Return of the Mount Hua

He does not disappoint. (2)

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The red sun began to rise over the vast Yangtze River, much like the sea. Sunlight streamed down, flowing over the waves of the river.

It was an incredibly beautiful sight, but those who watched it felt pressure instead of admiration.

As the rising sun made the river sparkle, Beop Gye’s eyes trembled.

Days had passed, and the promised day’s sun had risen indifferently. Beop Gye turned his stiffened head to look at the Abbot.

“Ab…bot…”

But he couldn’t continue, not knowing what to say.

Beop Gye understood the sentiment in the Abbot. The one who would deeply understand his feelings in this place was undoubtedly Beop Gye himself.

Yet even he thought that the temple would do something before the sun of this day rose.

Beop Jong just turned away in silence.

The three sons of Shaolin stood like statues. Their faces showed various agonies. Over the past few days, they had become half-starved, and their faces resembled the faces of old worn-out wooden Buddha statues more than human faces.

The vigor they had when they came up the Yangtze now felt like a distant memory.

Originally, monks bore the sufferings of the world. But… was this really the suffering they should bear?

Monks bore suffering to save sentient beings. But now, who exactly was being saved?

It seemed like everyone was heading towards hell instead.

Beop Gye looked at the Abbot again with bloodshot eyes.

“Abbot.”

“……”

“Abbot!”

It was only then that Beop Jong slowly met Beop Gye’s gaze. Beop Gye clenched his lips. Beop Jong’s face didn’t look much different from the disciples standing behind him during that brief moment. In that short time, it felt like he had aged ten years.

But why was it?

Even as he looked at Beop Jong like that, he didn’t feel any pity anymore.

“…We should do something, shouldn’t we?”

“……”

“Anything! We have to do something!”

Beop Jong looked at Beop gye with unfocused eyes.

“Abbot! Like this…”

“I understand.”

“Abbot…”

“……”

Beop Jong turned his head again without answering, looking at the river. The enemies surrounding the Maehwa island were watching them indifferently.

‘Do they not know?’

If Namgung falls, this entire chaos will end, leaving Shaolin with an everlasting wound that can never be washed away. Not just wounds inflicted by swords, but wounds twisted and scorched by fire. Until the moment when the martial arts faction called Shaolin loses its name.

But…

‘So what do you suggest?’

Only one step needs to be taken. It’s not that difficult to take a step towards that water. If he gives the command, Shaolin’s disciples will courageously fight those enemies without hesitation.

But…

‘Is that just for my satisfaction?’

That place is a trap. It’s a prepared pitfall. Jang Ilso never aimed for Namgung in the first place. He only targets those who will come to rescue them after cutting off Nangung’s arms and using them as hostages, with a knife at their throats.

Yes, it’s Shaolin.

You can’t even guess what kind of evil lies beneath that murky blue water. The moment you step in, everything Jang Ilso has prepared for them will close around Shaolin’s neck.

Why do I think that way?

Because it’s too obvious.

If Jang Ilso had set his mind to it, he could have replenished his forces at any time during these few days. After all, neither Hao Clan nor Black Ghost Fortress has revealed themselves on this river yet.

If only they had appeared here, Beop Jong’s choice would have been much easier. It wouldn’t have been impossible to jump into something that was realistically unattainable.

But Jang Ilso didn’t replenish his forces.

As if he would never break that delicate hope that Shaolin holds. He was cleverly maintaining his forces, tempting Shaolin to jump towards Namgung at any moment.

Thud.

Beop Jong was immersed in his thoughts.

‘Coward?’

What Beop Jong truly desires now more than anyone is to attack Shaolin itself. Blame for everything that has happened here will ultimately fall upon Shaolin and Beop Jong.

Is it difficult to order an attack and claim that Shaolin sacrificed their lives like pawns of righteousness? Will it be easy to wail and scream for Shaolin’s principals in front of the corpses of Shaolin disciples? This is the question.

Then the Abbot will become an unprecedented righteous warrior throughout the land. Even if Shaolin crumbles, Beop Jong’s name might resonate in this martial world as strongly as ever.

But so what?

Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he know what happened to Hwasan that led the sect to the brink of destruction for the sake of the world?

Did Gangho truly protect those who had perished on the summit of Ten Thousand Mountains?

Questionable.

The name of Daehyeongeom [대현검(大賢劍) – Great Virtuous Sword] Chung Mun is unforgettable. He’s the one who gave everything to save this martial world.

So, is he rejoicing underground right now?

Absolutely not!

‘He must be mourning bitterly.’

He’s probably shedding tears of blood, regretting that such a choice should have never been made.

What’s currently holding Beop Jong back is the ghost of Hwasan.

If it weren’t for that absurd figure called Hwasan Geomhyeop, by now, Hwasan would have surely been completely destroyed. No one in the world would have remembered the name of the Plum Blossom Sword Sect Hwasan.

Who can force such a brutal sacrifice upon their sect? Who!

“Abbot!”

“This…”

It was just at that moment when Beop Jong was about to glare at Beop Gye with bloodshot eyes.

“Over there!”

“……”

At Beop Gye’s urgent gesture, Abbot turned his head abruptly. And he saw it.

Next to the massive hull of the Black Dragon’s ship, there was suddenly a boat placed there. And one person had leaped from the Black Dragon’s ship onto that small boat.

“Jang… Ilso….”

It was unmistakable.

No matter how distant it may be, that attire immediately captured people’s attention.

Following Jang Ilso, another person on a boat slowly approached them. It seemed as if they were leisurely enjoying a boat ride on the river.

Thud!

The sound of someone rowing reached Beop Jong’s ears distinctly.

His heart began to beat faster and faster. A heart that had been silent, as if even its thumping were muffled, suddenly surged with blood, reaching the tips of Abbot’s head.

Jang Ilso, the instigator of all this!

A fiend, a demon wearing the disguise of a human was approaching without proper escort.

“This…”

Beop Jong’s face flushed with anger. The veins in his forehead had burst from the force he exerted, making his eyes turn red.

And this rage was not felt by the Abbot alone. Everyone along the banks of the river, who had occupied the area, aimed all the malice they could muster at Jang Ilso. Just this presence alone would have caused an ordinary person’s heart to stop.

But strangely, Jang Ilso remained relaxed even in the midst of this intense hostility.

Slosh.

The wine bottle in his hand shook, emitting a heavy sound.

Seated on the small boat, he leisurely enjoyed the malice directed towards him, calmly taking a sip from the bottle. The wine that flowed down his lips dripped onto the surface of the river.

“Ugh…”

Unable to contain his anger, Beop Jong clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm as red blood oozed and dripped onto the ground.

‘How far does he intend to go…!’

How much more must he provoke people before his conscience is satisfied? Even the demons Buddha faced probably weren’t as relentless!

The boat that had been approaching them at an agonizingly slow pace finally came to a halt. Just about twenty yards away. If someone like Beop Jong decided, they could rush forward in an instant and attack.

“Ryeonju.” [the title of the Leader of Sapaeryeon]

Jang Ilso, who had been gazing at the river with a casual expression, turned his head slightly at Ho Gamyeong. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as if showing a hint of discomfort.

“Gamyeong, let’s go a bit further. Don’t you think these old folks need to hear my voice more clearly?”

“It’s not that they’re old and their ears are blocked, but rather that even if they have ears, they choose not to listen. I think this level of proximity is appropriate.”

“Tsk.”

Jang Ilso lowered his head in displeasure.

“You’re quite fearful.”

“…Ryeonju, you’re excessively fearless.”

Ho Gamyung smiled softly and added,

“And if it concerns matters related to Lord Ryeonju, it’s only appropriate that I become a coward. Isn’t that my role? Besides, Ryeonju should now value this precious body a bit more…”

“Alright, alright. Spare me the lecture,”

Jang Ilso interrupted with a sigh, waving his hand as if to brush off the nagging.

Clang.

The ornaments he wore clashed audibly, even at this distance, which wasn’t an exaggeration to call within arm’s reach for the observers from various factions who had gathered here. Jang Ilso, standing tall on the boat, cast an arrogant gaze towards the martial masters of the Gupailbang, who were scrutinizing him.

“This…”

Everyone’s faces contorted further, to the point where it couldn’t get any more twisted.

What meaning could it possibly hold that he had approached this close, within striking distance, without any proper protection?

It felt as if they had swallowed burning charcoal whole, and their insides churned. Everyone stared at Jang Ilso with hostile expressions.

And in that moment…

Jang Ilso extended the wine bottle he held forward and lightly shook it while offering, “How about a drink?”

His voice was devoid of any enthusiasm.

For a moment, Beop Jong’s blood seemed to surge in the wrong direction. But Jang Ilso seemed to relish Abbot’s expression.

“Since you’re all just here to watch anyway, wouldn’t it be sophisticated to enjoy a sip of this river’s view as a drink? Don’t you think so, Gamyeong-ah?”

“The people of the orthodox faction wouldn’t appreciate the charm of it.”

“That’s true. Tsk, tsk. A pity. Being too rigid won’t do you any good.”

Jang Ilso, as if disappointed, took a sip from the bottle. He drank as if to show off. The wine flowed down his red lips and dripped from his chin.

It was an incredibly eerie sight.

Despite Jang Ilso being within arm’s reach and the sworn enemy of the current Gupailbang, no one by the river attempted to attack. It was as if Jang Ilso had firmly anchored his feet to the ground, and they could only watch in a daze as he drank.

“Hmm.”

A little later, Jang Ilso withdrew the bottle from his lips and let out a satisfied sound. The sight of his white teeth exposed between his blood-red lips was truly unsettling.

“At least…”

He chuckled, scanning everyone by the river and emitting a mocking laugh. It was a blatantly scornful tone.

“I thought there would be something, at the very least.”

“…”

“I guess I thought too highly of all of you. No, that’s not it. Should I say I underestimated how ruthless you could be?”

“Uh…”

Jang Ilso nodded slowly.

“At this point, it seems unnecessary to distinguish between the orthodox and evil factions. We can’t find our way as ruthlessly as you do… Well, I’ve actually learned a thing or two from this.”

“Jang Ilso!”

It was the moment when Beop Jong let out a shout as if his throat would burst.

“Watch closely. You hypocrites who talk about righteousness and feign goodwill with your mouths.”

Chillingly, Jang Ilso’s voice, filled with inner straight, overpowered them.

Snap.

Jang Ilso lightly flicked his finger and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll give you a reward for enduring and treading on this land. From this moment on, Namgong Clan disappears from this world.”

“Wha…”

“Listen. To those screams. To that outcry. To that bitterness. Right here…”

Jang Ilso’s smile grew wider.

“Cherish the life you’ve saved in exchange for your conscience.”

A while later, the boat carrying him slowly turned its bow. Jang Ilso cast a glance behind him and said,

“Or perhaps… right now, would you like to try killing me? You, the esteemed members of the orthodox factions?”

“…”

“Hahahahahaha! Ahahahahahaha!”

Shame.

Defeat.

And guilt.

Amidst this hell where everything was intertwined, the figure of Jang Ilso, carrying the rising sun on his back, slowly receded.

In that moment.

The formations of the enemy forces, who had been on alert as if guarding against the Gupailbang, began to turn towards the bow of the boat.

Toward Maehwado, where the survivors of the Namgung Clan remained.

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