Chapter 1099

That night was unusually long.

Maybe it was the torrential rain, which showed no sign of letting up. Or maybe it was the dark clouds that still hadn’t budged after several shichen.¹

The meeting dragged on beneath them, in an atmosphere so stifling that it didn’t end until the hour of the Rabbit.²

“Only one final battle remains. I ask every Great Hero here to rest well and carry out the duties entrusted to you.”

I sounded far more formal than usual.

But not one of the leaders gathered there seemed uncomfortable with my new manner—or with a junior so far beneath them presiding over the meeting.

Anyone who might have stirred up trouble had already been replaced.

The eminent masters and generals of Qinghai Murim paid their respects with courtesy and resolve, then left to carry out their respective duties.

All except one old Daoist, who was still sipping from a cup of tea that had gone cold long ago.

“Nothing tastes worse than cold tea. What do you say? Shall this old man warm it up for you?”

Jeok Cheongang stopped on his way out to make the offer. The old Daoist shook his head.

“Cold tea has its own flavor, as does hot tea. Besides…”

His voice was as airy as drifting clouds. He turned to me with a smile.

“Why trouble Senior when I could ask this young Fellow Daoist here?”

Anyone else might have thought he was just playing with words. Cheongheoja—the old Daoist, and Sect Leader of the Kunlun Sect—could easily have warmed the tea himself with Samadhi True Fire.

But his answer was a roundabout refusal. He still had something to discuss with me alone.

Jeok Cheongang understood.

“Spouting airy nonsense. A Daoist through and through. Do as you please.”

He gave a quiet snort and left. Once we were alone, Cheongheoja picked up the teapot.

“Would you care for a cup, Fellow Daoist?”

I didn’t know what he wanted to say, but I had no reason to refuse.

“I’d be grateful.”

“No need for gratitude.”

Cheongheoja smiled faintly as he poured. I took a polite sip, and a taste I couldn’t quite describe, along with a bitter aroma, filled my mouth.

“Well? How is it?”

“Uh, cold.”

“And?”

“Bitter. Really bitter.”

“I often drink it cold. I should have warmed it to suit your taste.”

“Mm. It’s fine. Tea doesn’t really suit my taste even when it’s warm.”

“Is that so? I put a good deal of effort into growing those tea leaves.”

“……?”

Why the hell would he wait until now to tell me that?

Cheongheoja burst into hearty laughter at the look on my face.

“I’m joking. I do tend my own tea garden, but in a situation that urgent, why would I have packed tea leaves?”

“Oh.”

I shook my head as I realized he’d caught me. Of course it made no sense to bring tea leaves when a hundred thousand enemies were bearing down on Mount Kunlun.

It wasn’t as if he were Geum Jandi, honorary Sect Leader.³

“You got me. I didn’t know you were like this.”

“Likewise.”

“Pardon?”

Before I could ask what he meant, Cheongheoja smiled and went on.

“You have many sides to you, Fellow Daoist. When you uprooted the Qinghai City Lord and his faction in one stroke, you seemed like a Great General who could command the world. At other times, you seem an immature hero who leaves everything to his emotions. Yet in the end, you have the bearing of a grand master whom everyone can’t help but follow.”

Hmm.

What was I supposed to say to that?

Embarrassed by the sudden praise, I scratched my chin.

“You’re too kind.”

“No one would think so. At least, no one who has ever met that person.”

That person.

I knew who he meant from the reverence in those two words. Cheongheoja spoke slowly.

“The Martial God. The greatest grand master of any age. Though his whereabouts have long been a mystery… I sensed something of him in you, Fellow Daoist.”

A thought occurred to me.

Maybe Cheongheoja’s words touched on a truth that was growing clearer in my mind.

Someone who had crossed between the modern world and Murim before me.

A Player who had roamed this world—a world that truly existed somewhere among the endless dimensions—as if it were a game.

Maybe that was why a murmur escaped me before I could stop it.

“…Maybe.”

“Hmm?”

“No, nothing. I just meant I’d like to become like him.”

It was a flimsy excuse even to me, but Cheongheoja didn’t seem to dwell on what I’d said. My voice had been barely audible, and unlike the Martial God, whose very existence was a mystery, my origins were known.

“I see. I believe you could.”

He nodded without a hint of suspicion, took another sip of tea, and added, “Unlike a certain Daoist who devoted his whole life to the task and never even reached the man’s feet.”

Cheongheoja had lived a life of great renown, both as the Kunlun Sect Leader and as a Daoist. Yet his self-deprecating voice held a regret I couldn’t place.

“The Martial God was a truly great man. He always concealed his appearance with a disguise technique and never properly revealed his true identity. Even so, everyone under heaven trusted and followed him.”

Cheongheoja wasn’t belittling his own accomplishments or martial arts by comparing them to the Martial God’s. He was talking about character, tolerance, and leadership.

And the conversation was drawing closer to the real reason he’d wanted to speak with me.

“Of course, even he wasn’t perfect. Dark Heaven’s schemes had taken root out of sight long ago.”

“Do you think this wouldn’t be happening if he were still here?”

“Of course. I lack the gift for reading the heavens that Master Hong Dao had before he passed away, but I’m certain Dark Heaven would have thought differently if the Martial God were still with us.”

Cheongheoja answered firmly, then sighed.

“But I could never become like him. The age of turmoil that drenched the world in blood ended, and peace came. Yet I couldn’t properly lead even my own sect, let alone all under heaven.”

I frowned before I could help it.

Don’t tell me…

My instincts said this was no small matter. What he was about to tell me might be crucial to the coming battle.

Cheongheoja noticed the change in my expression and stroked his teacup with a bitter look.

“Until now… I didn’t mind if the tea was cold as ice. I thought that if I could swallow it—if I could accept it that way—it would be enough.”

Until now.

He had definitely said until now.

“I take it that’s changed.”

“It has. If the cold made this old man sick, that would be one thing. But I can’t let hundreds of thousands of people suffer stomachaches, can I?”

“Hundreds of thousands…?”

At those words, I knew for certain.

There was a traitor inside Xining.

Dark Heaven had hidden a sword deep within our ranks—close to us.

Along with that realization, Cheongheoja’s low voice pierced my ears.

Now I understood why he’d wanted to be alone with me. Why he looked so pained and sounded so bitter toward himself.

“It’s my fault. I failed to teach that child properly.”

“……!”

As I stared at him wide-eyed, the old Daoist with an unworthy Disciple silently raised his teacup.

By then, he had heated it with Samadhi True Fire.

Fwoosh.

Warmth spread through the air. Steam rose from the tea as Cheongheoja drank it slowly. Then he spoke, his voice heavier than I had ever heard it.

“I have a favor to ask.”

At that moment—

Ding.

A System alert rang in my ears, and a translucent holographic window appeared before my eyes.

And then… a day passed.

The air in Xining was heavier and colder than ever.

Only a few days ago, the townspeople had smiled as they welcomed the newly arrived reinforcements. Now their faces were as dark as the sky overhead, as though they had some dim sense of the future before them.

Destruction and death.

The erasure of every living thing that would come at the end.

But who was it that said humans were creatures of hope? That they found their greatest strength when something was being taken from them, not when they sought to take from others?

And so they had not fallen into utter despair.

Here and now, with the last sliver of hope and yearning in their hearts, they looked toward the saviors who would light up the darkness settling all around them.

Splash. Splash.

Dozens of people marched in step, sending up splashes from rainwater that had risen to their calves.

The rain was still falling so hard it obscured their vision. Yet the countless townspeople filling the main road made way for them, scarcely daring to breathe.

Whoooosh.

Amid the clamor of the rain, the human tide slowly parted.

At the head of the procession, striding without hesitation through the countless people, was one man.

A young giant who had already carved his name into the minds of the people under heaven and the martial artists of Murim.

Jin Taekyung.

By now, everyone knew him.

Some might remember the young man as the Marquis of Shangshan; others might know him by his sobriquet, the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon.

But however they saw him, one fact would not change.

Today’s battle, and the name Jin Taekyung, would enter the long record of history.

Even if his story ended in a hollow, miserable death.

“Fuck, did a hole open up in the sky or something?”

The young giant muttered the coarse curse almost too quietly to hear. Anyone who overheard him would have been shocked. He lifted his head.

The sky was dark.

Dark as fucking hell.

“Just the kind of weather I don’t want to die in.”

With a rueful snort, Jin Taekyung watched the shapes drawing closer through the distant rain.

A horrifyingly vast enemy army.

And at that moment—

Wooooong.

The opening shot of a battle that would decide the fate of Qinghai—perhaps of all under heaven—cut through the air.

Shhheeeek!

Hundreds of ice spikes.