The Forgotten King's Battle [3]
Decisive Ultimate Technique.
The representative symbol a martial artist gains upon surpassing the First-rate and reaching the Transformation Realm. A single technique forged by gathering every condensed meaning of their martial arts into one.
Final Decisive Ultimate Technique.
Of a martial artist who has attained the Profound Realm—transcending the very standards of martial arts—a single lifelong regret running through one person's existence, sublimated into martial skill. The single martial art that stands as the emblem of the Profound Realm.
I was clearly of the Profound Realm. I was a Guardian. And still, I had no Final Decisive Ultimate Technique.
No—more precisely, I had never felt the need for one. There had never been a catalyst.
The youngest Guardian in history.
Guardian of the Mount Hua Sect, which commanded the greatest influence even among the Nine Great Sects.
Those were the other titles that pointed to me in this new world.
Perhaps, without noticing, I had grown drunk on that praise.
The jianghu was at peace. Victory alone always waited on the road ahead of me, and any Guardian would clear the path the moment I stepped forward. And so, at some point, I forgot who I had been. I forgot the heart with which I had first set foot in the jianghu, and began to meet everything with inertia, as if this were simply how things were meant to be under my new station.
No—looking back, I may have thought arrogantly. Without realizing it, I may have grown complacent with the smug belief that I had already worked hard enough, that the humiliations of the past would never return.
The day I paid the price for that arrived without warning.
The Orthodox-Demonic Great War began on an autumn morning so clear and sunlit it felt like a lie.
The Orthodox factions were driven back like snapping bamboo. Until the rear could reorganize, the vanguard being unilaterally trampled was inevitable. What the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult prioritized most in cutting the sprouts was the Mount Hua Sect, then the head of the Nine Great Sects; they struck hard at the front as a feint and ambushed the rear.
And what I faced as I blocked the gorge to protect the Mount Hua dependents behind me was Gang Chisang—corrupted by demonic energy, already transforming into one of the Eight Demon Dragons.
Eun Seollyeong…! Eun Seollyeong! I've come!
To rise to the seat of Guardian in the first place meant that mind and body had already exceeded ordinary human measure. And what catastrophe followed when such a being took hatred into their heart—I was living proof of that very thing, and still I underestimated its power.
Even a rat bites when driven into a corner. A man cast out without cause from the sect he called home, every meridian severed, his gem and dantian ruined, driven into the wilderness—a man who had already surpassed ordinary measure—what explosive result he could produce, I had overlooked far too thoroughly.
I'll have you… you, without fail! After everything I did to get you here—how dare you, how dare you…!
His whole body was thick with pus, wrapped in rusted chains and barbed wire; he was transforming into a monster in real time.
Eight Demon Dragons.
Those fallen Guardians who had discarded form and pride alike in their pursuit of power called themselves the Eight Demon Dragons. With reason nearly gone and nothing left but the instinct to chase strength without purpose, some called them malevolent gods, others simply monsters. The only things that could move them were the presence of a gem, and the mighty demonic energy that could push them into the next stage.
But a gem did not wander ownerless, and so its aura was almost never exposed; the chance of a gem roaming free was nearly impossible. Mighty demonic energy existed only around the Ten Thousand Mountains on the continent's fringe. The jianghu treated their existence as a threat, yes—but also as a threat with no real substance.
Then came the first day of the Orthodox-Demonic Great War.
For the first time in Zhongyuan history, an Eight Demon Dragon who had overcome instinct appeared before me.
A Guardian was the sole existence in the jianghu to have reached the Profound Realm. The only path for that Guardian to reach the next stage—the Samsara Realm—was a gem. The Eight Demon Dragons were those from whom that future had been half-forcibly stolen. A man living only for today was bound to defeat the one who still held a future.
Gang Chisang, whom I had once forced to yield in thirty exchanges of a duel, drove me back with overwhelming force. I fought with everything I had. It was not enough. My body was torn to shreds in agony.
Gang Chisang gestured toward the rear.
All of you—ravage them as you please.
And so, even as two thousand demonic cultivators brushed past me, there was nothing I could do. Everyone died. With both my legs still whole, both arms still whole, the dependents who had looked only to me behind my back were torn apart alive and desecrated.
Guardian!
Lady Eun Seollyeong…!
Please save us, help us!
All of them looked at me as they wept. They suffered. Even as they died, they looked at me. Children. Mothers. Fathers. The old. All of them were stabbed and killed.
The instructor who had watched over me from the day I first entered the jianghu flailed with a blade until both arms were ripped away and he died. The maid who had fretted that my face looked worn after all-night training screamed as she fled and was stabbed through the back. The man who had sworn the Covenant of the Sacred Mountain with me, who had pledged himself for a decisive battle, swung his sword—and was toyed with like a plaything until he was drenched in blood.
And still there was nothing I could do. Amid the hell of slaughter, my mind in pieces, I could not defeat Gang Chisang.
Thud.
His rusted giant blade punched through my abdomen. I fell. He mounted me. I was pinned. He seized my hair and forced my head up, made me watch the massacre unfold before my eyes.
Look. All of this is the result you made.
…
Bloody tears ran from both my eyes. I tried to turn my head; I could not even manage that. Gang Chisang chuckled low in his throat.
I thought of nothing but the day I would crush the lofty imperial princess beneath my filthy body. And today is that day. And yet…
He roughly rubbed my cheek as he spoke.
You still won't cry out. Shall I tell you one truth, then?
Before my eyes, demonic cultivators howled the name of the Demon and slaughtered my people.
Since it's come to this, I'll spare you nothing. There's something you've misunderstood. When we first met—do you know why I was at the imperial palace that day?
"…?!"
His hot breath brushed my ear as he whispered.
You once warned me that rumors were circulating that I was focusing on heretical arts. No. That was wrong.
"What?"
I was already venerating the Demon from the moment we first met. I went to the palace in the first place to meet our forces that had already infiltrated it.
My breath stopped.
Didn't you find it strange? Why a merciful emperor suddenly turned savage. How an old, childless emperor suddenly produced a crown prince… Of course, the plan all fell apart in the end when that damned emperor and prince overindulged in demonic energy and died young.
I had been mistaken. Cast out of the imperial house and into this world called the jianghu, I had divided the two and thought of them separately. But no. With this, everything became clear.
My entire journey had begun from the Demon.
Hatred born of the Demon. Distrust born of the Demon. A journey that began from the Demon, and at every fork of my life the Demon set a period, driving me to the extreme, to the next stage.
Blood ran from the forelock he had yanked. My abdomen, pierced by his rusted greatsword, gurgled as it poured out blood.
"It was you."
That was all I could say.
"You were the root of every moment of my life."
That blood traced across my brow. It crossed my face and filled my vision. Held by Gang Chisang so that I could not even turn my head, I watched everyone being violated fill every corner of my sight.
Final Decisive Ultimate Technique.
Transcending the standards of martial arts—a single lifelong regret running through one martial artist's existence, sublimated into martial skill. The single martial art that represents the Profound Realm.
My black hair dyed itself silver. My bloodshot eyes bleached as if draining of color, turning silver. Inner energy surged. The plum blossoms of cinnabar and rouge turned blue. Every plum blossom froze solid.
Rather…
She was the maid who had first set a proper meal before me when I emerged from closed-door training. Our eyes met. Her lips moved.
Rather…
As the demonic cultivators tore her clothes away, she murmured toward me.
Please kill us all… Princess.
"—!!"
That day, everyone died by my hand.
I won't die…! I won't die!
Gang Chisang was torn to pieces amid a desperate scream. Two thousand demonic cultivators were torn apart. The Mount Hua dependents who had been violated were torn apart as well.
And—
Before me, a young charcoal seller whose body had been ripped in half gasped as he drew his last breaths.
"Hah… hah. It hurts."
I did not know what to say. I was clumsy with expression. I did not know what face to make. I was a stupid, lofty imperial princess who only knew how to reign.
"Still… it's a shame."
The man forced the words out in broken gasps.
"At the end… I wanted to save you, Lady Eun Seollyeong, in some splendid way… Reality's different, huh… Haha. I only became a burden instead."
In my arms was the toy-like silver bell he had given me.
"I'm sorry I'm weak. Sorry I'm a fool who's so weak. Sorry I'm weak."
"…"
"I really want to live. I don't want to die… Fairy."
To the last, the man said stupid things.
"Sorry I couldn't hold on…"
And so the first person with whom I had sworn the Covenant of the Sacred Mountain died by my hand as well.
I watched it all with an expressionless face.
To kill an Eight Demon Dragon—and a newly born malevolent god at that… You will forever bear the curse of the gods for the great slaughter of this land…
Among the torn remnants of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult was a shaman. The shaman muttered.
The regrets of all whose blood has mingled with that of an Eight Demon Dragon upon this earth shall become a curse, and your time shall freeze as it is… You shall never sleep easy through the nights, and you shall pass endless nights unable to rest for guilt… In that cycle of reincarnation there shall be none—none—who can save you—
Shhk.
From my shoulder a single sword rose and flew like an arrow.
Thud.
The cult shaman died instantly with a blade driven through the crown of his head.
And so I stood there. I stood without taking any action at all. I stood looking down at the corpse of the covenant-holder who had breathed his last before me.
Before I knew it, night had fallen. A full moon rose. Beneath it lay a pool of blood. The moonlight reflected clear upon that blood, and my face was mirrored there. It was a bluish moonlight. My face was expressionless. And in that blood so clear it was almost transparent, my eyes had been bleached to silver.
Eun Seollyeong's Chamajeong clashed with Noeje's iron bow, scattering sparks. Their forms tangled together.
"Eight Demon Dragons—every last one of you, I'll kill you all…!"
Eun Seollyeong roared as she closed in.
"You… you and the Demon you serve…!"
Behind her, countless corpses of Jegal Clan martial artists burned and toppled.
"You made me… you made the me who stands here today!"
Silver light exploded from Eun Seollyeong's eyes.
All those nameless fallen had charged for a single purpose: to close the distance. That price had allowed Eun Seollyeong to cling close, and she knew the weight of it better than anyone.
A mere three jang of distance.
Noeje fought to open more than three jang—enough range to unleash his full power—while Eun Seollyeong clung to him with vicious tenacity, locked in a bloody war of inches. Both knew that the moment even a single exchange allowed more than three jang, this taut contest would end in an instant.
Clang! Shriek—!
Eun Seollyeong's fierce assault drove Noeje to the cliff's edge beside the lakeshore.
"Haaah!"
She gripped her sword in both hands and brought it down with everything she had. The blow carried enough force to cleave Noeje's limbs in half.
Ghk!
Noeje caught the silver slash on his iron bow. Under the enormous force, the ground beneath his feet gave way with a roar.
Rumble—!
Against the backdrop of a vast full moon, the two of them tangled as the cliff collapsed. They fell toward the lake.
Splash!
Rock shards and a towering spray of water erupted across the lakeshore. As she slammed roughly onto the surface, Eun Seollyeong thrust a hand toward the empty air. Scattered blade fragments gathered. They became three swords. She snatched one of them. Her shoulders rose and fell with ragged breath.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
With white plumes of water she ran straight across the lake's surface. Noeje's eyes glowed red as he shouted.
Bottomless rage…! Just as Gang Chisang said.
"Kh…!"
Eun Seollyeong loosed a single slash.
But! My guess was right after all…!
Noeje blocked the cut. His hands, barely holding off Eun Seollyeong's assault, trembled violently. The fight was clearly her one-sided trampling. Her body bore no fatal wounds. His was a wreck. And yet, as time passed, only Eun Seollyeong's face grew paler, her breathing more labored. Noeje, for all the pain of his wounds, still had room to spare.
As I thought—the aftereffects of your fight with Gang Chisang remain.
"Hah! Hah…!"
Eun Seollyeong gasped for air. The iron bow in Noeje's grip slowly forced her Chamajeong back.
Compared to your prime, your recovery is far from complete.
Meeting her face head-on, Noeje of the Eight Demon Dragons murmured with piercing eyes.
Then and now, you still try to shoulder everything alone!
"…!"
Eun Seollyeong's eyes flew wide.
"Shut that filthy mouth!!"
Inner energy erupted from her body like an explosion.
"Gang Chisang never warned you about this, did he! I'll end it in a single stroke…!"
Eun Seollyeong leapt into the sky. She spread her hand toward the heavens.
With a sound like pottery shattering, the three Chamajeong blades scattered—then gathered into the form of a single long spear.
Silver radiance bloomed, and plum blossoms of a dimension utterly different from before enfolded Eun Seollyeong.
Crack… crackle!
Space itself seemed to compress as every strand of her inner energy was crushed into her hand.
The waves and swells of plum blossoms fill the sky—!
As she cried the true words of the Final Decisive Ultimate Technique, her inner energy detonated. The Chamajeong in spear form began to drink in extreme power, wreathed in a piercing cold. Water droplets from the lake rose higher and higher into the empty air. Sand floated free. Waves began to rise. Trees along the shore shook as if they would be uprooted. Leaves fell and whirled around Eun Seollyeong. Silver plum-blossom petals cleaved through those leaves and covered her. Clouds spun and gathered.
Noeje looked up at the sky and spoke.
No—I've heard more than enough. There could be no Final Decisive Ultimate Technique more fitting for the words "greatest under heaven," none more desperate. But you see…
In every motion of Noeje as he watched it all, there was ease. Between his black bandages, a red tongue flicked.
You will never fire that spear. The fact that you fell for my clumsy provocation and even started it already means your defeat.
"Nonsense!"
I've heard a great deal about you. And from the way you took that bait just now, I'm certain. You will never fire it.
Noeje walked slowly to the side. He stopped. Far behind him, the city of Shaanxi glowed faintly in the distance. Glancing back, he said,
That distance to Shaanxi you see there is so vast that no Final Decisive Ultimate Technique could possibly reach it. Yes. Common sense knows that. You know it too. And yet…
He turned fully to face Eun Seollyeong with a smile.
You aren't planning to do the exact same thing you did that day when you slaughtered them all, are you?
"…!"
At those words, Eun Seollyeong's face took on an expression she had never shown until now.
"Th-that…!"
Her pupils shook violently. Her breathing shuddered. Her inner energy tangled. The Chamajeong that had been pouring out fierce power wavered.
He did not miss that instant. Noeje's hands snapped the iron bow into place like lightning.
A fool who holds a peerless blade and doesn't know how to swing it!
"Ah—!"
Eun Seollyeong moved her hands as fast as she could. Noeje's voice was cold.
Too late.
BOOOOM!!
It was a single streak of gang-arrow that had never been loosed until now. A colossal storm wreathed in thunderbolts tore straight forward.
"—!"
Eun Seollyeong's vision went pure white. It was instant death itself, beyond any hope of response. A gang-arrow fired by Noeje of the Eight Demon Dragons. The shot was saturated with demonic energy. There would be no one who could stop it.
Eun Seollyeong felt her life flash before her eyes like a revolving lantern.
Where did my life first go wrong?
She had met so many people. So many ties had brushed past her. With a heart of atonement she had tried to save those she met. She had tried to fulfill, in his place, the conviction of the first covenant-holder she had killed. She had tried to walk the path of righteousness and chivalry. She had stood in front and tried to protect. She had willingly shown her back and spared nothing of herself to save everyone.
And whenever she turned after protecting them, there was no one behind her. No—the people who had trusted her and been shown her back drove knives into it. They used her.
Even so, she rose. As time passed, her friends died. Those who knew her name died. The house she had lived in rotted and vanished. The few close friends who had listened to her heart died as well. And still she walked on, believing that at the end of this underground tunnel there would someday be an exit where light came in.
But that endless journey held no answer, and no exit. And so she grew weary. Her soul wore thin. Alone in this vast world she walked an endless road. Everything faded until, before she knew it, everything had grown dim. At the end of every journey, only a body bleached by exhaustion remained.
Eun Seollyeong closed her eyes. She felt the vast storm of demonic energy open its maw and come for her. She resigned herself. Perhaps it would be better if all these eons simply ended with this.
And now—
A man stood before her.
A man stood with his back to her, facing what came. It was the first time—someone else's back, set in front of her as a shield.
"…Ah."
That man's back was solitary. And yet before the colossal gale rushing toward them, it did not yield an inch. In his hands, two Chamajeong blades were clenched tight, thick with blood. His presence was filled with an unbroken conviction.
"…Ah… ah."
It was the first back she had seen at the end of eons of years—another person's back, turned to protect someone.
Her entire journey had begun from the Demon. Now its end, too, was closing from the Demon.
And at the end of her life, together with black thunder, another Demon reached out a hand to her.
"Moyong Bi!"