Where Is Mount Hua? (1)
Splaaash!
Namgung Dowi, thrown onto the surface of the river, clenched his teeth.
Father!
He knew. He couldn’t afford to grieve. There was no time to be sad.
In a near-frenzied motion, he thrashed his arms and legs, forcing himself onward while keeping his eyes fixed on the riverbank that was still not all that far away.
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
A cry of utter torment burst from his throat.
Frustration, sorrow, pain, rage.
Countless emotions tangled together, erupting in a beastlike howl.
He couldn’t tell whether what streamed down his face was blood, tears, or river water. He only knew that he had to keep moving, flailing forward with all his might.
If he died here, then the final moments of those who had fallen there would become meaningless deaths.
So he had to go!
“Aaaaaaaaagh!”
As he surged ahead with that desperate shout, Namgung Dowi was forced to stop before he had even advanced a few jang. The water bandits posted ahead had quickly surrounded him.
Namgung Dowi glared at them with bloodshot eyes and drew his sword.
Don’t lose control.
He wanted nothing more than to pour the rage building inside him onto these men. He wanted to abandon reason entirely, swing his sword until he collapsed from exhaustion.
But he couldn’t.
His life no longer belonged to him alone.
I have to survive.
He had to. He absolutely had to.
Fwoooosh!
His sword flashed and cleaved clean through the waist of the water bandit charging at him.
Hot blood spurted from the split corpse, splashing across Namgung Dowi’s face. Cold river water and hot blood mingled together.
Crack!
A spear hurled from the water grazed his arm, ripping away a handful of flesh. But he had no time even to feel the pain. He reflexively swung his sword through another bandit, then slapped the water as he drove himself forward.
I have to live!
Crack!
A spear shot up from beneath the water and plunged into his abdomen. Reaching out, Namgung Dowi snapped the spear shaft where it had lodged in him, then lashed out wildly with his sword.
At all costs!
The riverbank was close now.
Just a little more… just a little more!
“Aaaaaaaaagh!”
Each time he swung his sword in that convulsive fury, white sword qi sliced through the bodies of the bandits. Even while he was drenched in warm blood, his limbs never stopped moving.
Just a little more…
If he could only go a bit farther…
Kwaaaaaaang!
Then, at that instant, Namgung Dowi jerked around at the sinister sound of tearing air that stabbed at his ears.
A dark-black blade of qi.
The very blade of qi that had brought even Namgung Hwang to his knees was flying straight at Namgung Dowi. A devastating strike his exhausted body had no hope of taking head-on.
His eyes widened; his pupils trembled.
No…
Kwaaaaaaang!
At that very moment, the blade of qi streaking toward him exploded in midair. The water bandits chasing Namgung Dowi were swept into the massive detonation of energy and screamed in terror.
“Aaaaaaaaagh!”
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
Namgung Dowi froze for a moment in bewilderment.
What is this?
What on earth had just happened?
But instead of pondering it, he immediately turned and moved again. The important thing now was not why. The only thing that mattered was surviving somehow.
“Get out of the way, you bastards!”
With a desperate roar, Namgung Dowi pushed toward the shore.
“You—”
The Black Dragon King’s eyes flared red with anger.
“What is the meaning of this!”
His face was contorted with fury.
The Black Dragon King had never once tried to suppress this kind of rage. If he was angry enough, then no matter who stood before him, he should charge in and finish it. That was his nature.
And yet now, though he was seething, he couldn’t bring himself to rush at the person responsible.
The reason was simple enough.
The one who had enraged him was none other than Jang Il-so, the Tyrant Lord.
“You didn’t even ask why I blocked your attack!”
He had clearly launched that blade of qi to finish the job. If nothing had interfered, Namgung Dowi would surely have died on the spot. But before his attack could even reach its target, it collided with the palm-force Jang Il-so had sent and exploded apart.
In other words, Jang Il-so had saved Namgung Dowi.
“Hmm.”
Jang Il-so gave a soft little hum and only looked at the Black Dragon King with a bored expression.
“Alliance Lord!”
“Tsk, tsk.”
When the Black Dragon King finally failed to hold back and shouted again, Jang Il-so clicked his tongue lightly and glanced at him reproachfully.
“Such a cold-hearted man you are…”
“What did you say?”
Jang Il-so’s red lips curved elegantly as he smiled.
“Isn’t it truly heart-rending?”
“……”
“The man went to such lengths to save his son, and after all that, to kill both the father and the child would be a terrible thing indeed. It would be far too painful, wouldn’t it?”
The Black Dragon King ground his teeth.
What kind of nonsense was this?
“Hahahahahaha!”
Amused by that expression, Jang Il-so laughed aloud and flicked his gaze toward Namgung Dowi. He was desperately forcing his way through the attacks of the water bandits. Jang Il-so’s eyes narrowed.
“Wouldn’t you like to see it?”
“See what?”
“The moment that man reaches the riverbank and comes face to face with Shaolin.”
The Black Dragon King, who had been about to speak, shut his mouth.
Jang Il-so continued slowly, “People are like that, aren’t they? They hide what they consider their own shame, bury it, and turn away from it. But… life always brings that moment eventually. The moment when one must stand face-to-face with one’s own disgrace.”
“……”
“And then…”
Il-so slowly licked his red lips and fixed the Black Dragon King with his gaze.
“Do you know what expression people wear?”
The Black Dragon King’s shoulders twitched.
He could not, for the life of him, understand what went on in this man’s head. But he didn’t need to. The malice Jang Il-so possessed needed no explanation; it was raw and unmistakable all on its own.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Listening to Jang Il-so’s light, almost playful voice, the Black Dragon King glared at him in silence. Yet after a moment, just as before, it was the Black Dragon King who looked away first.
“Collect the bodies!”
He barked the order and, still clearly dissatisfied, turned away from Jang Il-so.
Ho Ga-myeong, who had been listening to all of this, shook his head.
He understood the feeling well enough, but he didn’t like that attitude at all.
It won’t be long now.
Fixing the Black Dragon King’s retreating back with a sharp stare, Ho Ga-myeong quickly composed his expression and addressed Jang Il-so.
“Alliance Lord, now…”
“Shh.”
Jang Il-so cut him off with a quiet gesture and slowly reached out. Then he picked up the wine jar resting on the table.
Gazing at the white jar for a moment, he extended his hand beyond the railing and slowly tilted it.
Glug, glug, glug.
The wine flowed out and scattered across the cold surface of the Yangtze River.
Understanding the meaning of the act, Ho Ga-myeong looked at Jang Il-so with a peculiar expression.
“Don’t you dislike fools, Alliance Lord?”
“I do.”
Jang Il-so nodded slowly.
“But I don’t hate them.”
“……”
By then, silence had once again settled over the Yangtze. Jang Il-so’s eyes, now faintly lowered, watched the river flowing on as if nothing had happened.
“He achieved what he set out to do, so there’s no reason for regret.”
The wine he had poured drifted down over the Yangtze like rain.
His toes touched solid ground.
Splosh.
Namgung Dowi took another leaden step forward.
By now, the water bandits had stopped pursuing him.
A trail of blood had opened across the black river he had crossed. At its end, Namgung Dowi staggered on, yet never once stopped walking.
The water that had been up to his throat now reached his chest, and then, at last, his upper body emerged fully from the river.
Splosh. Splosh.
“Live…”
He muttered the word over and over, as if possessed.
His eyes were half-closed, his pupils dim and unfocused, but Namgung Dowi only pressed onward and onward.
“I have to live…”
Splosh. Splosh.
Eventually, his feet emerged from the water.
Clunk.
Reaching the shore, he lurched forward on unsteady legs. Water streamed in a steady rush from his sword as he came out of the river.
And then…
Those standing on the riverbank watched in silence as he struggled his way out of the water. They stared at his swaying figure as he walked toward them, yet none of them dared to move.
Because they were ashamed. Because they had no face left to show.
They could not even bring themselves to support the staggering man.
Thud. Thud.
At last, Namgung Dowi reached them, drove his sword into the ground, and leaned against it.
It was a truly wretched sight.
There was not a single part of his body uninjured, and the water dripping from him was streaked red with blood. Even now, blood continued to gush out in fits and starts. The more his clothes turned crimson, the more everyone who watched him felt a dull ache in their own chests.
“Cough! Cough!”
After a coughing fit wracked his soaked body, Namgung Dowi’s upper half shook violently before he barely managed to steady himself.
Then, very slowly—so slowly that it seemed like an eternity to those watching—Namgung Dowi lifted his head.
Who among them could possibly meet those eyes?
His head had risen, but their gazes still could not meet. As if by silent agreement, all of them lowered their eyes or turned away.
Even the Shaolin monks who had stood here like stone figures, watching everything unfold on the Yangtze.
Even the Kunlun disciples who had arrived late and been able to do nothing at all.
Even the beggars of the Beggars’ Sect, who claimed to dwell at the lowest point and live only with righteousness in their hearts.
No one could look into Namgung Dowi’s eyes.
Even Beop Jeong, the Abbot of Shaolin, had already turned his gaze toward the distant sky.
Anyone would have done the same. Anyone with even a shred of conscience could not bear to meet those eyes.
“Hhh…”
A groan slipped from Namgung Dowi’s lips.
“Hh-hh…”
And then that distorted sound transformed into a low laugh.
No one there understood the meaning of that laugh. They could only guess at the faint trace of self-mockery and sorrow buried within it.
“Cough! Cough!”
Coughing hard again, swaying as though he would collapse, Namgung Dowi pressed down on his sword and forced his body upright. Then he drew in a long breath.
In an instant, everyone there went rigid with fear.
Whether what came out of his mouth would be a searing rebuke, a stern reproach, or a naked sneer… they had no defense against it. They could only close their eyes and listen.
If they were Namgung Dowi, what would they say?
There were too many possible words, and all of them hurt. None of them would be easy to bear.
And after that long, brief stretch of agony… Namgung Dowi finally opened his mouth.
Those who had barely overcome the urge to cover their ears strained to hear his voice.
But what came out of Namgung Dowi’s mouth was neither a criticism nor a rebuke nor mockery.
It was something none of them had expected.
Everyone with their head lowered suddenly looked up, eyes wide, trying to confirm that they hadn’t misheard.
Naturally, all those gazes collided with Namgung Dowi’s.
In Namgung Dowi’s eyes there was no expectation, no emotion. And the moment they saw those indifferent, dark eyes, everyone realized exactly what they had done wrong.
And then Namgung Dowi said it again, clearly.
“...Where is Mount Hua?”
The voice was so clear, so utterly devoid of emotion, that it was impossible to ignore.