#84. Hell's Exact Hour - The Second Gate
Back during my days in the Small Justice Squad, there was a time when we fled from the Demonic Cultists and saw the ocean for the first time. It was vaster and grander than the Yangtze, brimming with so much salt it stung the tongue just to imagine tasting it. We'd forgotten we were being hunted by the Demonic Cult's pursuit squads, darting between life and death. We pushed farther, closer, utterly lost in the sight of it.
The sticky mud sucking at our ankles was a nuisance, but the overwhelming, awe-inspiring majesty of that vast natural spectacle made us forget even that. And as we stood there, mesmerized by the sea for what felt like ages...
The water began to rise, slowly at first. By the time we snapped out of it—the seawater that had merely lapped at our ankles now reached our chests. In our desperate scramble for shore, the ocean swallowed us whole.
That terror dwarfed even the fear of being chased by fiends. And now, we felt much the same—submerged in such a sea.
"Huff... huff... Breathing's getting harder, Senior Brother."
The killing intent flooded in like seawater cresting our heads, squeezing from all sides. The kids' faces were draining white. Dongryong seemed fine enough, thanks to the Demon-Suppressing Command Bead around his neck, but that didn't mean we could pass it to Geum Pyo or Eunho. Pull it off, and Dongryong's innate killer instinct might awaken amid this thick miasma.
"Keep climbing higher."
From the base of Mokgan Mountain, they'd spread a heavenly net, relentlessly pouring out killing intent as if to fill the entire peak. The Huangjian Sect and Qingdao Gang formed groups of five each, while the other sects fielded ten to fifteen per unit—compensating for differences in skill with sheer numbers.
As we raced upward, a commotion from below made us glance back instinctively.
Fwump, fwump—
Birds that had huddled silent amid the killing intent burst into the sky above the forest all at once.
Shhh—
The woods shuddered without a whisper of wind. Then, from the forest depths, herds of wild beasts—large and small, ignoring all natural hierarchies—fled toward the mountain's base like they'd encountered a predator.
Rawr! Roar!
Most astonishing: at the rear of those packs lumbered bears and tigers, slobbering and howling in desperate panic, as if facing their own mortal foe.
"Fire!"
At the shout, secret projectiles and arrows rained from every direction.
Urgh. Graaah!
From the tiniest rabbits to deer, boars, and elk, the beasts crumpled, bristling like porcupines. The bears and tigers shrugged off a volley or two but soon met their end as the net-weavers leaped in unison, butchering them in seconds.
The apex predators of Mokgan Mountain fell like reeds.
All in a single breath.
Gulp.
Geum Pyo, Eunho, and Dongryong swallowed hard, as if glimpsing their own futures.
"No time to waste. Move."
"...Y-Yes!"
"Got it!"
The brothers snapped to, hurrying onward to avoid suffocating in the killing intent. But like the sea, it rose faster now—past the ankles, straight to the chest.
"Hahk. Hahk. Hahk."
Circulating energy could no longer keep up.
The summit. Nowhere left to climb, away from the killing intent.
"Listen up. Hold here for just one gak."
"Huh?"
Eunho muttered, eyes wide.
"...By then, we'll probably have lost an arm or something."
"Don't worry. I know the secrets of the Poison Snake Secret Sword too. Lose an arm, and I'll teach it to you."
"...I'll give it a shot."
With that, he hurled himself off the sheer cliff below.
"..."
Eunho's face, usually lit with a smirk, hardened.
Geum Pyo and Dongryong, still clueless, stared at him.
"What? What'd you and Big Bro talk about before?"
"Nothing."
"Then why'd you say you got it?"
Eunho fixed Geum Pyo with a steady gaze.
"You think Big Bro'd abandon us?"
Geum Pyo blinked dumbly. "No."
"Then we're good. Even if he did, we came prepared for that, right?"
"...Show-off."
Geum Pyo drew his sword and stepped forward two paces—the vanguard of the White Tiger Sword Formation. A fierce resolve: no retreat, no matter the foe.
Eunho took left flank. Dongryong, after a moment's hesitation, right.
"One gak. Just one! No losing limbs!"
At Geum Pyo's shout, the brothers yelled their old training chant.
"Roger!"
"Roger!"
*
Free-falling along the cliff, I spotted the cave—just as the reports described: two stone slabs overlapping like roof tiles. I fired my Flying Dragon Claw and swung in.
Deeper inside the narrow tunnel, a small spring wafted humid vapors, matching the records. Past it, the air thickened with a fishy reek, like a swamp.
"Still hibernating, I wonder."
The cave walls bore golden roof-tile scales aplenty—big enough for three men standing. But not lustrous gold: a withered, muddy yellow.
"What an appetite."
One corner brimmed with a bone pile—prey remains, from rabbits and deer to what looked like bear and tiger skeletons.
"Snakes swallow whole, don't they?"
Scraaaape—
Had my words roused it? Or did transcendent beasts skip winter sleep?
The metallic scrape of its body pierced my eardrums, filling the cave. Then, from the dark, two red eyes gleamed.
"So you're Mokgan Mountain's lord."
Ox-sized head. Body sheathed in golden scales. A 200-year-old Golden Scale Blue Serpent.
###
Roughly three hundred... no, five hundred, maybe?
Dongryong recalled Tae-eul Gate's last grand feast, all disciples gathered.
'That was fun.'
Whoops. Not the time for daydreams.
Geum Pyo-hyung and Eunho-hyung's faces were ashen. Dodge arrows, evade darts—then warriors closed in through the killing intent, their strikes sluggish as swordplay underwater. Nothing like drill formations.
Move too slow, and disaster. But he couldn't act rashly—lest the formation crumble.
He knew it wasn't his brothers slowing. The enemies weren't lightning-fast either. So they held, somehow.
But wounds mounted.
'Can we last?'
Big Bro said hold one gak, but it looked impossible. Instinct screamed: Soon, my brothers die.
Sudden insights hit—visions of countless corpses he'd seen. Geum Pyo-hyung and Eunho-hyung among them.
Even if Big Bro returned after one gak, no fix. Never was.
He sensed the heavenly net instinctively: a beast-hunting trap. Even with Big Bro, nothing changed.
'Especially with those scary ones.'
Warriors beside Huangjian's Jong Seo-gang. Terrifying foes. None could match Big Bro alone, but in formation like ours? Even he'd struggle.
And such elites dotted the net.
'All because of me...'
He knew he was the anchor dragging Big Bro and his brothers. Still, he wanted to stay together. Hated being left behind. Couldn't accept being dead weight.
This stubbornness birthed the mess.
If he'd turned back, would Geum Pyo-hyung and Eunho-hyung have too? Maybe they'd live.
"Dongryong!"
Geum Pyo-hyung blocked a sluggish sword meant for him—though Dongryong was faster now. Hyung always did.
"Geum Pyo-hyung!"
Eunho-hyung covered his back. Formation shattered again. Always did.
Dragging them down.
"Reform the formation!"
As it knit, two warriors wedged between Geum Pyo-hyung and Eunho-hyung. They split, foes dividing them. Hands crossed; wounds grew. Yet their eyes stayed on him.
"Eunho-hyung!"
He dispatched his unguarded foes and rushed them. This wouldn't do. They'd all die like this.
"Dongryong! Behind me!"
Geum Pyo and Eunho-hyung, faces blackening, ignored formation to shield him.
Not why he'd come.
"Hyung..."
"Don't worry! We'll get you out safe!"
"Fuck it. Geum Pyo-hyung, if one's losing an arm, better me, right?"
"No way! It'll be me! You inherit the mill!"
"Why's succession coming up now?!"
Foes loomed, radiating murder—yet the brothers bantered on. Dongryong chuckled despite himself.
Eunho grinned. "See, Dongryong? No biggie. Don't worry. It'll end fine."
No, it won't. Eunho-hyung's obvious lie.
Dongryong wanted more of those lame jokes.
'...'
Hesitation crystallized.
He doffed the Demon-Suppressing Command Bead.
"Dongryong! I said don't take it off!"
Vitality surged. His near-collapse body reignited, something hot pounding his chest.
"Hyung... Let's all get back safe."
Now Dongryong lied too.
Thump-thump.
His racing heart steadied. Eyes blazed.
One, two, three. Sword forms sketched in his mind. He slotted himself in effortlessly.
"Keurk."
"Kgh."
"Cough."
Three foes down in a blink. Five, six... nine. One per breath. No fear of first kills—body moved naturally, reaping lives.
Scary? No. Scariest: brothers and Big Bro dying here.
To flee fear, he swung wildly.
...So only his corpse remained.
"Damn it! Can't even take a brat?!"
Sharpened ears picked Jong Seo-gang. Then a monstrous man charged.
'Scary one.'
Different. Exchanges glitched—death.
But he pressed.
Clang-clang.
Three clashes; man's eyes bulged, stifling a groan.
"Ngh."
New sketch forming—half-done.
Clang-clang-clang-clang.
Ten exchanges; scary man's forearm severed.
"What are you?"
Sketch complete. Winnable. Ended with man bleeding.
Dongryong lunged—
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang.
Two more scary men joined. No sketches now.
"Killing Star... a kid with Killing Star!"
"Heavenly Killing Star?"
"That monster?!"
Contemptuous glares. No hurt. Monster or not—if he saved brothers and Big Bro...
He dove to sketch anew. Brothers tried intervening, blocked.
'Don't come...'
Without these, Big Bro and hyungs survive.
'Please, stay away...'
Glitching sketches splattered red paint. Unseen before. Seamless, victorious.
But ended with Dongryong fallen.
Endless craving to kill humans. Stubborn obsession to sacrifice all for it. A miracle born.
-Dongryong! Snap out of it!
-Keep this up, I'll leave you!
Cheonmok Mountain echoes—desperate voices that once grounded him.
Recalling them melted death's terror.
"Must kill him!"
"Heavenly Killing Star..."
Fear gone, vigor swelled. He drew Tae-eul True Scripture beyond his level—like a glutton savoring, calligrapher perfecting strokes.
Heavenly Killing Star awakened his full potential for the ultimate kill.
This the end? No more play with hyungs, no seeing Big Bro enter Murim Academy?
Regret. If only together again, watching Big Bro stride in proudly...
No more greed. Saving hyungs was enough.
He hurled into the red sketch's finale—calm as Big Bro once dove into peril.
Then.
"Aren't you ashamed? Ganging up on a kid."
Ears perked.
No way. Already?
He whipped around, foes forgotten.
Big Bro—fleeing a mountain-sized golden serpent right at them.
Gam Cheol-jin's stern face spat curses.
"What the hell is that thing, you bastards?!"