Chapter 1026

Their offer was simple.

First, we would meet halfway in half an hour, unarmed.

Second, no more than three people could attend.

And third…

One of those three had to be the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon, Jin Taekyung.

I was watching the Three Elders of Tianshan ride away, going over the terms I’d just heard, when Jeok Cheongang spoke.

“You’re staying behind.”

His voice was firm. He looked at me, his face set, and continued.

“Not this time.”

I shrugged.

“That’s not quite what I was going to say, but close enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was about to say something similar. I think I have to go this time.”

“……!”

There was no other choice.

A thousand people.

The bastards had wagered a thousand lives without hesitation. This wasn’t some empty bluff to lure us down from the Great Snow Mountain.

Even now, a long line of prisoners, looking battered and miserable, was appearing on the distant hillside, bound together.

They had to be people captured at Dunhuang, or people who’d fled only to be hunted down.

“You see them, right?”

Jeok Cheongang didn’t answer. I went on.

“Not ten. Not a hundred. A thousand. We don’t have a choice.”

Before leaving, those three bastard dogs who’d spent their lives as outlaws had delivered a stern warning, as if they were judges handing down a sentence.

If we broke even one of their conditions, they would kill every last prisoner.

And I didn’t want those people sentenced to death.

“Honestly, I’m pretty damn scared too, but what can you do? I don’t know how much longer I’ll live, but… if I don’t want to spend the rest of it losing sleep, I have to go.”

Half joke, half serious.

When will the nightmares stop?

I pushed the thought aside and made myself smile. Jeok Cheongang, who had been silent for a long while, finally sighed.

“You foolish brat.”

“Hey, what’s that for? You should be cursing those bastards, not me. Shameless pricks. They won big, then went and chased everyone down too.”

“Don’t pretend to be cheerful. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’re more shameless than anyone under heaven, yet you’ve never been any good at lying.”

“……I guess not.”

“Even if there were only ten prisoners instead of ten thousand or a thousand, you’d go. That’s the kind of person you are, as far as this old man knows.”

Would I?

I didn’t know. It was hard to be certain about something that hadn’t happened.

But… yeah. I probably would.

And I thought Jeok Cheongang was that kind of person, too.

“You’re going, right? Even if I try to stop you?”

“Were you planning to?”

“No.”

I grew serious.

“If things go wrong, we could be dead in a flash. I need you beside me, Old Master.”

Only then did Jeok Cheongang let out a quiet laugh.

“So we die together?”

“Why put it like that? I mean we live together.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Of course not. One word can make all the difference. How could you say that? Keep it up and you’ll hurt my feelings. Can’t you feel my trust, hope, and love for you?”

“You never run out of words when you start wagging that tongue. But…”

His amusement faded, and his voice dropped.

“Do you think those men share that trust you’re talking about?”

Instead of answering, I looked where he was looking.

The men in question—the leaders—had finished their deliberations and were approaching from some distance away.

Squish. Squish.

Dozens of feet crossed ground turned to mud by snow and rain.

At their head was one man.

The Black Night King, Sima Gong.

“Have you made up your mind?”

For a moment, I stared at Sima Gong as he got straight to the point.

Then I answered.

“I made up my mind a while ago. And so did the old—my Master here.”

“You understand how dangerous this could be?”

“Of course.”

“Be careful. If they can draw in a major piece with just a thousand prisoners, it will be the best possible outcome for them.”

He was right about that.

As much as I hated to say it, Jeok Cheongang and I had to be Dark Heaven’s highest-priority targets. After all the damage we’d done, they must have wanted nothing more than to tear us apart.

But…

Just a thousand, huh.

No matter how you looked at it…

How could you talk so lightly about the immense weight of so many lives?

And how much did the outcome Dark Heaven wanted resemble the picture you were trying to paint? How sincere was that warning to be careful?

I swallowed the words circling the tip of my tongue. Then four characters suddenly came to mind, and I blurted them out.

“A large group doesn’t die easily.”

“A large group doesn’t die easily… I see. If you and Senior Jeok go, you should be able to return safely even if it’s a trap.”

Sima Gong murmured the old Go proverb to himself, then nodded.

“I understand what you and Senior Jeok have decided.”

We’d given them our answer. Now it was time to hear theirs.

“Then who’s the third person?”

Three people could attend. Jeok Cheongang and I were settled, leaving one place open.

What happened next was more or less what I’d expected.

“I’ll go. As Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate, I’m willing to—”

“No. I’ll go.”

The two spoke almost at once.

Like a couple of middle-aged men arguing over who got to pay the bill at a bar, Sima Gong and the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord each tried to stop the other.

“We don’t know what danger awaits us. Sect Leader, you should remain here.”

“Then all the more reason for me to go. By that reasoning, I’m better suited to it than Sect Leader Sima.”

The Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord had a point. Choosing him for the last place was the sensible decision.

Sima Gong wasn’t merely the leader of a sect. He was the beginning and end of the Black Dragon Demon Gate, the heart of the Gansu Murim world. If something happened to him, the Black Dragon Demon Gate—no, the entire Gansu force, which made up more than half our army—would be thrown into disarray.

The Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord, on the other hand, had two Senior Brothers who could take his place as head of the Zhongnan Sect. Whatever their faults as people, the Roaring Fury Swordsman and the Taeeul Merciless Sword had enough influence within the sect.

Given the danger and the importance of the positions they held, sending the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord was the lower-risk choice.

Of course…

Only if you’re sure the person left behind is an ally you can trust completely.

It might be the sensible decision, but if common sense ruled the world, why would we be here?

Sometimes the world changed because of a tiny handful of madmen. For better or worse.

And one of those madmen might seize control of our rear while Jeok Cheongang, the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord, and I are gone.

But I couldn’t argue against the decision on the strength of a suspicion I couldn’t prove. Nor did we have time.

We’re running out of it.

More than half of the promised half hour had already passed.

I quietly met Jeok Cheongang’s eyes and knew we were thinking the same thing.

If those are the choices…

The two of us should go alone. Sima Gong was someone we couldn’t fully trust whether he came with us or stayed behind. That made it all the more important for the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord to remain here.

I was about to tell everyone.

Or rather, I would have—if someone no one expected hadn’t spoken first.

Step.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but may I ask you both to yield the place to me?”

“……!”

I saw it clearly: as his son stepped forward, his footsteps ringing unusually loud, his father’s eyes sank into a deep, dark gaze.

“Please give me the last place.”

Sama Pyo repeated himself, his voice clear enough for everyone to hear.

“I’ll go. Myself.”

Why?

Why had it turned out this way?

I didn’t know. For the moment, all that mattered was that I was walking between Jeok Cheongang and Sama Pyo.

But my patience was just a little too thin to keep the questions building inside me to myself.

“Why’d you do it?”

I kept my gaze straight ahead. After a moment, Sama Pyo answered quietly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why’d you suddenly volunteer? It was pretty much decided.”

“If it had been decided, I wouldn’t be here. Would I?”

I frowned.

“Well…”

“No one wants to walk willingly into a place that might be a death trap. Not even the Sect Leader of one of the Nine Sects and One Gang, however highly he values honor.”

Sama Pyo continued evenly.

“And his disciples would do whatever they could to keep their Sect Leader from going. Wouldn’t they, Pavilion Master?”

I couldn’t argue. He wasn’t speculating. He was describing what had happened moments ago.

When Sama Pyo stepped forward at just the right time, the Zhongnan disciples had looked relieved and done everything they could to dissuade their Sect Leader. The leaders of the Gansu Murim forces had taken their chance, too, grabbing at Sima Gong’s sleeves.

If everyone left, who would be in command if something happened?

What would happen to all these people?

Sama Pyo was both the Young Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate and a member of the Fire Dragon Pavilion. He had grounds to dissuade the leaders and the standing to volunteer himself. Perhaps that was why everyone had accepted the young man’s sudden offer without much fuss.

Put in modern terms, the situation had fallen into place rather neatly.

While everyone had been trying to read each other’s faces, waiting to see which leader would be left holding the bag, Sama Pyo had scratched exactly the itch they all had.

Our people already knew trying to stop us wouldn’t do a damn thing.

The other Fire Dragon Pavilion members who were staying behind hadn’t tried to dissuade us either. They’d simply told us to come back safely.

Anyway, everyone had gotten what they wanted.

Well, maybe not everyone.

Sima Gong.

What had gone through his mind when his son stepped forward? Had that look in his eyes been part of a plan, or had Sama Pyo caught him off guard?

And…

What the hell was Sama Pyo thinking?

He still hadn’t answered my question. Instead, he brought up something that seemed to have nothing to do with it.

“By the way, I didn’t know you knew Go.”

“What?”

“You said it earlier, Pavilion Master. ‘A large group doesn’t die easily.’”

Was he changing the subject, or trying to tell me something? I couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know much about Go. I just picked up a few things watching and listening when I was little.”

“When you were little…”

“My dad liked Go.”

“I see. I’ve heard a little about the Strange Hero of Shanxi, your Family Head.”

“I haven’t seen him in a long time, but I still remember him clearly.”

Sima Gong would have no idea who I meant.

In this second world, I’d found brothers who weren’t related to me by blood. I’d made new companions and friends, and met a Master. But I’d only ever had one father.

Whenever he lost a game of online Go, he’d console himself by insisting those Chinese bastards must have used a cheating program. He’d also poured all his money into the stock of a certain major Korean electronics company, chanting that a large group didn’t die easily.

That was Dad.

“Dad, why is the whole computer screen blue?”

“Son, what color is the sky?”

“Red.”

“No, that’s the sunset. The sky is usually blue. My stock’s only blue for a little while too.”

“Really? So it’ll turn red soon?”

“Of course. This stock is a daema.”

“Daema? Isn’t that bad? The stuff that makes you feel good?”¹

“What on earth are you doing at kindergarten… No. Anyway, not that kind of daema. This means something really big and strong. And something this big and strong doesn’t die easily. In Go, we say a large group doesn’t die easily.”

“Oh.”

“Before long, that line on the screen will shoot right up. High into the sky, red like the sunset.”

“Hmm. Okay. But, Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at Mom’s face. It’s really red!”

“……Honey, when did you get here?”

A quiet laugh escaped me.

I knew I shouldn’t laugh at a time like this, but I couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto my lips.

“It’s nothing. I just… remembered something nice from a long time ago.”

“A nice memory with your father.”

Sama Pyo murmured as if to himself, then smiled along with me.

“I see.”

His smile was dim and bitter, like the clouded sky. The sight of it gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.

Then Jeok Cheongang, who had been walking silently ahead of us, spoke.

“If you two are done laughing and chatting, it’s time to greet our unwelcome guest.”

At that moment, hoofbeats sounded.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

With the slow sound of approaching hooves, they finally appeared.

No—not they.

He did.