difference would a few more make? But had Jwa Gohak been capable of thinking that way, he would never have remained here in the first place.

‘No more. Not another one!’

So many people should never have had to die to begin with.

He should have anticipated it. That they might advance upon the Imperial Capital far faster than expected. That they might be capable of bringing down the Imperial Capital with only hundreds, rather than thousands or tens of thousands.

Had he done so, he could have saved them. He could have protected the lives that had been lost so meaninglessly along that road.

.....It was because of his incompetence that people who need not have died had been lost!

“Sahyung!”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

Jwa Gohak shouted.

“If abandoning those at the rear were enough to shake them off, then I would’ve done it too! If leaving behind the exhausted and the sick could save everyone else, then I would’ve done it even if it meant falling into hell! But you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t!”

At that, the man who had been pressing Jwa Gohak lowered his head.

This outcome had been inevitable. Because the enemy was pursuing them, they hadn’t been able to divide the refugees properly.

Contrary to the plan, more than half of them were heading toward the Shijiazhuang. The enemy would never abandon the chase. They knew the most appetizing lump of meat was here.

“Then at least you should go, sahyung.”

“Stop spouting bullshit.”

“You have to survive. Who else will take charge of what comes after? How could men who care for nothing but their own lives possibly govern this situation?”

“I told you to shut up!”

His saje gritted his teeth and glared at Jwa Gohak.

Yet whether fortunately or unfortunately, further argument soon became meaningless.

“S-Sahyung! They’re coming again!”

“You...”

Jwa Gohak turned around. The Demonic Cultists were chasing after them with the ferocity of beasts.

This was the worst possible situation.

Even the Beggar Union disciples who had been holding them back had now been annihilated.

At this very moment, the beggars of Hebei were probably still rushing here to help, but for now, there was no one who could aid them.

Even so, someone had to stop the enemy. No matter who it was.

“Go.”

“Sahyung!”

“Keep running and never look back! I’ll stop them.”

“Sahyung, what nonsense is that? I’ll stop them! You’re the one who has to live!”

“Go!”

Rather than waste more words, Jwa Gohak kicked off from the cart and leapt into the air. Then he ran straight toward the rear.

His saje, exhausted to their very limits, couldn’t stop the Demonic Cultists. Which meant...

Without realizing it, Jwa Gohak let out a faint, bitter laugh.

‘And how is my condition any different?’

He, too, was utterly exhausted. Moreover, his sword was no longer as sharp as it had once been. At best, all he could do was throw away his life and hold the enemy back for the briefest moment.

But that didn’t matter.

Because he knew. He knew how dreadful the life granted to a man who failed to die where he should have died could be. He had not the slightest intention of following the same path his forebears had once walked.

[Forebears. Seondae. 선대(先代). Earlier generations or predecessors of one’s family, institution, or lineage.]

The enemy came into view.

They ran with their bodies lowered, as though they might collapse forward at any moment. They looked like wolves driven savage by starvation.

“Come on, you bastards!”

Cursing in a manner utterly unbecoming of a Confucian scholar devoted to ren and li, Jwa Gohak drew dozens of sword phantoms through the air.

[Ren and Li. (仁義禮). Confucian virtues. Ren (仁) denotes benevolence or humaneness, while Li (禮) refers to ritual propriety, etiquette, and proper moral conduct. Together they characterize the ideal conduct of a Confucian scholar.]

The charging Demonic Cultists swung their demon qi-clad hands without hesitation. Jwa Gohak’s sword phantoms, standing like a wall before the enemy, collided head-on with the cultists’ palm force in midair.

KWAANG!

Jwa Gohak was blasted away, blood spraying from his mouth like a fountain. But the cultists, too, staggered from the tremendous impact. Their momentum broke, and they were forced a step backward.

‘What?’

Even with his insides violently churned, Jwa Gohak didn’t miss it. And he realized.

‘Right... If those Demonic Cult bastards are human, then they’re exhausted too.’

Just as he was exhausted, they had to be as well. No matter how much demonic arts turned people into something no longer human, after fighting and running over and over without food or water, they couldn’t possibly be in the same condition as usual.

Suddenly, something called hope blossomed in Jwa Gohak’s mind. Maybe... Yes... maybe they could stop them... maybe he too...

But hope died even faster than it had bloomed.

“How unsightly.”

Thud!

With a sound like an axe splitting timber...

The heads of the two Demonic Cultists standing directly before Jwa Gohak exploded. It wasn’t a figure of speech. They literally shattered into pieces, bursting apart in every direction.

“Ah...”

Jwa Gohak could only stare blankly at the sight, robbed of speech.

Before anything could fill the emptiness in his mind, someone slowly descended before him.

Tak.

The newcomer landed lightly and cast an indifferent glance toward Jwa Gohak.

“An official.”

Someone had once said that a rabbit standing face-to-face with a tiger froze where it stood.

But Jwa Gohak’s impression, standing in a similar situation, was somewhat different. Perhaps he hadn’t frozen. Perhaps he had simply let go.

The moment he came face to face with a being beyond anything he could possibly contend with, all strength naturally drained from his body.

“There was still someone in the Central Plains worth acknowledging. But only that much. Lament, unbeliever, that you never received the teachings of the Cult, that you failed to accept His existence.”

The being before him slowly reached out a hand. But Jwagohak could not resist. When a wave comes crashing in, a man retreats from it. But when a tidal wave towering high enough to swallow the sky bears down upon him, all he can do is collapse where he stands.

Thus, Jwa Gohak accepted his death. “Willingly” wasn’t quite the right word. “Because he had no other choice” would be more fitting.

It was then.

The approaching hand stopped abruptly in midair. By the time Jwa Gohak realized it, even the enemy’s gaze had turned away from him.

‘What?’

Jwa Gohak also saw it clearly. The corner of the Bishop’s mouth twisting into a chilling grimace as he looked toward somewhere far away.

“Interesting.”

It didn’t take Jwa Gohak long to understand what that meant. Because he, too, felt it a moment later.

An overwhelming presence shooting straight toward this place.

The Bishop’s hand withdrew from Jwa Gohak’s head. Turning completely away from him, the Bishop gazed toward the west with an expression as though anticipating something.

At last, Jwa Gohak saw it as well. A white afterimage hurtling toward the Bishop like a beam of light.

KAAAAAAANG!

A deafening roar that threatened to rupture his eardrums.

And a shockwave even greater than the sound itself.

When Jwa Gohak regained his senses, the Bishop’s hand and someone’s sword were locked together in midair.

“Cheo...”

Jwa Gohak’s lips parted of their own accord.

“Hey.”

But before the name could fully leave his mouth, Cheong Myeong, his eyes fixed on the Bishop Heavenly Executioner, spoke.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say right now, but seriously...”

KWAANG! Another explosion of qi erupted. At the same time, the Bishop’s body was driven violently backward.

As Jwa Gohak stood dumbfounded by the impossible sight before him, Cheong Myeong’s voice, seething as though it were boiling over, rang in his ears.

“It’s damn fucking good to see you again, you bastard.”

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