Chapter 1145

The Fire King, Jeok Cheongang, silently looked down at his Disciple, who lay comfortably before him.

His eyelids were firmly shut. His chest rose and fell with each quiet breath.

To anyone else, Jin Taekyung was fast asleep, oblivious to the world. But Jeok Cheongang knew what they did not.

His Disciple had gone not into a dream, but to another world.

The realm of immortals.

Jeok Cheongang clearly remembered the shock of first hearing the truth from his Disciple’s own lips.

No—he could never forget it.

A world where skyscrapers hundreds of jang¹ tall stood together like a forest; where the footsteps of humanity reached beyond the sky and into the universe; where supernatural powers that defied all reason ruled the land.

It was a world Jeok Cheongang could scarcely imagine.

But the place where his Disciple had been born and raised was plainly not as peaceful or beautiful as he had first thought.

“I have to go.”

The previous night, Jin Taekyung’s face had been more solemn than Jeok Cheongang had ever seen it when he said he intended to return home.

Even his Master had never seen him like that.

“Has something happened in the realm of immortals?”

“I don’t know. Not yet.”

“Not yet, you say. From the way you put it, something bad must be happening.”

“It’s only a hunch, but yes.”

Jin Taekyung had brushed it off as only a hunch, but Jeok Cheongang, who knew him better than anyone, understood.

His Disciple never lied.

Behind his usual lighthearted manner, which sometimes bordered on frivolous, lurked a beast alert to even the smallest change around him.

That was why Jeok Cheongang could sense the immense anxiety and burden pressing down on Jin Taekyung’s shoulders. He could feel, too, how his own heart had dropped when he saw his Disciple like that.

Perhaps that was why he had suddenly pictured his Disciple ten days ago, his body hanging limp in Jeok Cheongang’s arms.

“Then say it properly this time.”

“What?”

“You just said you were leaving. As if you might never return.”

Perhaps Jin Taekyung had been trying to spare his Master needless worry.

Jeok Cheongang had not heard everything about the place called the realm of immortals, but he knew one thing for certain.

However different the two worlds were, if the soul was erased, the body died too.

More than anything, he feared finding his Disciple one day in a sleep from which he would never wake.

After a moment of silence that seemed to last forever, Jin Taekyung smiled and answered.

“Then… I’ll be back. I promise.”

Why, then, did Jeok Cheongang still feel so heavyhearted?

He had heard the answer he wanted. Yet the weight remained through a sleepless night, and it remained now as he kept watch beside his Disciple on the long journey.

Another month, at the soonest.

That was how long it would take an army of more than two hundred thousand to cross the vast Taklamakan Desert in Xinjiang.

It was only an estimate, of course. But the coalition army had finished its preparations and calculations down to the last detail. It would press across the desert with unstoppable momentum and reach its destination.

Tianshan—the place regarded as cursed for the past thousand years.

Whatever danger waits there, it doesn’t matter. This old man will protect you.

Those who know what they must do have no fear.

A Master belonged beside his Disciple, and Jeok Cheongang would not leave this spot until Jin Taekyung woke.

Nor would the others, who had arrived and taken up their positions without a word.

“What are you staring at?”

Jeok Cheongang answered the Slaughter Saint, who sat in one corner of the carriage with his eyes half-closed.

“There’s an uninvited guest planted right there. I was wondering who the hell he was.”

“Uninvited? Why would I be uninvited?”

“Because the owner of the carriage didn’t invite you.”

The Slaughter Saint snorted and nodded toward Jin Taekyung.

“You’re mistaken. The owner of the carriage isn’t you. It’s that fellow lying over there. And this carriage was a gift from the Emperor and the Zhuge Clan, not you.”

“But I’m his Master.”

“By that logic, so am I. I taught him something valuable once.”

“You mean that Ghost-whatever footwork technique? It wasn’t much good.”

“What? Not much good? Your lot at the Fire Gate Clan—”

“Your lot? You snot-nosed brat. How dare you speak to an elder like that—”

It was a bewildering exchange for two old masters whose combined ages exceeded two hundred, especially inside a carriage drawn by the eight finest imperial sweat-blood horses. Yet Jeok Cheongang felt warmth spreading through his heart.

Do you see? Your efforts and pain weren’t in vain.

Not even one shichen² had passed since the army began its full-scale march, yet the eight-horse carriage at the very back of the long, seemingly endless column had already received plenty of visitors.

Members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard who protected the Emperor’s closest confidants. Masters of Murim, including the Nine Sects and One Gang.

Every one of them ranked among the most skilled in the vast army, and each had come asking to join the carriage’s escort.

To repay a debt.

To show even a little respect for the great devotion and effort the owner of the carriage had shown until now.

If Jeok Cheongang hadn’t sent them away with threats, there might have been more than a thousand of the finest guards surrounding the carriage by now.

A handful, of course, had stood their ground without so much as twitching an eyebrow at his threats.

“Good grief, there they go again.”

“They’ve got plenty of energy.”

“Shh. They’ll hear you.”

Familiar voices drifted through the gap in the carriage door. Jeok Cheongang felt a sudden swell of emotion and, before he knew it, let out a quiet laugh.

“Why are you laughing all of a sudden? You sound like a crazy old man.”

“Who knows.”

Even the Slaughter Saint’s sour jab could not wipe the smile from his face. Perhaps it was because he was happy.

In this harsh world, he was not the only one who treasured his Disciple as much as himself and looked out for him. The joy of knowing that was small, and enormous.

Jeok Cheongang had long ago turned his back on the world and kept his distance from people. He did not want his one and only Disciple to walk the same path.

No. This boy had to be different.

He had to pursue righteousness, practice chivalry, and win people’s hearts.

Now and in the years to come.

Always. Forever.

To see that wish fulfilled, his Master could do anything.

Even if hell waited beyond those scorching sands.

Without fail.

By now, Jeok Cheongang’s eyes had sunk deep as he watched the vast desert outside the window.

Rumble.

A huge bank of dark clouds began to spread above the fierce heat shimmer.

Everything that happens in the world has two sides, like a coin.

Where there is light, there is darkness. When the sun sets, the moon rises.

Not long after someone closed their eyes in comforting warmth, the same was true of someone who awoke in a sealed chamber tens of thousands of ri³ away.

Though perhaps opened their eyes was the better way to put it.

The one who had just done so could never sleep again.

“What happened?”

At the low voice that seemed to ring inside his head, a subordinate shuddered and answered.

“You collapsed for a moment.”

“I collapsed?”

“Yes. It seemed you had lost consciousness, but this subordinate dared not touch you…”

Crack.

Before he could finish, an invisible hand squeezed his throat. The subordinate’s face went pale.

“You dare lie to me.”

“C-cough. I-I’m not.”

Instead of an answer, formless energy crept over him, binding his entire body and choking the breath from him.

The subordinate gasped and struggled to protest. Only when his body went limp did the energy pressing down on the chamber vanish as though washed away.

Leaving behind the realization that the dead man had told the truth—and one question that remained unanswered.

Lost consciousness? Why?

The shadow left the subordinate’s corpse behind in the dark chamber and fell into thought.

An inexplicable shock had struck in an instant, followed by a break in consciousness.

Even with all her vast knowledge, the shadow could not explain it.

The shadow rose as if floating, climbing thousands of steps. She stopped only when she reached the one being who could answer her question.

Rumble.

The enormous iron doors opened before the shadow could ask to enter.

In the perfectly complete darkness, where not a single glimmer of light could be seen, he was there.

“Your humble servant comes before the great Lord of Heaven.”

The shadow cried out in reverence and immediately prostrated herself.

She already possessed power and stature far beyond human limits. Yet the pitch-black darkness held the power to crush her like an insect at any moment.

No—having grown another level, the shadow could feel that omnipotence more clearly than ever.

“I knew you would come.”

She could even hear the faint delight in that flat voice, a voice that froze the soul merely to hear it.

“You must have felt the wave.”

“…!”

“What surprises you so, Grand Sorceress?”

The darkness stirred and gently wrapped around the shadow’s—no, the Grand Sorceress’s—shoulder.

“Root and branch are one. Reborn through my grace, you must have felt it.”

The Grand Sorceress’s trembling eyes dropped to her own hand.

Rot had eaten through it, leaving white bone exposed: a grisly reminder that the body had already died. But the Grand Sorceress shuddered with joy and awe.

That was right.

She had been born again.

Blessed by the great and omnipotent Lord of Heaven, she had risen from death and returned to her master’s side.

And at last, she understood the true purpose of the Lord of Heaven’s grand design.

“Then the wave you spoke of just now…”

“Yes.”

At that very moment—

Ssssh.

A faint green light rose in the pitch-black darkness.

For more than fifty years, no one in Dark Heaven had laid eyes on those snow-white fingers. Bathed in green light, they caressed a piece of jade.

Softly. Coolly.

“Once again, the heavens have opened.”