Chapter 1598
I can’t even laugh. (3)
Suppressing a surge of nausea, anger, or sorrow – he couldn’t tell which – Chung Myung stubbornly looked forward again.
“A…mi…ta…”
Hye Yeon, unable to control the rising emotions, repeatedly chanted in a trembling voice. Each word penetrated Chung Myung’s ears one by one.
Even the usually unfazed Yu Iseol gripped her sword tightly.
Whose fault was this catastrophe?
“Chung Myung…”
Hyun Jong sighed, placing a hand on Chung Myung’s shoulder. He started to say something more but ended up just shaking his head. In a situation where even he found it difficult to calm his heart, what more could he say?
“The air is cold.”
Hyun Jong finally said something rather abstract.
Chung Myung glanced up at the sky. It was still before dawn. The chilly morning air brushed against his face, making his body tremble.
At that moment, Yu Iseol silently walked forward.
Schwing.
The sword, that had been resting in its sheath, sliced through the dawn air as she drew it. She knelt quietly and plunged the sword into the ground with a sharp sound, as if cutting through an enemy’s neck.
Paat.
With a fierce sound, she began digging into the earth. Holding the sword’s hilt with one hand and gripping the blade with the other, she silently dug into the soil.
Chung Myung could only watch silently. Hye Yeon, who had been chanting in an attempt to quell his uncontainable anger and sorrow, staggered forward and knelt to start digging into the ground with his hands.
Step. Step.
Lee Songbaek approached quietly and joined them, using his sword to dig.
Though their clothing differed, they all used the same hands to create graves for the fallen.
These were people who once thought they would never stand together in one place.
Chung Myung let out a small, bitter laugh and looked up at the sky again. It seemed the sorrow of the world had not yet reached up there.
It’s cold. Even more so for them, he thought.
Chung Myung took a short breath and was about to move his heavy feet when he heard a faint groan from behind him.
“Ah…”
His icy gaze turned toward the sound.
“A…”
Beop Jong, who had managed to raise himself halfway and was crawling forward, was trembling.
In that moment, everyone’s eyes turned to him. Their gazes carried a multitude of emotions – resentment, hatred, pity, or a mix of feelings they couldn’t quite define.
Beop Jong, with hands shaking pitifully, tried to take a stance.
“A…mi…”
Chung Myung ground his teeth.
“…Shut up.”
“…ta…”
“Shut your mouth!”
Beop Jong’s wrinkled hands trembled, and his face was pale. His body wouldn’t fully obey him, and he moved forward blindly, unable to properly open his eyes.
The once yellow monk’s robe was now tattered, soaked in blood, and reduced to rags. The flesh exposed through the tears was covered in wounds, looking like a decayed old tree, ready to collapse at any moment.
There was no trace of the once imposing Abbot of Shaolin. The reverent Buddhist who followed the Buddha’s teachings, the leader who commanded the great force known as Gupailbang, was no more. What remained was a pitiful human being groaning under the weight of his sins.
And to Chung Myung, even this pitiful sight was… yes, even this sight was repulsive.
Chung Myung stepped towards Beop Jong.
“Chung Myung-ah…”
Hyun Jong grabbed his shoulder, trying urgently to stop him. But this time, even the usually respectful Chung Myung pushed Hyun Jong’s hand away and continued.
Step.
Step.
With each cold step, Beop Jong’s body trembled faintly.
Finally, standing right in front of Beop Jong, Chung Myung glared at him with a face colder than ice. In that moment, no one could fathom what Chung Myung was thinking. His face seemed to bear the weight of all the world’s suffering.
Suddenly, Chung Myung grabbed Beop Jong by the collar. With a swift pull, he forced Beop Jong to face the gruesome scene before them.
“Look.”
Beop Jong’s gaze was forcibly fixed ahed.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look.”
With a growling voice, Chung Myung continued to press him. Beop Jong struggled to open his nearly closed eyes, which fluttered and then shut tight again.
“A… Ami… Amitabha…”
Tears flowed uncontrollably from Beop Jong’s eyes.
“Do you see Buddha here?”
Chung Myung’s icy voice pierced Beop Jong’s ears.
“Don’t look for Buddha. This is your doing. Not Buddha’s, but yours!”
Beop Jong’s legs gave away, but Chung Myung’s grip on his collar didn’t let him fall.
“Look.”
Chung Myung forcibly turned Beop Jong’s head in another direction.
“Look!”
Beop Jong’s eyes took in the full extent of his sins, from which he could never escape. The deep, immeasurable karma that no amount of penance could ever repay seemed about to crush him.
Beop Jong slumped, as if his soul had left him.
Chung Myung bit his lip as he looked at him.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Why does it keep happening?
“This?”
Faced with such painful consequences, why do you repeat the same mistakes? What is a name, what is fame worth? When you die, it amounts to nothing.
“Is this all? Just this?”
Rip.
The cloth of Beop Jong’s robe finally tore under Chung Myung’s grip.
“Answer me! Say something, anything!”
His chest felt like it would burst.
If it was going to be like this, he should have succeeded. He should have seized everything he wanted and laughed at those who couldn’t. If that had been the case, at least then…
In that moment, someone grabbed Chung Myung’s hand, which was trembling with fury.
Chung Myung looked blankly at the face of the person holding him back.
Tears streaming down his face, Hye Yeon gently held Chung Myung’s arm, who was clutching Beop Jong’s collar.
Without a single word of persuasion, Hye Yeon slowly shook his head.
“…”
Faced with those sorrow-filled eyes, Chung Myung’s fury drained away. His grip on Beop Jong’s collar loosened.
Thud.
Beop Jong collapsed to the ground.
Chung Myung, staring coldly at the crumpled figure as if it wasn’t even a person anymore, turned sharply away.
Beop Jong was no longer present. All that remained was a shell, consumed by inescapable guilt and self-reproach.
Whether what he felt in that moment was pity, a sense of kinship, or pure disgust, Chung Myung couldn’t tell. Even without knowing, he spoke in a cold voice.
“You had it too.”
Beop Jong didn’t react as if he hadn’t heard.
“At least… one person.”
Someone who would recognize him as he was, even if he didn’t gain honor or grasp something brilliant.
Just then, a dark cloud obscured the moon. It felt as if the world was engulfed in deep darkness, mirroring his suffocating emotions that had no way to be resolved.
He let out a weary sigh and was about to move his foot when it happened.
“Aah… “
A sound of sobbing came from behind.
“Aah… aaah… “
It wasn’t being wrung out. It was an overflowing sob that had filled up to the brim. No matter how hard it was held back, it inevitably seeped out.
“Aah… aaah… aah…”
Chung Myung found this sobbing somewhat familiar. It seemed both strange and similar.
When he turned around, Beop Jong was staggering and crawling on the ground.
After a long and painful advance, Beop Jong’s hand finally reached somewhere. The pale face of a corpse, already cold and stiff.
“…Gye… “
It was the body of Beop Gye, which Hye Yeon had carried over himself.
Beop Jong’s trembling hand traced over the face, which could no longer show any expression.
“Beop… Gye. Beop Gye…”
Beop Jong’s back shook. It was an infinitely miserable and sorrowful movement.
Beop Gye must have realized the deed he had committed.
His deep sin. But even after witnessing it all, Beop Gye had struggled to save him until the end.
A hollow chuckle escaped from Chung Myung’s lips.
‘Why always…’
Do people only realize after losing something?
Why do they not understand the meaning of what they already have and instead strive desperately to grasp what they do not need?
Why are they so foolish?
“Aaah… aaah. Aaah! Aaaaaah!”
A desperate cry burst out.
“Aaaaaah! Beop Gye! Gye! Aaaaaah!”
Even those who hated and despised Beop Jong couldn’t utter a word in front of the heart-wrenching sobs that seemed to tear his heart out.
Even if one was a person without a shred of sympathy, everyone could somewhat guess at his sorrow.
“Aaaaaaah!”
Chung Myung, watching Beop Jong with dim eyes, turned his head away.
There is no sympathy to waste on the living.
“Chung Myung.”
Chung Myung nodded as he met Hyun Jong’s gaze.
“Retired Sect Leader… the disciples.”
“Yes.”
Hyun Jong also nodded slowly.
“Let’s do that.”
There is nothing the living can do for the dead. Whether it’s a ritual or a prayer, it is ultimately to comfort those who remain.
Even knowing this, people cling to these futile acts, hoping that this earnest prayer, this comfort, reaches them even a little.
It was when Chung Myung was taking powerless steps toward the corpses lying on the cold ground.
“Sajil. Retired Sect Leader.”
Yu Iseol, who had quietly scouted the surroundings, approached with a hardened face.
“Sago?”
“…Many.”
As Chung Myung looked at her with a questioning gaze, Yu Iseol added quietly.
“The bodies of the enemies.”
Hyun Jong furrowed his brows. It’s natural for there to be many enemy corpses on the battlefield, so why was she speaking so seriously?
However, Chung Myung’s face noticeably hardened. He immediately grasped the meaning behind Yu Iseol’s words.
“…Many?”
That meant the strength of Gupailbang that perished here was much more than expected.
If not that…
‘The enemies were weaker than anticipated.’
Is that possible? Could it be?
In an instant, Chung Myung’s eyes widened as he swiftly turned his gaze to a specific spot.
“Could it be…!”
The clouds drifted away, revealing the moon once again. Under that light, Chung Myung’s eyes wavered intensely.
❀ ❀ ❀
“There is no pursuit, Ryeonju. They have started burying the bodies.”
“Hm, is that so?”
Jang Ilso let out a peculiar smile.
“Well, well. How considerate of them. To go through such trouble for mere lumps of flesh. Shouldn’t we learn something from this, Gamyeong-ah?”
It was a question with no clear answer. Ho Gamyeong, naturally, remained silent.
It seemed Jang Ilso hadn’t expected an answer, as he spoke again.
“However.”
“Yes?”
“If they think the war is over, isn’t that rather complacent?”
One corner of Jang Ilso’s mouth twisted.
“War isn’t about inflicting wounds. War is about digging into those wounds.”
His gaze turned eastward. It was the same direction Chung Myung was looking.
❀ ❀ ❀
“This place…”
His cold eyes, devoid of any warmth, stared at the towering mountain ahead.
This mountain, among the Five Great Mountains of China, was more famous for something other than its picturesque scenery or majestic peaks.
It was the site of the most renowned temple in the world, located north of the towering Shaoshi Peak.
Mount Song, home to the most famous temple in the world, Shaolin.
A bony hand removed the brown hood that covered his head. As the brown robe fell to the ground with a thud, bright red clothing was fully revealed.
The man at the center was wrapped in red bandages that covered even the parts of his body exposed outside his garments.
When he spoke, an eerie voice that seemed to come from the depths of hell seeped out.
“Shaolin, indeed.”
“Cult Leader*.”
“Yes. I know. We need to hurry to avoid the nagging from Ryeonju.”
A fierce, blood-red light gleamed in the man’s eyes.
“Although I’m not thrilled about the task of cleaning up the remnants… since we’ve started, we must finish it properly.”
They began to move along the path leading to Shaoshi Peak.
“Let’s go. Today, we will erase Shaolin.”
The Blood Cult bared its fangs, reeking of blood, towards Shaolin.
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