The Weight of Responsibility
“Khak! Keuhk! Krrgh...”
“If the strongest swordsman the Murim Alliance ever produced ends up in this sorry state, it’s no wonder the forces of the Four Heavenly Kings are expanding.”
“Baekri... Hyeok!”
“I won’t say it twice. Bring Namgung Ak.”
Baekri Hyeok pressed his sword against the throat of the battered Namgung Yeong. Two thoughts warred within him: that he must not kill the Lord of the Murim Alliance, and that he must avenge his younger brother. “Do you know how many warriors have been abandoned and left to die alone for the sake of a mission?”
“...”
“My brother, discarded by his own unit for the success of that mission! Do you have any idea how much pain Yeong endured before he died?!”
Unable to contain his rage any longer, Baekri Hyeok raised his blade to strike Namgung Yeong’s neck. At that moment, the elders of the Murim Alliance who had been watching from afar rushed in and sealed his movements.
“Commander of the Cheoksagun! You’ve crossed the line. That’s enough.”
“Are you truly trying to kill the Lord? The Alliance cannot afford to lose him now.”
“We understand your anger. Let’s settle this peacefully through words.”
“Heh. Khahahahaha! Hahahahaha!!”
Baekri Hyeok burst into laughter at the sight of the high-ranking officials blocking his path. These cowards had only watched for the right moment to intervene, terrified they might be cut down in a single stroke if they acted sooner. The moment the situation turned dire, they finally stepped forward with gritted teeth. How could he not laugh? The instant their power was threatened, they offered their lives without hesitation. Disgust churned in Baekri Hyeok’s chest. If they were truly willing to throw their lives away against an impossible foe, they should have done so themselves. Instead, they had used what they needed and observed the chaos from above in comfort.
“You lot have no reason left to live. I’ll grant you death right here.”
“Sword Lord! Stop this at once!”
“If you want to stop me, bring Namgung Ak!”
When Baekri Hyeok stomped the ground once more with a growl, the elders flinched. His eyes had completely turned. Years of suppressed fury had erupted all at once, and he would not stop until he obtained what he desired. Having raised his banner alone, he knew the smaller sects could not be pressured into action. At this moment, Baekri Hyeok was like a bull charging forward with every responsibility on his shoulders, heedless of what lay behind him.
“What do you intend to do to Ak?”
“Exactly what was done to Yeong.”
“...And if we refuse?”
“Even if it makes me a public enemy of the martial world, I will destroy the Namgung Clan.”
Namgung Yeong met Baekri Hyeok’s gaze with a bitter expression. The man had clearly already considered the consequences, yet he demanded the impossible. There was no room for negotiation—only brute force. But in the martial world, might was right, and Namgung Yeong had no choice.
“Bring Ak here.”
“My Lord!! Surely not!”
“If this continues, the Alliance itself will collapse. Is that what you want?”
At Namgung Yeong’s decision, every elder fell silent. He had chosen to sacrifice his own son for the sake of the Murim Alliance. Who among them could dare question his judgment? The ruthless father who cast aside his child stood exposed, yet no one blamed or condemned him. It was not sympathy that stayed their tongues. It was relief—the knowledge that sacrificing one child could end the crisis.
Baekri Hyeok’s face twisted with even greater revulsion, but he quickly smoothed his expression. If he could deal with Namgung Ak as he pleased, that would suffice. No matter how much he wished to tear the Alliance apart, the situation demanded restraint. Should the Murim Alliance fall, the orthodox sects would suffer under the Four Heavenly Kings, and the Baekri Clan would inevitably be endangered as well. Even in madness, sacrificing one’s own clan was the act of a true lunatic. Though he was already acting like one.
“I won’t move until Namgung Ak is brought here.”
“...Summon Ak.”
At the Lord’s command, the head of the Mount Hua Sect departed to fetch Namgung Ak. In the brief lull that followed, Jin Ryeong, the head of the Wudang Sect who had remained a silent observer, approached.
“Commander of the Cheoksagun. So you’ve chosen that path after all.”
“I hold no grudge against you, Sect Leader. Nor do I have anything to say.”
“An expulsion order will be issued. You may have to spend several years in the North Sea.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided to bear it.”
“Are you truly satisfied with this?”
Baekri Hyeok pressed his lips shut at Jin Ryeong’s question. Satisfied? Of course not. How could destroying a single person be enough? After all the hatred that had accumulated over the years...
“Hatred only breeds more hatred. Someone must step forward to break the cycle.”
“That someone doesn’t have to be you.”
“It does. Great power comes with great responsibility. So stand aside and watch, Sect Leader. Do nothing.”
“...Understood.”
Jin Ryeong withdrew without another word. He maintained a neutral stance within the Alliance and showed no discrimination toward the smaller sects—yet he never championed them either. Because of his nature, he remained largely ignorant of the Alliance’s darkest secrets. Baekri Hyeok had never heard of him being involved in any corruption.
In the end, Namgung Ak appeared before Baekri Hyeok in a state of confusion. Baekri Hyeok, his face devoid of all expression, raised his sword and spoke.
“We will duel.”
“What?”
“To the death, of course.”
“..!”
“I won’t kill you. But you’ll suffer enough to wish you were dead!”
As Baekri Hyeok kicked off the ground, a flustered Namgung Ak was forced to draw his sword. He had come when summoned without understanding the situation, only to be challenged to a deathmatch. Yet none of the Alliance’s leaders moved to stop Baekri Hyeok. Only then did Namgung Ak realize his karma was returning to him in full. He could not even bring himself to resent his father, the Lord of the Alliance. A single glance had shown him that Namgung Yeong was already on the brink of death.
“Khak!”
“It must have hurt. It must have been miserable. You must have despaired!”
“Krrgh...”
“Now feel that pain yourself!”
“Aaaaaargh!”
Shhhk! With a single thrust, Baekri Hyeok sent Namgung Ak’s right arm flying into the air. A razor-sharp sword aura had severed it cleanly. Mere moments into the duel, the swordsman’s essential right arm was lost. But Baekri Hyeok did not stop. He severed the other arm as well.
“Khak! Keuhk!!”
“Baekri Hyeok!! That’s enough!”
“Taking both arms should suffice! Any further and he’ll truly die!”
“If you continue, we won’t stand idly by.”
The elders blocked Baekri Hyeok’s path the instant Namgung Ak’s arms were severed. If the duel continued, Namgung Ak would die—and the loss of the Namgung Clan’s future patriarch would be catastrophic. They desperately held him back. Baekri Hyeok stared at their vile hearts and declared with a twisted expression.
“Baekri Hyeok, Commander of the Cheoksagun, accepts exile to the North Sea for three years as punishment for harming an ally. Upon returning to the martial world, I will remain within the Baekri Clan for twenty years without leaving.”
“Baekri Hyeok..!”
“Since I walked the wrong path, I will lose everything I possess and depart. I pray you spend your days in hell.”
Baekri Hyeok clasped his hands in salute before the ruined office corridor, then turned and left the Alliance. Namgung Ak, who had suffered an unexpected assault, locked himself away in the Namgung Clan in shock. The warriors who had followed Baekri Hyeok as members of the Cheoksagun chose to return to their original sects and clans. A single man’s rebellion had sent a great wind through the Murim Alliance’s structure, yet almost no one knew of this tale. It was a history of humiliation for the Alliance, and they had chosen to bury it.
Thus, Baekri Hyeok was exiled to the North Sea, where he encountered Han Seol-eun, and the grudge between the Namgung and Baekri Clans deepened beyond any hope of reconciliation.
“So that’s what happened...”
“You must be an insider of the Baekri Clan. You seem quite curious about this matter.”
“I don’t need to explain that. It was quite helpful.”
“So now you’re going to kill me?”
“Yes.”
Hwa Wol gazed at Baekri Hyeok with trembling eyes. But his gaze had already settled everything. Realizing this, Hwa Wol sighed and lowered her head. Baekri Hyeong’s sword cleanly slit her throat.