Chapter 1116

Xining Fortress, the last line of defense in Qinghai, was well suited to withstanding a siege.

But in the dozens of battles fought over the years, its high, sturdy walls had not been the only thing to give invaders nightmares.

“As expected, even those Fiends are having trouble crossing the moat.”

At the middle-aged Daoist’s admiring murmur, Cheongheoja, Sect Leader of the Kunlun Sect, nodded.

“Without it, this fight would be twice as hard. The gate would have fallen long ago.”

Even now, the moat—which was more than ten jang¹ wide and quite deep—was forcing the enemy to pay a terrible price.

And crossing it was only the beginning. Beyond it waited a gate made of immensely thick black iron. No matter how skilled Dark Heaven’s fanatics were in martial arts, they had little choice but to suffer the losses and scale the walls instead.

The walls had been in danger at times, thanks perhaps to the enemy’s overwhelming numbers and the strength granted by their Temporary Strength Pills. But here at the East Gate, the defense was holding more easily than anywhere else.

If they could keep it that way, they might even win.

The middle-aged Daoist beside Cheongheoja seemed to share that hope.

“If we win this battle, we can all return to the main sect together, can’t we?”

“All of us together… How wonderful that would be.”

Cheongheoja’s voice was heavier than ever. The middle-aged Daoist’s expression turned bitter.

“Are you thinking about your second Disciple?”

Cheongheoja was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“No.”

“Then…”

“I was thinking about the shortcomings of a foolish master who failed to guide his Disciple down the right path.”

“……!”

“It was my fault. From beginning to end. All of it.”

“Master…”

The middle-aged Daoist—Cheongheoja’s Senior Disciple, Hak Su—looked at him with sorrow.

“Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I know it. Everyone in Kunlun does. You kept your second Disciple closer than anyone else and took special care of him.”

“I had to. You were always gentle, and your third Junior Brother was full of energy. But that child always seemed rough and unsettled.”

“Wasn’t that why you gave him the Daoist name Hak Eui?”

“Yes. That was why.”

The boy who had grown up in dark, dangerous back alleys had gained a new name and a family. Cheongheoja had always urged his rough-tempered second Disciple to live up to that name and become a more righteous man.

To never forget, even for an instant, that he was a Daoist.

“But… who could have guessed he was a spy conspiring with Dark Heaven?”

Hak Su pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“I still can’t believe it. I don’t want to.”

His gaze shifted to the empty space beside him, as though his second Junior Brother might be standing there with his usual crooked look.

But that would never happen.

No. It was impossible.

Hak Eui was already dead.

Before dawn, he had resisted those who came under cover of night to capture the spy. In the end, he had lost his life.

Hak Su had arrived at the scene too late. He’d seen his master holding his Junior Brother’s severed head and a sword dripping with blood.

He’d seen his master with eyes sadder than ever—just like now.

“Master…”

Just as Hak Su looked at Cheongheoja, torn by conflicting thoughts—

Whoosh!

A sharp whistle cut through the air. A messenger came racing toward them, using his movement technique with all his might.

“Sect Leader!”

He was covered in blood, and his face was as white as a sheet.

Cheongheoja swallowed the groan that almost escaped him and spoke in a heavy voice.

“Where have you come from?”

“The South Gate. Hah… The South Gate.”

“Then the two Seniors have ordered a retreat to the Inner City?”

“How did you…?”

“I understand. It must be much the same elsewhere.”

No further words were needed. The messenger’s appearance had told Cheongheoja enough. He went on calmly.

“Go and tell them I’ll lead the East Gate forces to the Inner City shortly.”

“May fortune favor you in battle.”

The messenger bowed briefly and left. Hak Su’s face hardened.

“Go ahead without me. I’ll stay with some of the troops and buy you time.”

His eyes and voice were full of resolve, but Cheongheoja shook his head at once.

“I can’t leave you behind.”

Hearing the concern in his master’s voice, Hak Su gave a faint smile.

“The road to the Inner City won’t be easy. It may be even more dangerous than staying here. They need you more than they need me.”

It was a reasonable prediction.

The dire news that the West Gate had fallen to the Blood Lord had reached the East Gate just before the war drums were about to be destroyed.

Unlike the East Gate, where the enemy forces were comparatively weaker than at the other three gates, a retreat without a plan might lead them straight into the Blood Lord and his fanatics, who could be rampaging unchecked through the fortress from the West Gate.

Even so, Cheongheoja would not yield.

“I forbid it.”

“Master, we’re out of time!”

Hak Su could no longer contain his urgency. But then—

“Who is out of time?”

Cheongheoja’s voice sank strangely low, piercing Hak Su’s ear.

“Master…?”

“I asked who was out of time.”

Hak Su blinked at him, bewildered.

The old Daoist’s presence had changed so suddenly that the Kunlun Disciples who knew him well—and all the soldiers nearby—were staring at Cheongheoja.

Then an unexpected voice rang through the rain.

“Why hesitate? Your master, lofty as the heavens, has asked you a question.”

Splash.

A foot came down in a puddle, accompanied by a hard-edged voice.

At the same time, a man who looked to be around thirty took off his low-pulled straw hat. He stared at Hak Su with cold eyes and continued:

“Answer him, Senior Brother.”

“……!”

“……!”

A shock swept across the wall.

No, it was more than shock.

A man they believed dead had appeared before them.

While most stood frozen, Hak Su studied his Junior Brother in silence. Then he spoke calmly.

“I thought you were dead.”

“If that’s how it looked, then I was.”

Hak Eui’s face was set as he rubbed the neck that had supposedly been severed the night before.

“The fool who truly cared about you is already dead. And before dawn, I was born anew.”

“Then the head I saw…”

“You seem to have forgotten how crowded Xining’s underground prison is.”

Only then did Hak Su remember. A few days earlier, the Qinghai City Lord and several other leaders had been dragged into the streets and executed on the spot. Even after that, well over a hundred prisoners remained in the underground prison awaiting judgment.

And there was someone who could find one built like Hak Eui and make a human-skin mask convincing enough to fool them all.

“The Slaughter Saint.”

Hak Su murmured the name to himself and gave a small nod.

“So that’s what happened.”

His calm acceptance drew uneasy murmurs from those who had been watching, still hoping they were wrong.

Hak Su. It was him.

He was the traitor working with Dark Heaven.

The Kunlun Sect Leader’s Senior Disciple had betrayed the sect to which he had belonged for thirty years.

Cheongheoja looked at the Disciple he had wanted to believe in until the very end. His expression was impossible to describe.

“Why…?”

Hak Su slowly opened his mouth.

“Do not ask why. Do not question. Think only of the mission you’ve been given.”

It was an answer, and a memory: words a child born in a land beyond the distant desert had heard countless times before he turned thirteen.

A duty and a mission etched into his bones, impossible to defy even after decades.

“Heaven above and earth below, let ten thousand demons bow in homage.”

“……!”

“That is everything. I need no other reason.”

Hak Su looked directly into the trembling eyes of the man he had called Master. His face and voice were nothing like they had been before.

“I used to tell you that meeting you by Qinghai Lake was the greatest luck of my life.”

He had meant it.

No one deserved to be called a Daoist more than Cheongheoja. He had accepted his meeting with a boy wandering near Qinghai Lake as fate, never knowing the boy had made it look like chance.

“Thank you. I had no great martial talent. Even I never thought I’d rise this far.”

But Cheongheoja had cared nothing for status or talent. Even if the Kunlun Sect had not suffered such devastating losses in the Great Faction War, he would gladly have taken Hak Su as his Disciple.

Just as Hak Su had been raised to be a spy, Cheongheoja had always been that kind of man.

“It was all thanks to you, Cheongheoja.”

The instant a clear smile came to Hak Su’s lips—

“Hak Su, how dare you—!”

Hak Eui could bear no more. With an angry roar, he shot forward.

He was not the only one charging at the man who had betrayed their sect.

Whoosh!

Swift movement techniques. Formidable auras.

The Kunlun Ten Guests—regarded as the future Elders who would succeed the Kunlun Five Immortals, and as indispensable pillars of the sect—drew their swords without hesitation.

Slice!

A flash of steel cut into a torso. Hot blood gushed out.

Splatter. Thud, thud.

Blood sprayed across the wall.

Cheongheoja had stepped in front of Hak Eui. Over his master’s shoulder, Hak Eui saw something he could scarcely believe.

“What…?”

“I was getting tired of being called Hak Su.”

Hak Su—or rather, Dark Heaven’s spy—looked at the five corpses lying with severed throats and pierced hearts. Then he slowly raised his head.

Beside him stood the other shadows who had infiltrated the Kunlun Sect before him, or around the same time.

“Number Six. That is my name.”

At that moment—

Crunch.

The Kunlun Five Guests—the five remaining members, spies raised by Dark Heaven—took the Temporary Strength Pills hidden in their robes and chewed them.

Sssssss!

A vast wave of energy rose like wildfire. Through it, Cheongheoja’s low voice rang out.

“I truly cannot leave you behind.”