Chapter 1751
I too am someone who couldn’t uphold my principles. (1)
ROTMHS Glossary || About page
Slash!
A chilling sound echoed, and a bloodied hand desperately flailed in the air.
“Grrrgk… grr..”
The hand, which had been flailing meaninglessly, grabbed the sword embedded in his chest. The tough skin of the palm split open, oozing sticky blood, but with a gaping wound in his chest, the pain in the hand was hardly noticeable.
“Ugh…”
Desperation flickered in the eyes that had been filled with rage, and the remaining strength drained from the blood cultist’s body.
Ssshhk.
The lifeless body crumpled to the ground. No matter how often one witnesses it, it’s never a pleasant sight. Yet, Chung Myung, who had driven the sword into the blood cultist’s chest, looked down at the scene without a trace of sympathy.
It wasn’t simply because the other was an enemy.
Just because they looked and spoke like humans didn’t make them one. To Chung Myung, these beings had forsaken the basic qualifications of being human.
Therefore, they did not deserve to be treated as humans, nor did they warrant any pity.
Crack!
The sword embedded in the chest was roughly pulled out. Chung Myung casually wiped the blood splattered on his face and glanced back in the direction he had come from.
The corpses of the blood cultists, cut down by his sword, lay scattered everywhere in a chaotic mess. Unconsciously, his brow furrowed.
Unpleasant memories surfaced in his mind.
In the past, such occurrences were quite common. In places far from the reach of common folk, he would often find himself alone or with just one other, cutting down enemies in numbers too great to count.
But in this life, such situations were much rarer. The reason for that…
Chung Myung’s eyes darkened suddenly.
‘What were they after?’
It was too disorganized to be called an ambush.
Chung Myung had killed a considerable number of blood cultists. Moreover, others who had come to support him likely joined in to clean up the remaining cultists in areas where he wasn’t present.
But even so, there must have been damage in places they couldn’t reach. Perhaps the damage was even greater than Chung Myung had anticipated.
Yet, despite that, the cultists themselves would have suffered significant losses in this chaos. Was it really necessary for them to expend so much of their strength just to kill a few relatively unimportant individuals?
A strange sense of discomfort welled up inside him.
‘The sense of deja vu I felt… it wasn’t just because this scene is familiar.’
This attack, lacking any deep strategy, was purely for the sake of slaughter. The inhuman disregard for their own lives, as if they didn’t care about the price they would pay, was all too familiar.
Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same. It couldn’t be. But in certain aspects, it resembled them. Those he knew – those whose very memory he despised – their behavior, their actions… it was all too similar.
Chung Myung glanced down the mountain. His eyes followed the trail of the blood cultists who had already fled far into the distance, and he gritted his teeth. The muscles in his jaw tensed, bulging slightly.
‘It’s just overthinking.’
Those bastards don’t involve themselves in the affairs of the Central Plains. No, it’s more accurate to say they don’t involve themselves ‘yet’. If they were truly aiming for the Central Plains again, the world wouldn’t be this peaceful.
That’s right.
Even the current situation, with the possibility of Sapaeryeon targeting Gangbuk and the world of the Evil Sects establishing, felt peaceful to Chung Myung. At least, the world wasn’t moving towards one devoid of human existence.
Chung Myung’s gaze turned towards the distant sky.
‘It’s still too early.’
Not everything was ready yet.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Again.”
The chilling gaze of the Blood Cult Leader made the reporting cultist flinch.
“S-So, what I mean is, the cult’s blessing didn’t work on them.”
“…The blessing?”
“Yes. The wounds…”
The Blood Cult Leader’s eyes, visible through the bandages, narrowed even further. He inspected the wound that the cultist presented as if to say, ‘See for yourself.’
The skin, split open by a stab wound, revealed dark, unsightly flesh beneath. To the untrained eye, it might have appeared quite severe, but in truth, it was merely a superficial injury that would have already healed completely if the bloodworms had done their work.
“Who were they?”
“One of them was from Hwasan.”
“Maehwa Geomgwi?”
“No, it was someone else. If it had been Maehwa Geomgwi, I wouldn’t have even considered facing him.”
The Blood Cult Leader frowned.
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was a wise answer nonetheless. The Just Sects might criticize such caution as cowardice, but at least his men understood the meaning of ‘Danglang Geocheol’ [당랑거철(螳螂拒轍)] – the folly of a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
In any case, only one thing mattered now.
“So, there’s someone else who can wield immortal energy besides Maehwa Geomgwi. Or perhaps…”
The Blood Cult Leader trailed off, sinking into thought.
When he had faced them before, he hadn’t sensed anything particularly remarkable. If it hadn’t been for Maehwa Geomgwi, it wouldn’t have been impossible to slaughter all those present.
‘It’s only been a few days since then.’
And yet now, someone capable of using immortal energy has emerged? Is immortal energy something that can be learned in such a short time?
“One becomes two, and two becomes many.”
“Pardon?”
“Hwasan Sect…”
Indeed, it was troublesome.
The Blood Cult Leader briefly directed his gaze towards Mount Wudang. The mountain, once charred black, now showed patches of green, stubbornly reclaiming its life, much like those persistent bastards.
“And?”
“…Judging that continued fighting would only increase our losses, I ordered a retreat.”
“Why?”
The cultist’s shoulders twitched nervously as he replied,
“Not to waste our forces needlessly… that was the command you gave me, Cult Leader.”
The Blood Cult Leader faintly nodded.
“A wise decision.”
“Thank you.”
“However, what I’m curious about is whether that decision was truly a result of following my command.”
“What?”
Crack.
The Blood Cult Leader’s hand suddenly plunged into the cultist’s wound.
“Aaargh! Cult Leader! Aaaagh!”
The cultist screamed, eyes rolling back in his head as excruciating pain shot through him. The Blood Cult Leader, without so much as blinking, continued to dig his fingers deeper into the wound.
Crack!
After a moment, the Blood Cult Leader withdrew his hand from the wound. Clutched in his grasp was a bundle of thin, worm-like tendrils.
He calmly examined the white tendrils, now soaked in dark red blood.
‘They’re not moving.’
Not dead, but unresponsive.
‘Not that it’s much different from being dead.’
The bloodworms [혈충(血蟲)] were a mysterious organism, even within the Cult. They were an ancient relic passed down through the Cult’s history, something never fully understood.
“This is not good.”
Given this uncertainty, even the Cult couldn’t produce the bloodworms indefinitely. If they could, the world would already be under their control.
But there was another, even more troubling reason why this situation was unfavorable.
‘…Recently, we’ve been failing repeatedly in the production of bloodworms.’
Nothing in the process had changed. Yet the results were clearly not what they used to be. This could only mean that darkness was gradually encroaching upon the future of the Cult.
The fact that there were now opponents who could nullify the effects of the bloodworms made the situation even more dire. It felt like being backed into a corner with no escape, a cliff’s edge with an enemy’s blade at his throat.
“Ugh… Ugh…”
The Blood Cult Leader gazed coldly at the cultist, who was still groaning in pain.
“You must not confuse the desire to live with loyalty to the cult.”
“I-I’m sorry…”
“Lead the injured back. Separate those who have lost the cult’s blessing from the others.”
“I will carry out your orders. But… what about you, Cult Leader?”
Despite the excruciating pain he had endured, there wasn’t a hint of resentment in the cultist’s eyes. The Blood Cult Leader’s bandaged face twitched slightly.
“That’s none of your concern.”
With that, the Blood Cult Leader turned away coldly.
If it had been the old him, he would have retreated by now. Suffering losses was never his style – in the weakening state of the Cult, losing people was the greatest pain of all.
But the current him couldn’t act as he pleased. It was obvious what would happen to the cult if he failed to carry out the ‘suggestion’ – a command in all but name.
“At the very least, I need to maintain appearances. For him… and for them.”
One of the two purposes of his visit here had ended in disappointment. Therefore, he had to accomplish the remaining objective without fail.
His bloodshot eyes glared at the towering mountain.
“It still feels like it’s here… somewhere on that mountain.”
A faint scent of blood wafted to his nose. It was a scent he was familiar with, one he had smelled before.
❀ ❀ ❀
“It appears that the Blood Palace has retreated for now. The damage to the main force isn’t significant. The ones most affected seem to be those of the Zhuge and Moyong families.”
“…”
“Normally, in such situations, the Beggars Sect and Nokrim would handle the search… and they would usually suffer the most casualties. But since those two sects are currently engaged in the search at Mount Wudang…”
To be precise, it wasn’t that they weren’t mobilized – it was that they couldn’t be. But this detail wasn’t particularly important.
“Thus, it’s likely that Zhuge and Moyong families will harbor significant dissatisfaction. Depending on the circumstances…”
The speaker trailed off, hesitantly watching the expression of the person sitting in front of him.
If things continue as they are, a strong sentiment of distrust towards the current leadership of Cheonumaeng could emerge. In such a scenario, sects that have previously been unable to assert themselves within the alliance might suddenly find their voices strengthened.
If only there were a unifying force to bring them together.
Even though all these unsaid words were likely understood by the elder sitting across from him, there was no response. Instead, a different reply came.
“I understand. You may leave now.”
“S-Sect Leader, I-”
The elder had already sealed his lips. The speaker, left with no choice, slowly stood up.
“I’ll take my leave.”
However, he lingered, staring at the elder – Heo Do Jinin – for a long while. Then, almost as if driven by curiosity, he cast a glance at the small door on the wall that Heo Do Jinin had turned his back to.
The elder showed no intention of leaving, prompting Heo Do Jinin to finally speak.
“Must I hurry you?”
“…No, Sect Leader.”
“I am no longer the Sect Leader.”
“I am aware of that as well.”
A deep sigh escaped the Wudang elder, his eyes filled with lingering regret.
Once a man full of ambition, seemingly capable of controlling everything in the world, Heo Do Jinin had now become an old man worn down by the relentless storms of life. The catastrophe at the Yangtze River and the disaster that befell Wudang had stolen the sharpness from his once keen mind.
Was it merely wishful thinking to desire to bring him back to his former self?
“Take care of yourself.”
Suppressing his bitter feelings, the elder finally turned to leave, his steps heavy with lingering reluctance.
Even after the elder had departed, Heo Do Jinin remained motionless for a long time.
Several cups of tea cooled and grew cold as he sat in meditation, his eyes closed. At last, Heo Do Jinin slowly rose to his feet.
Creak.
Instead of the large door in front of him, he turned to the small door behind him. This door led to a small secluded garden, nestled against a cliff, behind a modest house.
It was a place within Wudang that only a select few were permitted to enter – a place of deep seclusion.
Heo Do Jinin stepped outside and silently gazed over the vast expanse of Mount Wudang beyond the cliff. After a moment, he spoke.
“It seems you’ve yet to master the art of concealing your presence.”
His gaze shifted to the back of the small house, where there was a small, unremarkable altar – a common feature in a Taoist sanctuary.
Soon, the altar began to tremble slightly and then slowly slid to the side.
Grind.
As the sound of stone grinding against stone echoed, a well-crafted staircase leading underground was revealed beneath the displaced altar. From those stairs, a young man slowly emerged.
The young man had a pale complexion.
“You… Hmm, I suppose I should ask again.”
“…”
“If I were to address you by another name, would you prefer Baek Cheon or Jin Dongryong?”
The young man let out a brief sigh.
“If I could choose, I’d prefer Baek Cheon, even if it goes against the proper order.”
Heo Do Jinin nodded faintly.
“That’s not difficult. After all, I too am someone who couldn’t uphold my principles.”
His voice carried a tone of bitter resignation.
Comments