Chapter 1602
I can’t even laugh. (7)
Crack.
“…”
His heavy eyelids trembled.
As if forcing them open against his will, his eyelids slowly lifted. Dark pupils, whose depth and extent were difficult to fathom, appeared.
Reflected in those eyes was the vajra bell [금강종(金剛鍾)] in front of him.
The vajra bell was deeply cracked.
“Om mani…”
His voice quivered.
“Padme… hum.”
His faltering voice barely managed to complete the six-syllable mantra. Still youthful hands cautiously traced the crack in the vajra bell.
“…Dharmaraja.”
The boy, the Dalai Lama, raised his head. The face of the golden Buddha looking down at him was filled with indescribable sorrow.
After staring at the statue for a long time, the Dalai Lama closed his eyes again.
“It is an inevitable event.”
Panchen Lama watched the Dalai Lama’s back with a hardened expression.
Sometimes, the Dalai Lama mutters incomprehensible words to himself. Words filled with the Dharma, translated into the crude language of the worldly and imperfect people.
“Because it is unavoidable, people cannot escape suffering.”
This was a statement directed at Panchen Lama, yet not meant for him.
“But just…”
A single tear flowed down the Dalai Lama’s cheek as he opened his eyes again.
“May the suffering not be too deep.”
❀ ❀ ❀
…Horrific. Would that word suffice to describe this scene?
Ho Gamyeong had traversed countless battlefields, witnessed innumerable deaths, and seen the deep-seated misery they contained.
Precisely because of this, he couldn’t readily understand.
That such a scene had instantly drawn his master, Jang Ilso, all the way here. Yet, on the other hand, he could understand.
Indeed, the sight before his eyes was both horrific and bizarre.
All that could be seen was a large puddle. To be precise, a patch of ground, about twenty jang in diameter, stained dark red compared to the surrounding yellowish soil.
There were no traces of people left. Only a few scattered fragments of clothing and occasional pieces of flesh suggested that many had ‘been here.’
Ho Gamyeong suddenly felt his throat parch.
‘How…’
Swallowing dryly did nothing to change it. It felt as if something like a thorn was lodged in his throat, continuously scratching it sharply.
‘How could this…’
Even his tongue felt like a lump of sand, making his mouth feel gritty.
Though torn to pieces and unrecognizable, the fragments of clothing bore Red Dog’s unique emblem.
They had been here. They were definitely here.
It was unbelievable, yet clear that Red Dogs, the detached force they sent to turn Hwaeum into hell, had been here.
How could such a force end up like this?
How?
In fact, even saying they were ‘defeated’ didn’t quite fit.
To use the word ‘defeated, there must at least be traces of a clash and a fierce battle where one side lost. No matter how one-sided, there should have been at least some resistance.
But here, there were no such traces at all.
Among the countless words that flashed through his mind, the only one that could awkwardly describe this scene was ‘vanished.’ That was it.
They had literally disappeared. The elite troops that he and Jang Ilso had painstakingly nurtured.
Who in the world could make such a thing possible?
Even if Shaolin had faced them with their full strength, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.
Perhaps even if the entire Gupailbang had attacked together, it would have been impossible.
Surrounding and cornering them to kill might be feasible. That wouldn’t be difficult with the strength of even Maninbang alone.
But to obliterate elite warriors without a trace of resistance like this… it didn’t seem like the work of human hands.
Thus, this scene was small yet overwhelming.
Jang Ilso, standing before Ho Gamyeong, remained silent for a long time.
The one who had trampled Shaolin and ended the era of Gupailbang.
The conqueror, who had the world in the palm of his hand and was literally toying with it, with a presence no one could match.
His shoulders were trembling faintly. Jang Ilso’s shoulders.
“Ryeonju…”
“Ha…..”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips after a long silence.
Ho Gamyeong could only see Jang Ilso’s back, yet he could easily imagine his expression.
The fleeting laugh dispersed emptily without becoming a real laugh. That awkward voice, neither laughter nor maon, just faded away.
Eventually, Jang Ilso muttered in a dry voice.
“…I can’t even laugh.”
His hand, hanging below his sleeve, trembled so visibly that even Ho Gamyeong could see it.
Ho Gamyeong couldn’t bring himself to comfort Jang Ilso.
People see as much as they know.
The more one understands the greatness of a god, the more one worships it. The better one understands this scene, the more they are crushed by this immense force.
The suffocating fear Ho Gamyeong felt was nothing compared to the immense pressure Jang Ilso must be feeling.
“Is it a demon? No…… I should say a God instead.”
The unfinished laugh turned into a groan.
“…A terrible joke.”
The usual leisure and characteristic chuckle in Jang Ilso’s voice were absent.
The leader of Sapaeryeon, now more fittingly called the Great Master of the Evil Path [사도대종사(邪道大宗師)]. By now, he should be reveling in the achievements he had accomplished.
But the great one was not here. Only a man, overwhelmed by an insurmountable limit, was left in despair.
“…Who is it? Who discovered this place?”
When Jang Ilso asked, the one who had been too afraid to approach forced his unwilling steps forward.
“Speak.”
“We… we were… following to tend the horses.”
“Horses?”
“Yes! We were… bringing fresh horses…”
Jang Ilso’s eyes darkened.
“Just the main point.”
Terrified by the chilling gaze, the man hurriedly nodded and began speaking rapidly, barely aware of what he was saying.
“Wh-when we arrived here, it was already… it was already like this. We almost just passed by without noticing anything special…”
His gaze shifted apologetically to one side. There, a person sat on the ground, staring blankly into space.
Jang Ilso unknowingly clenched his fist tightly.
The attire of the dazed figure was all too familiar.
“That person…”
“Bring him here.”
“Y-Yes?”
As the others hesitated, Ho Gamyeong moved himself. The bewildered Red Dog was dragged forward. Despite the rough handling, Red Dog showed no reaction, as if his soul had been burnt away.
Thud.
Red Dog was seated in front of Jang Ilso, who bent down to meet his eyes.
“Look at me.”
“…”
“Look at me.”
The murky eyes grew slightly clearer.
“What happened?”
The eyes, which had been unfocused, began to dart around, as if trying to recall something.
“Dead…”
“What did you say?”
“Dead… all… all dead…”
“…”
“Dead. All dead. All dead. Everyone will die. Everyone! Dead. Dead. Dead. Everyone will die! Eeeeeveryooooone!”
Red Dog’s eyes rolled back, and he started convulsing. Flailing his arms like a drowning man, he screamed until his throat seemed to tear. Then, he began to clutch his neck, seizing.
“Urgh…… Urgh! Ugh……”
Foaming at the mouth and rolling his eyes back, he clawed at his face and neck with such ferocity that his skin soon became covered in wounds and blood.
Jang Ilso watched the spectacle without saying a word.
“Urgh.”
Finally, the convulsing man passed out, collapsing limply. A heavy silence followed.
Ho Gamyeong’s hands were drenched in cold sweat.
Staring at the unconscious and occasionally twitching Red Dog, Jang IIso spoke.
“Are you and this man the only ones who saw this?”
“Y-yes…”
Pahaaat!
Before the answer was fully out, the heads of the two men and the convulsing Red Dog exploded.
Ho Gamyeong, startled, bit his lips tightly.
Thinking about it, it was only natural. Such things should not be revealed. No one should know about them.
The fear of the unfathomable tends to destroy everything.
Jang Ilso, who had been silently looking at the three bloodied corpses and the crimson puddle, finally let out a faint, almost mocking laugh.
“They were spared.”
“…”
“Just like how a person crushing an ant swarm doesn’t bother to chase down and crush the one ant that strayed.”
It was nothing more than a weary chuckle.
“A mirage, huh…”
Jang Ilso chuckled to himself.
“Is it that, no matter how much I struggle… the outcome is already decided? That what I obtain is something I can neither possess nor protect?”
His voice carried a terrible hatred, anger, and overwhelming sense of futility.
Jang Ilso bit his red lips hard.
An unassailable force. A colossal presence against which one can scarcely muster the courage to resist. This is a ‘disaster.’ It is beyond human control.
In the face of such a power, even the calamities caused by humans are merely childish pranks.
At this moment, the one who felt this most acutely was Jang Ilso himself.
“Ha… ha ha ha.”
The suppressed laughter broke free.
“Hahahahahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!”
An explosive, mad laughter. Yet, it felt vastly different from the laughter he usually displayed.
“…Let’s go back, Gamyeong.”
“Yes…”
Jang Ilso turned, his red robes billowing.
The vast expanse of the world filled his eyes.
What had once been vividly alive now seemed like a mirage, fragile and precarious, as if it might vanish at any moment.
‘…Don’t make me laugh.’
Jang Ilso’s eyes held a cold fury.
‘If it’s going to disappear anyway… I might as well destroy it myself. That’s my… no, humanity’s last shred of pride.’
Jang Ilso took a heavy step forward.
Etching his footprints into the ground that could vanish at any moment.
❀ ❀ ❀
Rustle.
Rustle.
Bare white feet moved slowly over the short, growing underbrush.
The steps were far from hasty, showing no sign of urgency.
The face, half obscured by a tattered, ragged cloak, was still incomplete in its growth. Only the eyes were vacant, as if they held nothing.
Rustle.
The feet continued to tread.
Not knowing exactly where to go, the one who had awakened simply moved according to instinct.
But eventually, it would be found.
In walking and walking, it would be understood. The moment would come when he would arrive at the place he was meant to be, where he was destined to reach.
Rustle.
The figure, whose steps were like those of a pilgrim, slowly turned his gaze somewhere.
A vast mountain range meeting the southern sky, and in its center, a towering peak filled with rocks.
Though it was so distant that it could scarcely be seen with the naked eye, the person could see it all clearly, as if it were within his grasp. With his empty eyes.
He stared at the mountain in silence, and then, seemingly losing interest, turned his gaze away.
He remembered.
Though he had never heard or learned about it, the man knew exactly what he had just seen.
“Hwa… san…”
He let those brief words slip like a song and continued his steps.
One step. Another step.
A journey that seemed as though it would never end, yet would soon end like a lie.
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