Where the Hell Do You Think This Is? (4)
Step.
Step.
Step.
Footsteps rang out across Mount Hua, where silence had settled like dust.
There was nothing particularly unusual about the gait, and yet it somehow made everyone who watched hold their breath.
Men dressed in martial robes so vivid they seemed almost dazzling—scarlet silk embroidered in chaotic white thread with symbols no one could quite decipher—were approaching Mount Hua’s mountain gate.
Their garb was confusing, sinister, bizarre, and at the same time oppressive, and those who saw them all went pale and staggered back.
White-Red Robes!
The righteous sects were bound by order.
By custom, they dressed their disciples in robes that symbolized their sect, so that even when a disciple traveled alone, he would never forget that each of his actions could bring shame to his school.
The demonic and unorthodox sects, by contrast, often placed no restrictions on what their followers wore. Look at the Green Forest—didn’t they throw on whatever they pleased, whether tiger fur or leather?
But even among those factions, the elite of a sect were made to wear something that represented it.
And those White-Red Robes were the attire that symbolized the elite of Maninbang.
It was a garment more feared by the unorthodox sects than by the righteous ones. And the men wearing it were now entering Mount Hua.
The footsteps grew louder, and when they finally reached the mountain gate, they strode into the grounds without a moment’s hesitation. As their grim, sharp aura spread outward, the men who had been holding themselves in check groaned and stumbled back.
But there were some who could not retreat.
“What is this?”
“You bastards!”
The warriors of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace and the North Sea Ice Palace stepped forward to bar their way, snarling threats.
At the same time, the Maninbang disciples stopped as well.
There was no real exchange between them. The Maninbang men only fixed the warriors of the two palaces with vicious, murderous stares.
“Tha—”
Crack.
Watching it all, Baek Cheon’s face twisted like that of a demon.
He understood it well enough.
Mount Hua’s greatest enemy was, of course, the Demonic Sect. Even now, merely thinking of them sent a chill down his spine and raised gooseflesh across his body.
And the enemy he least wanted to lose to was Zhongnan. No matter what happened, he never wanted to be defeated by Zhongnan.
The person he most wanted to surpass was Shaolin, and the sect that would be most satisfying to beat was Wudang.
And yet—
“Th-!”
The enemy he hated most.
If there was any enemy he would gladly rip apart with his bare hands, grind its bones into dust, and drink the powder down, it was Maninbang. And now those Maninbang bastards had come of their own accord to Mount Hua.
“You— you damned bastards, how dare you come here?”
Baek Cheon’s hand tightened around his sword as he was about to leap forward.
Thud.
Chung Myung, standing beside him, reached out and stopped him.
“Hold on.”
“Chung Myung!”
“...I said wait.”
“...”
Baek Cheon clenched his mouth shut and looked at Chung Myung.
When he saw Chung Myung’s face—cold as winter water, with not a single trace of emotion on it—he could only bite his lip and endure.
If there was anyone who hated Maninbang more than Baek Cheon, it was Chung Myung.
Wasn’t Chung Myung the one who, when Un Geom had been hovering on death’s door, had tried to storm Maninbang with a single sword in hand without bothering with anything else?
And now that same Chung Myung was restraining Baek Cheon.
“...Dammit.”
Baek Cheon let go of his sword. His hand trembled violently, betraying the fury that churned in him.
“State your business.”
“Back off!”
The warriors of the Beast Palace and Ice Palace bared their teeth and threatened the Maninbang men. That emboldened the onlookers, who began adding their own shouts one after another.
“How dare unorthodox bastards set foot here without shame!”
“It’s Maninbang if it’s Maninbang! Do you think Shaanxi belongs to you?”
Foxes borrowing a tiger’s hide.
Of course they would strut when they had a tiger behind them.
No matter how fearsome Maninbang was, once they considered who had gathered here—and that this place was Mount Hua itself—they finally remembered there was no reason to be afraid. The crowd’s qi surged violently.
“Drive them out!”
“Don’t let a single one get out alive!”
“Today I’ll taste the blood of Maninbang bastards.”
Then they pressed in close behind the Beast Palace and Ice Palace warriors, stamping their feet threateningly as though they might charge through at any moment.
And then, at that moment—
“Hmmm.”
From within the ranks of Maninbang came a strangely languid voice.
In an instant, everyone’s heart dropped.
...
A rabbit that has heard a tiger’s roar at close range cannot move.
Now the crowd understood that instinct in their bones.
They could not even breathe. They had only heard a soft voice, and yet their whole bodies had stiffened; they could not even dare to blink.
Before they could do anything, the Maninbang disciples parted to the left and right in unison. Along the road that opened, one man strolled out at an unhurried pace.
The first thing to catch the eye was his silk shoes—far too ornate for a man’s footwear. And yet, bizarrely, they suited him perfectly.
Above those extravagant shoes, a snow-white robe embroidered with a dragon in golden thread wrapped around his body.
Taller than the average man by several inches, he looked even larger than he really was because of the white robe draped over his slim frame.
On the fingers of the hand hanging naturally beneath the robe, no fewer than ten gemstone rings of every color were fitted tightly in place.
Gulp.
Someone swallowed hard and shifted his gaze to the man’s face.
Skin as white as if it had been powdered, so pale it looked as though dust would come off at a touch. And lips stained a vivid blood-red.
Thick, dense eyelashes and the faintly colored eyes beneath them sent an inexplicable shiver through anyone who looked at him. A pure-white crown sat atop hair that had been combed back so completely not a single strand escaped.
It was an appearance that could not be explained as anything but bizarre.
Every time he moved a step, jade and gold necklaces struck together and jingled softly.
If an ordinary man had walked around like that, everyone would have pointed and laughed, calling him a clown.
But no one here dared laugh at him. No—more than that, no one could laugh.
It was only natural.
Even that absurd, grotesque outfit inspired terror and awe when it hung on this man’s body.
“...Paegun.”
Someone muttered the word like a groan.
Paegun, Jang Il-so.
This man with such overwhelming presence was the leader of Maninbang, one of the Five Hegemons of the Jianghu—and the Paegun, Jang Il-so, who lorded over the world.
Step.
Jang Il-so took one more step forward.
The warriors who had been brimming with momentum, as though they might charge Maninbang at any second, unconsciously shifted their weight backward.
If they had followed their hearts, they might already have turned and fled. But even that Jang Il-so would not allow. The moment they confirmed that he was standing right before them, their bodies would not obey and their feet would not move.
It was as if they had been caught in a massive spiderweb.
The faces of the onlookers grew steadily paler.
It would already have been enough to turn them ashen just from the fact that Maninbang had come to Mount Hua. But on top of that, Jang Il-so himself had appeared. No one, seeing Maninbang arrive, had imagined that Jang Il-so would come in person to Mount Hua.
He was far too great a figure to reveal himself in this distant corner of Shaanxi.
Step.
At last, Jang Il-so stopped in front of the crowd. Then he swept his unreadable gaze slowly across those standing before him.
...
The warriors of the two palaces gritted their teeth and held their ground.
But those standing behind them could not meet Jang Il-so’s eyes and instead kept turning their heads away in little jerks.
His presence was so overwhelming that no one even felt like calling them spineless. The moment he appeared, it felt as if all of Mount Hua had fallen into his grasp.
“Hmmmmm.”
That strange sound slipped out of Jang Il-so’s mouth again.
“Blood, you say...”
One man’s face went abruptly ashen.
He was the one who had shouted just moments earlier that today he would taste the blood of Maninbang. Yet even though Jang Il-so clearly noticed the change in his expression, he simply smiled brightly, as though not even this little nobody was worth bothering with.
“Isn’t that a little too strong for such a fine day?”
...
“Or perhaps...”
His gaze swept over everyone.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to stir the mood with a little blood? What do you think?”
No one dared answer.
The authority of Paegun Jang Il-so did not come from Maninbang. It was not that Jang Il-so was Jang Il-so because Maninbang existed. It was because Jang Il-so existed that Maninbang could be Maninbang.
The other sects among the Five Hegemons were sects whose power had been passed down over the years.
But Maninbang was different.
Maninbang was a new sect created by Jang Il-so. The sect he had opened alone had crushed every prominent unorthodox faction beneath the heavens and eventually risen to occupy one of the seats of the Five Hegemons.
Among the countless powerhouses in the world, he was one of the very highest.
Even the righteous sects, who preferred not to acknowledge the warriors of the unorthodox path, had no choice but to admit him.
Who could speak carelessly before such a Paegun?
“It’s not bad.”
Yet contrary to what the crowd thought, a reply came from behind him. The onlookers all turned pale and looked back at once.
When they saw a man walking toward them, they instinctively parted left and right to open a path.
Along that narrow opening, a man in Mount Hua’s black martial robes walked forward with an indifferent face.
“If the blood’s coming out of your throat, that is.”
Jang Il-so’s eyes, suddenly gleaming with a strange light, stared fixedly at the approaching man.
A young man, still carrying a trace of youth, not particularly large in stature. He looked far too weak to stand against Jang Il-so head-on.
“Hmm?”
And yet something like delight flickered in Jang Il-so’s eyes.
He tilted his head slightly, then lifted one arm up in front of his face. With the other hand, he slowly rolled back his sleeve.
As he stared at the clear gooseflesh rising on his snow-white forearm, Jang Il-so looked back at the Mount Hua man—Chung Myung—with flickering eyes.
“I see!”
A brilliant smile spread across Jang Il-so’s face.
“You’re that Mount Hua Divine Dragon.”
“Right.”
Chung Myung met his gaze and smiled back.
“The guy who’s going to cut your throat.”
In an instant, stunned looks flooded toward Chung Myung from all sides.
Has he lost his mind? Does he not know who that is?
That was Paegun Jang Il-so.
Even if it were the elders of the Nine Great Sects standing here, not to mention the sect leaders themselves, there was no one who would dare speak to Paegun Jang Il-so like that.
But now, not even the Mount Hua sect leader—just a mere disciple—was daring to provoke Jang Il-so? If Jang Il-so cut off that man’s head right now, no one could possibly complain.
Yet Jang Il-so’s response was entirely beyond their expectations.
He lowered his arm, then burst into loud laughter.
“Ahahahahahahahahahaha!”
He laughed so hard he even clutched his stomach, and silence instead settled over the grounds. Only Jang Il-so’s clear laughter rang high through Mount Hua.
After laughing alone for a long while, Jang Il-so looked at Chung Myung with eyes full of admiration.
“You’re an interesting boy. No—‘boy’ is wrong. An interesting bastard.”
Then he slowly took hold of his own throat with a white hand.
“But giving you this neck right now would be a little difficult. Come find me sometime. I’ll treat you to some good liquor.”
“I’ve got no interest in drinking with a guy like you.”
“That’s fine. It’s fine.”
The corners of Jang Il-so’s thin lips rose wickedly.
“If you break their arms and legs, pull out their jaws, and pour the liquor in, they’ll all happily drink it and say it tastes wonderful. So you needn’t worry about that.”
His smile remained bright, but the words that came out were chilling to the bone.
Yet Chung Myung only gave a smile not unlike Jang Il-so’s.
“Don’t worry. I’ll just cut your throat cleanly.”
“Oh? Hahaha. That’s truly kind of you!”
The instant Chung Myung’s blade-like gaze clashed with Jang Il-so’s leisurely one in midair—
“Enough.”
At the heavy voice, everyone’s gaze snapped to one side.
Before anyone noticed, Hyun Jong and the leaders of the four sects of the Heavenly Alliance had come out to the training ground and were walking this way.
The moment they stopped at a distance before Jang Il-so, silence so deep that even the drop of a needle could be heard began to press heavily over Mount Hua.