Chapter 1098

The human body holds more information than anyone might imagine.

And Supreme Peak masters, whose five senses have reached their limits, can read what lies behind the slightest change in another person’s expression or movement.

Just like right now.

—So, you’re planning to keep quiet until the very end?

A low Sound Transmission. Eyes so deep I couldn’t guess what lay beneath them.

That alone was enough.

I hadn’t managed to hide my momentary agitation, and the flicker in my eyes was practically a confession.

—What nonsense did that bastard the Blood Lord spout at the last moment?

As Jeok Cheongang’s deep gaze seemed to see through everything, his Sound Transmission coming as if he were spitting out the words, I suddenly realized something.

Even if he hadn’t been one of the world’s foremost Supreme Peak masters, even if I hadn’t let my agitation show, nothing would have changed.

Branches growing from the same root remain connected, however far apart they spread. My old master would have seen straight into his disciple’s heart anyway.

So there was only one answer I could give.

—Maybe getting younger sharpened your hearing.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t seen this coming at all.

Jeok Cheongang had once overheard the Roaring Fury Swordsman’s Sound Transmission when the man came to the Jin Family of Taiyuan to threaten me. Then he’d beaten him to a pulp.

But comparing the Roaring Fury Swordsman to the Blood Lord was almost embarrassing.

I’d assumed that even Jeok Cheongang couldn’t make out the Sound Transmission of someone who’d grown stronger still since the Shaolin Bloodshed. When he showed no sign of knowing anything after we returned to the city, I’d secretly felt relieved.

Looking back, though, I’d only had half the answer at best.

“Answer me. Now.”

Jeok Cheongang spoke aloud.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward me at once. I took a deep breath.

Then, at last, I told him the truth.

“You were right. The Blood Lord made me an offer.”

“What offer?”

“He said he’d give me one day. I’m to leave the city alone, sever the sinews and meridians in all four of my limbs myself, and surrender.”

“……!”

“……!”

An invisible ripple shivered through the air.

Murmurs rose from the people who were only now grasping what had happened. Jeok Cheongang’s face went stiff as stone.

“And in exchange for your life, he promised to spare everyone else?”

Just as I’d expected.

I nodded with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

“Why… didn’t you tell me from the start?”

“Because I was thinking it over. If this hadn’t happened, I’d still be thinking it over.”

“Thinking it over? That ridiculous load of crap?”

“The Blood Lord himself swore on the Lord of Heaven’s name. If he keeps his word, everyone’s safety is more than worth one life. Isn’t it?”

The Slaughter Saint frowned when I met his eyes and threw his own words back at him.

“Yes, perhaps. But you’re overlooking the most important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Trust. Whether you can trust the person you’re making a deal with.”

The Slaughter Saint answered without hesitation, then continued:

“They’ll never keep their promise. When I spoke of taking a gamble earlier, I was betting on my own skill. You’re trying to strike a deal with someone who can’t be trusted in the first place.”

I bit my lip.

Honestly, I didn’t know.

No. Maybe some part of me already did.

Jeok Cheongang and the Slaughter Saint were right. The killing intent the Blood Lord had shown me before making his final offer had been all too real. So had his vow to kill me.

But there was another reason I couldn’t dismiss this absurd deal.

“Right now, the Lord of Heaven wants only one thing. Me.”

Looking back, the Lord of Heaven had always wanted me.

For a very long time.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left me alone all this time as I grew stronger by the day—so quickly that the saying “treat someone with new eyes” couldn’t keep up—even though I kept standing in the way of his path to ruling the world.

Why did the Lord of Heaven want me?

I didn’t know.

But I thought I could make out one thing, however dimly.

“To him, I’m more important than anything else right now. Maybe…”

My voice trailed off. The hairs all over my body stood on end, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“Even more important than the world itself.”

“……!”

“……!”

The truth had become too clear to hide. It was chillingly cold and dark.

Like the air around us, frozen in an instant.

And like the other reason I couldn’t stop weighing his offer.

Whoooosh.

Rain hammered down all around us. I turned my head toward somewhere far to the east.

The sound filling my ears reminded me of water parting around a ship’s prow.

They’re coming.

I couldn’t see them.

But I could feel them.

The final wave that would break the balance of this already-lopsided battlefield—and sweep away every last person in Xining.

Sometimes, there are nights like that.

The birds and insects and even the fish are asleep, and only the moon shines brightly overhead.

The fishermen of the Yangtze liked nights like those.

Whether they cast their nets or not, whether they were fishermen or not, on those nights everyone went down to the river. They’d bathe and set out in boats, filling their cups with cheap strong liquor and drinking their fill.

Grateful for the vast river that had given them so much, they’d row across the moon’s reflection on the water, singing and enjoying a little time for themselves.

There had been a time like that.

There really had.

Splash!

Deep in the night, the pitch-black river split open.

Before the moon emerged from the clouds to see its own face reflected in the water, hundreds of prows covered the surface and surged ahead.

Fiercely. Endlessly.

It was like watching a city move. Like a wave that nothing could stop.

A mighty current that defied the order of heaven and dreamed of defying Heaven itself, one not even the Son of Heaven—the father and ruler of all under it—could stop.

And the countless flags streaming from the swollen sails had long since become objects of fear in their own right.

“What brings you here?”

Leaning against the prow, the old man had been looking silently up at the five characters painted on a flag in bold, imposing strokes: Yangtze River Channel League. Now he turned slowly and added, “Alone, and without sending word.”

At the Seafaring King Pa Ryun’s quiet voice, the subordinate who’d brought the unexpected visitor lowered his head, his face stiff.

“My apologies, Alliance Leader. It’s just—”

“Enough.”

Pa Ryun cut him off with a word, then addressed the visitor standing in the mast’s shadow.

“I said anyone who neglected their duties before we reached our destination would be severely punished. Have you already forgotten?”

The visitor shook his head.

“No.”

“Then did you think my disciple would be an exception?”

“No.”

“Then?”

Thud.

With a heavy step, Ship-Fire Boy Mu Song emerged from the shadows.

“I came to watch the moon with you, Master.”

Watch the moon.

Pa Ryun found himself looking up at the cloud-filled sky. His voice stayed gruff.

“Under the League’s rules, you’ll receive thirty strokes with the oar on deck at dawn.”

Mu Song faltered, then promptly asked, “Wasn’t it twenty?”

“You disobeyed an order and spouted nonsense on top of it. You knew what you were getting into. Thirty.”

“But—”

“Forty.”

Mu Song fell silent. Pa Ryun turned to the subordinate, who was still standing there.

“You neglected your duty as well. Ten strokes.”

“B-But, Alliance Leader—”

“Leave us. I’ll let this matter go.”

The Yangtze River Channel League’s punishment was no ordinary beating.

A Peak master charged with enforcing discipline administered it with an oar of hard birchwood, drenched in water.

He didn’t use internal energy, but ten strokes were enough to leave a man’s backside raw and break several bones. The victim could expect to spend a couple of months in bed.

Yet Seafaring King Pa Ryun’s strictness made no exceptions—not for his own disciple, nor for a subordinate who’d followed him for over thirty years.

In the end, the subordinate left without another word. By the time his presence had completely faded, Pa Ryun, still watching the river split around the ships, spoke abruptly.

“Perhaps I should make it fifty.”

“What?”

“It’s clear whose fault this is. You’re at least ten years younger and in better shape, so you can take his ten strokes for him.”

Mu Song stared at his master, then nodded with a bitter smile.

“I will. Fifty strokes should keep me from moving for three months. Maybe that would be for the best.”

“There’s a barb in your words.”

“Then you heard me right.”

Mu Song took a deep breath and dropped to his knees.

Thump.

“Please. Please reconsider your decision, just this once.”

Before the sound had faded, he pressed his forehead to the deck.

“No matter how I look at it… this isn’t right.”

But even as his Disciple suddenly prostrated himself, the Master kept his eyes on the Yangtze.

“Not right, you say.”

“I know it sounds absurd. I’ve been a bandit since I was a snot-nosed kid, too.”

Pillaging had been Mu Song’s trade.

Ever since he’d taken charge of Water Dragon Stronghold at thirty, he’d led a large family of followers, taking what belonged to others and sharing it with them.

But… he had never wanted this. Not once.

“The Yangtze is being stained with blood. And it’ll keep happening. That wide, blue river we all love.”

Mu Song’s voice had begun to tremble. Pa Ryun suddenly spoke.

“Is that why you led the way in taking so many imperial troops prisoner in the last battle?”

“You knew…?”

“Do you think anything happens on the Yangtze without this old man knowing?”

“……!”

“It wasn’t only you. The Third Disciple and quite a few senior members pulled much the same trick. Or should I call it insubordination?”

“Master, it wasn’t insubordination. We only—”

“How dare you raise your voice before me?”

Pa Ryun turned and looked down at Mu Song, his gaze dark and steady.

“This old man ordered them killed, and you should have killed them. They were people it was all right to kill.”

“No. There was no need to kill them.”

Had they been strong, Mu Song might not have shown them mercy. He had himself and his followers to protect.

But the imperial troops he’d faced that day had been so weak that spilling their blood frightened him.

“That—that wasn’t a battle. It was a massacre.”

“Yes. That’s what this old man wanted.”

“……!”

“But in the end, only your Senior Brother and the Elders carried out my orders to the letter.”

Hiss.

Mu Song shuddered.

He had to stop.

Knowing his master’s anger, he ought to stop right now.

But he clenched his teeth and held out against the overwhelming aura bearing down on him.

Someone came to mind.

A man with martial arts strong as hell and a foul temper, who’d put Mu Song through no end of trouble. But he’d also shown Mu Song that even a river bandit like him could pursue chivalry.

Jin Taekyung.

“D-Do you still not understand?”

Struggling to breathe beneath that mighty aura, Mu Song forced the words out.

“Eldest Senior Brother—and those damned Elders, too. They weren’t following you.”

“What?”

“They’re loyal to someone else. Maybe they have been for a long time, M-Mas…”

Thump.

That was as far as he got.

As far as he could endure the aura of Pa Ryun, one of the Ten Kings.

His Disciple had lost consciousness before he could finish speaking. Pa Ryun looked down at him with a deep gaze, then turned back to the river and muttered.

To the tributary of the Yellow River, to be precise, its waters already beginning to turn the color of yellow earth.

“Yes. Better to stay as you are. Even if you stepped in now, nothing would change. Things would only rush toward their end.”

Just then, the moon peeked out between the clouds again, spilling its light over the earth.

At the same time, figures began gathering among the grasses not far from the riverbank.

Thousands of shadows. No, tens of thousands.

A voice, its laugh as faint as moonlight, spoke.

“It does seem a fine night for watching the moon after all.”

Hundreds of ships bearing the Yangtze River Channel League’s flags began preparing to welcome their new allies.