Chapter 81. The Shabbiest in the World (1)
Chapter 81. The Shabbiest in the World (1)
1
A murmur rippled across the snowfield.
"What in the world is going on!"
"W-we're alive......?"
"Is this paradise......?"
The cultists of the Demonic Cult. The martial artists of the orthodox sects.
The last thing they remembered was their own deaths. They might remember being bitten by a jiangshi, but they would have no memory of turning into jiangshi themselves. From their perspective, they had blinked once and years had passed.
"......."
There was one person who had endured those three years in full.
My master stared blankly at the snowfield, her face unable to believe her own eyes.
"My disciple......."
"Yes, Master."
"Did you come not from beyond the frontier, but from beyond the world......? This—something like this—is absolutely not a sorcery any mere human could wield. It is a divine art found only in absurd legends. Or have I died without knowing it and arrived in the Peach Blossom Spring......?"
"No. No."
I shook my head.
"Those people can no longer use martial arts either, just like you, Master. Compared to when they were alive, they've become much weaker. But this isn't the Peach Blossom Spring, and those people have their memories from life."
"......."
"Go and see for yourself."
"......."
"Go on, Master."
Crunch.
My master walked. Crunch, crunch... light footsteps. They were the footsteps of a person of the jianghu whose dantian had been crippled. The footsteps of a martial artist who had lost her internal energy. The footsteps of a woman left with nothing but the traces of three years of fighting illness.
Heavenly Demon.
My master.
You approached the cultists with light footsteps. The cultists were struggling to grasp the situation somehow.
"F-first we must assess the current situation. Stay calm! Send out scouts and......!"
"Blood Ghost Unit Commander."
They froze.
The cultists flinched. The dozen or so members of the Demonic Cult fell silent. Then they stared at my master—at their cult leader—with unfamiliar eyes.
"Heavenly Demon......?"
My master's breath thickened, whiter than before.
"Blood Ghost Unit Commander."
"......."
"It really is the Blood Ghost Unit Commander."
The silence spread. At first it was only the silence of ten or so people. But when those ten closed their mouths, the dozens around them closed theirs, and the hundreds surrounding those dozens closed theirs.
A silent snowfield.
"Moonshadow Demon Lord......."
"Yes."
"Ghost-Soul Flame Demon."
"Yes, Cult Leader."
"Sword Demon......."
"Command me."
My master began calling the cultists' names one by one. Each cultist who was named knelt without asking a single question. Crunch. Crunch. The snowfield crunched beneath their knees.
"I lost you all......."
My master reached out her hand.
"I lost you, and lost you again."
My master felt along a cultist's cheek. She caressed it.
"My children......."
Her fingers were trembling. Seeing their cult leader’s trembling, the demonic practitioners hastily bowed their heads. Not looking at what should not be seen—that seemed to be their loyalty. All one thousand cultists turned their gazes to the ground.
The shock enveloped more than just the demonic practitioners, of course.
"...Heh."
An old monk stroked his beard.
"This humble monk must have laid a grave in a cave and crossed the river. I close my eyes and there is no far shore, no grave, only a snowfield......."
"Y-you damned monk!"
"...And a demon is mixed in as well. Heh, even with my eyes closed, I am fated to frolic with that creature. What does the Buddha wish of this humble monk?"
"Seeing you spout nothing but unlucky nonsense, you really are a damned monk!"
The Murim Alliance Master ran over and threw his arms around the old monk. I could guess who that old monk was. The one said to have held out the longest besides my master and the Murim Alliance Master. He must be the abbot of Shaolin Temple.
"You came back alive! This friend of mine came back alive!"
"This humble monk is not your friend."
"Ahh! Surely the Jade Emperor has granted us a miracle!"
"A dog chewing grass."
He meant the man was talking nonsense.
"Do not dirty this humble monk's ears, creature. I should never have been lured by your coaxing into fighting the heretical demonic sects. It would have been better to quietly pass away in my temple."
"Ahh! Seeing my joy at seeing you wither away the moment I lay eyes on you, you really are the damned monk I know! I want to punch you in the face!"
The Demonic Cult’s people of the jianghu were quiet, while the martial artists of the orthodox sects were boisterous.
Each side was sharing this reunion in their own way.
Time passed.
"......."
The first person to turn her head and look at me was my master. Our gazes met. Ink-dark eyes. Emotion was carried in that gaze. My heart was being traced, engraved onto her heart.
"...I."
My master spoke.
She spoke toward the Murim Alliance Master.
"I am So Baek-hyang, leader of the Demonic Cult."
The Murim Alliance Master, who had been sharing reminiscences with his orthodox comrades, froze. He let his comrades fall from his embrace and turned to look at my master from a distance.
My master cupped her fist in salute.
"The Heavenly Demon."
"......."
"Even if today is but a blind woman's single night of fleeting dreams, so be it."
It was midday.
"Even if I am but a sick woman sleepwalking, so be it."
The snow of the snowfield was not eternal snow because it never melted under the sun, but because even as it melted and melted, it endlessly fell anew and covered the ground.
"Even if Demonic Dominion is but a dream that drifted by in sleep, so be it. Life belongs to those who agreed to suffer the same illness, and the world belongs to those who agreed to dream the same dream."
Beneath the blazing sunlight, a person who wished to remain forever white could not be satisfied merely by wishing to be born white. She had to endlessly scatter whiteness upon the world. She had to resolve to endlessly shatter into whiteness, break apart, and scatter.
"I have not yet forgotten the name of the illness I chose to suffer. I have not yet lost the warmth of the dream I chose to dream. Therefore I have not yet let go of any person, nor missed any world. Baraya! It is not the name of a martial art but the name of an illness that bears witness to my place, and it is not the power of internal energy but the warmth of a dream that proves me."
The sound of shattering snowflakes.
"I am right here, and only while I remain in this place am I myself."
With the sound of snow that falls again even as it melts.
"I am the Sovereign."
My master recited a declaration of war.
"I hereby request the 990th duel."
Silence fell over the surroundings.
The boisterous orthodox martial world had gone quiet before anyone knew it.
They had been the last young heroes and great heroes of the murim. They were the ones who had come to wage the great war, knowing it would be the last.
How could they dare act rashly?
If the words one chooses at the final moment of life are one's last will, then now they wished to speak the last will of the orthodox martial world.
And the white-clad warriors looked to the one who would speak that last will on their behalf.
"Murim Alliance Master. Namgung Clan."
The old man cupped his fist in salute.
"Retired Clan Head. Namgung Un. Bu Wol-seon."
A thousand demonic warriors and a thousand white-clad warriors faced each other.
"Your Demonic Cult made the screams of the common folk your doctrine. Screams became vengeance, and vengeance became a blood calamity that dyed the world red. You bloodthirsty vengeance-ghouls! Heaven and earth have all turned red, yet you still pretend to be the weak!"
The one who had risen to become Alliance Master of the murim drew a boundary line between the demonic and the white with his own voice.
"You weep endlessly and clutch at the hem of the Heavenly Demon's robes. You beg her to take your place, to vent your grievances for you. While you cling to her sleeves and hang on, you call yourselves weak commoners and sorrowful subjects!"
The old Alliance Master roared.
"Thirst! You too have feet and hands, so how long will you settle into the wicked ghosts of the past! The Flower Garland Sutra says that even a single tree must cast off its flowers if it is to bear fruit. What of you? You are flower merchants running a garden that profits from your own pain!"
At that shout, the Demonic Cult's warriors snarled.
The cultists gripped their sword hilts. Venom rose and killing intent bloomed. In response, the orthodox martial artists began to clash their momentum against theirs.
Neither side should have had any internal energy, yet the air of the snowfield turned murderous.
"Good."
My master raised the corner of her lips.
"I will take that as acceptance of the duel."
"Indeed."
"A sparring match, or a fight to the death?"
"A life-or-death duel."
"I accept."
The two martial artists released their salutes.
Shing!
At the same moment, a thousand demonic warriors and a thousand white-clad warriors drew their swords. It was midday. The blades, numbering no less than two thousand, drank in the sun and shone brightly.
"Children of the Demonic Heaven!"
My master clenched her fist.
"You may regard today's events as nothing but a fleeting dream, a vision!"
"Baraya!"
A thousand cultists shouted as one.
"You may call us a hollow dream!"
"Baraya!"
"Then should we not live like a dream!"
"Agabaraya!"
"Our hearts are candle flames!"
"We shall burn this place!"
"Demonic Dominion (魔道天下)!"
"The Common Folk Alone Endure!"
My master burst into laughter.
"Kill them!"
The war began.
A thousand cultists howled like beasts and charged. There were no wondrous footwork techniques. No strange lightness skills. They rushed in like beasts and bit like beasts. That was their holy war, according to their doctrine.
"Righteous hypocrites! I am one of the Four Demon Lords of our cult, the Moonshadow Demon Lord! Receive my blade!"
Demonic Cult Corpse Shadow Unit.
Unit Commander.
Moonshadow Demon Lord.
"I am Hyeongong Jinin, Sect Leader of Wudang! You are not unworthy as an opponent!"
Wudang Sect.
Sect Leader.
Hyeongong Jinin.
The two shouted their epithets and clashed. The only courtesy they showed was in exchanging names. The fight itself was savage beyond measure.
"Hyahp!"
The Moonshadow Demon Lord slammed his sword hilt into Hyeongong Jinin's face. Thwack! Teeth. Blood. White fragments flew out, and red liquid splattered.
"Uwoooo!"
Hyeongong Jinin howled, baring his broken teeth. Then he raised his fingertips and stabbed at the Moonshadow Demon Lord’s eyes. Squelch! The bursting sound was drowned out by the Moonshadow Demon Lord’s laughter. "Hahahaha!" The Taoist’s howl and the demonic practitioner’s laughter tangled together and flowed.
Another pair of black and white buried the sight of those two.
"Four Demon Lords. First Seat. Ghost-Soul Flame Demon. I will take your head."
Demonic Cult Spirit-Consoling Unit (慰靈隊).
Unit Commander.
Ghost-Soul Flame Demon.
"Namu Amitabha. I am called Jomyeong."
Shaolin Temple.
Abbot.
Jomyeong Seonsa.
"As a courtesy from one of the Four Demon Lords, I shall yield three moves to the Abbot."
"Do not forget that respect for a Buddhist!"
At the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon's words, Jomyeong Seonsa immediately lunged. He wrapped prayer beads around his fist and swung. The Ghost-Soul Flame Demon, who had said he would yield three moves, immediately bent his body and then straightened, driving a headbutt into Jomyeong Seonsa's stomach. "Kuh-hek!" Jomyeong Seonsa let out a groan and gave a hollow laugh.
"You said you would yield three moves?"
"Did you believe that?"
"Did I look like I believed it?"
"Yes." Drip—the sound of flowing blood interjected. "You looked like it."
The Ghost-Soul Flame Demon flopped to his knees. The nose bone of the man who had so vigorously launched that headbutt was broken. At the very moment he took the headbutt, Jomyeong Seonsa had driven his knee upward as if he had anticipated it. Jomyeong Seonsa stroked his beard with satisfaction at the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon, whose entire face was smeared with the blood gushing from his nose.
"This humble monk's acting has not rusted."
"You dog of a stone monk......."
"Receive the remaining two moves!"
Grabbing the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon's ears, Jomyeong Seonsa tried to drive his knee in again. The Ghost-Soul Flame Demon instead slammed his own forehead into that knee. Thud......! The sound of a skull crushing cartilage. "Kuh-heok!" Jomyeong Seonsa clutched his knee and hopped about.
"Kuhahahaha! You bastards, all of you! Unable to use internal energy, you're nothing but street thugs! Well, this is your true skill anyway! Good! The bare faces of you white-clad bastards are being exposed to the whole world—today is truly an auspicious day!"
Demonic Cult Assassination Unit.
Unit Commander.
Sword Demon.
"...How vulgar. Truly vulgar."
Mount Hua Sect.
Elder.
Riotous Bloom Ten Thousand Swords.
The two sword masters clashed blades. Clang! The instant their swords met, "Kek!", "Ughk!" both screamed simultaneously and clutched their sword hands. Neither could withstand the shock generated by blade striking blade.
But neither of them let go of their sword.
The Sword Demon bared his teeth and grinned.
"Tch... stop being so proud and let go, won't you?"
Riotous Bloom Ten Thousand Swords clenched his teeth and answered.
"That's what I should be saying......."
The two, eyes locked, clashed blades again. Clang! A stifled scream. Clang! The sound of swallowing empty air. Clang! Hands and shoulders trembling violently. At last, blood flowed from both of their torn sword hands. The blood flowing from clenched lips and the blood flowing from their sword hands mingled and ran.
But still, neither of them let go of their sword.
White martial robes fluttered. Black robes swayed. Sunlight poured down, and shadows fell. Between sun and shadow, the orthodox sects and the Demonic Cult collided.
Blood burst.
"Demonic Dominion! The Common Folk Alone Endure!"
"Uwaaaaah! Die! Die!"
"You Moyong bastards, come out right now!"
A world where only monochrome remained.
What flowed vividly through it was not splendid martial arts.
Only human red blood.
"Heuh, haha... uhahaha."
Amidst it all, a particularly red laugh burst forth.
"Uhahahaha! Ha! Ha, ahahahaha!"
It was, in the truest sense, mad laughter.
"There are so many of you white-clad bastards!"
My master was shouting.
"Good. Come at me. Let us trade blades!"
A black shadow rampaged among the orthodox martial artists. It was as if the sun were rising and setting at dozens of times its normal speed. A woman with no internal energy, who had suffered three years of illness—a woman who was nothing more than that—yet her movements stood out unmistakably among martial artists who were equally unable to use martial arts.
"Ridiculous!"
My master laughed.
"Abbot of Shaolin. Do you think you can stop me with such tricks? You horse-faced Taoist of Wudang. Do you dare think you can bear the karma of my cult?"
Those words were familiar to me.
"Sorrow overflows across the world and has submerged Mount Song! Hatred blazes across heaven and earth and shall burn Mount Wudang! The Demonic Cult is the sky of the murim, and I am the sky of the Demonic Cult! Do you have the right to speak of a heaven beyond heaven!"
And unfamiliar to my master herself.
"You are not enough! You foot soldiers of the white-clad!"
My master howled.
"Namgung Un!"
Through the sound of blade striking blade and flesh colliding with flesh, my master shouted.
"Where is Namgung Un!"
Ahaha, laughing aloud, my master—
"Bring me the Retired Clan Head of the Namgung Clan! Have the Murim Alliance Master attend me! No matter how dense the forests of the murim or how vast the sky, in all of heaven and earth there is but one talent who can receive my sword! Four Demon Lords! Drag Namgung Un before me at once!"
The laughter was red and dazzling.
"Hm."
Into the world growing ever redder, the old man took one step forward.
"This reminds me of the first day of the great war."
The Murim Alliance Master was stripping off his upper garments. A cold winter. With no internal energy, the cold should have cut to the bone, but the Murim Alliance Master instead made it his armor. His bone-dry muscles had hardened solid.
"We couldn't settle it that day, so the great war continued into the second day. We couldn't finish it on the second day either, so it was postponed to the third. In the end, we buttoned it wrong from the first day! Thinking back now, we should have poured everything in from the start."
Hoo.
The Murim Alliance Master drew a deep breath.
Then he took his stance and crooked his fingers.
"Come at me, demon. Today, the fortune of heaven is with me."
Murim Alliance.
Alliance Master.
Bu Wol-seon斧鉞仙.
"The fortune of heaven, is it? Good."
Crunch.
My master stepped on the snow.
"Today's fortune of heaven shall become nothing but your fate."
Demonic Cult.
Cult Leader.
Heavenly Demon.
"......."
"......."
One breath.
The two glared at each other.
Half a breath.
The two drew closer with their steps.
When their breathing crossed—
The two clashed with their hands.
"......."
White.
Snowflakes scattered wildly.
"......!"
Black.
Hair whipped through the air.
Red.
Blood flew.