A Death That Cannot Be Defied

A hidden house in a quiet corner of the city of Anhui.

Martial artists with more than enough skill to bury their presence wholly in the dark were slipping in, one after another. Beneath the house's dim lights, every arrival concealed his face behind a mask or a human-skin disguise.

"Another one's come."

"...There are too many of us."

"What kind of mission could...?"

Sensing that this was no ordinary summons, the men gathered in the hidden house began to stir. The masks kept any of them from knowing another's face, but none had trouble inferring the gravity of this moment — every last one of them was radiating a presence that brooked no underestimate.

"Every single one of them a Second-Rank agent..." one of them murmured — a man whose tongue had grown a little loose from drinking too long of the Central Plains' waters.

His words were true, in any case: those gathered here were Second-Rank Sleeper Agents who had been operating in the shadows of every corner of the Central Plains. The criteria dividing an agent's rank were not martial prowess alone, but as a general rule, only a master who had reached the Harmony Realm could hope to hold the Second Rank. To put it precisely, they were masters of the Extreme Demon Realm — every one of them having climbed to that height upon the foundation of the demonic arts.

Creeeak.

The hidden house's door opened carefully once more, and another figure took his place among them, conspicuous even in such company.

"Ten of them, then..."

And by any estimate, every soul in that room was a master of the Extreme Demon Realm. It was fighting strength enough to wage open war against any great sect and walk away standing — a fact that made itself known all too clearly. Whatever this matter was, it was plainly graver than anything these long-posted Second-Rank agents had ever lived through, and a heavy air hung over the silence that had settled over the house.

A short while passed.

"So all are here."

A voice drifted out of the darkness — which meant the head count in that house was not ten, but eleven.

...!

All ten Second-Rank agents of the Extreme Demon Realm bowed their heads at once. They had realized who spoke: a First-Rank agent, of whom only a scarce few existed even in the Central Plains.

"Orders have arrived from the Cult."

The First-Rank agent's frigid voice devoured the room.

"Your mission is the erasure of the Dancheon Clan."

A ripple of unrest—

Even for an assembly of rigorously trained agents, the turmoil could not be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wholly hidden. All-out war against the Dancheon Clan, one of Anhui's famed noble houses, was simply an undertaking of that magnitude.

"Any questions?"

...

The First-Rank's gaze swept the room, every bit as cold as his voice. There were no questions. An order from the Cult was to be carried out even at the cost of one's life — such was the nature of the Heavenly Demon Cult, and the destiny of every agent it raised.

"Succeed in this mission, and every one of you will be recalled to the Cult."

For an agent posted to the Central Plains, to be recalled to the Cult was to be honored with advancement. This single mission, done well, would end their years of toil in foreign lands and see them home to positions of real power.

...

Yet the Second-Rank agents did not react. Indifference would be the fairest word for it. Every one of them had thrown his whole life into the Cult's great cause — the Demon Dominion Under Heaven. Had personal glory ever been their concern, they could never have endured the perilous life of a sleeper agent while holding fast to their identity as devotees of the Demonic Path.

"Hm."

At their nonresponse, a measure of the chill faded from the First-Rank agent's expression. How could he not be gladdened, seeing men who still dreamed of the Demonic Path's dominion even in exile among the Central Plains? And so he decided to unwrap, ahead of schedule, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the gift he had been debating whether to keep secret.

"The Supreme One Himself will descend for this mission. See that every preparation is made."

The words had scarcely left his mouth—

...!

The Second-Rank agents, composed until that very moment, broke wide open.

"The Supreme One—?!"

"Is it true?"

It was excitement. It was awe.

"Our god...!"

"Ah... aah...!"

And in the end, it was madness.

How could they not have known? Within the Heavenly Demon Cult, the title of Supreme One belonged to one being and one being alone.

"Know it, and prepare accordingly."

With those words, the First-Rank agent faded away as devoid of presence as when he had appeared. When the mission was set in motion, he would appear again just as suddenly. In the empty space he left behind, not one of the Second-Rank agents dared to rise.

A mission undertaken alongside the Heavenly Demon himself. They had been granted a grace they could not repay in a lifetime of trying — it was only right to offer their god their praise. And so, though no one stepped forward to lead, every voice rose in the same instant, each man leading the chant and each man answering it, all as one.

Beneath the name of the Heavenly Demon, they had become one — wholly, absolutely one. And from the agents' eyes, a vivid demonic aura bloomed upward like dark fire.

People live to achieve their purposes.

I know full well, of course, that many simply give their bodies over to the current of time and live out their days one at a time. Most beggars live exactly that way — how could I not know?

But at the same time, I know that I am not one of them. The footprints of the life I have walked made certain of that. Before my regression, Dancheon Myeong lived to be acknowledged by his clan. Myeong-gae, who had turned his back on that clan, lived to lay the groundwork for the regression to come. And after regressing, Dancheon Myeong lived to stop the Great War of Righteousness and Evil and to stand as Number One Under Heaven. Call it a life lived with ferocious intensity, always in service of a purpose.

And lately, a great question had taken root in me — the matter of the Yakseon Heart Decision's Sixth Stage.

In those days, Yakseon must have labored day and night to reach the Sixth Stage. The desperation was baked into his very brushstrokes — there was no missing it. After that vow-like passage, the Heart Decision appears to have lain unwritten for a long while. The long blank space had been left just as it was, a touch that spoke of the transcriber's care.

And then, added long after all the rest, the Heart Decision's next message.

Even so, he was the Medicine Immortal through and through. Though he never reached the divine throne, his foresight was already gazing upon the far future. And just as he said, my realm — newly arrived at the Fifth Stage in today's murim — was best judged as sitting at the very bottom of the Ten Great Masters Under Heaven.

"Right now? The tail end of the Ten Great Masters is about all you could tangle with."

That was the assessment of Yeom Gi-ha, the Sovereign of Destruction, a man who had fought his way to the Alliance Leader's seat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on an endless road of duels — so it was fact beyond dispute.

In any case, Yakseon's message did not end there.

Number One Under Heaven. Duty and justification aside, I cannot deny that the words alone made my heart beat faster.

As for what it would take to enter the Sixth Stage — I had committed Yakseon's every word to memory, and the mechanism by which it was reached lay whole within my mind. And because of that, I knew why Yakseon had never reached it.

Then what of me? It was a domain even the great Yakseon had failed to conquer, so I could hardly call it easy — but neither was it impossible. It meant the possibility of reaching the Sixth Stage existed in me. More than a faint one, at that.

I did not possess the spiritual eyes Yakseon was born with — but I had regressed, and that was reason enough. Perhaps, too, because the life Yakseon had walked and the life I had walked simply left different footprints.

There are almost no absolutes in this world. If anything deserves to be called truth in the world of men, it is that. So I could not say I would surely reach the Sixth Stage, nor that I surely could not. Only this mattered: unlike Yakseon, who had failed in the end, I had seen the possibility.

What great deed was ever done in perfection? Where possibility exists, the attempt is worth making — more than worth it.

And yet... if the possibility was there, why was I agonizing over the Sixth Stage at all? If I had to put it into words, it was a question of whether I truly needed to.

In truth, when I regressed, I had set my goal at Number One Under Heaven and the leader of the Murim Alliance. The reason was to stop the Great War of Righteousness and Evil — because I knew that no one man's strength could hold back that cold, cruel hellscape. And if I looked a layer deeper into my own heart, I could not deny that a hunger to have my existence acknowledged had played its part as well.

In any case. Fate's unforeseen currents had forged new bonds, and in the end, they had bent the great river of history itself. I mean that in reaching the Fifth Stage, I had saved Yeom Gi-ha, the Sovereign of Destruction. To change the fate of a man of that caliber was to twist the current of history — a matter of an entirely different order from riding the success of Yang Su-rin or of Yeo Wol, the Young Mistress of Haomun. Which also meant the future to come would unfold in ways I could not foresee.

Yeom Gi-ha, the Sovereign of Destruction. A cantankerous old man, beyond doubt — but the truer measure of him was as a great Alliance Leader who carried his own convictions and his own justice. I knew from firsthand experience that his martial might deserved the name Number One Under Heaven, and that he fell nothing short of being called a grandmaster of the age.

"If only the Sovereign of Destruction had been there."

It meant I had confirmed with my own two eyes that the 'what if' that used to drift through the Secret Pavilion in my Myeong-gae days was no empty rumor. And so the thought came, unbidden:

To stop the Great War of Righteousness and Evil — did it have to be me who became the Murim Alliance Leader, the Number One Under Heaven?

In truth, now that I had brought forth a timeline in which the Sovereign of Destruction survived, I honestly no longer knew. And that was not all of it, either.

Dancheon Hak and I had grown close. Which meant that even with him destined to become head of the clan, I no longer had any reason to turn my back on my family. I could call Baek Yeo-hae Mother now. It still felt a little awkward — and yet, even so, I had come to think of her, in truth, as my mother. And there was Uncle Yeo-baek, the one elder I most wanted to trust and follow. I had even come to want to succeed him as captain of the Dancheon Sword Clan's guard. It meant a place had opened for me in the Dancheon Clan — a place where I belonged.

So did I truly need to cling to the Yakseon Heart Decision on the strength of a slim possibility? Why should I have to? The Fifth Stage. I had already reached a realm where the world itself was mine to weigh — was that not enough?

I took that answerless question as my koan and passed the days in pursuit of enlightenment. But no depth of pondering could hold back the flow of time. It flowed on without mercy, and more than a month and a half had passed since my return to the clan.

"Tomorrow will be different!"

"Keep at it."

With Dancheon Hak burning with resolve day after day...

"Myeong, my boy — this round is mine."

"Come ahead, Uncle."

...and with Uncle Yeo-baek still pressing ever forward, I would say every one of those days was peaceful, and full.

Then, in the midst of those tranquil days, came a deep night. My eyes snapped open to a chill that gnawed, aching, at my spine.

Dread.

My spiritual sense, honed to its height through Five Energies Converged at the Origin, was sounding its warning. I knew it at once: a death that could not be defied was closing in on my family.

Worry, I knew, was a luxury that belonged to those who survived.

The moment my hand closed around the Dancheon Sword, its cold touch woke my mind. Only now did I understand how utterly futile my agonizing had been.