Chapter 1059

For me and everyone else, it lasted only an instant.

For someone, though, it might have felt unbearably slow and suffocating—a moment in a life flashing before their eyes.

Shing.

The sound of sharp steel slipping from its scabbard was so faint it raised goose bumps. The sword had been drawn with near-perfect skill.

Not a hair’s breadth off. Just the right force, at just the right speed.

And…

A clear path, following its master’s will as the blade cut diagonally across its target.

Shhk!

The distance was too short to dodge. The gap in their martial prowess was too great.

And Sama Pyo had quietly closed his eyes without even trying to evade, as if accepting his fate.

Nothing unexpected happened. The sword light flashed through that split second, scattering red flowers into the air.

Shwaaa!

Time started moving again.

Beyond Sama Pyo’s staggering back, a fountain of blood shot high into the air, searing itself into everyone’s vision.

The Kongtong Disciples nearby. The Fire Dragon Pavilion members and me.

And someone else, too, who had been doing everything in their power to hold back the urge to rush over.

“No!”

Taishan had watched everything unfold around Sama Pyo with mounting anxiety. That was as long as his patience could last.

With a thunderous shout that rang out on every side, the nine-foot-tall giant set down the poor old man riding on his shoulders as if tossing him aside. Then he shot forward faster than I’d ever seen him move.

Whoosh!

The wind roared around him, but his path was perfectly straight.

Before anyone could stop him, Taishan hurtled like a cannonball toward Sama Pyo’s back as Sama Pyo staggered backward.

He didn’t seem to care one bit about the Kongtong Disciples who had surrounded Sama Pyo, as if to box him in.

“You bastard!”

“Stop right there!”

Papat!

Shouts erupted from every direction, and figures blurred into motion.

Dozens of Kongtong Disciples moved with elusive speed to block Taishan’s path. Each raised a weapon and aimed it at him.

Their blades were slick with blood. And as if to show how they had survived the brutal, desperate battle at Dunhuang, every one of those blades gleamed with Sword Energy—proof that its wielder had reached the level of injuring others with Sword Energy.

But the two-section staff in Taishan’s hands bore the same light. Even with dozens of Peak Masters blocking his way, he only charged faster.

“Raaaargh!”

Tiger Giant Child.

True to his epithet, Taishan was usually as innocent as a child. But his inborn strength and martial prowess were those of a beast.

Roaring like an enraged tiger, he swung his two-section staff with all his might. A tremendous gale swept along with it.

Whoooosh!

Even a hardened Murim veteran would have felt a chill run down their spine at that terrifying whistle through the air.

But the Kongtong Disciples didn’t take a single step back.

Instead, they met Taishan’s menacing charge with dazzling sword light.

Shwiiing!

Killing intent filled the space in an instant.

The two-section staff crushing through the wind. The blades cutting through it.

Into that life-or-death moment, I took one forceful step.

Shhk.

One step.

That was enough.

Several yards vanished, and the scene around me changed.

I had already slipped between Taishan and the Kongtong Disciples. Without hesitation, I thrust out both palms.

Bang!

Compressed air exploded. A hot blast from the Flame Divine Palm, held back as much as I could manage, burst from my palms and drove everything apart.

The weapons being swung at one another—and the people holding them.

Clatter!

Weapons flew into the air without reaching their targets. Their wielders stumbled backward, swaying like reeds in the wind.

“……!”

“……!”

Dust rose from the blood-soaked ground. Through it, I looked at the bewildered faces of the men forced back and spoke in a tired, flat voice.

“Do you all have energy to burn? Take it down a notch.”

Before anyone could answer, I turned to Perfected Being Hyeoncheon, who had watched the sudden clash in silence.

“Apologies for the late greeting. We met once before in Henan.”

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon had briefly met me at the Mount Song Resolution, where the new Murim Alliance was first formed. He gave a slight nod.

“It’s been a while, my friend Jin.”

A corner of my heart ached.

Our acquaintance had lasted less than fifteen minutes, but it still hurt.

The old Daoist who had once praised my martial arts with a kind voice and laugh, like my own grandfather, was nowhere to be found.

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon’s voice was as dry and brittle as grains of desert sand. Traces of grief and anger remained around his mouth.

His sword trembled in his wrinkled hand.

Blood dripped slowly from the tip of the treasured blade he had likely carried all his life. Perhaps he still hadn’t managed to put those feelings aside.

“Pavilion Master! What are you doing? Move aside, now!”

Right. That guy was here too.

Taishan’s shout pulled me out of the feelings I’d sunk into. He had adjusted his grip on his two-section staff and was stepping forward again, so I stopped him.

In my own rough way.

Thump!

My fist drove straight into his abdomen. The nearly nine-foot giant doubled over like a shrimp and went rigid.

Taishan drew in a startled breath. Staring at me wide-eyed, he forced out a few words.

“P-Pavilion Master…”

“Cool your head.”

I brought the edge of my hand down on the back of his neck without hesitation.

Thud.

His skin and bones were so thick that even a Pressure-Point Strike looked unlikely to work. But overwhelming force was another matter.

The sound of him falling was like a bear hitting the ground. Silence followed.

The Fire Dragon Pavilion members who arrived a moment later, and the Kongtong Disciples who had been about to charge Taishan again, stared at me in bewilderment.

Everyone except Perfected Being Hyeoncheon, who watched with a somber gaze.

“I’d heard there was a giant tiger beside the young Black Dragon… He’s as strong as they say. Loyal, too.”

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon looked at Sama Pyo, who still lay motionless.

“You have a better subordinate than he looks. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“He’s as dumb as he is big, but he’s a good guy. And…”

I added bitterly, “The friend you showed mercy to is a much better man than you think, Sect Leader.”

“……!”

“……!”

The air around us gave a sharp, electric shiver.

Those who understood what I meant widened their eyes at once, as if on cue. Perfected Being Hyeoncheon closed his eyes without a word.

As though trying to wipe away the urge to kill still lingering in his heart.

“Do you… regret it?”

I broke the silence and looked at him.

From the moment he had drawn his sword and swung it, I’d known instinctively.

There had been conflict in that perfect draw, but not the slightest trace of killing intent.

That the old Daoist’s sword would never take someone’s life.

That was why I hadn’t stepped in.

His wavering sword tip had cut shallowly into Sama Pyo’s flesh, but I could tell it was because of that last bit of conflict.

“Regret it? Of course I do.”

“Then why?”

“His eyes. I saw those eyes.”

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon suddenly opened his eyes. He looked up at the Kongtong Sect flag fluttering above his head and continued.

“They were like my Disciples’ eyes when I last saw them in Dunhuang. Deep and upright. Unbowed even before death. Those were their eyes.”

Some say a person’s eyes are the windows and mirrors of the heart.

Perhaps that was why the old Daoist, who had come here seeking revenge, could not bring himself to kill his enemy’s son, even when the young man had come to him seeking death.

“I’m nothing but an old Daoist. I spent my life absorbed in the sword rather than the Daoist scriptures, and I couldn’t save my Disciples as they bled and died. But…”

A hot breath passed between his trembling lips.

“Someone I met recently said this to me. If you take a person’s life for no reason except that they share your enemy’s blood, what is that if not the Demonic Path?”

I understood.

Though Perfected Being Hyeoncheon was speaking to me, his words were meant for every Kongtong Disciple.

Splat.

A sword slipped from someone’s hand and fell into a pool of blood.

Only moments ago, the Disciples had radiated suffocating killing intent. Now they stared at one another with vacant eyes.

As if the sight of their fellow Disciples, drenched in blood from head to toe, showed them what they themselves had been doing: hunting down the enemies who had survived and slaughtering them like livestock.

They swallowed their tears.

In silence, they struggled to hold back the emotions stirred by the beloved faces passing before their eyes.

“We will have our revenge. But guilt by association will have no place in it. The Kongtong Sect we build anew from this day forward must be that way.”

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon made his declaration to every surviving Disciple.

The tower they had painstakingly built had fallen. They would build it again on bedrock.

And no innocent blood would stain the bedrock beneath that stronger tower.

Then he looked at his Disciples with tear-filled eyes and said, “Cry your hearts out. These may be your last tears today.”

I quietly closed my eyes and shut out the sound.

Every member of the Fire Dragon Pavilion did the same, as did the others who had belatedly noticed the commotion and come over.

The anguished wails and sobs filled the air. There was no way not to hear them, however hard we tried.

But it didn’t matter.

No one on this battlefield, covered in countless corpses and pools of blood, would hear or remember their crying.

Or perhaps…

Maybe everyone was already crying together.

Tap.

At the familiar touch of a hand on my shoulder, I wiped my damp eyes with my sleeve.

“Old Master.”

“I was worried I might be late, but it seems I worried for nothing.”

I turned. Jeok Cheongang and the Bow Saint stood there. They had disappeared somewhere around the time the shouts of victory began to ring out.

No—strictly speaking, they weren’t the only ones there.

“Ugh… sob… sob!”

A man was weeping as though his heart would break.

He also smelled worse than anything I’d encountered in my life. I’d spent years being worked like a dog in Gates where just standing still made me gag, but even I had never smelled anything like him.

The strange man suddenly held out a hand to me.

What the hell?

I blinked, my tears already gone, when the oddball grabbed my hand, yanked me close, and wrapped me in a tight embrace. Then he began to sob miserably.

“Waaah! Ooohhh!”

No, seriously. What was going on?

After my brain stalled for a moment, and whatever tears had been about to come out disappeared completely, I asked, “……Um, who exactly are you?”

Jeok Cheongang answered without hesitation.

“Madman.”

“What?”

“Some vicious-looking mounted bandits call him Great Sir, too.”

“……!”