Chapter 1057

No further surprises came in the great battle that day across the vast snowfield.

Just a few shichen¹ earlier, the forces of Dark Heaven had flaunted their overwhelming might. Now they were no more than candles before the wind, while the allied forces—led by Supreme Peak masters and wave after wave of reinforcements—were like a tremendous storm.

A storm of steel and killing intent, tearing through everything in its path.

Crraack!

Thud! Shhk!

Fountains of blood erupted on every side.

With thick blood mist draped over them like cloaks, the allies charged, stabbing and cutting down every enemy in their path without the slightest hesitation.

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth.

And death repaid with death. That was the law of this world—of Murim—and the very essence of war.

“Heaven above and earth below, all demons—”

Thwack!

A guard’s spear pierced a cultist’s arm. An arrow and a sword from somewhere tore through his face and chest.

Before the cultists could finish their eight-character doctrine, they fell, spraying blood. The allied forces trampled over their bodies and tightened the cordon around the vast slaughterhouse.

Quickly. Ferociously.

Against Dark Heaven’s cultists, who had lost their reason, persuasion and taking prisoners were luxuries. The immense sacrifices the allies had suffered here today had made them forget mercy.

That was truest of the band who had joined last, yet were now sweeping through the enemy ranks at the very front.

Shh-shh-shhk!

Blood-soaked robes fluttered.

They plunged straight into the heart of the enemy lines as if they cared nothing for their lives. Their movements were elusive as the wind, and the sword light surging from the old man’s blade at their head was cruelly dazzling.

Boom!

A thunderous blast shook the earth.

Flesh mangled beyond recognition and blood flew in every direction.

Where the Force had passed, nothing remained.

Nothing but blood and death.

And the tremendous roar of the allied forces as they crashed into the broken enemy formation and crushed it completely.

“Waaah!”

“Charge! Charge!”

“Don’t leave a single one alive!”

In that moment, the allied forces were a single wave, though each part had a different color.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard charged in orderly ranks, keeping their composure amid the chaos.

The soldiers and martial artists of Gansu followed behind them, squeezing out their last strength.

Then there were the Zhongnan Sect Disciples, far fewer than at the start—and the mysterious mounted fighters who had appeared out of nowhere to join the allies.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The ground shook as if an earthquake had struck.

Deafening shouts echoed without end. A forest of steel filled the land, engulfing the invaders and blooming with countless flowers and branches.

Red flowers made of blood, white branches made of bone.

That was how the long, brutal battle ended.

Another half day passed. Of the fully thirty thousand Dark Heaven cultists, not one still stood on the battlefield of his own will.

Not one.

In modern military terminology, annihilation means the loss of combat effectiveness.

Troops, equipment, supplies, morale, and so on.

Generally, if at least thirty percent of a fighting force has been killed or wounded and the survivors’ will falters, the force is judged incapable of continuing to fight—and considered annihilated.

But here in Murim, what lay before Jin Taekyung at this moment was different.

Annihilation.

The word meant exactly what it said.

No, perhaps even that word wasn’t enough.

Killing. Massacre.

Or…

…Slaughter.

The word he couldn’t bring himself to say lingered on the tip of his tongue. Taekyung looked around, his gaze heavy.

Red. Everything in sight was stained red.

The once-white snowfield. The faces of corpses submerged in pools of blood, their eyes wide open.

And the bloodshot eyes searching for enemies who might have survived, picking through rivers of blood and mountains of corpses.

Shhk!

A sword came down hard, piercing the chest of an enemy who had been writhing among the countless dead.

A miracle wouldn’t happen twice. Having survived once was a misfortune.

If he’d died sooner, his end would have been much quicker and more peaceful.

Craack.

The blade buried deep inside him slowly twisted.

At the dreadful sound of bone and flesh being crushed—and the killing intent, even more palpable than the sound—the faces of the Fire Dragon Pavilion members beside Taekyung stiffened.

“Captain.”

“Even so, this is…”

Taekyung raised a hand to stop them before they could finish.

He knew what they wanted to say.

This wasn’t murder. It was slaughter, like butchering livestock.

Yet he also understood the feelings of those giving such a cruel end to enemies who no longer had the strength to resist.

“Wait here.”

He tossed the words to the Fire Dragon Pavilion members and slowly started walking.

One step. Then another. Unbearable fatigue washed over him with each step, but a hand reached out from somewhere and steadied him when he staggered.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to wait.”

At Taekyung’s mutter, almost spoken to himself, Sama Pyo shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t hear you.”

“You’ve heard me now. Step back.”

“I can’t do that.”

“That’s an order.”

“An order? So that’s how you’re going to play it?”

“Yeah.”

Taekyung’s voice was firmer than ever. Sama Pyo’s answer was just as firm.

“Fine. Then as of this moment, I’m leaving the Fire Dragon Pavilion.”

“…!”

Taekyung’s eyes widened. Sama Pyo gave him a faint smile.

“What? Didn’t see that coming?”

“You…”

“I’ve enjoyed our time together, Pavilion Master. But this is where we part ways.”

He met Taekyung’s gaze calmly and added, “I can’t keep bringing trouble to you or anyone else. Whatever happens, I’ll have to bear it alone.”

He knew why Taekyung, who had been at his limit for a long time, was still clinging to consciousness.

And he knew how great a danger might be waiting at the end of the road he now had to walk alone.

He could remain calm because he had already made up his mind.

“Whatever happens, don’t get involved. And if something should happen to me…”

His voice trailed off. His gaze shifted toward Taishan—and Taekyung, who had been watching him, cut in.

“Nope.”

“What?”

“I said no, asshole. Look after your own man. Don’t dump him on someone who’s already got enough on his plate.”

Sama Pyo fell silent for a moment. Then he understood what Taekyung meant and let out a short laugh.

“You’re right. I have to look after him to the very end. I will.”

If I can. If I can survive, like you said.

Swallowing the words he couldn’t bring himself to say, Sama Pyo set off alone.

Taekyung watched him go, then suddenly spoke.

“Something just occurred to me… Do you remember the day we left the Jin Family of Taiyuan?”

Of course Sama Pyo did.

It had been recent—not years or months ago, but barely more than a month.

And he could guess why Taekyung had brought it up.

“Of course. Right before we left for the west, Elder Namho and Taishan came looking for me.”

That night, Sama Pyo had been reading a secret letter from Gansu.

He had already read it, then read it again. Over and over, even as the two approached his door.

“You’re usually punctual to the second, but that day you dragged your feet. Like you were waiting for someone to come looking for you.”

Sama Pyo stopped walking at Taekyung’s quiet remark.

“I had a lot on my mind that day.”

“Elder Namho’s old, but he’s a fine agent. His nose is pretty sharp for his age, too.”

“True. Though his hearing’s bad, so he talks loudly.”

A giant nearly nine feet tall who made the ground shake just by walking, and an old man who talked a lot and had a booming voice.

They stood out wherever they went, and there was no missing the sound of them.

Sama Pyo had heard them that night too, alone in his quarters with the secret letter.

“You planned it, didn’t you? From the start.”

“No. Not at all.”

A blatant lie.

Sama Pyo had been waiting there.

Waiting for his oldest friend, who would come looking for him before anyone else.

No—for the old Hidden Shadow Pavilion agent who was always at Taishan’s side.

Deep down, he had hoped Namho would notice at least something of the secret Sama Pyo couldn’t say aloud.

That he would take it as a warning.

“Why? Why go that far?”

At Taekyung’s quiet question from behind him, Sama Pyo resumed walking.

“Even so… he’s my father.”

He had wanted to believe in him until the very end, whatever it took.

But when that trust was betrayed, he didn’t want the people beside him put in danger.

So he had deliberately left a clue as a warning. Before he could bring himself to report his father’s suspicious actions, he wanted them to become suspicious on their own.

Even if they suspected Sama Pyo too, he didn’t care, as long as it kept everyone safe.

He was used to being suspected and hated.

That was what it meant to live as the blood relative of Sima Gong, the Black Night King, and the Young Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate.

And yet it was strange.

Even after Namho’s gaze toward him had grown sharper and more searching, Taekyung hadn’t said a word.

Not once, even now.

“Then why didn’t you ask me anything? Not once, all this time?”

The question had been circling in Sama Pyo’s mind for so long. The moment he finally voiced it, a short answer came from behind him without a hint of hesitation.

“Even so, we’re friends.”

The answer sent a sharp tingle through Sama Pyo’s chest.

“…!”

“Shit, I don’t know. You look dark and gloomy on the outside, but… I kept wanting to trust you. Even as everything went more and more to shit, I still wanted to.”

Sama Pyo couldn’t say anything.

He clenched his teeth against the heat rising in his eyes and kept walking, his steps unsteady.

Taekyung’s voice reached him from somewhere far behind.

“Don’t die. That’s an order.”

Sama Pyo didn’t answer that gentler-than-ever command.

He kept walking toward the band still moving through the ruined battlefield, slaughtering the enemies who had survived.

Or, to be exact, toward the old man at their center.

Splash.

At last, he stopped, sending ripples through a pool of blood.

Sama Pyo took a deep breath. The stench and reek of blood were foul enough to make him gag, but his heart was strangely calm and still.

As calm and still as the expression of the old man before him, who gazed at his enemy’s son with eyes too deep to read.

“This junior, Sama Pyo, pays his respects to the Sect Leader of the great Kongtong Sect.”

At that moment—

Shwaaah.

Killing intent, immense enough to be terrifying, surged up from every direction and pressed down on Sama Pyo’s entire body.