I Won’t Let You Down (5)
If someone had to describe the scene unfolding here to another soul, what could they possibly say?
Even the most eloquent speaker would find it impossible to open their mouth lightly.
Was it because the situation was too difficult to put into words?
No. It was because anyone who hadn’t seen it with their own eyes would never believe it.
Think about it.
Every figure gathered here was dazzling in their own right. Each one was the kind of existence that could shake the martial world simply by being there. Near at hand was Shaolin, hailed as the greatest sect under heaven; farther away was Myriad Man Sect, the tyrant who ruled over Jiangnan.
And beside them stood the Cavedwellers and the Eighteen River Bandit Strongholds of the Yangtze, names that rang out across the world with thunderous fame.
How was anyone supposed to explain the sight of such towering figures, enough to command awe across the world, all falling silent at once with the appearance of a single young swordsman?
Mount Hua Divine Dragon. That name was certainly impressive. The title he had seized from Jang Il-so and the Evil Tyrant Alliance carried a special weight that no other epithet could compare to.
But that was all.
No matter how great the name Mount Hua Divine Dragon sounded, it was absolutely impossible for it to silence everyone gathered here. No—such a thing was impossible for anyone in the world, not just Mount Hua Divine Dragon.
And so they understood.
That the presence a person carried was never determined by fame alone.
Cheong Myeong’s dim eyes slowly swept across the Yangtze. Along the path of that gaze, everyone standing upon the river held their breath.
But even as they fell silent, they did not understand why they were so enthralled, why every movement he made held their attention so tightly.
Cheong Myeong’s slowly moving eyes soon settled on one place.
Maehwado.
The very place where the Namgung survivors were fighting a desperate battle.
“Ah….”
Namgung Myeong’s body trembled violently.
There.
There was someone who had come for them, if only as a single person.
Nothing might change. This vast battlefield could not be turned by the power of one man alone.
And even if he was not alone, it would be the same. No matter who came now, they would no longer be able to cross the Yangtze and save them.
So expecting that Mount Hua Divine Dragon could save them was surely too much.
But still.
…That’s enough.
The world had abandoned them. Turned its eyes away from them.
Perhaps what had truly driven him to despair was not the situation they faced, but the crushing loneliness of no one reaching out a hand.
But at least one person had come. One person who had rushed to save them, as if to prove that the road they had walked was not entirely wrong.
For Namgung Myeong now, that alone was enough.
It was right when Namgung Myeong, with red-rimmed eyes, was staring at Cheong Myeong that—
“You worthless fools.”
The Black Dragon King, standing at the prow of the Black Dragon ship, spat out the words in a heavy, frost-hard voice. At the sound, the river bandits trembled like puppies that had come face-to-face with a tiger.
The Black Dragon King glared at them with burning eyes, then turned his head and fixed his gaze directly on Cheong Myeong.
“You little brat.”
He ground his teeth.
For a fleeting instant, that brat’s presence had surpassed everyone here. Right here on the Yangtze. To the Black Dragon King, leader of the Eighteen River Bandit Strongholds, that was an intolerable humiliation.
Had he not already been crushed once by Jang Il-so, it might have been something he could overlook. But after being suppressed once by Jang Il-so, he could no longer bear this situation with any calm.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
His furious voice exploded through the air.
“All you can do is stand there and howl in frustration. No matter what you do, nothing changes.”
It was meant to press the opponent down, but at the same time, it was a clear and merciless truth.
The situation was already as good as over.
“Or what, are you going to swim across the Yangtze to this island? The road’s already cut off, idiot!”
Even after hearing that, Cheong Myeong’s expression did not change in the slightest. He simply looked at the Black Dragon King with cold, detached eyes.
That indifferent reaction twisted the man’s insides. Just as the Black Dragon King clenched his jaw and was about to roar again, Cheong Myeong—whose mouth had remained shut all this time—slowly opened it.
“I don’t know if your stupid head can keep up, but….”
“...What?”
“I’ve got three corrections for you.”
Three?
“First. Who said I was alone?”
Step. Step.
At that very moment, someone slowly walked up from below the riverbank mound where Cheong Myeong stood.
A man in black martial robes, the plum blossom insignia embroidered on his chest. A striking white headband wrapped around his forehead.
Baek Cheon, the Mount Hua Righteous Sword.
With eyes cold as ice, he walked forward and came to stand beside Cheong Myeong.
The frost-hard look in his eyes seemed as if it could freeze every river bandit on the Yangtze in place.
And Baek Cheon was not alone. Ice Blossom Sword Yu I-seol also stepped up to Cheong Myeong’s side.
Step. Step. Step.
Behind them, one after another, they began to arrive. Ten. Then a hundred. Swordsmen numbering well over one hundred stepped forward with resolute strides and revealed themselves. Every single one of them wore a chilling gaze.
“...!”
Someone swallowing dryly sounded as loud as thunder.
Mount Hua.
That name could no longer be explained merely as a sect from Shaanxi. Mount Hua had finally arrived on the Yangtze.
“Younger Patriarch….”
Then Namgung Myeong saw him.
Within the ranks of Mount Hua, standing with such terrifying momentum that the air itself seemed to shake, there was a single man. His white robes were stained dark red with dried blood, but how could he fail to recognize him?
Namgung Dowi.
He stood there as if he were one of Mount Hua’s own.
His clothes and his pallid face made it easy to imagine the agony he had endured, but the blazing light in his eyes was in no way inferior to Mount Hua’s own.
One hundred swordsmen said nothing, only glaring coldly at the river bandits of the Yangtze.
It was a truly savage sight. An oppressive force unlike anything the old Mount Hua had ever possessed now bore down on the demonic and unorthodox factions of the Yangtze.
Everyone here had seen Mount Hua during the Yangtze massacre of the past. So they knew.
The reason Mount Hua was frightening was not because they were strong. It was because they never retreated. Facing a sect that would never step back, no matter what happened, was that much more burdensome.
And Mount Hua was not the only one who had arrived.
“Looks like we’re not entirely late.”
A group in green martial robes stepped into view.
Anyone who saw those wide-sleeved green robes and still did not know who they were had no right to claim themselves part of the martial world.
“Th-the Sichuan Tang Family!”
Dang Gun-ak, who had led the Tang Family here, took in the Yangtze with a hardened face, as if determined to remember every soul that had died here.
The Namgung swordsmen stared with trembling eyes at Mount Hua, the Sichuan Tang Family, and Namgung Dowi standing beside them.
The Namgung Younger Patriarch was there. Even from afar, despite the horrific injuries he had suffered, he had gone on to lead Mount Hua and the Tang Family here in order to save them. He looked as if he might collapse and die at any moment.
That fact alone sent a fresh surge of fighting spirit through them. Everyone clenched their jaws. The Younger Patriarch had borne such terrible wounds and still refused to abandon their lives—by what right could they so easily throw theirs away?
“And… second.”
Cheong Myeong glared at the Black Dragon King. In that instant, the Black Dragon King’s body gave a violent start.
What is that look…?
This was the first time he had faced Cheong Myeong properly. During the previous war, he had only caught a glimpse of him fighting Jang Il-so. Back then, he had secretly sneered at Jang Il-so for being unable to deal even with a mere brat.
But now, the instant he saw Cheong Myeong’s eyes, he too understood.
That brat is not ordinary.
Someone with eyes like that cannot be ordinary.
“Brat?”
A low laugh slipped from Cheong Myeong’s mouth. It was a crooked laugh, openly mocking—or perhaps self-mocking.
“You’re running your mouth like some real brat who doesn’t even know what war is.”
Cheong Myeong reached out a hand to the side. A Mount Hua disciple behind him immediately handed him a spare sword. Taking the blade and fastening it to his waist, Cheong Myeong twisted his lips and said,
“I’ll teach you, brat.”
His mouth curled, exposing white teeth.
“What a real war looks like.”
At that moment, gooseflesh rose along the Black Dragon King’s back.
What the hell?
Why did those words, which should have sounded nothing more than empty bluster, feel so chilling?
Damn it!
The Black Dragon King bit his lip hard. For that brief instant, the fact that he had been suppressed by that presence shredded what remained of his pride.
“Lastly, third.”
Cheong Myeong smiled like a demon.
“You don’t find a road, idiot. You make one!”
At that exact instant, the Tang Family martial artists all drew their hands out from beneath their sleeves. The Black Dragon King’s eyes widened when he saw what they were holding.
Wooden planks?
Holding wooden planks far too large to have been hidden inside their sleeves, the Tang Family martial artists all rushed forward.
And then!
Fwaaaaaat!
Like concealed projectiles, the planks launched from their hands and sliced through the Yangtze sky as they flew.
Thunk! Thump! Thunk! Thunk!
And then everyone on the Yangtze saw it. The planks hurled by the Tang Family martial artists struck the river’s surface. But instead of sinking, they bobbed up and floated, becoming stepping stones.
Hundreds of wooden planks linked together in a line, becoming a single road that split the broad Yangtze in two.
The one road that would lead them there, to Maehwado!
“Uncle! Senior Sister!”
Clang!
Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol drew their swords without the slightest hesitation.
“Break through the front!”
“Understood!”
“Okay!”
“Namgung Dowi!”
“Yes!”
“Open the road! Open the road to Namgung with your own hands!”
Namgung Dowi answered with a face steeped in solemn resolve.
“Yes!”
No further explanation was needed. They would already know what they had to do without being told.
“Namgung Clan!”
Cheong Myeong shouted at the top of his lungs.
The Namgung swordsmen clenched their teeth and looked at him.
“I’m coming now.”
“...!”
“Hold on even if you have to cling to our pant legs!”
The Namgung swordsmen felt something hot surge up in their chests.
“Yes!”
Chae-aeng!
Cheong Myeong bared his teeth as he drew his sword.
“Now then….”
Everyone on the Yangtze was waiting.
For the words that would follow.
“Let’s go. We’re saving Namgung!”
Fwaaaaat!
The moment he finished speaking, Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol shot forward like streaks of light without the slightest hesitation. Behind them, Mount Hua and the Tang Family surged ahead in long lines.
It looked as though a black dragon and a green dragon were dancing across the Yangtze.
Cheong Myeong kicked off the ground and leapt up above the two dragons, hurling himself forward at speed.
“I’m coming, you bastards!”
With the sun rising behind him on the Yangtze, Cheong Myeong’s sword shone so brilliantly that it seemed it would sweep away every last shadow left upon the river.