Chapter 1076

The river there was blue, and as wide as the sea.

Perhaps that was why.

Over a span of time stretching back beyond anyone’s memory, an unnamed freshwater lake had grown ever larger. Then, one day, people began calling it Qinghai Lake.

At this very moment, a shadow was crossing the blue waters of Qinghai Lake.

Splash.

A dozen or so oars pushed through the water in smooth, perfect unison.

Gentle ripples spread in their wake. The thick mist parted, revealing the shape it had concealed.

Sleek, streamlined curves.

A hull that was not especially large, but built of sturdy wood and reinforced with steel.

A sail billowing in the wind—and, seated cross-legged in perfect calm atop a mast so narrow no one would dare set foot on it, an old man.

“What a tailwind. Couldn’t ask for better.”

At the old man’s voice overhead, the middle-aged man standing at the bow, gazing beyond the mist, answered.

“The days ahead will be the same.”

“Even though we’ve already lost our sect’s headquarters?”

“We didn’t lose it. We gave it up to save precious lives.”

The middle-aged man continued steadily.

“Someone I respect once told me that what matters isn’t the house, but the people. A house where no one lives becomes an abandoned ruin. But where there are people, they can build a palace even on an empty plain.”

“I don’t know who told you that, but he must be an old man who talks a fine game and has nothing to show for it.”

“M-Master. How could you say that? I didn’t mean—”

“Ha ha. I know. I’m teasing.”

The old man, who had just called himself all talk and no substance, smiled at his flustered Disciple and went on.

“So the days ahead will carry us along like a tailwind… I could ask for nothing more, if only that were possible. But the headwind we’ve faced has been so fierce. What are we to do?”

The middle-aged man shook his head at his Master’s teasing, then answered firmly.

“No matter how fierce the wind is, it can’t overturn a mountain instead of a ship.”

“You’re right. But what if that fierce wind carries an ember?”

“……!”

“The wind isn’t what we should fear. It’s a single ember hidden somewhere deep in the mountains, where no one knows to look. Before long, it might turn everything to ash.”

The middle-aged man pondered the meaning of his Master’s words. Then his expression tightened.

Master. Do you mean…?

A line of Sound Transmission slipped between his trembling lips.

But before he could hear the answer, the old man slowly rose and murmured:

“Even so, there should be a chance to fight fire with fire.”

At that moment—

Whoosh.

Beyond the mist as it scattered in all directions, hundreds of campfires lined the banks of Qinghai Lake, reflected in the old man’s gray-white eyes.

The sparks drifting on the wind were sparks of hope against the coming disaster.

The moment a sleek ship appeared through the mist, I knew who they were.

Or, more precisely, I recognized the old man gazing down at the shore from atop its towering mast.

Whoosh.

The sides of his robe spread and fluttered like wings.

He soared like a bird, crossed dozens of jang¹ through the air, and began to descend. Cries of astonishment rose all around us.

“Th-that’s…”

“Stepping on Empty Air…!”

Stepping on Empty Air was a supreme lightness skill that required several jiazi² of internal energy and deep enlightenment.

These people had fought a desperate battle against monsters they’d never seen or heard of until two days ago. But that hadn’t made them any less awed by the highest martial arts.

I, however, saw it a little differently.

“Now that’s a remarkable display of Stepping on Empty Air. Don’t you think so, too?”

At Jeok Cheongang’s probing question, I clicked my tongue.

“Do I look like an idiot to you?”

“What kind of rude answer is that?”

“You already know what I mean.”

“……Hm. So you’re not completely blind, after all.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was displeased that I hadn’t played along or pleased by the progress I’d made. Jeok Cheongang murmured and gazed into the air.

“Still, when it comes to lightness skills, he’s pretty good.”

I let out a quiet laugh.

Coming from Jeok Cheongang, that was extraordinary praise. But it still fell short of the lightness skill the old man was displaying as he slowly descended.

If you call Gliding Across the Void “pretty good,” every martial artist who’s learned a lightness skill should bite their tongue and die.

There’s always another sky above the sky.

Those whose knowledge of martial arts was shallow, or who had no place in Murim, considered Stepping on Empty Air the pinnacle. But there was a realm beyond it.

Not stepping on the air or kicking off it, but moving through it as naturally as if gliding. That was Gliding Across the Void. Only a handful of Supreme Peak masters, myself included, could recognize the difference. I could see it in the old man’s feet.

And in the past hundred years, only two people have reached the realm of Gliding Across the Void.

Jeok Cheongang had told me about them while I was training on Mount Jiuhua.

One had eventually come to be called a god. The other had returned to where he belonged.

To a land far to the west, to the vast slopes of a mountain that touched the sky.

Swish.

At last, his toes touched the ground without a sound, and his robes settled around him.

The kindly-looking old man clasped his hands in greeting to everyone.

“I am Cheongheoja of the Kunlun Sect. My greetings to all my fellow Daoists.”

“……!”

“……!”

An invisible wave of emotion swept through the crowd.

The old man who had appeared so suddenly with such astonishing skill was none other than the Sect Leader of the Kunlun Sect.

“W-We greet the Sect Leader!”

Urgent cries rose all around, accompanied by clasped-fist bows.

But, as always, there were exceptions.

“Fellow Daoist, my ass. You’ve gotten older and now you think you can treat this old man as an equal?”

That curt greeting from Murim’s veteran drill sergeant and the bane of every prestigious sect was only the beginning.

“It’s been a long time, Cheongheoja. You’ve got a lot more gray hair now. The last time I saw you, you still looked fairly young.”

Over the shoulder of the bow-wielding lady, who was at least from a respectable family and had bothered to use polite speech, a human butcher appeared—the man who’d become the greatest of all time through his skill at cutting people down.

“I thought you looked familiar. So you ended up becoming Sect Leader?”

“……”

“……”

The commotion over the Kunlun Sect Leader’s arrival died at once.

The Slaughter Saint, the Bow Saint, and the Fire King Jeok Cheongang.

What an insane lineup. Just looking at them was enough to take your breath away.

They might look middle-aged, mature, and boyish, respectively, but with the amount of time they’d spent in Murim, they could perform the miracle of feeding five thousand with five loaves and two fish.³

And Cheongheoja’s ordeal wasn’t over.

“Mm. This humble Daoist is late in greeting you. How have you been all this—”

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon, the Sect Leader of the Kongtong Sect, had hesitated at the arrival of those martial-world veterans. He had only just managed to speak when—

“Hello, Grandpa Cheongheoja! I’m Cheongpung! We both have the surname Cheong, so I hope we get along from now on!”

“I am Soonja. We don’t share a surname, but the last syllable of our names is the same. Let’s get along well enough.”

“Taishan hungry. Did you catch any meat on your way here?”

A different kind of insane lineup.

Pure, unfiltered madness.

The arrival of that hopeless trio, every bit as disastrous as the Three Saints, made my vision dim. Yet, to my surprise, Cheongheoja chuckled.

“Some respected Seniors, and some juniors I’m meeting for the first time. It’s a pleasure to meet you all again.”

At that moment, I had a thought.

Maybe the greatest sect under heaven was the Kunlun Sect.

“……Wow. He actually put up with that.”

The exclamation slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and Cheongheoja turned his gaze toward me.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you up close. It’s good to meet you, Fellow Daoist Jin.”

As he’d said, I’d seen him before, though only from a distance.

And our connection went a little deeper than simply having crossed paths. During the Star-Array Grand Banquet, Hak Woo—the Kunlun Cloud Dragon—had spent some time with Gung Gibang and the others. He was Cheongheoja’s Disciple.

“I greet the Sect Leader.”

I belatedly clasped my hands in a formal bow. Cheongheoja nodded with a warm smile.

“It’s been a long time. I’ve heard a great deal about you since then. That boy Hak Woo was especially fond of you.”

“Um, by any chance…”

As if he’d seen through the question I couldn’t quite bring myself to finish, Cheongheoja answered gently.

“He’s doing well. You needn’t worry.”

“That’s a relief.”

I couldn’t say I’d known Hak Woo for long, but the guy I knew was a good one.

As a martial artist, and as a person.

So I was genuinely glad to hear what Cheongheoja said next.

“You’ll see him soon. Once we’ve left this place.”

“I see.”

I already knew Qinghai Lake wasn’t our home base. Gung Gibang and the Beggars’ Sect disciples had simply come ahead to meet us; the threat from Dark Heaven hadn’t disappeared completely.

But Cheongheoja’s words did raise one question…

“Even so, the boat seems a little, well… pretty small.”

I looked dubiously at the ship, which had nearly reached the shore.

It looked like it could hold a hundred people at most—nowhere near enough to carry our three thousand allies.

“Does it look that way to you, too?”

“Sorry, but yes.”

“Ha ha.”

Cheongheoja laughed aloud at my honest answer, then spoke again.

“I suppose it might. From what you can see now.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, there they are at last.”

I followed Cheongheoja’s gaze. So did everyone else.

Splash.

Only then did we see dozens of ships emerge through the thick mist.