Chapter 1745
Nowhere to be seen. (5)
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Step, step.
The masked man’s footsteps led him out of the tent and to the edge of the camp.
Every warrior within Sapaeryeon was bound by strict regulations that prevented them from leaving the designated area. However, these restrictions didn’t apply to him.
As he approached the camp’s perimeter, a few eyes turned to follow his movements. But after a brief moment, once they recognized his appearance, those stares quickly dispersed as fast as they had gathered.
The masked man noticed this, but showed no reaction – neither out of disregard nor out of indifference. It simply felt meaningless.
His steps carried him across the wide plain to a small, isolated mountain. After venturing deep into the mountain’s recesses, a few tents came into view.
This place was far removed from the main encampment of Sapaeryeon. In fact, the majority of the warriors might not even be aware that such a hidden outpost existed nearby.
The masked man, his gaze cold and unwavering, approached the foremost tent and stepped inside.
As soon as he entered, a foul stench assaulted his nose.
The lingering odor of unwashed bodies, the smell of drying, rotting blood, and the rust of poorly maintained metal all mingled together making it hard to breathe.
Though the sun had not yet set, the interior of the tent was dim.
Slowly, the masked man’s eyes adjusted to the darkness.
All around, tattered mats were strewn haphazardly, with bodies sprawled upon them. Although they must have sensed his presence, none of them even bothered to look up.
The only indication that they were alive came from the faint sounds of their breathing.
To most, this scene would resemble the barracks of defeated soldiers or a prison holding captives. Even the masked man couldn’t help but think the same.
Step.
The masked man took a step forward, feeling the thick, stale air as he moved. He then spoke to the figures who remained indifferent to his presence.
“Attention.”
He had intended to draw their focus for a moment, but no one responded to his words.
“…A letter has arrived.”
However, those words finally elicited a reaction. The figures, who had been as still as corpses, slowly turned their gaze towards the masked man.
They were clad in filthy, dark martial robes, with their faces obscured by black masks. Through the holes in their masks, empty, hollow eyes stared out.
The masked man pulled the letter from his robes and tossed it to the nearest figure.
“No issues of note.”
“…”
The person who caught the paper silently began to read it. Then, with an indifferent gesture, he passed it on to the next person.
Their movements were slow and deliberate.
There was no sense of interest or urgency in either the one passing the letter or the one receiving it. Yet, the process of reading and passing the letter continued without interruption.
It took quite a while for everyone to finish reading the letter. After the last person read it, they folded it back up and handed it to the masked man who had first brought it.
The central figure took back the letter, carefully tucking it away, and then glanced around the tent once more before turning to leave. He still had the duty of showing this message to those in the other tents.
But just as he was about to step away, a soft, almost inaudible sound stopped him.
A quiet chuckle.
The masked man turned in the direction of the sound, his gaze cold, but the one who had laughed showed no sign of being disturbed.
“I don’t understand,”
the person said in a weak voice, though ‘lifeless’ might have been a more accurate description.
“Lucky, or…?”
The rest of the sentence trailed off, unspoken. But everyone in the tent knew what those unspoken words were.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing at all. I just found it amusing, that’s all. After all, this means we’ll continue playing the role of those bastards’ dogs for a while longer.”
The masked man’s eyes narrowed slightly, a faint sign of irritation.
“Lucky, isn’t it? Aren’t we so lucky?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Why? I’m saying it’s a good thing, isn’t it? Or maybe… you don’t see it that way?”
The corners of the seated figure’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
“Could it be that you’re actually disappointed…”
“Enough!”
Swish!
In an instant, a sword was drawn, slicing through the air like a lightning bolt, its tip stopping just at the neck of the one who had spoken. The sharp blade grazed the exposed skin beneath the mask, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down.
Yet, the person with the sword at their throat remained completely unphased.
It wasn’t out of bravery, but rather because they felt nothing at the prospect of losing their life at that very moment.
The masked man holding the sword saw the deep emptiness in the other’s eyes and, gritting his teeth, withdrew the blade. He then turned sharply, as if he couldn’t bear to look at the person any longer, and finally muttered in frustration.
“Spouting nonsense changes nothing. No one forced you to make this choice.”
A low chuckle escaped again, but this time it was filled with self-mockery rather than disdain.
“When is the next battle?”
“…I don’t know yet.”
“I see.”
No more words were exchanged.
But the masked man understood. The question about the next battle carried an unspoken wish – that perhaps dying in battle would be preferable to continuing in this miserable existence.
“Do you really think dying will end it? If it were that simple, none of us would be wearing these masks.”
A few heads bowed silently in acknowledgment.
Even the masked man himself couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh.
“For us, there’s no hell to fall into. You should know that by now.”
“…”
“Don’t think too much. If your mind’s too cluttered, get some more sleep.”
He knew that sharp glares and sighs of despair were directed at his back, but he ignored them entirely as he stepped out of the tent.
The sunlight suddenly poured down on his face.
Feeling the sting of the sun, he adjusted the mask covering his face. He wished the light wouldn’t touch him, that no one could ever see his face.
‘Not much longer now.’
Or… was that really true?
This war would end, one way or another. But would it truly be the end for them? Was there really any kind of conclusion waiting for them?
He lowered his head, avoiding the sky’s gaze as he walked to the next tent.
In the distance, dark clouds were slowly approaching, as if they intended to shield him from the sky’s scrutiny.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Nothing here.”
“Of course not.”
Zhuge Jonghyo [제갈종효(諸葛從效)] responded with a hint of irritation on his face, though his voice lacked any real disappointment.
How many more days would they continue this futile search? They had already combed through Mount Wudang, and now orders had come down to search the surrounding villages.
Did they truly expect to find one person in this vast world?
“If we’ve searched this thoroughly and still haven’t found him, he must be far gone by now.”
“But isn’t it strange, brother? He’s lost his martial arts, after all…”
“He was still once the Vice Sect Leader of Hwasan.”
“But without martial arts, he’s no different from anyone else, right?”
“Watch your words.”
“…I apologize.”
Zhuge Jonghyo’s rebuke was sharp, though inwardly, his thoughts weren’t much different.
‘Baek Cheon…’
Baek Cheon, Hwasan Jeonggeom. He had been the leader of the famed Five Swords of Hwasan and was designated as the next Sect Leader of the sect. Perhaps no other swordsman in Gangho had a brighter future ahead of him.
‘It’s unfortunate…’
It was understandable why their superiors were so desperate to find Baek Cheon, even if it meant resorting to extreme measures.
But even so, it didn’t change the fact that this was all meaningless.
‘This is nothing but a waste.’
No matter how great he was in the past, now he’s just a commoner who has lost his martial arts. What could possibly be gained from finding someone like that?
Even if he hadn’t lost his martial arts, it wouldn’t make a difference.
In the face of the impending great war with Sapaeryeon, expending so much effort to track down the whereabouts of a single person was an excessive waste. It’s not as if finding him would turn the tide of the war.
“Huuuh.”
Zhuge Jonghyo let out a quiet sigh. A cautious voice came from beside him.
“Brother.”
“What is it?”
“Isn’t it time we considered giving up? We don’t have any real say in the matter, but surely the Lord understands the situation?”
Zhuge Jonghyo didn’t respond immediately.
“Even if they’re not saying it out loud, there’s plenty of dissatisfaction among the men. Do we really need to…”
“Then keep your mouth shut.”
“Brother…”
“Stop wasting time and keep searching.”
“…Yes.”
Zhuge Jonghyo turned his head away, letting out another sigh as subtly as he could.
‘Fools…’
He had already voiced his concerns several times before. Lord Zhuge was well aware that this search was futile.
The reason he couldn’t push harder to stop it was simple.
The most enthusiastic supporters of this exhausting search were none other than Hwasan and Jongnam. Even the Tang clan secretly backed their efforts.
When the most influential factions within Cheonumaeng were united in their cause, there was no way that the voice of Zhuge family – latecomers to the Alliance and remnants of the Five Great Families – would hold any sway.
“Just a little longer.”
“…”
“After another day or two, they’ll realize this is a pointless endeavor.”
“Do you really think people who understand that would be doing this in the first place?”
“At the very least, it will give us the grounds to speak out more forcefully.”
His cousin, Zhuge Dongin [제갈동인(諸葛同因)], let out a resigned sigh.
“Fine, fine. So we’re supposed to keep going with this meaningless task for now, right?”
“…”
“Honestly, I don’t see how this is any different from what Gupailbang used to do. I thought Cheonumaeng would be better, but…”
“…Loose lips cause trouble.”
“I get it, I get it.”
Zhuge Jonghyo clicked his tongue in frustration.
Of course, there was some truth to what Zhuge Dongin had said. Cheonumaeng of the past was certainly different. How they had secretly envied Cheonumaeng while they were still with Gupailbang.
But now, that vibrant energy that once defined Cheonumaeng seemed to have faded.
Was it inevitable that a larger alliance would follow the same path?
‘No, there must be another reason.’
When Cheonumaeng first began to make its name on the world, there was always one name that echoed alongside it. But lately, that name seemed to be mentioned less and less.
Perhaps that was when the vitality began to drain from the Alliance, and when discontent began to grow.
‘Hwasan Geomhyeop Chung Myung.’
What could he be thinking now? If anyone should be up in arms about Baek Cheon, it would be him. Yet, he’s been oddly silent.
Had leading a large group changed him? Or was it something else…?
Zhuge Jonghyo shook his head, dismissing his thoughts. This was beyond what he could deduce from mere speculation. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Clearing his mind, he resumed his search, methodically scouring the area.
But unbeknownst to them, a pair of red eyes glinted from a place just out of sight.
The Blood Cult leader, observing the two figures emerging from the village, couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle. They dared to wander the foothills with just the two of them.
“I didn’t expect them to be on high alert, but this… this feels like they’re outright dismissing us.”
Did they truly believe Sapaeryeon would never strike? Or perhaps finding that Baek Cheon was more important to them than anything else?
“Cult Leader, your orders.”
“Hmm.”
The Blood Cult Leader’s gaze turned icy cold.
Logically, it was likely a trap. There were certainly some sharp minds within Cheonumaeng.
But…
“It wouldn’t be so bad.”
‘Strike the grass to startle the snake’ – when you beat the grass, the snake inevitably shows itself.
“If we’re going to strike, we should make sure it counts.”
A sly grin curled at the corners of the Blood Cult Leader’s lips.
“Kill anyone you see.”
“Yes!”
The cultists he had brought with him shot forward like venomous snakes, ready to strike. The Blood Cult Leader’s eyes burned with a fierce red glow as he watched.
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