Return of the Mount Hua Sect (HTL 1634+)

Red.

The entire world was stained in a dark crimson.

The path leading to the peak, which seemed to pierce the sky, was completely covered in corpses.

.... His fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

A wave of nausea and intense anger surged within him, with seething hatred swirling in his chest.

"…. Myeong Jo."

He called out to the lifeless corpse of Sajil, eyes wide open, his hands shaking violently. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't suppress it.

Countless lifeless eyes stared at him.

Eyes that once held warmth, jealousy, fear, and joy. But now, those eyes were empty. Amidst those vacant stares, Cheong Myeong's gaze turned upward.

It was unbearably significant.

If he could sell his soul to the devil and cut off the head of that accursed enemy, Cheong Myeong would do so without a moment's hesitation.

But the greatest pain Cheong Myeong was enduring now wasn't from that profound resentment.

"So….."

Crrssh

The lips he had been biting down on finally tore, and red blood began to trickle down. He felt no pain.

"Sahyung….."

He took a heavy step forward.

He could see it. The figure of someone he missed dearly. But it was also the figure of someone he never wanted to see.

"Jangmun Sahyung.…"

No tears came. Those had dried up long ago.

"So…. I…."

He withdrew his hand. The gesture was pitiful.

He had lost it forever. He could never get it back.

Even if he could cut off the enemy's head, shred the body into a thousand pieces, and devour the flesh, those who had already died would never return.

Nothing was left.

Those who looked after him. Those who he looked after. Those who allowed him to live, those who kept him alive. Not a single one of them was left.

"Oh…"

Then what had he been fighting for?

He knew the cause, the sacrifice, the anguish of those who had perished. And he knew all too well that it was something so great that even Cheong Myeong could not deny it.

But if this was the price, what meaning could it hold?

A groan, close to a wail, escaped him.

If they had truly accepted such an end, why did the faces of the dead appear so pained? Did they really wish for such a death?

"Oh….."

Cheong Myeong's hand swung forward as he continued to reach out.

It was then.

"Do you regret it?"

A voice suddenly interrupted him. Blood-soaked Cheong Myeong slowly turned his gaze. A man stood beside him, wearing a white outfit that didn't belong in this gruesome battlefield.

"Tang.…"

Cheong Myeong's eyes wavered.

"….Bo."

The one who called his name wore a cold smile.

"I asked if you regret it."

….He didn't. Tang Bo was dead. He had no reason to be here.

"What right do you have, hyung-nim?"

"….."

"They died as they wished. My death will be the same. Hyung-nim bear no responsibility for that. Not being able to stop it can't be called responsibility."

"…. Bo-ya."

"Even so, feeling responsible for their deaths is just arrogance. You are not a god. You can't do everything."

Cheong Myeong stared blankly at Tang Bo.

Tang Bo's face, as he spat out those cold words, appeared utterly indifferent. Not a trace of the warmth that once filled his eyes remained.

No, it felt as if his gaze was cutting Cheong Myeong like a knife.

"You know it, don't you? Regret is something you feel when you don't do what you could have. Regret doesn't suit someone like you, hyung-nim. So…"

Tang Bo's head slowly turned. He surveyed the peak of the desolate mountain carefully but coldly.

"This isn't regret; it's fear."

"….."

"Fear of losing something. Isn't that right?"

As soon as Tang Bo finished speaking, the familiar faces around them began to change. No, it would be more accurate to say they transformed into something even more familiar.

The sight of the Jangmun Sahyung, Cheong Mun, who had died with his eyes wide open in sheer agony, morphed into a more familiar face.

"…. Sasuk."

Baek Cheon lay there, appearing as if he had died before the intense pain fully left him. His body was covered in dried blood and a chilling aura.

The sight was all too familiar, but Cheong Myeong had desperately hoped Baek Cheon wouldn't end up like this. Yet now, Baek Cheon lay there exactly like that.

"…. Sago."

Next to him lay Yoo Iseol.

"Yoon Jong…. Jo Geol, Soso, Hye Yeon…."

Everyone he knew filled this place.

"Sect Leader…. Namgung Dowi, Sobaek-ah…."

All of Mount Hua, all of the Heavenly Comrade Alliance, everyone he knew.

His world lay in ruins here.

"Ah…."

His entire body trembled like a leaf. Yet Tang Bo continued to sneer in that chilling voice.

"Do you understand? You're not regretting. You're just afraid. You're just afraid of losing them."

"I…."

Tang Bo chuckled softly.

"What a joke. The Plum Blossom Sword Saint of the world is trembling like a frightened swordsman in a corner. If the demonic cultists saw this, they'd die laughing."

Cheong Myeong's eyes flared with fury, and red veins began to show in the whites of his eyes.

"What do you... know?"

"..."

"What does a brat who died comfortably know?"

His anger and fear erupted in a scream.

"How would you know, a brat who never lost anything? A brat who left me alone and died first, what do you know? How would you know the feelings of someone who is losing everything they shouldn't lose, piece by piece, while you just died!"

"So, you're scared?"

"You....!"

Cheong Myeong clenched his trembling hand. He had repeatedly steeled his heart.

This was the right path, what he had to do, what he must do. There was no alternative. He had to fight and win, no matter the cost, so he wouldn't lose even more. Yes, he knew this, and he kept pushing himself forward even when he wanted to collapse.

But....

"Of course, you're scared. Fighting means losing."

"..."

"But hyung-nim, what you're terrified of is the process of losing. Like a child who can't do anything because he doesn't want to lose even a single grain of sand he's holding in his hands on a white sand beach."

So he fought. Always at the front, always the fiercest. That way, he thought he wouldn't have to lose anything.

But at some point, he realized that the path he was on wasn't so different from the past.

The longer he stood on the bloodstained battlefield, the more he repeated the act of cutting down others, the less it was him standing there and more the Plum Blossom Sword Saint.

So he was scared. Even if the process and method were different, he couldn't shake the fear that the end might be the same.

"You are a selfish person, hyung-nim. You don't understand things like juctice or the greater good; you only care about yourself."

Tang Bo's lips curled into a sneer.

"At first, you must have been proud. Watching the trees you nurtured make a name for themselves in the world, carrying on the will of the past."

"..."

"But at some point, you realized. That they were...."

Tang Bo's gaze turned back to the peak of the mountain. Countless bodies dressed in the robes of Mount Hua lay there.

".... in the most dangerous place. Even now, when hyung-nim is not there."

Cheong Myeong covered his face with his hands. Even in that moment, the sword he held left a cut on his cheek. Blood began to drip.

Through the fingers covering his face, his eyes trembled, lost and uncertain.

"Just like... the Mount Hua of the past."

"Shut up..."

"It's something to be proud of. A noble deed. Great... just like them in the past."

"Shut up!"

"But you know, don't you hyung-nim?"

Tang Bo's face twisted, transforming into something demonic.

"Where it all leads."

Swoosh!

Cheong Myeong swung his sword with all his might. Tang Bo's body was sliced diagonally. But even as his body was split, Tang Bo calmly continued speaking.

"You've been lucky so far. But when that luck runs out, and when your strength fails hyung-nim... the taoist hyung-nim will face this sight again. You know it, don't you? Even if others don't, you should know."

"You...! Shut that mouth of yours!"

"I wonder what expression hyung-nim will wear then. When there's no one left to blame."

Cheong Myeong gritted his teeth as he spoke. The blood vessels in his eyes burst, turning the whites of his eyes red.

"What was I supposed to do? Me! What was I supposed to do?! Tell me, what could I have done?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"...What?"

"If you want to ask, ask them."

Tang Bo's cold words made Cheong Myeong flinch. He forced his stiff neck to turn slowly.

The corpses that had been lying there in a tragic state were now all standing. Their presence was eerie, devoid of any life.

"You should have just left it alone."

"...Jo Geol."

"Then I wouldn't have died. I could have returned to Sichuan and lived happily."

The other corpses began to speak in sorrowful voices.

"I would have walked the path of a Taoist alone in the desolate Mount Hua."

"If I had stayed with the Tang family, I wouldn't have died if sahyung hadn't been there."

"I wouldn't have been exiled from Shaolin. And the abbot wouldn't have lost you on his own."

Everyone slowly raised their heads, which they had been hiding.

"Ah...."

Where their eyes should have been, there were empty hollows. Those voids stared at Cheong Myeong.

After a moment, they all began to take slow, staggering steps forward.

Cheong Myeong instinctively took a step back.

"It's because of you."

"It's your fault, Sahyung."

"If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have died like this."

Cheong Myeong gritted his teeth as he continued to retreat.

"You wanted this! You all said this is what you wanted! I... I didn't want this. I didn't...!"

"It's because of you."

A hand reached out and grabbed the hem of his robe. Another hand grabbed his foot.

Hands. Hands. Hands. Hands. Hands.

Countless hands began to cover his entire body.

Among them was a particularly skeletal hand that stood out, gripping his face.

"Sa..."

"It's your fault."

The once dignified face, now hollowed out with empty eyes, was unrecognizable. The bony hand filled with intense hatred clawed at Cheong Myeong's face.

"No... they're not dead! No one has died yet! I... I!"

"But soon, you'll lose them. Isn't that right?"

Cheong Myeong sharply turned his head.

Amidst a world drenched in dark red despair, Tang Bo stood alone, watching him with a sneer.

"How unfortunate."

"You..."

"That place is hell too."

* * *

In the deep darkness, Cheong Myeong lifted his face from where it had been buried in his knees. Slowly, he raised his head.

Drip.

Thick, black blood oozed from his lips. His eyes were filled with self-mockery.

He knew that Tang Bo was dead. The Tang Bo he had just seen wasn't the one he knew.

But that only made it more absurd.

Because that wasn't Tang Bo—it was Cheong Myeong. Every cold word Tang Bo had spoken might have been what Cheong Myeong wanted to say to himself.

A terrible nightmare that comes when he closes his eyes.

A horrifying sense of alienation that made him feel as if he wasn't himself.

And... a growing sense of loss. The feeling of losing what he hadn't even had the chance to do yet, bit by bit.

Cheong Myeong knew what all of this was.

He had to overcome it. He had to conquer it, just as he always had.

But he couldn't. His body had been betraying him for some time now. As if his body, not his mind, had already succumbed to an unknown fear.

The only thing he could do now was grit his teeth and pretend to endure it, as if nothing was wrong.

Because if he couldn't even manage that, everything would collapse in an instant.

"Jangmun Sahyung..."

Cheong Myeong buried his face in his blood-soaked knees again.

".... Help me."

Everything was eating him alive.