Chapter 856

Seven days and nights passed in the blink of an eye after we left the Sichuan Tang Clan.

The scenery and the people around us changed with every step.

But it was too soon to relax.

Despite my boast that we’d cut the remaining time down to two days, reality was less accommodating. The deeper we went to avoid drawing attention, the more time we lost.

“We’ll have to pick up the pace.”

“Even faster than this?”

“Yes. Faster than I thought we’d have to.”

“If we keep up this pace, we can arrive by the first of the month. We’re already pushing ourselves too hard.”

“I know. But do you think the Embroidered Uniform Guard is any different from us?”

“…!”

“We’re not the only ones on the move. We have to push ourselves and get in their way before they reach their destination.”

Jeok Cheongang already knew I was right, so he said nothing.

Information was important. But perfect information didn’t exist.

If we’d picked up some information, then so had our opponents.

That was true even in the modern world, where information could be relayed by the minute or even the second. How much more so in Murim?

Wherever we went, we were still within the Great Nation’s territory. With eyes and ears everywhere, there had been countless variables from the start. There was only one way to minimize them.

Move as fast as possible. Run ourselves into the ground.

Of course, that meant enduring tremendous hardship.

We were trying to cross half the continent in a little over half a month. It was insane.

“Captain, we’re actually going to die at this rate.”

“Then we should rest.”

“Really?”

“Sure. In Jiangsu.”

“No, I’m not joking. I mean we’re going to die!”

“Mujin. Hyuk Mujin.”

“Yes?”

“If we don’t go, what do you think will happen?”

“…”

“If you want to rest, rest. I’m not being sarcastic or hinting at anything. If you think you can’t go on, drop out. It’ll be better for all of us.”

Hyuk Mujin said nothing after that.

No—neither did anyone else.

Instead of complaining, they held their tongues and kept moving.

We crossed rugged mountain ranges and forded winding rivers.

The vast continent’s climate and terrain varied a little from one region to the next.

The midday heat in Hubei was like a blast furnace, while the night wind in Anhui cut like a cold blade.

One day, after wind and rain had swept through, some of the party collapsed from exhaustion.

“Young Hero Jin, I understand how important this matter is, but… we can’t go on any longer.”

The Divine Physician had watched the others wear themselves down. I gave him a short answer.

“We’ll rest for fifteen minutes, then set out again.”

I carried Hyuk Mujin on my back, and Jeok Cheongang carried Ju Hwaran.

Both refused at first, but this time I wouldn’t budge. One look told me they were in no condition to say they were fine, even as a joke.

Of course they’re exhausted. We’ve been moving until their internal energy and stamina were spent.

And though his title was the Fire King, Jeok Cheongang was a man of cold disposition. For some reason, he felt sorry for Ju Hwaran, who was burning up from head to toe despite the Divine Physician’s treatment.

“Is this really necessary? We could—”

“If you’re about to suggest the two of us travel separately, I’ll refuse right now.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to make it through this together. If we can’t endure even this much, we’ll die before long anyway.”

This wasn’t for my sake. It was for all of us.

The war had already begun, and upheaval lurked on every side.

Catastrophes more terrible and vast than anything anyone had ever faced.

To survive the war against Dark Heaven, all of us had to grow stronger—not just me. A blade hammered and tempered countless times won’t break even when it strikes a rock.

Jeok Cheongang was one of the very few people who understood what I meant better than anyone.

He, too, had been remade through bone-deep effort and hardship. In the end, he’d become a peerless blade that cut through countless rocks blocking his way.

“We have to make it through this together…”

Jeok Cheongang slowly repeated my words, then gave a dry chuckle.

“You’ve grown up.”

“I’ve always been taller than you, Old Master. Then and now.”

Jeok Cheongang shook his head at my answer.

“You’re still an arrogant brat. Then and now.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?”

“But no matter how I look at it, this is too much. You heartless little bastard.”

“Miss Ju wanted it. I respected her wishes. If she were in enough pain to actually die, I’d have stopped her myself.”

“Cut the crap. Anyway, your idea might be right, but I can be sure of one thing.”

“Yes? What?”

“This old man guarantees you’ll never find a partner as long as you live.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Enough. If you have the energy to flap your gums, take one more step.”

Jeok Cheongang dealt that brutal blow out of nowhere and darted away like the wind. As I watched him go, I noticed the world growing brighter and raised my head.

This is…

I gathered my internal energy and pushed off the ground. Stepping onto a branch of the nearest great tree, I sprang up above it. At last, I saw the light spreading in the distance.

It was the dawn light.

The eleventh dawn I’d seen since we’d left the Sichuan Tang Clan.

But what made the light of this new morning so welcome was something coming into view beyond the grass and streams that surrounded us.

“Ah.”

A faint exclamation rang in my ears.

Hyuk Mujin, still on my back, asked in a half-dead voice, “C-Captain. Where are we? What’s that?”

I laughed out loud.

Then I answered loudly enough for everyone below the tree to hear.

“Jiangsu.”

Empires are majestic and great.

But they can never last forever.

Not so long ago, by the continent’s standards, the empire founded by the nomads of the grasslands had been no different.

Each was a fine warrior and herdsman. They worshiped heaven and earth and were close companions to hawks and horses, but they were not good rulers.

A little over a hundred years.

That was all it took for the vast empire founded by the invaders from the grasslands to fall.

There had been a great conqueror who was both hero and devil, destined to remain a legend to the very end. There had also been a wise ruler who strengthened the empire from within and cared for his subjects and people.

But at the end of that age, all that remained were terrible famine, corruption, and countless red flags fluttering in the wind.

“You who hunger, rise up!”

An age of war began. People with blood-red flags and headscarves rose like wildfire on every side and swept across the continent.

The world called them the Red Turbans—bandits. They wanted to be called the Red Turban Army, but the world’s judgment was closer to the truth.

They were bandits.

Bandits who stole grain and valuables to fill their empty stomachs.

Bandits who wanted to steal this nation’s mountains and rivers, too.

“How can the blood of kings, nobles, generals, and ministers be any different from anyone else’s?”

They might have been shabby on the outside, but did that mean there was nothing great within them?

Steal a handful of millet and you’re a bandit. Steal a continent and you become the Son of Heaven.

Just as one hero had done at the end of that long age of war, when he finally seized all under heaven.

“My king, please ascend the imperial throne!”

And so a new heaven opened.

Born the son of a poor farmer, he had wandered the land as a mendicant monk. Now he held all under heaven in his hands and stood above everyone, with countless officials and commoners beneath him.

But even after many years had passed and one of his children inherited the throne, nothing changed.

At least, not for one boy living in Jiangsu.

“Hey, you beggar brat!”

Beggar brat.

It was one of the things he’d heard most often in his life. Even now, decades later, that moment was etched clearly into his mind.

It appeared without fail whenever he had a nightmare like this one.

“…Ah.”

Hong Jin woke with a start and blinked. Then he respectfully bowed his head to the boy who had been watching him in silence.

“I dared to dream in Your Highness’s presence. Please forgive your unfaithful servant.”

The boy, Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao, replied.

“Forgive you? Don’t be absurd.”

His composure and dignified voice were hard to believe in someone not yet in his midteens.

The young prince, much taller and more solidly built than most boys his age, continued speaking to his servant.

“If anyone should apologize, it’s me, not you. I’ve put a loyal subject through so much hardship.”

“Hardship? I beg Your Highness to take back those words.”

“No. This is all because of my own shortcomings.”

“Your Highness…”

“But set aside your worries. What you fear will never happen.”

Hong Jin answered by bringing his hands together and bowing deeply.

But as he stared at the floor of the slowly moving carriage, his gaze held both pride in the young prince and a hint of bitterness.

I earnestly pray it will be so as well, Your Highness… But your elder brother will not see it that way.

Hong Jin forced down the voice rising deep in his heart.

His master, Prince Shangshan, had been an intelligent, mature boy from a young age. But he was far too young to understand the cruelty of the world.

Even now, surrounded by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and bound for the Imperial Capital as though he were a prisoner under escort, he still had unwavering faith in his only blood relative.

Hong Jin did not.

You already have all under heaven. What more could you possibly want, Emperor?

With that question, which would reach no one, Hong Jin closed his eyes.

In the pitch-darkness, memories surfaced. Sounds returned.

The days when the blood never dried. The days of purges, when hundreds died with their limbs torn from their bodies and thousands were beheaded, their heads put on display.

And the late Emperor’s final words.

“Bao. I entrust that child to you.”

Thump.

A small jolt ran through the carriage. Hong Jin opened his eyes, turned, and saw someone’s profile through a gap in the window.

“What’s going on?”

At Hong Jin’s low question, the man beside the carriage replied. He wore shabby martial robes that hardly suited the name Embroidered Uniform Guard.

“None of your business.”

His voice was blunt, devoid of emotion. But Hong Jin sensed a cold blade beneath it.

A feeling both strange and familiar.

Hong Jin had once served as the late Emperor’s hands and feet, just as the Embroidered Uniform Guard did now. The man’s voice brought back a sensation he hadn’t felt in over a decade.

Along with a hint of puzzlement.

Why have we stopped?

This covert procession had already entered Jiangsu, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard had no reason to stop. They were people who would gladly give their lives to carry out the Emperor’s orders.

Something’s going on.

Hong Jin quietly sharpened his senses. He might not have mastered martial arts to the point of founding his own school, but he had learned them.

Fortunately, the guards seemed to decide the matter didn’t warrant Sound Transmission. Their conversation drifted through the gap in the window.

“According to the scouts, there’s an unidentified corpse about three hundred zhang¹ ahead…”

“They didn’t get close in case it was a trap, but they couldn’t see any obvious wounds…”

“It could be an attempt to split up our forces. We’ll keep moving. Stay close to the carriage.”

The murmuring conversation abruptly stopped. After a brief pause, the carriage started moving again.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

As he listened to the quiet sound of hooves, Hong Jin thought,

An unidentified corpse.

It wasn’t so strange. The continent was vast, and people wandered its roads begging for food. Even Jiangsu, so close to the Imperial Capital, was no exception.

Why did one man’s name suddenly come to mind at this very moment?

And why did an inexplicable hope well up in one corner of his heart?

Could it be…

Hong Jin had just lifted his head when—

“Didn’t you say it was a corpse…?”

One of the Embroidered Uniform Guard had muttered the words. Then a voice Hong Jin recognized reached his ears.

“Captain. I swear I wasn’t dozing off. I was just lying down for a second… Huh? Who are you?”

At that moment, Hong Jin burst out laughing, briefly forgetting that the young prince was right in front of him.