The Night No One Knew
His ragged breaths would not stop. Yet if he did not do this, the thread of his life seemed as if it would snap at any moment. He let out another labored breath and pressed his hand harder against his side. Thick, wet crimson blood soaked his palm completely. The metallic stench of blood refused to fade. Strength would not return to his legs. After only a few more steps, he collapsed heavily onto the spot.
"...What rotten fucking luck."
He had shown unnecessary mercy and ended up stabbed, on the verge of death. He looked back at the path he had taken. Red blood trailed behind him like footprints, clearly marking his route. Since pursuers would be on his trail, he could not afford to stop here.
He pulled out the single dagger he kept tucked at his waist and used it like a cane. One hand clamped tightly over the sword wound at his side while he stabbed the dagger into the ground and crawled forward. It hurt. The sand digging into the gash, the agony of his entire body scraping across the dirt. If he stopped now, he would not have to feel this pain. But he could not stop. If he could take even one more step, he had to take it.
Until he killed every last one of those detestable hypocrites above, until he could soothe his master's departed soul by making them watch, he could not die.
"Khh..."
He groaned and moved again. There was a cave up ahead. Even a simple trap would be enough to shake off those idiot pursuers. He twisted his body and crawled toward the cave.
How far had he gone?
"Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?"
White lightning struck the ground seven times in every direction. Wherever the bolts landed, the earth was scorched black and caved inward.
"...He's dead."
If such a mysterious level of swift swordplay was infused with lightning qi, the attacker had to be at least in the Super Peak Realm. Even at full strength, he would not have dared to kill such an opponent. In his current state, with these severe wounds, merely touching the tip of a finger to them would have been an incredible feat.
He let the dagger fall from his grasp. The moment he gave up on moving from that spot, all the pain subsided. All that remained was the hollow sensation of blood leaking out of him.
"You're mistaken. I'm not dead. You."
A clear, resonant voice came from behind him. Not dead? He was about to die by her hand, wasn't he? The words sounded like mockery no matter how he looked at them, and even as he lay dying, the displeasure was vivid.
"If I take you to that cave over there, can you save yourself?"
"...Pfft."
She spoke as if she were going to spare him. The absurdity of it made him laugh. Because of that, he coughed up blood, but he still could not stop laughing.
"Enough. Just kill me. Even if I die today, I won't bow my head like a coward to you righteous faction hypocrites."
"When our great Cult Leader slaughters every last one of you, I'll be shouting 'long live' from the depths of hell."
Then the woman grabbed his collar and lifted him. His upper body rose limply. When he turned his head with effort, the woman's face appeared faintly before him. White hair. Quite a striking impression.
"...I asked if you could survive. Answer me."
It seemed she would not even allow him to die until he gave her an answer. Seeing that she was even stopping his bleeding for him.
"Fine. I'll live. Yes. Of course I will!"
The moment he answered, the woman hoisted him onto her back. Before he could even react with a what the hell are you doing, she began running forward, using light footwork as well. His vision was too blurry to see where they were going. He only knew that he was gradually sinking into a dark space. Or was he? Was his vision simply growing darker?
"Now you just need to survive."
With those words, the woman set him down. He felt something cold and hard against his back, supporting him.
"...What is this."
"Is it difficult to survive?"
Only then did his vision brighten a little. A dim space, a white-haired woman, and behind her, irregular chunks of stone.
"You crazy bitch."
It was a cave. At the same time, he felt it. The grim reaper who had been guiding him to death had removed that cold hand from his shoulder. That this woman truly did not intend to kill him.
"I'm not crazy."
Not crazy, my ass. What you're doing right now is openly defying the Murim Alliance you belong to.
"Why?"
"Because my state of mind is Exterminate Demons, Repel Evil."
Exterminate the Demonic Path and repel the heretical path.
"But I'm part of the Demonic Path. Shouldn't that mean you have to exterminate me?"
"If the Demonic Path is nothing but a story built upon slander, then that is not a place where your story belongs."
He had no idea what she was talking about.
"I saw it."
The woman took something out from her robes. A small red bottle, some golden wound medicine, and white cloth. She handed them to him and continued speaking.
"You broke formation and blocked an entire house by yourself."
"Even as the warriors of our Alliance pressed their assault, you stood alone and faced four Peak Realm experts head-on. With that level of skill, you could have simply returned to the Demonic Cult's ranks."
"Yet you could not bring yourself to abandon that one house, so you blocked their way. Even though it meant you could be stabbed to death."
"You saw the child inside that house, didn't you?"
...She was right. Inside the house crumbling amid the clash, a child who looked barely five years old had been hiding in terror, as if playing a game of tag with death.
"You are a good person possessed by a demon."
Nonsense. He was not possessed by any demon.
"I ask that you do not listen to the things gnawing away at you."
The things gnawing at him were you people, and that will never change. I do not listen to you.
"We are imperfect and weak, so we can be wounded by such parasites."
We are imperfect and weak? You know you are weak yourself, yet you still try to kill us?
"However, even if you are wounded and in pain, do not take it out on others."
Then who can resolve my grudge, my fury?
"Even if the entire world falls into corruption, protect your own nobility."
You who threw away your nobility like dogs. Do not dare utter that word.
"When the day comes that you see light in this world, you will weep even more bitterly for it."
Light. Was there anyone left in this life who could see light? What was she even saying? He could not understand a single thing.
Perhaps it was an insight she had gained on her own. What he could clearly tell was that she was a martial artist cut from a different cloth than the other hypocrites of the Alliance.
"...I thought all you righteous faction bastards were hypocrites, but it turns out there's an idiot among you too."
Even though he had mixed in some provocation, she remained silent. She simply turned her back as if preparing to leave.
"Which sect are you from?"
"...I am from the Illusory Lightning Gate."
Her answer came a beat late. Even the name sounded strange.
"Chaotic lightning, huh. An awkward name. Is it an alias?"
But it did not matter.
"I make a vow."
Since one hand had to hold his side, he could not offer a proper fist salute. Feeling it was insufficient, he simply placed his fist over his chest in greeting.
"If we meet again on the battlefield, and if I win, I will spare your life once, just as you have done for me."
"Unlike you people, I do not spit out lies."
After hearing those words, the woman left the cave. He could not see what expression she wore. Even after applying the golden wound medicine and binding his injury, he could not tear his gaze away from the cave entrance for a long time.
"...Foolish righteous faction wench."
"I will remember you."
"It was a dream."
All sensation was fading away. The hand that had been soaked in blood was clean, and the wound at his side had vanished without even a scar.
"...Yes. That did happen."
It was from the time he had completely annihilated the outer family of the Qingcheng Sect. The day the still-green novice that he was had first stepped onto a major battlefield. He had been gravely wounded and on the brink of death when someone had saved him.
"So it was you. Looks like we had quite a tenacious connection."
In the dream, perhaps it was only his imagination, but he thought he saw blue eyes between strands of white hair.
"...You were right."
He had writhed in pain, wounded by the parasites gnawing at him. To forget those wounds, he had covered them with the wounds of others. In the end, he had lost his own integrity. And at the very end, he finally saw the light shining down upon the world. Now he wept more bitterly than anyone because of that truth.
However, though he reflected and regretted, he did not drown in sorrow. That sorrow had led him to this place and made him embrace a great and sacred mission. He would reach the pinnacle of that sorrow by accomplishing it.
He would grasp his sword. He would wield it. Because that was all that remained to him now.
His senses felt completely different from usual. He could feel everything in the world. If before he had only been looking at the ground, now it felt as if he were gazing at an open sky.
A translucent energy flickered at the tip of his sword. In the Murim, this was called Geomgi.
Seeing it, he murmured.
"Exactly half a year, huh."
He smiled faintly. It was truly not a bad achievement. At the end of the enlightenment from that dream, he had taken one step forward. The realization gained by breaking free from simple repetitive training felt as sweet as rain after a drought.
He swung his sword once more. Sword strikes that he could not even have unleashed in the past spread out in every direction. The room became a chaotic mess of sword scars. Even so, he did not stop. If he stopped here, he would not be able to advance any further.
Step by step. He took each step and swung his sword. He felt an intense inner energy surging near his heart. To control it a little more within his grasp, he moved his body again.
Only after a long while did he finally lower his sword. His entire body was drenched in sweat.
That day was the day he had risen once more to the Peak Realm.