Chapter 924

Thuk.

There was no resistance. Nothing to stop it.

The imperial family’s treasured sword cut through the flesh and bone against its edge like tofu, doing its job regardless of its master’s wishes.

“……!”

“……!”

Silence fell.

No one there had expected this.

Who could have imagined that a vengeful ghost who had devoted his entire life to bringing down the accursed imperial court and the Great Nation would choose this path?

That he would thrust his own neck onto the blade held out by his enemy’s descendant?

And yet, fate, once twisted, would not grant him death so easily.

Grrk. Cough.

Blood and phlegm bubbled through the gaping wound in his throat. Gasping for breath, the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord felt his body slowly, little by little, beginning to recover. A rasping laugh escaped him.

What a farce.

He had made himself a monster to survive. Now he was struggling to die.

The power he had once considered a blessing had become a curse that held him captive.

What kind of farce is this?

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord stared up at the sky and laughed emptily.

He resented this body that would not die, however much he wanted it to.

He did not want to meet the inscrutable eyes of Jin Taekyung and the Emperor as they looked down at him.

And…

He could not bring himself to face the child still bowing deeply to him. The boy was barely more than a baby.

No. He was ashamed to face him.

“Twelve years. It was twelve years ago.”

Cough.

He spat out the bloody froth rising in his throat and slowly went on.

“I watched from a distance as a child, still young enough to be nursing, left the imperial palace in a eunuch’s arms.”

The eunuch was Hong Jin. The child was Zhu Bao.

“I wanted to kill him. More than once, even after that.”

But he had not done it.

It was not only because Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao would make the perfect puppet to depose the Emperor and take his place one day.

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord had dimly suspected that the Emperor’s decision to make his youngest brother Prince Shangshan and send him far away was a ruse. Even so, he could never bring himself to order the assassination.

He hadn’t even known why he agonized over it so much.

No. He had known and pretended otherwise.

“That child… reminded me of myself.”

In the little boy who had lost his parents and siblings, in that small child being carried out of the palace as if in flight, the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord had seen his own past.

Messenger pigeons arrived at regular intervals with news of the boy. In those few written lines, he could read his loneliness.

“They said that far away, more than ten thousand li¹ from here, the five-year-old cried every night. His sobs were so loud they could be heard over the walls.”

For better or worse, the child was precocious. At five, he had learned the truth.

He was far more special than other children, and perhaps just as much more unfortunate.

Other children did not call their mothers their wet nurses.

“Time passed quickly. By seven, they said, he no longer cried. He’d grown lively instead, practicing martial arts day and night.”

But the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord knew better.

In those few lines of the missive, he could still see the child crying.

“He had only learned to hold back his tears. Just as I once did.”

Something he didn’t want to get used to.

Something he had no choice but to grow used to.

So the child held back his tears. Night after night, he hid from the eunuch and wet nurse who cared for him so devotedly, buried his face in his blanket, and cried without a sound.

If they heard him, they would be sad.

If his sobs carried beyond the walls, he would lose his dignity as a ruler.

Seven years old.

The child had grown up and faced reality.

Far sooner than anyone would have wished.

“That was when I finally understood. I could no longer kill him.”

Time flowed on like a river.

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord, unable to recover from the injuries he had suffered at the hands of the Bow Saint, performed his sect’s forbidden ritual and turned himself into a jiangshi. Meanwhile, the child, whose days had always been much the same, met a young man.

Jin Taekyung.

The Third Young Master of the Jin Family of Taiyuan.

A wastrel who had only just taken his first step toward turning his life around.

And that third young master of an unremarkable martial family gave the boy something his life had never held before.

A dream.

“‘Dreams come true.’ That was what it said.”

When the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord read those words in the missive, he laughed despite himself.

The nerve of that young punk, spouting such nonsense to a prince—even if he was only a child. Funnier still was the boy turning that nonsense into a plaque and hanging it in his residence.

But it left a bitter taste, too.

He had once had a clear, shining dream of his own.

And as long as he lived, the child’s dream could never come true.

“Even then, I found myself wondering what dream he held deep in his heart. What he hoped to achieve.”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord slowly turned his head.

The boy was still bowed low, trembling faintly. At some point, his eyes had filled with tears, and he could not bring himself to straighten up and show them.

“Now I want to hear his answer. He must be thirteen by now.”

Twelve years had passed.

The child had become a boy. The old man had become a monster.

And now, Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao struggled to steady himself.

“My dream…”

He slowly straightened his back and gave voice to the dream he had kept in his heart.

“Is to make certain no one else suffers the misfortune you and I endured.”

“……!”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord’s eyes trembled.

So did everyone else’s.

“That… will be impossible.”

“That is why it is a dream.”

“Do you mean to wish for it, knowing you cannot achieve it?”

“It is a dream because I will not give up. Because I will keep trying, with all my might, to make it come true.”

“Do you know what it is you’re speaking of?”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord could no longer hide how shaken he was. Prince Shangshan answered quietly.

“An age of peace and prosperity.”

Four characters that had been the wish of all the people since ancient times, and had always betrayed them.

Yet here was a boy of thirteen speaking them aloud.

He was saying that he, at least, would not betray the people. That he would usher in another age like the reigns of Yao and Shun,² when all had lived in peace and happiness.

Every word was sincere.

“I will punish the wicked and reward the good, regardless of their station.”

Uprightness.

“I will always watch over and cherish the people, and heed the counsel of those around me.”

Humanity and righteousness.

“I will respect every one of my people. I will look beyond their birth and accept their good hearts and wisdom.”

Propriety and wisdom.

“And I will sow no seeds of misfortune. Whatever consequences come of that, I will bear them and take responsibility for them.”

“Ah.”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord groaned.

The meaning behind the young prince’s final words—forbearance—cut into his heart like a blade.

“I… I could forgive nothing. At some point, I began to curse everything.”

At the end of a brutal age of turmoil, the warlords who had caused him to lose his family had turned to dust and disappeared.

Taizu, who had burned his sect and slaughtered his Master and fellow disciples, was dead as well.

But the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord remained. So did his thirst for revenge.

No, it burned more fiercely than ever.

Against those who were left. Against people who had done nothing wrong.

“But how… how can you…!”

Unable to bring himself to look straight at the boy, the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord closed his eyes and cried out, his voice boiling over.

It was not the anger he had felt before.

He was simply more anguished than ever.

Even now, he could not let go of everything.

And he was ashamed.

The boy before him was holding out, in his small hands, the forgiveness the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord had failed to find in a lifetime.

“Do you know something?”

At the sudden question, the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord opened his eyes.

Prince Shangshan was looking at him, his gaze trembling.

“When I learned the whole truth today, I wanted to kill you more than anyone.”

“Then why…?”

“Because my heart ached for you. I realized what made us different: the good fortune I was given, and you were not.”

Prince Shangshan slowly turned his head. A man stood beside him, looking haggard but entirely at ease, as if there were nowhere else he could be. The young prince’s gaze fell on him.

“I had a subject closer to me than family.”

His name was Hong Jin. He had been at the prince’s side from his earliest memories until this very moment.

“And I had an elder brother and loyal subjects who endured countless humiliations for this country.”

The Emperor closed his eyes with a low groan.

The loyal old general and the Embroidered Uniform Guards, who had been forced to seize the throne to confront a greater injustice, clenched their teeth, trying to suppress their agitation.

“When I could not see even a glimmer of light, there were people who reached out to me without asking for anything in return.”

The martial artists of Murim.

People who had stepped outside the Great Nation’s laws and built a world apart.

Yet they had willingly torn down that boundary and rushed into a place where danger waited on every side.

Prince Shangshan’s gaze passed from one to the next. One awkwardly scratched his bald head. Another gave him a gentle nod. One was rubbing his stomach as if he were hungry.

And at the end of his gaze stood a young man.

He was neither the strongest nor the wisest among them. Even so, he stood at the center of them all as naturally as if he belonged there.

He had planted a dream in someone’s heart and promised to be his friend. Now he smiled at the boy who had grown so much.

His smile was so bright and warm that, for an instant, even the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord thought the world before his eyes had grown brighter.

Chivalry.

He had forgotten that single word for so long it felt strange to him. The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord turned it over in his empty heart.

Then he saw himself reflected in the young prince’s tear-filled eyes: warped and blurred, like a monster.

“The man I saw in you was not only a sinner of the ages, burdened with unforgivable karma. You were also an unfortunate person who had no choice but to walk a different path from mine.”

Unfortunate, he had chosen revenge instead of forgiveness.

Inhuman, he had become a monster.

He had thought revenge was the only path. It was the reason he had lived on, first as a human being and then as a monster.

But he had been wrong.

About his purpose. About his reason.

“Now… you can stop.”

The quiet words reached him, and the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord went rigid.

You can stop now.

It’s all right to stop.

Those simple words melted a heart that had spent so many years burning to ash and freezing over, again and again.

At last, they brought him peace.

So that was it.

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord looked silently up at the sky.

He had resented it without end.

The sky. The whole world.

But when the last veil of anger fell away from his heart, he saw a new world.

Countless stars shone in the sky that had seemed filled with nothing but darkness. A breeze from somewhere carried the scent of grass.

It mingled with the thick stench of blood rising from the hellscape he had made.

Too late. I realized far too late.

Thousands upon thousands of people had already been killed or wounded.

And how many more would be sacrificed because of his choices?

He couldn’t even begin to guess.

Nor could he measure the weight of the crime he would bear for the countless lives swallowed up in the great war he had set in motion.

Yet here, at the end, a new fork in the road lay before him. It whispered insistently that he should make the better choice, even if only by a little.

As if that choice could make his whole black-stained life pale beside it.

—Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.

Whoosh.

The Sound Transmission slipped between his moving lips and mingled with the wind.

It passed the young prince and the Emperor, crossed the ring of Embroidered Uniform Guards and the assembled civil and military officials, and reached one man.

Jin Taekyung.

“……!”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord smiled bitterly at the sight of Jin staring down at him, eyes wide.

It was far too late. But at the very end, he had made a slightly better choice.

That was all.

—I’ve told you my story. Now it’s time to collect my fortune-telling fee.

Jin Taekyung watched the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord in silence, his gaze sunk deep. Then he nodded and stepped forward.

Splash.

Ripples spread across a pool of thick, sticky blood.

Everyone watching knew what Jin Taekyung was about to do. Not one of the civil or military officials tried to stop him.

They did not dare.

The Emperor and Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao had stepped aside themselves to clear his path.

At this moment, Jin Taekyung was the Emperor’s appointed proxy, granted the authority to execute this great traitor on the Son of Heaven’s behalf.

Shing.

A cool breeze brushed the spearhead he held in a reverse grip. As the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord watched blue-white flames gather slowly at its tip, he spoke.

“Do you think someone like me will have a next life?”

“Probably. You’ll have to spend about three thousand jiazi³ as a cockroach or a mosquito first, though.”

I see. I suppose so.

At Jin Taekyung’s matter-of-fact answer, the Eastern Heaven Demon Lord let out a dry laugh. Jin Taekyung continued in an even voice.

“But in your next life, make sure you’re born human again.”

“What do you mean…?”

“You never know. Maybe someone will help you then, unlike in this life.”

“……!”

“If we get the chance, let’s meet again. Just don’t be too late.”

The Eastern Heaven Demon Lord—no, Wei Zhong—fell silent. Then he smiled faintly.

Without another word, he watched the dazzling flames fill his vision.

Whoosh.

Their warmth, strange as it was, wrapped around his entire body.