Chapter 1105

Was it because Xining had endured one foreign invasion after another over the years?

The four walls surrounding the city now ran a full ten ri¹ in length, enclosing a vast area behind fortifications whose strength was rarely seen even in the Central Plains.

But everything had its advantages and drawbacks.

The walls had been reinforced little by little over time, making them better at keeping invaders out. They had also given the defenders far more ground to cover.

To communicate across those distances, the defenders relied on war drums and flags stationed along the walls.

But at this moment, the blood-red flash that suddenly erupted in the west rendered them all useless.

Fwoooosh.

Would it look like this if dozens—hundreds—of sunsets overlapped?

In the slowing world, countless eyes widened at a sight none of them could describe.

The soldiers on a dozen or more watchtowers, beating their assigned war drums and waving their flags with all their strength.

The people hiding in Xining’s Inner City, clutching their families and peering through cracks in the doors.

The combined forces of the imperial troops and Murim warriors, fighting back the enemies surging toward them like waves—even the Supreme Peak masters at the heart and forefront of their ranks, cutting down enemy after enemy without pause.

And the moment they all felt a chill climb their spines—

Pop.

The blood-red flash rising over the western wall swelled.

No—it exploded in a vivid, horrifying burst of red light.

Rumble-rumble-rumble!

A roar left their ears ringing.

The ground shook. The entire stone wall trembled.

Then a colossal shock wave surged over the western wall and crashed down on the people frozen like statues.

“Watch out—!”

KA-BOOOOM!

The rushing wind swallowed someone’s single shout and swept across everything.

The North Gate was no different.

Dust, shattered rock, even blades that had lost their owners flew through the air. Everyone ducked and threw themselves toward cover.

Everyone except one man, still holding the front line.

Fwoosh—BOOM!

He drove out a fist, and flames burst forth, devouring the space before him.

Even that storm, like a natural disaster, bowed before the heat. Everything hurtling toward the defenders at the North Gate evaporated in an instant.

Shhhhh.

Ash drifted slowly away on the now-gentle breeze.

But the eyes of the man who had protected his allies from the unexpected threat—Fire King Jeok Cheongang—were more somber than ever.

…What in the world was that?

Though he held the chief seat among the Ten Kings, he had already reached a realm where he could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Three Saints.

He could feel it against his skin, with every one of his senses: the immense power contained in that distant blood-red flash.

And if the blast had reached the North Gate, more than two hundred jang² away, what state must the West Gate—the source of it all—be in?

Blood Lord, how did you…?

Jeok Cheongang bit his lip without realizing it.

The Blood Lord’s martial prowess had advanced unmistakably since their encounter at Mount Song. But what weighed on his heart was the voice of someone he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I’ll take the West Gate.”

Jin Taekyung.

When his Disciple had said that just before the battle, Jeok Cheongang had answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“Absolutely not. Instead of spouting that nonsense, do one more complete circulation. And don’t go getting yourself stabbed because you were fooling around.”

“My internal energy’s in great shape, and I can take a few stabs. So I’ll take responsibility for the West Gate.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?”

“You have to ask? That damned bastard has been mine for a long time. Today, I’ll finally collect the blood debt from that day.”

Jeok Cheongang’s answer had been both true and untrue.

He did want revenge for Hong Dao, his old friend. But the more important reason was that the enemy’s main force, including the Blood Lord, was stationed at the West Gate.

His Disciple was a reckless brat who’d long since thrown manners out the window. But he was his one and only Disciple.

He’d become more precious to Jeok Cheongang than anything else in the world. Jeok couldn’t leave him alone in the most dangerous place.

Of course, Taekyung knew his Master far too well for Jeok Cheongang to hide that bashful concern behind roundabout words.

“There you go worrying again. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Worry? Don’t be ridiculous. Just know that it’s absolutely out of the question.”

“I’ll be fine. I have no intention of dying a pointless death. Do you think I’m crazy? I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have something to count on.”

“And what would that be?”

“You know already. As long as the Lord of Heaven wants me this badly, those guys can’t lay a finger on me. Well, I might get a little hurt.”

“That…”

Even Jeok Cheongang couldn’t easily argue with that.

Ever since the incidents at Mount Song and Sichuan, powerful enemies—including the Southern Heaven Demon Empress—had been decidedly reluctant to take Jin Taekyung’s life. The battle in Gansu had confirmed his suspicions.

Seeing his Master waver, Jin Taekyung drove in the final nail.

“No matter which gate I take, they’ll follow me. I’m their most important target. So I might as well take the West Gate—it’s the best-defended. Right?”

Every word he’d said had been right from beginning to end. In the end, Jeok Cheongang had no choice but to give in and head reluctantly to the North Gate.

But—

I shouldn’t have done it.

Now he regretted that decision with all his heart.

He’d judged wrong.

The Blood Lord’s martial prowess far exceeded anything he’d imagined, and Jin Taekyung, knowing exactly how his Master would react, had lied without batting an eye.

At this rate… that boy’s in danger.

The attack they had all just witnessed could only have come from someone intent on killing.

So, though his body had grown young again, his heart was still that of an old man. Feeling himself grow impatient, Jeok Cheongang turned toward the west.

No—he was about to turn.

Until the next instant, when he sensed a sharp thread of killing intent shooting like a needle from beyond the wall.

“Where are you rushing off to, donor³?”

The voice was low.

Yet the several jiazi⁴ of internal energy within it were enough to shake the area around the North Gate.

So was the terrifying aura emanating from the old monk standing atop a colossal elephant, the likes of which Jeok Cheongang had never seen even at the Nanman Beast Palace.

“If you leave now, donor³, I’ll have come all this way for nothing.”

His frame was tiny, his skin deeply wrinkled with age.

But his presence was like that of a giant, and Jeok Cheongang already knew who he was.

He also knew what it meant that this old monk—the Dalai Lama, Palace Lord of the Potala Palace—had appeared at the North Gate leading all those troops.

“…You planned this. From the beginning.”

The words escaped him in a low groan.

Then the Dalai Lama spoke, turning his ominous suspicion into certainty.

“The Fire Gate Clan’s line will end. Right here, today.”

At that moment—

Bwaaaaaaa!

A war horn sounded. As the Potala Palace forces surged toward him, Jeok Cheongang gritted his teeth without realizing it.

Crack.

His lips went white. His nails dug deep into his skin, and hot blood ran from beneath them. His turmoil had no other outlet.

It wasn’t too late.

He had to go. Even now.

To his Disciple. To Jin Taekyung.

But—

“P-Potala Palace! They’ve joined the battle!”

“Arrows! Bring more arrows!”

“Form a defensive line! Don’t retreat, even if it costs us our lives!”

“Sir Jeok, we don’t have time to hesitate!”

Shouts and screams from every direction held him in place.

Eyes full of fear, resolve, or faith seemed to seize his hands and close around his throat. The urgent voice of Perfected Being Hyeoncheon, defending the North Gate alongside him, pierced his ears.

What would he have done? What would that boy have done?

Jeok Cheongang put the question to himself and squeezed his eyes shut.

In that brief, profound darkness, he recalled the conversation he’d had with his Disciple the day before.

“I never wanted to be a hero.”

“That doesn’t matter. You don’t become a hero just because you want to. You earn the right when the world calls you one.”

“Like people call you a Great Hero, Old Master?”

“What?”

“You just said it yourself. You didn’t set out to follow some great cause. You just went where your feet led you, where the wind took you, and before you knew it, people were calling you a Great Hero.”

“……!”

He remembered it clearly.

The bright smile Taekyung had given him when he was left speechless. His playful expression. His clear eyes.

Perhaps that was what Jeok Cheongang feared more than anything else.

Perhaps the thought that he might never see that face again had come first.

But when Jeok Cheongang had asked whether he was still afraid of the enemy, his Disciple had nodded without hesitation and added:

“Even so, I won’t turn away from that fear.”

Calm. Resolute.

And everything that had happened that day was the answer to the question Jeok Cheongang had just asked himself.

Fwoooosh.

In an instant, tremendous heat swallowed the space.

His eyelids rose slowly. His eyes glowed red with heat, blazing like flames.

He faced the Dalai Lama and the Twelve Secret Monks flying through the air toward him.

Toward the two Black Ghosts who had appeared, and the vast enemy army surging in behind them.

Grnnnnk.

As the space warped under the unbearable heat, the giant of fire roared with all his might.

“Come!”

As if he meant to burn the whole world.

“This old man is Jeok Cheongang, the eighteenth Sect Leader of the great Fire Gate Clan—the Fire King!”

He hoped his roar would reach his Disciple.