Chapter 1063

People say that a rumor without feet can travel a thousand li¹, while information with wings can reach tens of thousands of li away.

The information merchants of Murim held that saying up as a proverb, and it was no exaggeration.

Flap!

On the day dark clouds covered the sky and death claimed the land, dozens of messenger eagles took flight at once. It was quite a sight.

They left mountains of corpses and pools of blood behind, soaring high and beating their great wings toward separate destinations.

The red-stained snowfield shrank to a tiny drop of blood. The Great Snow Mountain Range, blanketed in eternal snow, disappeared from view.

The sun and moon traded places several times. Day gave way to night and night to day, until the ocher plateau that seemed to stretch to the ends of the world vanished beyond the horizon.

And at last, when the dozens of messenger eagles had each completed their journeys, the realm of the Central Plains seethed like lava in a crater.

“Waaaaah!”

“Long live the Great Nation! Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”

“What are you all doing? Come out! Hurry!”

The news reached different places at different times, but wherever people heard what had happened in Gansu Province, they rushed into the streets and cheered.

Even those roused from a sound sleep before dawn came out of their houses more bewildered than angry.

“Which goddamn fools are making a racket at this hour, when even the hens are fast asleep… Hey, you lot! What the hell are you doing carrying on in front of someone else’s house?”

On an ordinary day, sharp words like those would probably have led to people grabbing each other by the collars first and asking questions later.

But the crowd was too excited. Cheering loud enough to chase away the predawn darkness, they shouted back again and again.

“A great victory! A great victory!”

“What nonsense is that? I asked what you’re doing—wait. A great victory?”

“Good heavens, look at you. You haven’t heard the news yet, have you?”

“You haven’t heard? The rebels from Xinjiang invaded Gansu without knowing their place, and got wiped out to the last man!”

“What? They went after Gansu?”

Only then did the newcomers’ eyes widen. Highborn or lowborn, their shock was the same.

How could it not be?

Just a year ago, Dark Heaven was a name heard only among those with sharp eyes and ears. Now even a peasant scraping out a living in a remote village knew who they were.

The rebels of Xinjiang. Fiends from beyond the desert.

Even the Demonic Cult, which had unleashed the bloodshed known as the Great Faction War half a century ago, could not match Dark Heaven’s infamy today.

The Demonic Cult of old had sought to conquer the Murim of the Central Plains. Dark Heaven sought to claim the world itself.

Defying heaven.

Those two characters said it all. Dark Heaven would overturn heaven, defy the natural order, and destroy the unified dynasty and the peace won after countless ages of turmoil.

That was Dark Heaven. And so the people of the Great Nation were still roaming the streets, cheering at that very moment.

“Good heavens, what wonderful news. But just how great a victory was it to get everyone worked up like this?”

At the question, which came from someone now thoroughly awake, a proud voice rose from the crowd.

“Don’t be shocked. From what I hear, tens of thousands of rebels were killed or captured in a single battle.”

“Gasp! Tens of thousands!”

The numbers were staggering—far beyond those of a mere cult—and so was the victory they represented. They had barely caught their breath when voices elsewhere in the crowd rose to contradict the claim.

“What nonsense! A martial artist I know told me they wiped out a hundred thousand in half a day.”

“A hundred thousand? Wasn’t it three hundred thousand?”

“What are you all talking about? I heard they crushed more than a million rebels!”

“Come on. There’s a limit to how much nonsense a man can talk. A million?”

“Then let’s split the difference and call it half a million. No, three hundred thousand.”

“Three hundred thousand is still too many. Where did you hear that?”

“Are you with Dark Heaven? Can’t you read the room?”

“Why has this suddenly become about—”

“So, are we going with three hundred thousand or not?”

“…Is that up to me?”

“Ah, three hundred thousand! Just so you know, I’m not budging any further!”

“A-all right. I’ll remember it as three hundred thousand. Just calm down.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Repeat after me: Long live the Great Nation!”

“L-long live the Great Nation.”

“Speak up! I can barely hear you!”

“L-long live!”

“Much better. Now, long live the Murim Alliance!”

“…When does this end?”

“We’re not done yet. After that comes long live the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon—no, the Marquis of Shangshan. Be ready.”

A few people were less than enthusiastic, but most common folk cheered the Murim Alliance just as freely.

It was a remarkable change in public opinion, even compared with only a few years ago.

The orthodox faction, led by the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families, had ruled the Murim of the Central Plains. But a long peace had brought corruption, and power had bred injustice.

Did wearing spotless white make the heart beneath it white too?

Still water eventually went foul. Perfect good and perfect evil existed nowhere.

But things were different now.

“Long live the Marquis of Shangshan!”

“Long live the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon!”

It was hard not to marvel at how much had changed because of one man.

Jin Taekyung.

His path, which had begun about two years ago, was as deep and immense as the footsteps of a giant.

The Jin Family of Taiyuan, once slowly crumbling, had become a power that ruled beyond Shanxi Province and across the northern grasslands. It had even joined the Five Great Families. And that was only a fraction of what he had achieved.

Jin Taekyung was the heir of the Fire King, Jeok Cheongang, and the successor to the Fire Gate Clan. He was the young giant who had raised the banner of a new Murim Alliance alongside Murim’s most renowned leaders. With martial prowess scarcely believable for his age, he fought Dark Heaven as a man of righteousness.

There was no martial artist under heaven who did not know his name.

No one doubted or begrudged the meaning and weight of the four characters Blazing Flame Divine Dragon.

No. No one dared.

Jin Taekyung had proven himself, and countless people had seen it happen.

Nor was his standing confined within Murim’s iron fence.

“To all the people under heaven, hear this!”

The Son of Heaven.

The Son of Heaven, the great ruler who governed the land on heaven’s behalf, had proclaimed his mandate to the world.

The Emperor revealed every scheme Dark Heaven had carried out. He named his only surviving younger brother Imperial Younger Brother and heir apparent, declared the fiends beyond the desert traitors, and tore down in one stroke the solid wall that had stood between the government and Murim for ages.

His battering ram was none other than Jin Taekyung, the Marquis of Shangshan.

“By the command of the Son of Heaven, I order you: unite and fight! Protect your land from the rebels with supernatural powers who dare defy the natural order!”

And so the name Jin Taekyung resounded beyond Murim, echoing across the Nine Provinces and Eight Wastes, the Four Seas and Five Lakes.

To martial artists, he was the young giant who would lead a new era. To countless common folk, he was the guardian of the imperial court, the Great General of the realm who obeyed the Emperor’s solemn command and put down traitors.

A martial artist and, at the same time, a marquis personally appointed by the Emperor.

Nothing like it had ever happened in the Great Nation’s history—or anywhere else’s. Yet it was real, and the young hero fought at every moment to bring this terrible age of chaos to an end.

Now he had won again.

“Waaaaah!”

“The Great Nation and Murim have finally united to drive out the rebels! Isn’t it all thanks to His Majesty’s reign and the Marquis of Shangshan’s efforts?”

“On a day like this, there’s no way I’m not getting drunk. Bring me a jar of wine! No—three jars!”

The story swelled as it passed from mouth to mouth. Even without the embellishments, the victory was beyond dispute.

Taverns filled to capacity, and the revelers spilled into the streets, happily raising their cups with the victory in Gansu as their reason to drink.

They praised the Emperor, thanked Jin Taekyung and the Murim Alliance for risking their lives to protect the people of the realm, and took comfort in knowing that they and their loved ones were safe because of them.

They let themselves hope, however vaguely, that the war might soon end without much harm to anyone.

“Come on, drink! Hurry!”

“Down the hatch! That’s it!”

Laughter rang out everywhere. Amid the great feasts, there was not a trace of fear on anyone’s face.

Martial artists and common folk alike laughed aloud and reveled in their victory.

For that one day, at least.

Until a peregrine falcon from the distant western frontier of Qinghai completed its weary journey.

When I was a kid, I used to be really disappointed if I couldn’t remember a dream from the night before.

It must’ve been an exciting story, too.

But somewhere along the way, I learned that forgetting a dream meant I wouldn’t have to shudder at the feeling a nightmare left behind.

Of course, it didn’t mean I hadn’t had the nightmare.

“Here.”

I opened my eyes on a swaying saddle to find Hyuk Mujin’s face in front of me. He was holding out a piece of cloth.

“…What’s this?”

“What do you think? Take it. I can’t wipe you down myself.”

“Oh.”

Only then did I feel my clothes clinging to me from head to toe. What the hell had I dreamed about to break out in this much cold sweat?

I know.

Since becoming a Hunter, my nightmares had usually featured one of two kinds of people.

People who’d died because I couldn’t save them.

Or people who’d died by my hand.

Actually, there’s been one more recently, for the first time in a while.

I remembered it suddenly.

A strange, unidentifiable dream.

Memories that could never have belonged to me, Jin Taekyung of Korea. Memories of a past lived by Jin Taekyung of the Jin Family of Taiyuan.

I was wondering if the dream I’d just had had been like those when—

Screee!

A bird cried out somewhere above me, breaking my train of thought.

As if telling me to focus on the present instead of a dream that might as well have been an illusion.

Right. Now’s not the time.

I gave my head a small shake and drew up the Scorching Yang Qi within me.

Whoosh. Crackle.

Steam billowed out, and my damp clothes dried in an instant. Hyuk Mujin’s face flushed from the gentle warmth, and he muttered in a dazed voice:

“…Oh. Right. There’s that way too.”

“Sure. Unlike you.”

“…Are you showing off?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when you admit it like that, there’s not much I can say…”

Hyuk Mujin let his words trail off, still not quite satisfied. At that moment—

Screee!

The cry rang out again. I looked up at the sky without thinking.

My eyes widened.

“……!”

A blood-soaked missive was tied to the leg of a falcon gliding overhead, its great wings spread wide.