Chapter 235
Chapter 235: Three Eyes (1)
"A report from the Gangdo vicinity—an urgent one!"
The door of Formation Tower's Eight Trigram Hall burst open.
It had been quite a while since Dong Mu-toe left, and Eom Bi-ryeong and Myo Jin-heo had been gone even longer. Days had passed with the five Trigram Leaders and the Grand Zenith Position seated around the three empty chairs, producing neither new agenda nor any conclusions.
The messenger knelt.
"An unusual situation has been detected near Gangdo."
"Unusual situation?"
"Yes! A report has come in that several peaks have suddenly disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"The terrain itself has been completely transformed, they say. It was directly witnessed by a Formation Taoist at a nearby base, and the testimonies of numerous local residents are consistent as well."
"You said several peaks?"
"The exact number has not been confirmed. However, the word passed along is that 'the mountain landscape itself has been entirely reversed' would be the most fitting description."
Clack.
Ga Myo-ryeon's abacus stopped. The eyes that had been half-shut opened fully.
"Gangdo……"
Hero Gate was in Gangdo. The place where Eom Bi-ryeong and Myo Jin-heo were currently said to be.
"Was it a battle?"
The Wind Formation Division's Trigram Leader leaned forward over the table and asked the messenger lightly.
"It is difficult to say with certainty. However, there are rumors that around the same time, a unit of the Dark Net Rakshasa Path heading toward a location not far from Gangdo has gone silent."
"The scale?"
"That has not yet been confirmed."
Baek Jang-gyeong's gaze swept across the three empty seats.
"Has a carrier pigeon been sent to Trigram Leader Eom and Trigram Leader Myo?"
"One was dispatched directly to Hero Gate in Gangdo two days ago, but there has been no reply as of yet."
That was the end of it, and a brief silence followed.
Then the Wind Formation Division's Trigram Leader uncrossed his arms and broke the quiet.
"We must immediately dispatch personnel toward Gangdo."
But at that, Ga Myo-ryeon picked up her abacus again and shook her head.
"Whom do we send? With three Trigram Leaders already absent."
She did not click the beads, but her refusal was firm.
"If we lose Trigram Leaders just to spare intelligence personnel, what then?!"
Baek Jang-gyeong shot to his feet.
Ga Myo-ryeon simply opened her half-lidded eyes again and said nothing.
All the while, Grand Zenith Position Jin Mu-geuk was still turning his teacup in his hands.
As the silence stretched, the Trigram Leaders' gazes gathered one by one toward the Grand Zenith Position. Because in the end, the final authority lay nowhere else.
Soon, his teacup came down onto the table.
"Something has happened significant enough to make peaks disappear."
Eyes calmer than a still lake looked past the messenger, toward somewhere beyond the Eight Trigram Hall's door.
"Do you think we are the only ones who have noticed?"
No one could speak. Ga Myo-ryeon's hand had stilled over the abacus, and Baek Jang-gyeong's gaze had turned toward the door.
Jin Mu-geuk rose from his seat.
After days of deadlock, the Grand Zenith Position had finally moved.
"Check all available personnel at relay bases along the Gangdo route and get them moving. Within a quarter of an hour."
The messenger leapt to his feet and ran out.
"The rest of you—draw out the maximum available rapid-deployment forces from each division. There is no more work to be done sitting in here."
The Trigram Leaders rose to their feet all at once. Only the three empty seats remained as they were.
***
At that very moment when Formation Tower was moving busily.
There was another place that had begun to stir just the same.
Clack, clatter—
The bone wind chimes at the eaves clinked together. The dry sound of bone striking bone was filling the morning of Nirvana Mountain.
"In other words, what you are saying is that while everyone else entered Nirvana, you alone came back alive?"
Hyang-rang did not lift her head.
The human-tallow candles of Nacharjeon trailed their faint, rancid smoke.
The seated statue of Rakshasa Demon Lord above the Dharma throne—a hollow face in the darkness. Beneath it, the bone rosary was turning slowly.
Trundle.
A nose that, in former times, would have read the state of the oil in every single candle in this room—now it could barely catch the scent of the nearest incense burner.
"I do not know whether they all died. I simply withdrew before the Rakshasa Warrior Monk Unit arrived."
"Withdrew? Withdrew?"
Scarlet Rakshasa chewed over those two words. The large frame standing below the Dharma throne stood motionless with arms crossed.
"The Blood Fragrance Society withdrew mid-pursuit? You think that makes sense?"
He did not say fled. Not yet.
"It was a judgment made after making contact with the pursuit target."
"Contact?"
"Yes, Scarlet Rakshasa."
"Then since you made contact, you should know well. What manner of opponent were they?"
Hyang-rang's fingers curled inward against her thighs.
"It was not one person."
"How many?"
"Three, perhaps four. Among them, one……"
The moment when nothing had reached the tip of her nose came back to her. The grass gone, the soil gone, everything the wind had carried—gone.
"Killed my nose."
Scarlet Rakshasa's brow shifted. The Blood Fragrance Society of the Dark Net Rakshasa Path were those who read battlefields spanning hundreds of li with their nose alone. This was saying there existed someone who had killed that nose.
"Around that person, I could smell nothing at all. It was not that there was no scent—it was being erased."
"……Continue."
"From two of the others, Formation Energy was detected."
Scarlet Rakshasa's crossed arms loosened.
"Formation Energy?"
"It was that of the Mountain Formation Division and that of the Thunder Formation Division."
The bone rosary inside Nacharjeon stopped, and
Hyang-rang's forehead descended lower still.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"I will ask again. Are you certain?"
"Yes, Scarlet Rakshasa."
Scarlet Rakshasa asked repeatedly. Because if the Mountain Formation Division and Thunder Formation Division had been detected simultaneously, then Formation Tower siding with the Vast Heaven side would be confirmed beyond question, elevated to certainty.
"I detected it while my sense of smell was still intact. The Mountain Formation Division's Formation Energy carries the scent of metal and earth mixed; the Thunder Formation Division's, the smell of air scorched by lightning. I cannot be mistaken."
Scarlet Rakshasa stepped forward by one pace.
"What became of things after you withdrew?"
Hyang-rang raised her head for the first time.
"Because my nose had been sealed…… I watched."
"Watched what?"
"As I fled, I looked back."
The trembling had left her voice.
"After the Rakshasa Warrior Monk Unit pushed up into the mountain, I watched from the southern ridge. The sounds came first. The chanting broke off, and great crashes followed. After that……"
Hyang-rang's gaze turned toward the darkness beyond Nacharjeon. It was not the memory of that night, but of the day that followed.
"The peaks disappeared. Not one—several. Not cut away, but scattered and hurled apart."
Scarlet Rakshasa's eyes narrowed, and
Hyang-rang's words continued.
"It was not over."
Hyang-rang's voice was sunk to an extreme stillness, unlike before.
"From the places where the peaks had vanished, light—a terribly divine light-road—stained everything in all directions and shot straight to the very ends of heaven."
"Light?"
"It was golden. Beyond covering a single mountain like the light of dawn, it was visible as far as dozens of miles away—the sky itself was stained by it."
Hyang-rang's hands were trembling. Only after she became aware of it herself did she clench them into fists.
"Beneath that light, the chanting of the Rakshasa Warrior Monk Unit never came back."
Nacharjeon fell quiet.
Scarlet Rakshasa was silent for a long while. He was not crossing his arms, nor resting his chin. He simply stood. His eyes were assembling Hyang-rang's report piece by piece in his mind.
One who erases the sense of smell. Two Trigram Leaders of Formation Tower. A battle that blows peaks away. Golden light that covers the sky. And the Rakshasa Warrior Monk Unit, completely and perfectly cut off.
Scarlet Rakshasa was a man who had grown old on the battlefield. The strength of this man had always been that he did not waver even before reports that made no sense—yet the picture now being assembled in his mind was utter nonsense.
"Rise."
Hyang-rang rose.
Scarlet Rakshasa was already turning away. His steps toward the darkness beyond the Dharma throne were swift.
Trundle.
The bone rosary that had stopped began to turn once more.
"You said Gangdo?"
It was a voice descended from the Dharma throne. A slow, measured tone like the delivery of a sermon. Not compassionate—the voice of one who had no need even to imitate compassion. The smoke of the human-tallow candle swayed once in time with that voice.
Hyang-rang's forehead touched the stone floor.
"Yes. Great Venerable."
"What is…… how…… why was it there?"
"A newly established sect called Hero Gate had established itself there. As to the reason, I do not know."
Trundle.
The rosary turned one more bead.
"Six hundred sentient beings who were not mercifully, lovingly guided to liberation……"
Scarlet Rakshasa bent at the waist.
"Hero Gate. A name I have not heard."
Beneath half-lidded eyes, what hung at the corner of his mouth could not be distinguished as a smile or otherwise.
"It must be looked into."
Trundle.
The rosary began to turn once more, slowly, slowly.
The texture of the energy flowing down from below the Dharma throne had shifted ever so subtly.
Subtly enough that even Hyang-rang's half-dead nose could read it.
Now, whether it be Vast Heaven, or Formation Tower, or that unknown one who erased the sense of smell—all of them would have to bear this wrath in full.
***
At the same time.
A place covered not in silence, but in bewilderment.
Vast Heaven Mountain.
A peak rising at the far edge where the layered mountain ranges of the Central Plains' northern reaches came to an end.
Along the mountainside, white-jade stone steps stretched upward in a long, unbroken line. On the sword racks lined along both sides of the steps, one sword was set into each—and their number exceeded several thousand.
Each single sword was the name of a swordsman who had passed through this place.
The training grounds at the mountain's midpoint. A hundred-odd disciples drew their swords with perfect order. The movements were precise. Swordtips departing from the same angle, halting at the same height. Even their breathing was aligned as one.
The great pillar of the Orthodox Martial World.
Seen from afar, it was majestic.
Only a few knew that the instructor watching from the edge of the training grounds was looking not at the disciples' sword tips, but at their feet. If a foot trespassed even half an inch over the line, the sword was taken away. Three days to get it back. A disciple without a sword was the same as nameless on this mountain.
It was order.
On this mountain, a sword was not a weapon. It was law. The order in which one held a sword was the order in which one could speak, and what determined when to lay it down was not oneself, but a single word that descended from above.
It had been so for a long time.
The Main Hall.
A place only reachable by climbing another two hundred steps above the training grounds. The characters Mu-geuk carved into the plaque beneath the eaves sank darkly even in the light of midday.
Inside.
The messenger knelt.
His mouth opened before his forehead had even touched the stone floor.
"Dragon Spring Sword Manor—annihilated. Azure Cloud Sword Sect—annihilated. Four Sword Academy—annihilated. Southern Sword Society—annihilated."
Four.
The gazes of the seven elders present in the conference room all snapped to the messenger at once.
Beside them, a woman sat near the wall. Not an elder, not a messenger—yet someone whose presence in this room no one found strange. No one spoke.
The messenger's breathing was ragged, but the report did not break.
"The confirmed damage to branch sects as of today stands at eight. No remnants have been confirmed to have rejoined any location."
Eight. Ten days ago it had been three. Before that, one. The pace was accelerating.
One elder set down his teacup. The sound of it touching the table was unusually loud.
"The Sword Branch Corps?"
"……There is no word."
Five hundred. The wide-ranging elite search unit of the Vast Heaven Limitless Sword Sect—five hundred strong—had been out of contact for a long while now. No one had yet spoken the word annihilation aloud, but given the circumstances, it was unmistakably clear.
"The Sword Patrol Corps?"
The messenger's head lowered further still.
"……The same."
Not even one of the elites that the Corps Leader had personally led out had returned.
"What of the enemy's movements?"
It was the elder holding the fan.
"The Dark Net Rakshasa Path's offensive is expanding from the eastern front to the south. The forces at Nirvana Mountain's main base have not diminished, and the additional organization of Rakshasa Warrior Monk Units has been confirmed."
"Has not diminished?"
"It appears that the forces that annihilated the branch sects have not returned to the main base but are proceeding directly to the next branch. It is believed that the main force of the base has not yet moved."
This meant that eight branch sects had been annihilated without even deploying the main force. One elder's jaw trembled slightly.
"And Formation Tower?"
"There is no answer."
A request for support had been sent long ago. Formation Tower had yet to take either side. Written as neutrality, read as turning a blind eye—that was more accurate.
"What came of the rumor that two Trigram Leaders were dispatched somewhere?"
The elder across the way cut in.
"There is talk that the Trigram Leaders of the Mountain Formation Division and Thunder Formation Division went south. However, their destination is said to not be the main mountain."
"If not the main mountain, where then?"
"That has not yet…… been confirmed, I am told."
Yet another blank. Only the unknowns kept multiplying.
The silence stretched.
The elders' gazes passed back and forth between one another. Eyes that needed to speak but could not. Because every one of them knew that whoever uttered the next word in this room would bear the responsibility.
Then.
"How many branches remain?"
The voice came from deeper within the conference room.
The moment that single sentence fell, every sound in the conference room was cut. The elders' breathing, the spitting of the candles.
A stillness like sword energy passing through without a sword being drawn.
The messenger's forehead came fully to rest against the stone floor.
"Thirty-two. Sword Venerable."
"Thirty-two."
The Sword Venerable repeated that number once.
"If the root is sound, branches will grow anew. The Rakshasa dogs have no means to cut the trunk."
There was no sound of him rising from his chair. Only his voice flowed from within the darkness.
"When spring comes, their arrogant and lawless pruning—we shall do it ourselves."
With that, silence descended again, and the messenger steadied his breathing before continuing.
"There is one more matter to report. It concerns the whereabouts of Dragon Spring Sword Manor's Branch Lord Jin Ha-gyeong."
"Speak."
"She is said to have fled south with over two hundred remnants. Based on the direction of flight, it is certain to be toward Gangdo."
"……And the pursuers?"
The elder who had set his folded fan on the table asked.
"It is believed that a Rakshasa pursuit unit followed in her wake. I was told the scale exceeded several hundred, but the precise formation has not been confirmed."
At the word several hundred, murmuring broke out among those present. The Dark Net Rakshasa Path's numbers were extraordinary. To operate that many Rakshasa Warrior Monks while simultaneously pushing every front line……
"……Has the information on that pursuit unit been reliably confirmed?"
"Regrettably…… every member of the Vast Heaven intelligence unit that had been tailing the Rakshasas has also gone silent, Elder."
Crack—
The hand of the elder who had just taken up his fan again and snapped it in two came down onto the table.
"Gangdo. Was that not also where the Sword Patrol Corps was sent?"
No one could respond.
The place where the entire Sword Patrol Corps had departed in order to gather as many allies as possible ahead of the full-scale war with the Dark Net Rakshasa Path.
And.
The affiliated sects of the Vast Heaven side, the direction in which the remnants of many of Vast Heaven's friendly forces were heading.
It was all Gangdo.
"Gangdo."
It was the Sword Venerable's voice.
Though it was not a question, at those two words, one elder immediately bowed his waist.
"Gangdo was originally a place divided between the Iron God Society and the Seven Star Immortal Assembly. The Sword Patrol Corps was dispatched with the aim of making contact with those two forces."
"And yet?"
The elder across the way spoke up.
"Both of them no longer exist."
"Do not exist?"
"They have been exterminated, it is said. A new force appeared, brought those two down, and has taken control of Gangdo, so I hear."
The Sword Venerable's sharp voice followed without a moment's gap.
"The name of the force?"
"I was told they hang a plaque reading Hero Gate."
Hero Gate.
A brief silence passed among the elders.
"Has the name of the sect leader been confirmed?"
The very elder who had snapped the fan asked.
"Kim Rae-won, it is said."
One elder's eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly.
"Kim Rae-won……. Somewhere……"
But he could not catch the thread of memory and closed his mouth again. Among the other elders as well, there were those who tilted their heads or whose gazes felt along empty air, but no one fully recalled that name.
However. The fingertips of the woman sitting near the wall folded inward against her knee once, then unfolded.
Iron-Faced Lady Yeop Bi-hwa.
The absolute sword born of the Vast Heaven Limitless Sword Sect, yet not confined within Vast Heaven's frame.
Her fingertips came back to rest on her knee. That was all. On a face of peerless beauty—barely believable to have reached middle age—nothing surfaced. The epithet Iron-Faced had not been given for nothing.
The Sword Venerable did not ask again. Seven elders held their breath and waited for what came next.
For a long while no sound came from within the darkness, until at some moment a blade-like voice spread sharply through the room.
"Truly, the winds across the Central Plains blow strangely of late."
One elder raised his head, but could not grasp his meaning. The other elders likewise.
Did he mean the current situation of branch sects being annihilated, or was there some deeper intent…… it was a context only the Sword Venerable knew.
"Confirm it."
It was brief.
"It is where the Sword Patrol Corps disappeared, and where several hundred more of our disciples have further disappeared. Make it so I can see with my own eyes what lies there."
But the intent was clear.
An order to advance.
At that, Yeop Bi-hwa opened her mouth for the first time.
"I will go."
The gazes of all seven elders turned at once toward the wall. The woman who had been seated in this room yet had not spoken a single word had at last made her voice heard.
"Gangdo is four days away."
That was all. She added no reason, and sought no permission.
There was no reply from the Sword Venerable.
Only a presence flowing from within the darkness shifted once, then settled.
Whether it had been a nod, or not.
And.
Yeop Bi-hwa was already rising from her seat.
Iron-Faced Lady.
One of the three who had earned the name of the Three Eccentrics at the past Orthodox Council Gathering.