Return of the Mount Hua Sect (HTL 1634+)

As he forced his heavy eyelids open, the first thing Baek Cheon saw was the sharp, pointed ceiling above.

"Ugh."

He tried to sit up, but let out a suffocating breath. His body was consumed by excruciating pain from head to toe.

His gaze naturally fell on his arm. His eyes took in the sight of a thin, withered arm. It was then that Baek Cheon fully realized that everything happening wasn't a dream but reality. Slowly, he looked around his surroundings.

'A tent…?'

It was a strange place.

A tent is something that people set up to stay in temporarily, but this place didn't seem like one where people actually lived.

It wasn't that there were no signs of people. It's just that the basic necessities for living were completely absent.

Though inside a tent, the floor was bare earth, not covered. The walls of the tent, likely once a different color, were now darkened with layers of dirt and dust.

There was no furniture or anything to fill the empty tent, only some blankets scattered across the floor, just big enough for one person to lie on.

The place where Baek Cheon lay was one of those blankets.

'Where am I?'

Baek Cheon shook his throbbing head, trying to recall.

The ambush by Evil Tyrant Alliance, and the ensuing battle…

'The masked man.'

His eyes trembled slightly. It seemed the masked individuals had brought him here after he lost consciousness.

His gaze dropped to his chest, where his body was wrapped in bandages. The bandages, dirty and unsanitary, would have made Tang Soso, blow a fuse if she saw them, but nonetheless, they appeared to have treated his wounds.

"..."

Baek Cheon's expression became more cautious.

'Who are they?'

And why did they bring him here? By now, he held little value as a hostage or even as a person.

With a struggle, Baek Cheon twisted his stiff body and managed to sit up. Every movement brought forth screams of pain, but by now, he had grown used to such suffering.

After standing, Baek Cheon made his way to the entrance of the tent.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled aside the cloth covering the entrance and stepped outside.

"...."

The first thing he saw was the blue sky and a dense forest. Scattered among the trees were other ragged tents.

But none of these caught Baek Cheon's attention.

The tents, which looked like they were built not for people to live in, but because they simply had to be built, surrounded by individuals sitting or lying around.

"...."

It was strange.

This must be their camp. Yet every person Baek Cheon saw was wearing a mask.

Because they didn't know when he would emerge?

No, that didn't seem to be the case. To them, wearing masks felt entirely natural. They wore them while eating, sleeping—it was as if the mask had become a part of them.

"...."

People lounged around with swords slung over their shoulders, others buried their faces in their knees, and some leaned against tents, ready to collapse at any moment. A few lay half-reclined on the ground, staring blankly at the sky.

Their postures were varied, yet they all shared a profound sense of lethargy and weariness.

A heavy sense of unease crept over Baek Cheon.

Defeated soldiers.

If he had to put a name to it, that term would fit them best. Their appearance, as though they had lost all will to live, resembled defeated soldiers who had lost all hope.

Baek Cheon briefly wondered if he was in a place where the wounded were gathered. Given his battered body and the fact that he had been destroyed in the fight with Evil Tyrant Alliance, it wouldn't have been strange to be taken to a place for the injured.

But that idea was quickly dismissed for one simple reason: none of these people bore any signs of injury.

'Then what is this?'

Why did these people lack the vitality that living beings should possess?

Why were they acting like they were already dead, despite being alive?

As the strange sense of unease intensified, one of the masked individuals, who had been burying his head in his knees, looked up and stared at Baek Cheon.

In that moment, Baek Cheon hesitated. Should he bow his head? Offer a formal greeting? Should he express his thanks verbally?

After all, one of the people here must have brought him to this place. They had saved him in his moment of crisis and even treated his wounds. Shouldn't he at least thank them, regardless of who they were?

But all of Baek Cheon's concerns were dispelled by the masked man's reaction.

Grrrrt.

A sound of teeth grinding escaped from beneath the mask.

At the same time, the eyes visible through the holes in the mask glinted with intense hatred.

"..."

Baek Cheon froze on the spot. That was the last kind of reaction he had expected.

Other masked individuals also noticed Baek Cheon's presence and turned to look at him.

Some looked away, uninterested. Others gazed at him with curiosity.

But most reactions were no different from the first.

Blatant hatred, and hostility.

Menacing stares filled with murderous intent bore down on Baek Cheon.

Even Baek Cheon, who had never once flinched before countless powerful enemies, felt unsettled by this barrage of hate-filled gazes.

'Evil Sect? Or perhaps… Demonic cult?'

If he had to guess, that seemed plausible. If they were from Evil Sect, their hostility toward him made sense. Even if they belonged to the Demonic Cult, while a stretch, he could force himself to understand.

But what unsettled Baek Cheon even more was that he couldn't sense the typical Evil Qi of Evil Sect or the Demonic Qi of Demonic Cult from these people.

They were colorless, odorless. Or rather, if he had to describe them…

"Mount Hua's dog…"

At that moment, Baek Cheon's thoughts came to a halt.

'Mount Hua?'

Did they just say 'Mount Hua'?

One of the masked individuals stood up. The indifference from earlier was gone, replaced with an air of sharp danger emanating from their body.

"How dare you…"

The killing intent was obvious.

Yet none of the others made any move to stop him, as though it didn't matter whether Baek Cheon was slaughtered right there.

Baek Cheon instinctively reached for his waist, but of course, there was no sword to be found.

Screech.

A rusty sword was drawn from its sheath.

The masked man, his eyes burning with hatred, charged toward Baek Cheon with a speed that left the battered warrior no chance to defend himself.

The rusted, blackened sword soared through the air toward him.

"..."

However, the sword never came down. It stopped mid-air, trembling violently. The masked man, who had brought his face inches from Baek Cheon's, had a mixture of intense anguish and hatred pouring from his eyes.

Even Baek Cheon was frozen, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions when suddenly—

Thud!

The masked man threatening Baek Cheon was flung back from his position.

".... I told you not to touch him."

"..."

A masked figure approached from the distance. Though his face was hidden, the aura he exuded clearly overwhelmed the other masked people around him.

"You don't seem to understand."

The masked man who had rolled on the ground showed no particular reaction to the words. He simply tugged down his mask slightly, spat out blood-stained phlegm, and returned to his original spot. Then, as if nothing had happened, he sat down and lowered his head.

"..."

It was bizarre. That was the only word Baek Cheon could use to describe the scene.

He stared at the masked man for a long time before shifting his gaze to Baek Cheon. Baek Cheon instinctively realized that this was the same masked man who had saved him earlier.

"Hey…."

"Follow me."

The masked man started walking ahead, not bothering to see if Baek Cheon would follow. He acted as if it was a given that Baek Cheon would comply.

Baek Cheon hesitated for a moment, watching the man's back, and then glanced around. The others, who had seemed so intent on him earlier, had already lost interest. It wasn't that they were restraining their emotions—it was as if their anger and hatred had lost all meaning.

'What is this place?'

It was an incomprehensible place, everything about it. And the only way to understand it seemed to be to follow that man.

With a hardened face, Baek Cheon took a step forward.

The tent wasn't much different from the others.

It was a bit larger, and there was a chair to sit on, but fundamentally, it wasn't a space designed for living. Just like the tent Baek Cheon had woken up in earlier, it didn't feel like a place meant for people to live.

But Baek Cheon's perception had subtly changed, so it felt slightly different now.

'This place....'

At first, Baek Cheon had thought these tents resembled a camp for defeated soldiers.

But now...

"Sit down."

"Yes."

Without complaint, Baek Cheon sat where the masked man indicated. The masked man then sat across from him. Between them was a small, crude table, barely worthy of being called a desk.

Thud.

The masked man placed a bottle on the table and opened the cap. A strong scent of cheap alcohol filled the air—clearly a low-quality liquor.

The masked man didn't offer any to Baek Cheon, instead pulling down his mask slightly and gulping down the alcohol. Through the gap in the mask, Baek Cheon caught a glimpse of graying beard hairs.

Thud.

After setting the bottle back on the table, the masked man looked directly at Baek Cheon.

"Baek Cheon, Deputy Sect Leader of Mount Hua."

"..."

"Is that correct?"

".... Not anymore. I was called that once, but not now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've been expelled from Mount Hua. So, I'm no longer part of the sect."

Hearing this, the masked man stared at Baek Cheon for a moment before chuckling softly.

"Expelled. So, you're no longer a disciple of Mount Hua."

"....Yes."

The masked man leaned back in his chair. The grating sound of the chair squeaking pierced Baek Cheon's ears.

"If it were that easy to sever ties, things would be simpler for both you and us."

"..."

The masked man stared at the ceiling in silence for a while, then lowered his gaze to meet Baek Cheon's eyes.

"Do you know who we are?"

".... No, I don't."

"Of course you don't."

Thud.

The masked man placed his sword on the table. It was a cheap, worn-out iron sword—not unlike the nameless blade Baek Cheon had received from Heo Do-jinin.

Sshk.

Without hesitation, the masked man began removing his mask. Soon, his face was fully revealed.

"..."

Baek Cheon had never seen this face before. All he could tell was that the man had lived a hard life, as evidenced by the long scar running down his face. Other than that, there was nothing he could discern.

"I'll ask again. Do you recognize me?"

"I don't."

"I see. Of course not. Naturally."

The man, no longer masked but rather a middle-aged figure, suddenly burst into laughter.

"Of course. Yes, naturally. But ...."

Slash!

In an instant, the man drew his sword from the table and swung it toward Baek Cheon's neck with lightning speed.

Swoosh!

The blade grazed Baek Cheon's neck, slicing the skin. The sharp pain caused Baek Cheon's face to stiffen.

"But you should recognize me."

"..."

"At least if you are the Deputy Sect Leader of Mount Hua. No, or should I say, if you were once the Deputy Sect Leader!"

The man's deep-rooted hatred was palpable.

Baek Cheon's eyes flickered briefly, shaken by the untraceable origin of that hatred.