Chapter 690

The Nanman people revered martial prowess.

Like the Han Chinese of the Central Plains, they farmed, raised livestock, and mined gold and silver from the rivers and mountains. But in the end, what mattered most to them was strength.

What good was wealth? A plentiful harvest and a pen full of livestock still had to be defended.

Warriors. And ferocious beasts capable of fighting alongside them.

They were swords to drive into an enemy’s chest and shields to protect this land.

After a long history of struggle, the Nanman people knew this well. Even after the Five Poisons Sect was destroyed and the Nanman Beast Palace was established, they devoted considerable effort to raising warriors and beasts alike.

Great tribes and small tribes were no different. Without strength, they would be pushed aside and brought to ruin.

Yohi, Great Chieftain of the Yao people and one of the leaders of Nanman’s four great tribes, thought much the same way. If anything, her ambition made her more zealous than the other tribal chieftains.

She invested the gold and silver she had received for turning a blind eye to Baeksang’s actions in her tribe’s fighting strength. She recruited talented young people and trained them as warriors. She studied the strengths and weaknesses of different beasts and even improved them through selective breeding.

But…

Rustle.

The moment that thing rose from the shade, Yohi felt her heart sink. She had faced countless ferocious beasts, yet this one struck her like a bolt of lightning through the crown of her head.

“……!”

In sheer size and strength, no beast could match an elephant. As large as a small hill, it had a long, thick trunk strong enough to snap trees and sharp tusks that could pierce armor.

But that thing—that Black Tiger—was different.

Yohi felt the tremendous, overwhelming aura emanating from the black tiger, unlike anything she had seen before.

Th-This is…

It was not simply a matter of size or appearance. If an elephant was a small hill, the Black Tiger was Taishan.

It had neither an elephant’s long, thick trunk nor its sharp tusks. Yet simply standing there, it seemed powerful enough to cut through and crush anything.

Beast was not the word for it. A spiritual creature? No, that would not do either.

The Black Tiger reflected in her eyes now radiated an aura far deeper and more overwhelming than that of any spiritual creature.

What in the world is that…?

As Yohi swallowed a low groan, a cool wind flowed outward from the Black Tiger and swept over the clearing.

Swoooosh.

Grass and flowers bent in every direction, and the clear water in the small pond rippled. As the wind passed over her, a memory flashed through Yohi’s mind.

I’ve felt this wind before. Twice.

She had thought nothing of it at the time. Now she remembered: a wind like this had blown just before she lost consciousness from the pill Heugung gave her, and again when she first woke in that vast, unfamiliar space.

Then was it the Black Tiger that saved us from Heugung…?

Yohi’s eyelids trembled. But before she could speak, the Black Tiger turned away. It had been watching the unfamiliar intruder in silence, its blue-white eyes much like Muyaho’s. Now it disappeared behind the enormous tree.

Swoooosh.

The wind slowly died down.

Yohi approached the tree cautiously, but the Black Tiger was nowhere to be seen beneath its broad shade.

It had vanished like a ghost, without a trace or the faintest sign of its presence.

“……!”

How?

She felt bewitched. If Muyaho had not called out just then, she might have stood there in a daze for a long time.

—Grrr.

Tap.

A damp nose touched her elbow. Yohi jerked her head up as though waking from sleep and remembered someone she had forgotten for a moment.

Jin Taekyung.

Her mind was still tangled with unanswered questions, but something more important needed her attention. She hurried to the pond and checked his condition.

A faint breath escaped his nose and mouth. Fortunately, he had only fallen into a deep sleep from accumulated fatigue. His condition was not bad.

In fact, he seemed much better than when she had last seen him.

Is it my imagination?

Yohi tilted her head and took hold of both his arms. No matter how clear the water was, his wounds would struggle to heal if it seeped into them. She meant to pull him out of the pond, where he lay half-submerged.

But just as she started to lift him—

Tap.

A snow-white forepaw came down over the back of her hand. Yohi thought she understood the gesture.

“You want me to leave him there?”

—Grrr.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do th—”

—Grrrr!

Slash. Splash!

It happened in an instant. A sudden pain sent Yohi tumbling into the pond. She stared at the White Tiger in shock.

The back of her hand stung. Blood from the skin grazed by its sharp claws spread red across the water’s surface.

Why?

Her confusion lasted only a moment. Soon she understood why the remarkably intelligent White Tiger had done it.

Sss.

“The wound… Is it healing?”

It was. Yohi stared wide-eyed at the back of her hand beneath the clear water.

The cut flesh slowly knitted together, and the bleeding stopped. Slowly, but unmistakably. The sight was so astonishing that she forgot the pain of the wound closing.

She lifted her hand for a closer look. The flesh stopped healing, and a faint trickle of blood appeared again.

The pond. It stopped because I took my hand out.

She dipped her hand back into the water. At once, the wound began to close.

“…A pond that heals wounds.”

It sounded even more far-fetched than the legendary gongcheong seokyu, an elixir said to grant a jiazi’s¹ worth of internal energy with a single drop. Yet Yohi was no longer surprised. She had seen it with her own eyes and felt it for herself.

This strange space could not be explained by the four words Mystic Gate Formation. Then there was the unknown Black Tiger—and the wound on her hand, already healed without a trace.

At last, she thought she understood how Muyaho had survived a sword wound to the nape of its neck.

“So that’s why you stopped me. He’ll recover faster if he stays in the pond.”

—Grrr.

Muyaho gave a faint growl and slowly licked the back of her hand.

“Then did that Black Tiger that vanished a moment ago save us? Was it the one that treated you and Jin Taekyung too?”

Muyaho nodded emphatically.

“Why? Do you know what the Black Tiger is? Who its master is? Do you know where we are?”

Muyaho hesitated, then shook its head.

Only seven days and nights ago, Muyaho had followed the Beast Miao King and Jin Taekyung to Ailao Mountain and already encountered the Black Tiger once. Yet even to an innate spiritual creature like Muyaho, the Black Tiger’s existence was an incomprehensible mystery.

“Haah. You don’t know either.”

—Whiiine.

“It’s all right.”

Yohi stroked the dejected Muyaho’s neck, though her own thoughts remained tangled. She knew too little to make sense of anything.

Where were they? How much time had passed? And when would Jin Taekyung regain consciousness?

At least one thing was certain: the unknown Black Tiger had shown them goodwill.

It has nothing to do with Dark Heaven, at least. If it did, we’d all be dead.

Her gaze settled on Jin Taekyung. He lay half-submerged, motionless as a corpse. Whether he knew anything of what was happening around him, he slept on with a perfectly peaceful expression.

If I had been the one who collapsed instead of him… If Jin Taekyung had been awake, every problem would have been solved.

Perhaps it was only a foolish thought born of desperation. Yet somewhere along the way, Yohi had come to trust him from the bottom of her heart.

He had the martial prowess to defeat two Supreme Peak masters alone, and he had compassion and a sense of what was right. She merely wore the hide of a Great Chieftain while being little better than a traitor. He had done more than anyone to save Nanman from danger.

If she could not trust him, whom could she trust?

If Baeksang and Dark Heaven have begun moving in earnest, Palace Lord Yayul won’t be able to oppose them with his strength alone. There’s not enough time.

Most of what Yohi feared was already coming to pass.

While she had no way to mark the passing time, the Beast Miao King had been branded a traitor. He had escaped the Nanman Beast Palace, now enemy territory, and vanished. All of Nanman was boiling like an iron cauldron over hot coals.

No—perhaps it was lava that would melt even the cauldron.

Warriors from every tribe that had answered the general mobilization order marched toward the Outer Palace. With their entire leadership imprisoned, the Miao people held their breath amid the chaos. And in a secret refuge known to no one, the Southern Heaven Demon Empress smiled brightly on the verge of completing her grand plan.

Yohi knew none of this. She could not have known. Trapped in this strange, unknown space, all she could do was pray.

If Heaven exists, please…

Please wake him as soon as possible. Even if I have to die, please wake at least one person from this deep sleep.

But with her eyes squeezed shut around that desperate wish, Yohi missed the tiny, unmistakable change right in front of her.

Tap.

A finger moved ever so slightly. Concentric ripples spread across the water, traveling farther and farther outward.

I dreamed.

I knew it was a dream for a simple reason. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw a face that was endlessly familiar. I heard a voice, too, one that time had slowly begun to erase from my memory.

“Oh, what got you up at this hour? Why aren’t you sleeping more?”

My throat tightened. My chest ached.

Holding back the tears that surged into my eyes, I greeted him.

It’s been a long time, Dad.

But my lips moved of their own accord, and the voice that came out was thick with sleep.

Dunno. I just woke up.

Only then did I realize I had no part to play in this dream. I could only watch an old memory unfold.

My father, who had no way of knowing that, grinned.

“You little punk, I’m touched. How did this sleepyhead know Dad was leaving for work and wake up all on his own? Huh?”

His rough fingers poked my cheek. The younger me grumbled at the teasing.

“Ah, stop it. I’m going back to sleep.”

“You punk. Why go back to sleep? The sun’s already high in the sky.”

“What time is it?”

“Six o’clock. Perfect time to start the day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I really don’t think so.”

The younger me buried his face in the pillow. My father laughed and got to his feet.

“Sleep, son. Dad’s off to work.”

“Huh? Already? It’s only six.”

“I have to head out of town early. Might be home late today.”

I repeated the words desperately in my head.

I can’t let him go. Dad, please don’t go. Please.

But the younger me was different. He was young and thoughtless. He had no idea that this moment would become his last memory with his father.

“Yeees. Have a good day.”

The words came out thick with sleep. My father grinned at me and ruffled my hair affectionately.

“Okay. See you later.”

That was all. My father would turn away. The door would close. A few hours later, my homeroom teacher would call me in.

That was how I remembered it.

But…

“By the way, son.”

“……!”

At the sudden sound of his voice, I shot upright.

This time it was my own will—not the younger me’s, but mine, now in my late twenties.

My father tapped the watch on his wrist and spoke with a laugh in his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be getting up soon?”

At that moment—

Crack.

Everything around me shattered and fell away. The familiar ceiling. The room. My father’s face.

Something cold washed over my whole body.

Splash!

Through the spray of water scattering in every direction, I saw a woman’s wide-open eyes.

A trembling voice soon pierced my ears.

“…How?”

Who knows.

I muttered inwardly, like the young boy in the dream that still felt so vivid.

Dunno. I just woke up.