Return of the Mount Hua Sect (HTL 1634+)

❀ ❀ ❀

The air around seemed to still, sinking into a quiet calm.

Those shouting boisterously, those rushing in with tension etched across their faces, those overcome by fear and thrashing wildly...

One by one, they faded from view. Until only one person remained.

Tang Gunak stared at that one individual standing before him with piercing eyes.

There was no trace of the aura typical of the evil sect—no palpable sense of their sinister energy. Yet it was far from the righteous sect either. Instead, there was an overwhelming sense of freedom.

Tang Gunak knew people who exuded such a feeling.

'Ronin.'

Drifters without affiliation, relying solely on the blade strapped to their waist to survive. And because of this, they were destined never to step into the pinnacle realm of martial arts.

And yet, from within the body concealed beneath those clothes, he could sense explosive power lying dormant.

"It's like a beast wearing human clothing and pretending to be one."

Tang Gunak's instincts spoke to him. The power of this man could rival the likes of Thousand-Faced Manipulator or the Sun Palace Lord.

At that moment, Jeok Ho's sword moved.

Swoosh.

Tang Gunak twisted his body and reflexively unleashed two daggers from his sleeve.

Clang!

Jeok Ho's sword aura grazed past Tang Gunak's side, while Tang Gunak's daggers ricocheted off Jeok Ho's blade and flew upward. Catching the airborne daggers, Tang Gunak shot Jeok Ho a sharp glare.

Tension thickened between the two.

The sharp aftermath of the sword aura brushing past left Tang Gunak's skin stinging.

It was Jeok Ho who broke the silence.

"It's a well-deserved reputation."

"…That doesn't seem like the most appropriate phrase to use right now."

If the saying that fame never spreads in vain is true, then those with true skill naturally gain renown. But the man standing before Tang Gunak was the perfect contradiction to that.

Someone this skilled, and yet without a name...

Tang Gunak's expression hardened as a realization struck him. This formidable skill, and that...

"The Black Blade." [목도(墨刀)]

He stared at the black blade in Jeok Ho's hand, and one figure came to mind.

"The one who led the pursuit when the Tang family retreated to Shaanxi."

Jeok Ho's gaze shifted.

"The one who killed Elder Tang Wei and massacred countless members of the Tang family... Jang Ilso's dog."

"....."

"I heard his favorite weapon was the Black Blade."

A murderous aura flickered in Tang Gunak's eyes.

"Was it you?"

At the time, Tang Gunak had arrived too late to witness the killer. But he had seen, in vivid detail, the gruesome corpses of his kin torn apart by that blade. He hadn't forgotten for a single day.

"Answer me."

"I don't want unnecessary emotions to get involved in the fight, but…"

Jeok Ho nodded calmly.

"That was my doing."

Tang Gunak's lips curled into a slow, twisted smile.

"You dared to appear before me."

"I merely follow orders."

Tang Gunak chuckled darkly. He understood well that this man was nothing more than a hunting dog. If a dog kills on its master's command, the master bears the responsibility.

However, that was no reason to let the hunting dog live.

Fwoosh!

Clang!

The sound of daggers being hurled and deflected erupted almost simultaneously. While the clash resembled their earlier skirmish, the aftermath was markedly different.

Shudder.

Jeok Ho's Black Blade, which had deflected the daggers, trembled faintly. Jeok Ho glanced at his wrist, his expression stiffening. Even after merely blocking small daggers, his wrist throbbed as if he had faced a massive force.

"Then let me make it clear."

"....."

"You will die because of that command."

At Tang Gunak's low, grim declaration, Jeok Ho bared his teeth in a grin.

"As you wish."

Jeok Ho tightened his grip on his blade and charged at Tang Gunak. 

❀ ❀ ❀

Shiiing!

Cheong Myeong's sword cleaved through those in his path, splitting them in half. 

Even as his opponents recoiled and retreated rather than charging forward, there was not a trace of mercy in his strikes. It was a display far removed from what one would expect of a Taoist's sword.

If Cheong Mun were to see this, he might furrow his brows. If Hyun Jong were to witness it, he would likely turn his head away.

But Cheong Myeong's sword held no hesitation.

While his opponents might appear weak before him, they could very well be absolute forces of oppression to someone else. The mercy Cheong Myeong recklessly granted could transform into an unchallengeable tyranny for others.

"S-Spare me..."

Crunch!

As one man, trembling and urinating in fear, desperately waved his hands, Cheong Myeong's Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword plunged into his throat. 

"Urgk..."

The man's bulging eyes brimmed with resentment, terror, and desperation. And then, all those emotions faded into a dull gray. 

To the dead, and to the one who killed him.

"Cough."

Suddenly, Cheong Myeong let out a faint cough. A metallic taste rose in his throat, but he clenched his teeth and swallowed it back down.

'Damn it.'

The energy that the Dalai Lama had painstakingly suppressed within him surged forth the moment he unsheathed his sword. The more he channeled his internal energy and swung his sword, the quicker it gnawed away at him.

Even so, Cheong Myeong had no intention of stopping.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

The cornered members of the Evil Tyrant Alliance lunged at him in desperation.

"Die, you monster! Gaaaah!"

The threatening shouts pierced his ears, but the fervor carried nothing but fear. 

Cheong Myeong deflected three incoming swords. Then, spinning his body in a fluid motion, he slashed a perfect arc into the air with the tip of his sword.

Swish!

Three heads simultaneously soared into the air.

Clang!

Cheong Myeong followed through, swinging his sword to bat away the severed heads. One of the heads struck the chest of an enemy who had been attempting to ambush him from behind.

"Urk!"

The struck Evil Tyrant Alliance warrior staggered backward, only to freeze in horror upon realizing what had just hit him.

"W-Waaaaah!"

Even those accustomed to the brutal nature of the martial world shrieked in terror at Cheong Myeong's ruthless efficiency. And before the screaming warrior could process it, his head was swiftly severed, just like the others.

Slash!

Hot blood sprayed everywhere, speckling Cheong Myeong's face. He didn't bother wiping it away; instead, he simply turned his cold gaze toward the remaining Evil Tyrant Alliance warriors, who were still alive—for now.

"Ugh..."

"Ah... ah..."

The ones caught in his stare froze where they stood.

It wasn't just the overwhelming strength of their opponent. This was a primal fear—the kind felt by a small animal standing before a colossal predator. The kind that left one paralyzed in place.

And this predator had no intention of sparing prey that had shown its weakness.

Boom!

Cheong Myeong stomped on the ground with immense force, launching himself forward like a tightly wound spring. The rotation of his body transferred every ounce of energy into his sword.

Then came a long strike!

Swoooosh!

Cheong Myeong's sword cleaved through the air with force. The crimson sword aura extended outward, swiftly and mercilessly sweeping through everything in its path.

The Evil Tyrant Alliance warriors, panicking, tried to retreat, but their bodies, frozen in fear, refused to obey their minds. In the end, the inevitable massacre unfolded.

Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

Heads, torsos, arms, and legs—everything the sword aura touched was severed.

By the time it was over, a massive semi-circular area around Cheong Myeong was littered with broken bodies and pools of blood. Even in the chaos of this battlefield, this spectacle stood out.

"Ah…"

In one blow, dozens of lives were snuffed out. Those who witnessed the carnage trembled as they instinctively retreated. Only the swordsman responsible for the scene stood there, unmoved and indifferent.

Cheong Myeong silently surveyed the survivors. His gaze, devoid of any emotion, sent waves of terror through them.

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed from somewhere on the battlefield. Yet none of the Evil Tyrant Alliance dared to turn their heads. They couldn't afford to look away from this demon in human form.

They was afraid to look at him. But they was even more afraid to turn away.

But the demon seemed unconcerned. Despite facing thousands of enemies, he calmly shifted his gaze toward the source of the explosion. No, it was more than that—he seemed to be observing the entire battlefield.

His eyes landed on three individuals locked in fierce combat with the Sun Palace Lord.

Despite facing an overwhelming foe, Hye Yeon, Namgung Dowi, and Lee Songbaek showed no signs of yielding. Cheong Myeong quietly committed their images to memory.

Shaolin, Namgung, and Zhongnan.

The three sects that once symbolized the pinnacle of the martial world. Adding Mu Jin and Jin Hyun, who were holding back the Sun Palace forces, meant that nearly every sect that had once ruled the Kangho was now represented here.

Cheong Myeong found himself unable to look away from them.

In the past, they had fought as well—against the Demonic Cult.

But things were different now. This wasn't like before.

Hye Yeon's iron fist clashed with the Sun Palace Lord's strength. Lee Songbaek desperately blocked the retaliating energy aimed at Hye Yeon, allowing Namgung Dowi to seize the opening and launch a powerful sword strike.

Meanwhile, the Sun Palace's forces were held back by Mu Jin and Jin Hyun's relentless defense, unable to intervene.

Zhongnan blocked the enemies' advance. Shaolin pushed them back. Namgung struck at their vulnerabilities. And Wudang protected their allies.

Many were watching this moment. Even without realizing it, they would learn from it. They would understand what worked—what needed to be done to survive, to win.

Slowly, change was spreading. One by one, individuals began moving into their rightful places. They weren't just fighters acting alone anymore. Together, they became something greater.

Cheong Myeong absorbed this scene entirely. Time seemed to slow. Though his expression remained stoic, a faint stirring inside him brought forth a vivid memory.

A familiar face appeared—not in his mind but almost as if it were right before him.

"… Jangmun Sahyung."

Cheong Myeong's soft murmur carried on his breath.

This scene would have been everything his Jangmun Sahyung longed to see. He had dedicated his life to this vision, yet had passed away without achieving it.

Was he watching this moment now?

Even as they fought against a formidable enemy and faced the worst possible fate—complete annihilation—they had never managed to truly unite. Yet now, they willingly lent their shoulders to one another, standing together against the foe. Was he witnessing this?

Cheong Mun had failed to achieve it. Despite giving everything, he hadn't been able to see it come to pass. But these people… these warriors had made it happen. It was faint, but the change was undeniable.

And now, Cheong Myeong understood why Cheong Mun had failed.

"You tried to protect them, but…"

His voice carried a trace of sorrow.

"….It wasn't about protecting—it was about trusting."

That faint sorrow transformed into a soft, radiant smile.

"You foolish old man…"

As if hearing him, Cheong Mun, who had been looking at him, smiled warmly.

— Ah, I see it now.

It was the kindest, most wonderful smile.