Return of the Mount Hua

He does not disappoint. (3)

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Several massive ships all turned their bows simultaneously. The aftermath was truly impressive, to the extent that it disturbed the previously calm surface of the Yangtze River.

Despite the waves crashing towards the small boat, Jang Ilso stood on it as if on solid ground, looking peaceful. He glanced briefly at Shaolin and Kongtong, who were helpless.

“Pitiful…”

An overt expression of disdain appeared on his face. Ho Gamyeong quietly observed this expression.

If these pitiful beings were the leaders of the Gupailbang, then the day of Jang Ilso’s grand plan would come that much sooner. However, the childish emotion on Jang Ilso’s face at this moment seemed closer to annoyance than joy.

“You don’t seem to be in a good mood.”

“Good mood…?”

Jang Ilso replied in a sullen tone.

“When I was struggling in the depths of despair with no hope in sight, what sustained me was… a pledge to eventually take everything they have.”

“The essence of those who talk about righteousness is nothing more than that.”

A self-deprecating smirk escaped his crimson lips.

“Human beings hide their true intentions within logic. Perhaps by now, they’ve come up with dozens of reasons why they shouldn’t step forward. They’ll probably create logical arguments that sound convincing and are hard to refute.”

Jang Ilso’s laughter grew even deeper.

“But when you dig deeper, you’ll find that it’s just fear. Those who have never shed blood and seized something will value what they might lose more than what they might gain.”

If someone else had said these words, Ho Gamyeong would have judged them as arrogant. After all, Shaolin may not be the masters of the world, could at least be called masters of the Gangho. Such evaluations were too simplistic.

But at least Jang Ilso had earned the right to speak these words. Ho Gamyeong knew better than anyone else how desperately Jang Ilso had climbed to this position.

“In the end, they’ll figure it out.”

Jang Ilso spoke calmly.

“People who fear losing small things will eventually lose everything. I’ll make sure of it.”

Ho Gamyeong slowly nodded.

“They’ll realize it when they’ve already lost everything.”

Upon hearing this, Jang Ilso chuckled.

“Indeed, they might.”

Then, he tilted the bottle in his hand, taking a sip, and poured the rest into the Yangtze River as if he had lost interest.

“Well, it’s done. We’ve gained everything we wanted.”

The orthodox factions still glared at their direction, ready to tear them apart at any moment. But Jang Ilso remained unfazed; to him, they were merely amusing.

Right now, their anger and resentment toward the Sapaeryeon and Jang Ilso were blinding. However, once that anger subsided, they would soon realize what they had done. What would a person feel when they recognized their own wrongdoing? Remorse? Regret?

‘Not a chance!’

Only a tiny fraction of people could genuinely feel remorse. Most humans tended to find excuses for their own faults, pointing fingers at others even when they were clearly in the wrong.

Jang Ilso had created the crack, but it would be their own doing to tear it wide open. Now, all that remained was to wait. The wounds he had inflicted would fester, rotting the flesh and corroding the bones until they could bear it no longer.

He had achieved what he came here for. What was left was merely…

“It’s time for a show, right?”

Jang Ilso’s gaze turned toward Maehwado.

“Well…”

He casually tilted his head, and the ornaments that adorned his entire body jingled, sounding almost like cheers.

“Now it’s time to decorate the final act of this stage with the pitiful blood of the Namgung clan.”

“I’ll take you there.”

It was when Ho Gamyeong was about to steer the boat toward the Black Dragon Ship.

“No, that’s enough now.”

Jang Ilso raised one hand to halt him. When Ho Gamyeong turned back with a hint of suspicion in his eyes, Jang Ilso raised one corner of his mouth in a sly smile.

“We’ve stared at the Black Dragon King for too long; it’s getting tiresome. Let’s go back on our boat.”

Ho Gamyeong harbored a small doubt, but he didn’t press for reasons. Jang Ilso always had calculations behind every action, and there was likely a reason he couldn’t fathom this time.

On a small boat making its way through the rough waters, Jang Ilso glanced back with a somber expression. His gaze extended beyond the Gupailbang by the riverside, reaching even further.

“Is that so?”

He threw an incomprehensible question into the distant sky.

“Kukkuk.”

He let out a faint laugh, his eyes filled with deep regret.

“It’s finally over…”

The last sunrise had arrived.

Any hope had long been abandoned. If the orthodox factions, including Saolin, had any intention of saving Namgung Clan, they wouldn’t have allowed the situation to reach this point. Yes, they hadn’t even hoped for it; that’s how they felt.

However, as this moment approached, Namgung Myeong couldn’t help but admit that he hadn’t completely shed his lingering feelings towards them. No, perhaps it wasn’t faith in them but rather a belief in the path he had walked. It was a lingering sentiment that what he had believed in all along wouldn’t be entirely false.

But at this moment, everything in his life, including that belief, had been negated.

‘What are we here for?’

What enraged Namgung Myeong even more was the meticulous and vivid remnants of their lingering regrets. If they weren’t going to help, wouldn’t it be better to decisively turn away instead of watching their deaths for some solace?

“Vice Lord…”

Amidst the tempest of terrible emotions, Namgung Myeong closed his eyes tightly in response to that call. He didn’t dare turn his head.

What could he possibly say? He had shouted so many times for them to hold on until the end, but was this all he could offer them in the end?

Being ignored by those he believed were comrades walking the same path, and being ridiculed by the horde of Saparyeon like a pack of wolves?

As Namgung Myeong was about to bow his head, crushed by the turmoil of emotions, it happened.

“We need to prepare for battle , Vice Lord.”

To his surprise, he heard these words, and he turned around, trembling, biting down hard on his quivering jaw.

Everyone was standing up.

Those who had been tending to the wounded, those who had been desperately recovering their weary bodies to prepare for the final battle, and even those who had been lost in thought just moments ago – every one of them stood up, forming orderly ranks to face the final confrontation.

They clung to their aching legs, fought to maintain consciousness that seemed ready to snap at any moment.

“After all, it’s the end, isn’t it?”

Namgung Pyeong, looking at him, chuckled weakly.

“There’s no pleasure in lying down and waiting for the enemy’s blade. Even if we die, we’ll die fighting.”

“Pyeong…”

“It’s the truth.”

Laughter erupted from behind.

“That’s right.”

“Exactly.”

Namgung Myeong closed his eyes tightly. The people who were now making light of the situation had made a grave error. An error that had brought them to the brink of death. Yet, none of them uttered a word of blame.

Could he have been as composed if he was in their shoes?

Namgung Myeong didn’t have that confidence. That’s why he felt even more sorry and grateful.

“But we’re fortunate.”

A voice mixed with laughter spoke from someone’s lips.

“At least the Young Lord isn’t here.”

“That’s right.”

“We would have been in big trouble if he was here.”

Namgung Myeong said in a hurried tone, momentarily flustered.

“It’s not like that. Lord didn’t…”

“No, Vice Lord.”

Namgung Myeong’s bewildered face made the Namgung Family’s swordsmen burst into laughter.

“Young Lord didn’t abandon us to save himself. We all know that he didn’t leave just to survive on his own.”

“So it’s fortunate.”

“At least the lineage will continue.”

The determination and resolve in the eyes of the Namgung Clan’s swordsmen gradually grew stronger.

“We’re not asking for revenge. But we hope the Young Lord will take care of the clan just enough to survive.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough.”

Namgung Myeong nodded.

Who wouldn’t want to live? Who wouldn’t beg for even a sliver of mercy from the enemy’s grasp?

But it couldn’t be done. Thinking of Namgung Dowi, who risked his life to escape to save them, Namgung Hwang trapped beneath the frigid waters of the Yangtze River, and the elders who died without even screaming, he couldn’t bow his head even if there were a chance of surviving.

‘Because you’re the eldest?’

‘No, it’s because they were my comrades in the fight. I don’t want to be ashamed in front of those who stayed here for them.’

“You idiots…”

Namgong Myeong turned hastily. He was afraid that if he continued to look at them, tears would flow. As they said, this might be their last moment, and they couldn’t afford to show a pitiful appearance.

“It will take time.”

“…”

“It might take a hundred years, or even more. Even if there are descendants in the family, it will take that long to restore the prestige of the Namgong name.”

Everyone looked at Namgong Myeong’s back as he tightly gripped the sword.

“So, be the torch for the remaining family members.”

Namgong Myeong slowly drew his sword.

“The time ahead for the family members will be like wandering through relentless darkness. They must endure that time to see the rising sun again. So, meet a death that can be a source of pride for the descendants who must endure that long period of despair! Prove here that Namgong’s swordsmen are never cowardly!”

Everyone grasped their swords.

To prove oneself through death.

It wasn’t until the very end that everyone understood what it truly meant.

With eyes devoid of hesitation, enemies leaped off the ship onto the island, watching Namgong swordsmen approaching on the shore.

“Into formation!”

“Charge!”

The survivors of the Azure Sky Sword unit and Namgung family’s warriors, standing at the forefront, shouted until their throats were hoarse.

The linage of Namgung Clan.

People die, but their names live on in memory.

If they could convey their determination through this death, it would never be in vain.

“In the name of Namgung!”

Namgung Myeong shouted as if spewing blood.

“Slay the villains!”

With a resounding roar, the swordsmen of the Namgung clan rushed toward the enemy forces landing on the shore.

Holding their ground had no meaning. What they needed to show was not persistence but determination!

“For the clan!”

Namgung Myeong, gripping his sword, also charged like a streak of light.

‘Young Lord! You must survive!’

May our determination shown here carry on to Namgung Dowi.

And may it reach the children of Namgung Clan, for a long time to come.

Crimson blood surged.

The blood spraying from the bodies of the Namgung swordsmen at the forefront and the blood spurting as enemy throats were cut dyed Namgung Myeong’s vision a deep red.

But there were no screams. Not a single one among those who bore the name of Namgung uttered a feeble cry.

Even as their chests were pierced and their arms severed, they gritted their teeth and swung their swords one more time, if only once.

Death. And yet another life.

Amidst this multitude of deaths, Namgung Myeong’s life would be added!

“Namgung Myeong of the Namgung Clan is here! You bastards!”

He had somehow leaped beyond the heads of the Azure Sky unit and Namgung swordsmen at the forefront, penetrating through the enemy ranks. His sword, touched by the sunlight, emitted an endlessly dazzling light.

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