Chapter 1137

Many people call the Central Plains the center of the world, but the phrase has a more precise meaning.

The true center of the world is the Imperial Capital.

Because that is where the Son of Heaven resides—the father of all his people, wielding absolute authority.

And in that same sense, Henan, which had shared in Murim’s earliest beginnings and history, could no longer be called the Murim Alliance’s headquarters.

What mattered was not the place, but the people.

The symbolism attached to a place was created by people.

Sword Saint Mae Jonghak felt that keenly through the letters arriving each day from every corner of the realm.

He had also discovered that the higher the piles of paperwork grew, the more desperately he longed for a visitor.

“Come in.”

Beyond the firmly shut door, the owner of a faint presence hesitated briefly before entering the study.

“Pardon me for a moment…”

The visitor trailed off, looking from Mae Jonghak’s sunken eyes to the piles of papers filling the room.

“Hmm. You seem busy.”

“It’s all right. Have a cup of tea before you go.”

“No, I’ll come back later—urk!”

Whoosh! Grab!

Mae Jonghak moved in a flash.

Using Huashan’s secret technique, Dark Fragrance Drift, he crossed the room in an instant and seized the visitor’s sleeve.

He spoke with desperate longing in his eyes and voice.

“Have a cup of tea before you go.”

“…”

“Please.”

He looked ready to grab the man by the collar if the sleeve wasn’t enough.

The visitor sensed a disturbing madness in Mae Jonghak’s glittering eyes and swallowed nervously.

“All right, all right. Let go and we’ll talk.”

“If you’re lying, I’ll resent you even after I’m dead.”

“Why go that far…? Besides, what good would resenting me do? You’d be dead.”

“That’s true. What kind of tea would you like?”

“Longjing¹, please.”

“It’s the only kind I have. Just drink that.”

Worried the man might change his mind, Mae Jonghak hurriedly let go of his sleeve. The visitor watched Mae Jonghak prepare the teapot and thought to himself:

Then why did you even ask…?

Of course, he already knew. With some people, the more you tried to understand them, the more you only hurt yourself.

It was a lesson he’d learned over the past few months with a certain madman.

“……You’re the spitting image of him. I could’ve sworn I heard he wasn’t your biological grandson.”

“Hm? What did you say?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

“I understand. The older you get, the more you talk to yourself.”

It was hard to believe this conversation was between a fresh-faced young man and a boy who looked several years younger. But appearances weren’t everything.

The Slaughter Saint knew that better than almost anyone.

“So the Alliance Leader does it too. I suppose we’re all much the same.”

“Hm? Much the same?”

“Didn’t you just say people talk to themselves more as they get older?”

“Oh, that. I meant people in general. I’ve talked to myself since I was a child, so I can’t say I relate.”

“…Is the tea going to take much longer?”

Just as the Slaughter Saint felt his energy rapidly draining away, Mae Jonghak finally set a steaming cup on the table.

“Drink. It isn’t my tea, but the aroma should be quite good.”

Mae Jonghak was right.

Perhaps because it was the tea enjoyed by a man who had been a City Lord, both its aroma and quality were excellent.

The man, who had committed countless acts of corruption, had vanished like dew on the execution grounds. But his tea leaves—and his lavish study—remained.

The study now served as the Murim Alliance’s temporary Alliance Leader’s Hall.

“I hope I’m not taking up too much of your precious time.”

The Slaughter Saint glanced at the towering piles of papers, which looked ready to collapse at any moment. Mae Jonghak tilted his hot teacup and answered.

“Time is always precious. If we’d lost the battle seven days ago, I wouldn’t be enjoying this luxury.”

Watching the wisps of steam rise like heat haze, the Slaughter Saint murmured as if to himself.

“Seven days. Has it really been that long?”

Mae Jonghak wasn’t the only one who’d been busy.

The past week had left everyone, including the Slaughter Saint, scarcely a moment to rest. They’d had to begin dealing with the aftermath before they could recover from the battle’s physical and mental toll.

And Mae Jonghak already knew that the Slaughter Saint, busy treating the wounded, wouldn’t have come without a reason.

“You’ve had time to enjoy the aroma. Well?”

Naturally, he wasn’t asking whether the man liked the tea.

The Slaughter Saint watched Mae Jonghak smile. Then he stirred the internal energy sleeping deep within him.

Wooooom.

A wave spread outward, making the air tremble.

Only when an invisible barrier had enclosed them both, shutting out sound, did the Slaughter Saint speak.

“I came to see you about the matter I mentioned before.”

Mae Jonghak’s eyes turned grave.

“Since you came yourself… I take it the news isn’t good.”

The Slaughter Saint’s voice was heavy.

“That’s right.”

“You couldn’t find it after all?”

“Based on what we know so far.”

That left a faint possibility, but Mae Jonghak looked doubtful. So did the Slaughter Saint, who had said it.

As soon as the battle ended, the surviving martial artists, government troops, and countless civilians had thrown themselves into dealing with the aftermath.

More than a hundred thousand people on both sides had been killed or wounded. If all those searching had failed to find it in seven days, the chances of finding it later were slim.

“Further searches would be pointless.”

“You mean…”

“I’m not saying we should stop entirely. Keep looking, but cut down on the manpower spent on it.”

The Slaughter Saint nodded quietly.

Mae Jonghak was right. He, too, thought it better to focus on what lay ahead than to keep pouring effort into a search with so little hope of success.

And yet, the unease weighing on him remained.

“I’m worried too. But…”

Seeing the shadow on the Slaughter Saint’s face, Mae Jonghak continued.

“The tide has already turned. The blades of the Central Plains—no, of the whole realm—have finally come together.”

Mae Jonghak reached out. Dozens of missives rose from between the piles of papers and flew toward them.

From the Nine Provinces and Eight Wastes to the Four Seas and Five Lakes, they had crossed vast stretches of sky and land to reach Xining. Each bore a different official seal, but all ended with the same four words.

“Exterminate the Demons and Set Heaven Right.”

Exterminate the demons and set heaven right.

It was the banner the old Murim Alliance had raised, and now those four words united the realm.

Even the empire, newly reborn under the name Great Ming, had embraced them.

“They’re coming. For the same single purpose as us.”

Seven days had passed since their decisive victory after a fierce battle.

But those who had spent the time since living each day as if it were a mere moment were not only the people in Xining.

On the day rivers of blood had flowed through Xining, enemy corpses had piled up like mountains in Henan Province and Shanxi Province.

Ma Sanbao’s head had been taken back to the Imperial Capital. The rest of his body had been torn apart and scattered across the realm.

The Azure Sky Sword King, who had already completed his preparations, had wiped out the enemy without suffering a single casualty. The dozen or so remaining Moving Formations had been shut down before daybreak.

As long as the Demon-Sealing Formation cast by the Zhuge Clan’s formation masters remained in place, the danger posed by the Moving Formations had effectively been eliminated.

It was the Demon-Sealing Formation that had allowed them to seal the first rift in Hubei, after all.

That newfound safety had lit a fuse that had long lain cold.

Under the banners of the Imperial House and the Murim Alliance, the westward advance had begun in earnest.

At the Son of Heaven’s decree that he would personally lead an army against the rebels, a hundred thousand elite Imperial Guards assembled. Martial artists rallied too, led by the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families.

Nor did it end there.

Even common people with no power of their own organized volunteer militias to stand against injustice. At last, the will of the realm had come together.

“Xinjiang. We can end everything in that accursed land beyond the desert.”

Mae Jonghak spoke in a low but powerful voice.

“The only way to stop this wheel from turning is to defeat the Lord of Heaven.”

The beginning and end of it all. Its very center.

That was the Lord of Heaven.

An absolute being who had never once shown his true form, yet whose immense shadow covered the realm.

But now that the realm had joined forces and pointed its blades at the Lord of Heaven, heaven’s will was already on their side.

Or so they believed.

…But why?

For some reason, the words “Son of Heaven” filled him with an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

He raised his teacup, though the tea had gone cold.

Perhaps he hoped to hide the unease lodged deep in his heart.

As he drank, he turned over the other reason he had come to see Mae Jonghak.

I still can’t make sense of what the Bow Saint said and did back then.

More precisely, he doubted anyone could have.

That was why the Slaughter Saint found it even harder to shake from his mind.

She had stood by, almost indifferent, even when Jin Taekyung was in mortal danger. Her words and actions had been impossible to read, as though she had some purpose no one else knew about.

She’s hiding something. I’m certain of it.

But seven days had passed, and the Slaughter Saint still had no answer.

The Bow Saint had seldom shown herself since the battle, and Jin Taekyung had yet to regain consciousness.

What should I do?

Still deep in thought, the Slaughter Saint drained his tea.

He was about to speak to Mae Jonghak, who was watching him in silence as though he had sensed something.

Or tried to.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

Heavy, hurried footsteps sounded. A huge man burst into the study.

Crash!

He smashed the door to pieces and shouted.

“Alliance Leader! Taishan saw it! With my own two eyes!”

The Slaughter Saint recognized the familiar face, sighed, and closed his mouth. Mae Jonghak felt his brief respite come to an end and answered mournfully.

“I see. What did you see?”

At Taishan’s next words, both men’s eyes widened.

“The Pavilion Master! The Pavilion Master woke up!”

“…!”

“…!”