Tell You What Real Despair Means (3)
He might not have been the strongest man in the world.
Jang Ilso was called the number one evil man in the world, but no one could truly say whether his martial prowess was the greatest under heaven. In fact, no one even bothered to ask.
Why? The answer was absurdly simple.
Because something like that didn’t matter in the slightest.
Everyone who lived in the Jianghu was judged by force. To build a name in this world of blades and blood, one had to prove, again and again, exactly how strong one was.
But this man—this one man—was different.
Paegun, Jang Ilso.
That name alone stood apart in this Jianghu, wholly alien and utterly unique.
Even if Jang Ilso’s martial skill were no better than that of some street thug, everyone in the world would still say the same thing:
This man was the most dangerous person in the current Jianghu.
Like a snake carrying a deadly poison in its fangs, he walked slowly across the sandy beach. His steps were light rather than threatening, graceful rather than solemn. He moved with the unhurried ease of someone out for a stroll.
And yet not a single soul on Maehwado could tear their eyes away from him.
“……”
Swallowing hard came almost by reflex.
No one had ordered them to stop fighting. And yet the battle had naturally come to a halt.
At the very least, Namgung Myeong thought he understood why.
No rabbit, after all, would keep fighting over territory with its own kind while a wolf stood before them.
The instant Jang Ilso revealed himself, everyone here had instinctively understood that this was no longer the time to fight one another.
“Hmm.”
His low, slightly nasal voice drifted over Maehwado on the wind.
“Well now…”
Jang Ilso’s eyes shifted to Namgung Hwang.
“You look like a right mess.”
Namgung Hwang clenched his fist so tightly it hurt. It felt as though a cold, scaled serpent were wrapping itself around his throat.
And it was not merely a feeling. In Namgung Hwang’s eyes, the ships that had followed Jang Ilso were not even docking at the island; instead, they calmly turned away and began blocking the river between Maehwado and Shaolin.
Now, even if Shaolin suddenly found the will to come to their aid, it would be difficult to break through.
Unlike his leisurely footsteps, Jang Ilso was clearly tightening the noose around their throats.
As if to confirm it, the warriors of Maninbang who had disembarked hurried over and gathered behind him. Then Ho Gamyeong ran up from among them and took position at Jang Ilso’s side in the manner of a bodyguard.
Though he knew there was no time for it, Namgung Hwang felt almost like laughing.
Jang Ilso and a bodyguard? Was there any combination more ridiculous than that?
Then Jang Ilso’s lips curved faintly, wickedly.
“How did the great Namgung Family end up looking like this? Hmm?”
His serpentine gaze tightened around the exhausted swordsmen of the Namgung Family. Jang Ilso drew in a deep breath and laughed.
How delightful.
He loved scenes like this to the point of feeling a chill in his spine.
The proud Namgung Family.
And now the people who shone beneath that radiant reputation had eyes filled with emptiness and despair.
Some were so aggrieved they looked as though they might cry. Some had gone slack with the realization that everything was over. Some glared at him with murderous hatred, and others looked at him with eyes begging for mercy that might never come.
Different gazes, all fixed on a single man—Jang Ilso.
But they all shared one thing in common.
There was no light of hope left in any of them.
Step. Step.
Jang Ilso moved forward.
The pirates blocking the front of the Namgung Family clearly panicked and scattered to the sides. A path, impossibly wide, opened where there had been no room to set even a foot a moment before.
Jang Ilso walked that path as though it were only natural.
At last, he stopped before the Changgung-geomdae of the Namgung Family. The foremost line. The Peak Realm swordsmen of Namgung, the pride of the clan.
They had just endured a brief but brutal battle. As a result, the surviving members of the Changgung-geomdae were covered in blood, sliced and stabbed in many places.
When Jang Ilso approached, they instinctively raised their swords and bared their teeth like cornered beasts.
But Jang Ilso kept walking as though he couldn’t even see the blade aimed at his throat.
Flinch.
And then, bizarrely, the tips of the Changgung swordsmen’s blades began to tremble instead.
The one holding a sword and threatening the other was the one shaking, while the one being threatened with bare hands was smiling. It was a grotesque, chilling sight.
“Y-you…”
The Changgung swordsman standing directly before Jang Ilso forced the words out with a trembling voice. He thrust his sword farther forward, threatening to pierce Jang Ilso’s throat at any moment.
But Jang Ilso looked as though he knew perfectly well that the blade would never reach him. No—perhaps he simply didn’t care even if it did.
At last, when he stopped walking, the bloody tip of the blade was almost touching his throat.
All that remained was to thrust.
With just a little internal energy and the push of an arm, he could pierce that pale neck in an instant. He only needed the slightest bit of courage.
And yet…
The sword never moved forward. It only shook pitifully, trembling so hard it was hard to believe a Namgung swordsman was the one holding it. No, if anything, it seemed to shrink back even further.
“Hmm.”
Jang Ilso smiled with bewitching softness and slowly reached out, touching the trembling blade with one finger.
Shhrrk.
In that instant, everyone saw it.
The tip of Jang Ilso’s finger split open slightly, and a single drop of bright red blood slid down the sword.
“……”
Before this, everyone had vaguely thought the same thing. That hand would never be harmed by some ordinary sword. That was why he was frightening.
But the moment they saw that single drop of blood, their hearts tightened all the harder.
One man did not bleed because he feared death.
Another bled, yet still did not fear death.
Which was more terrifying?
Slithering slowly over the trembling blade, his jeweled white fingers advanced with eerie calm. He gently stroked the bloodstained edge, then reached the hand gripping the sword’s hilt and touched the back of the Changgung swordsman’s hand.
Then, with that same slow, snake-like motion, Jang Ilso’s finger moved up his arm. It brushed the shoulder, stained the now-pale cheek with blood, and finally reached the forehead.
It was nothing but a light, slow movement, and yet everyone watched, holding their breath as if under a spell.
At that moment.
Jang Ilso’s hand, which had been extended with only one finger raised, opened fully.
And just as everyone flinched at the sudden change—
Thump.
Jang Ilso’s large hand covered the Changgung swordsman’s head, as though patting the head of a small child.
“How pitiful.”
Jang Ilso’s gentle voice, thick with mock compassion, echoed softly through the air.
“After fighting so hard…”
The Changgung swordsman began to tremble all over. The Namgung swordsmen watching this bit down so hard on their lips that they drew blood.
How was one supposed to describe this situation, in which an enemy offered comfort, and for a fleeting instant that comfort actually brought relief?
When Jang Ilso appeared here, had even one person imagined such a scene?
Jang Ilso slowly shook his head, then spoke again.
“And yet, in the end…”
He said the one thing the Namgung swordsmen absolutely did not want to hear.
“You were abandoned.”
In that instant, everyone felt their breath catch.
They had seen despair, then seen hope again, only to tumble from that hope’s summit straight into the abyss of hell. Of all things, those words were the one thing they had truly never wanted to hear.
“How pitiful… tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Jang Ilso’s brows drooped as though he genuinely felt sorry for them.
At that detestable sight, Namgung Hwang ground his teeth so hard they might have shattered. He could not keep watching this any longer.
“Jang… Ilso!”
Jang Ilso turned slowly, a face full of innocent confusion, as though he had forgotten Namgung Hwang was standing there.
“Don’t toy with us.”
“Toy with you?”
Jang Ilso repeated it as though he’d heard something amusing, then laughed.
“Right! Toy! A warrior may die, but he does not endure humiliation! Then kill us cleanly, at least!”
At Namgung Hwang’s words, Jang Ilso’s mouth curved upward.
“What a strange thing to say… the more I hear it, the stranger it sounds.”
“...What’s strange about it?”
“When did I ever toy with you?”
“……”
That expression of pure confusion, that utterly innocent face. No one here believed it was real, of course. But that was not the point. The point was how violently he could shake them with a single expression, a single gesture.
“The one toying with you… is not me, but Shaolin, no?”
“What nonsense is this?”
“Is it?”
Jang Ilso’s hand rose.
With theatrical exaggeration, it pointed skyward before slowly lowering to indicate Shaolin across the river.
“Look.”
“……”
“It’s just a river. There’s no reason you couldn’t cross it. If Shaolin’s name is worth anything, would it really fail to cross a single river just because those boats are in the way?”
Namgung Hwang bit his lip.
“But what are they doing? Nothing at all. Just standing there and watching. Watching the last moments of those of you who’ll die here.”
“Jang Ilso!”
“That,”
A brazen sneer appeared at the corner of Jang Ilso’s mouth as he lowered his arm.
“is what being toyed with means.”
Namgung Hwang clenched his fist so hard his knuckles went white.
Jang Ilso continued.
“They came running as though they’d save you, as though they were great saviors. But in the end, they have no intention of shedding blood to rescue you. That must be what you’re worth to them.”
Namgung Hwang knew he wasn’t angry merely because he was being mocked.
He was in pain because there was not a single lie in what that man was saying. A cry he could not quite spit out lodged in his throat.
“...So what? You came here just to laugh at us because of our situation?”
He ground the words out.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jang Ilso! Namgung will never become some object of ridicule! If death has already been decided for us, then we’ll fight until the very last man! Being abandoned will not soil the name of Namgung!”
He was speaking so furiously he hardly knew what he was saying anymore.
But the anger in his voice clearly reached those who bore the name of Namgung. Light returned to the eyes of several who had begun to lose focus.
“Hmm.”
Jang Ilso shook his head as though troubled.
“Come at me, Jang Ilso! I’ll be the first to die!”
Namgung Hwang drew up all his internal power.
A warrior proved himself through death. That was the first thing he had to teach the Namgung swordsmen who were trembling before him.
Jang Ilso merely watched Namgung Hwang, who was gathering his power as though he might rush forward at any moment.
Just as Namgung Hwang tightened his grip on his beloved sword and was about to charge, Jang Ilso slowly opened his mouth.
“...Shall I give it to you?”
Namgung Hwang’s body froze.
As though he had been struck by lightning.
Distrust and shock, despair and hope.
All those emotions surged like a storm through Namgung Hwang’s eyes in a span so short it scarcely seemed real.
“Wha…t…?”
That was the whisper of a demon. One should never listen to it. And yet Namgung Hwang had no choice but to hear it.
Stammering as though his mouth refused to cooperate, he forced the words out at last.
“W-what did you say?”
Jang Ilso smiled widely. He looked like a demon crawling up from hell, standing over humanity with the world beneath his feet.
Through those red lips, he repeated the same words in the same tone, as lightly as if tossing them away.
“Shall I save you?”
“……”
A deep, heavy silence settled over Maehwado.
“Hahahaha…”
And then, at the center of that silence—
The demon laughed.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Jang Ilso’s laughter and the clinking of his ornaments rolled over Maehwado like the wails of hell itself.