Chapter 1113

Nothing can be gained without sacrifice.

That was even more true for those seeking victory through war—the most terrible form of violence—in an age of savagery that had thrown law and benevolence to the dogs.

But even knowing that cruel reality, there were some things one could never get used to.

Like realizing that someone who had been laughing and talking with you not long ago was gone.

“……So, that’s how it ended.”

After hearing what had happened immediately after he lost consciousness, Jin Taekyung quietly closed his eyes, muttering to himself.

Faces came to mind. So many people who, though he had known them only a short time, had looked at him with trust.

Along with them came the stony face and voice of someone whose presence had gradually become familiar.

“It doesn’t matter who you are. The Embroidered Uniform Guard obeys only His Majesty the Emperor’s command. If you stand in our way in defiance of his imperial decree, I’ll kill you.”

“Perhaps it’s because you’re a martial artist without even an identity tag, but your manners are atrocious.”

“Thank you. For protecting us—for protecting the imperial family.”

Fleeting moments brushed faintly past his eyes and ears.

And at the end of those memories was always the figure of someone who had pressed forward without wavering.

“Jeong Hogun, Thousand Captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, answers the command of the Marquis of Shangshan!”

Remembering the voice he would never hear again, Taekyung opened his eyes without a word and forced down something rising from deep in his chest.

The officer had been so stubbornly steadfast it was almost foolish. He had always been calm, and always stood tall.

Taekyung had lost consciousness before witnessing Jeong Hogun’s final moments, but he was certain the man had faced them the same way.

Because that was who he was.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards who had served under Taekyung over the past three months must have been the same. So must the defenders at the West Gate, who had fought with their lives on the line.

They had all fought to protect others and died valiantly.

Taekyung would never forget that their sacrifice had allowed so many people, himself included, to survive.

Neither would the person beside him, head bowed and shedding tears.

“……I’m sorry, Benefactor. I wasn’t good enough.”

Cheongpung’s eyes glistened, and his voice trembled.

Looking at Cheongpung as he blamed himself, Jin Taekyung spoke in a calm voice.

“You’re right. We weren’t good enough. Neither you nor I.”

“No. You did everything you could. If only I’d been a little stronger……”

“Young Hero Cheongpung.”

“Yes?”

“If only the Blood Lord—no, the Lord of Heaven—had never been born. That would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it?”

“……!”

“If, maybe, what if…… Get those stupid thoughts out of your head. Even if you’re sorry to the dead, even if you hate yourself like crazy for surviving, bear it.”

Grit.

Jin Taekyung slowly shifted his body, which had been propped against the Inner City wall. He clenched his jaw without meaning to, against the terrible pain that seemed to reach every cell in his body.

So were the fury and self-reproach he had been struggling to hold back since regaining consciousness. No matter how hard he suppressed them, they kept surging up from deep in his chest.

His legs suddenly went slack like a puppet with its strings cut.

He caught the wall but staggered, and Cheongpung hurriedly reached out to support him.

Or tried to.

Before Cheongpung’s hand could touch him, Taekyung firmly shook his head.

“B-Benefactor.”

Cheongpung watched, his eyes wavering, as Taekyung forced himself upright. Beads of sweat ran down Taekyung’s forehead, and his face was deathly pale.

But what showed on the outside was not the whole story.

Cheongpung had poured his own internal energy into Taekyung to lend him strength. He knew better than anyone that the damage inside his body was even worse than it looked.

Some of the tears he had shed earlier had come from a terrible premonition: that he would be unable to stop Jin Taekyung from dying.

But—

Thump.

Taekyung did not stop. He did not give up.

Bearing the pain with everything he had and suppressing the emotions boiling like lava in his chest, he gripped the wall and stood again.

Slowly. Stubbornly.

Each second felt like ten years as he forced the words out.

“Think about why we survived. Why they had to give their lives to save us.”

They could not fall apart. They must not.

If they gave up now, it would all have been for nothing.

The sacrifice of those who had died opening a path of retreat.

The sacrifice of others who might be dying even now.

“Apologize to the dead and cry your eyes out after we’ve finished everything we have to do.”

He wasn’t speaking only to Cheongpung.

Jin Taekyung kept speaking resolutely to everyone around him. Their heads hung low, their faces marked by desperation or defeat. Exhausted in body and mind, they had briefly forgotten their duty.

“That’s the only way…… we can show them the respect they deserve. It’s our duty.”

Step.

Taekyung finally took a step after forcing out those last words.

“……!”

“……!”

The air around them thrummed. An unseen surge rose together with a wave of heat.

One step.

He had taken only one step.

He was a pitiful sight, a young man so covered in blood that no one would have been surprised if he collapsed on the spot.

Yet simply watching him made their hearts pound.

The heavy sense of defeat that had gripped them began to lift, and something hot filled the space it left behind.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A pulse began to spread like ripples across a still pond. No one knew who had started it, or where.

Outside the Inner City, the war drums beat faster and faster, announcing the approach of death. But that did not matter.

Not now. Not while they stood with him—a martial artist who had made his way through a mountain of sabers and a forest of swords, a marquis of the Great Nation, and, beyond that, a fellow subject living in this vast realm.

For a moment, they could forget.

And remember what they had forgotten.

KABOOM!

Even when a thunderous crash sounded in the distance and the war drums that had seemed destined to ring forever fell silent.

Rumble-rumble-rumble!

Countless enemies came sweeping down the avenue toward the Inner City, their footsteps shaking the ground.

Clang-clang-clang!

Steel rang out, and desperate screams filled the air.

Thump-thump-thump-thump!

Still, the defenders stamped their feet with all their strength and struck their weapons against the ground, coaxing the embers of their battle cry back into flame.

They thought of the countless people huddled deep inside the Inner City, trembling.

Their eyes, alight with renewed fire, fixed on one man.

“Remember this, all of you.”

His voice had grown clear. They watched the silver-white spearhead rise slowly.

“Remember what we’ve stayed alive for.”

Shing.

He spat out the words, and the spearhead gave off a frost-sharp aura.

Whoosh.

Behind him, standing tall as an iron tower, strands of violet light rose and blazed brighter than torches, illuminating the darkness.

And beneath the energy of the Zaha Divine Technique spreading like the sunset at dusk, the corner of one person’s eye was no longer wet.

His voice, sunk deeper than ever, was the same.

“I’ll do it. I promise.”

The battle was not over yet.

Red. Everything was red.

At least, everything one man could see was awash in corpses and blood.

Slice!

How many lives vanished in the space of a single deep breath?

Heads flew here and there. Limbs were severed. Some people died slowly in agony.

They had once been Daoists¹ in fluttering white robes, as refined as immortals; soldiers fed by the nation they served; martial artists and common people. Now it was impossible to tell them apart.

Covered in blood from head to toe, they had become part of the hellscape painted across Xining’s main road.

The man who had drawn its first stroke—and would put the final mark on it—watched the slaughter unfold before him.

What fools.

He couldn’t understand it.

What were they fighting for?

An Emperor whose bloodline alone had qualified him to rule?

Or that embarrassing notion they called “justice,” which did not even have a form?

Ridiculous.

Most of them had probably never seen the Emperor’s face. And the justice the martial artists of the Central Plains would die for was nothing more than something they had made up within their own little circle.

But the Lord of Heaven was different. He alone was different.

His power and overwhelming presence made the Blood Lord tremble simply by being near him.

In a world where might made right, what ruler could be more fitting?

This loyal servant will fulfill your wish.

The Blood Lord shot forward with a vow he could not tell whether he was making to the Lord of Heaven or to himself.

Whoosh!

A chillingly low whistle cut through the air. A moment later, the front line of defenders blocking the road to the Inner City crumpled, though they had not given up the fight.

A hundred bodies fell like puppets with their strings cut. Fountains of dark blood shot high above them.

Splatter!

Blood rained in every direction.

Among the defenders who witnessed the unbelievable sight, a trembling voice spoke.

“A-a monster……”

“Yes. I suppose that’s what I look like to you.”

The Blood Lord smiled and reached out.

BOOM!

A flash of blood-red light swelled and exploded. The blast swallowed the screams, scattering torn flesh and bone.

“But after he takes the world, who will call me a monster?”

It was a world where might made right.

The day was not far off when a blood-mad monster would be hailed as a divine general sent by Heaven.

Though he had failed to take the life of one man whose death was necessary for that great undertaking—

“Open the way, you worthless moths.”

Slice! Stab-stab-stab!

To the Blood Lord, it was all only a matter of time.

The Inner City was close enough to see now. As long as fierce fighting continued at the other three walls, no one could stand in his way.

Grand Sorceress, you bitch, stay out of this. Even I don’t want to kill a servant girl the Lord of Heaven favors with my own hands.

The Blood Lord was about to resume the slaughter when—

Whoosh! BOOM!

A sharp, dazzling flash blocked the steps of the monster who had seemed impossible to stop.