Return of The Mount Hua – Chapter 1691. That’s Enough (1)
Editor: Hoamz
Co-Translator: Xoxo
A cool breeze brushed across the surface of the liquor cup.
Jang Ilso, who had been silently fiddling with his cup, turned his head to gaze at the burning Mount Wudang.
"So you're over there, is that it?"
His languid voice carried an unmistakable hint of mockery.
“You?”
“...”
Chung Myung gazed back at Jang Ilso without a word of affirmation or denial.
“My, my.”
Jang Ilso slowly nodded his head. Though slow, the movement was exaggerated like that of a Peking opera actor. That ever-present, excessive flair made it difficult for anyone facing him to guess his true intentions.
“As I understand it, those called Taoists aspire to become Immortals … Seeing now, you seem to want to become not an immortal but a Poet Immortal (시선(詩仙)). For each word to be so elegant..."
Jang Ilso chuckled. His long, slit eyes curved like a waning moon. As if looking at a clown dressed in ill-fitting clothes.
“To an uneducated like me, it just sounds like nothing but talk about grasping at clouds.”
“Jang Ilso.”
“Since you keep spouting nonsense, I will tell you. You are right here.”
“...”
"You. Not on that burning mountain, but right here."
Though he was smiling, Jang Ilso’s gaze looked as though it might pierce straight through Chung Myung at any moment. But Chung Myung didn't return his provocative gaze. He just replied indifferently as if he had expected as much.
"I never expect it anyway. That you could understand my thoughts."
“Is that so?”
A deep smile lingered on Jang Ilso's lips.
“Then what about you? Can you understand my thoughts?”
"You..."
"You can't know."
“...”
"Just guess and convince yourself. Isn't that right?"
Chung Myung's face grew slightly cold.
"Don't make such a grim face. It's not my intention to look down on you. It’s the same for you as it is for everyone, right?”
Jang Ilso's eyes shone wickedly.
“The truth is, no one can know another person’s inner thoughts.”
Chung Myung's calm, seemingly indifferent gaze and Jang Ilso's seething gaze intertwined in the air.
"Pitiful belief."
“...”
“Knowing each other's hearts, understanding one another. Looking at the same place with a single mind, thinking the same thoughts.”
Jang Ilso's soft laughter pierced Chung Myung's ears.
"Such things are illusions that weak ones who can't endure uncertainty and ambiguity desperately cling to. One person cannot truly know another. No one can fully know what lies inside the person looking at them. Lacking the courage to face that fact, people merely wish to believe in a conveniently fabricated lie."
Gazing at the mountain as if admiring a picturesque scene, Jang Ilso asked thoughtfully.
“Are you really there?”
“...”
"Are your thoughts, your will, what you try to believe really there? Do they truly hold the 'pieces' of you you speak of?"
“...Jang Ilso.”
"Dreamlike notion."
Chilling.
Chung Myung felt exactly that. That voice, which remained cool, light, and slightly excited just like a moment ago, felt strangely chilling in this instant. Though not even a trace of such feeling was carried in the tone.
"People are born alone and die alone. That's a truth no one can change."
“...”
"And throughout their lives, not for a single moment can they see the true intentions (진의(眞意)) of another. At best, what can be seen are fabricated expressions, evasive words, and superficial pretenses shown appropriately."
"That's your case. Not everyone lives like you."
“Hm...?”
Jang Ilso's eyes curved even more deeply. Before that gaze, Chung Myung unconsciously tightened his grip on the liquor cup in his hand.
“Do you really think so?”
“...”
"Really?"
Chung Myung's eyebrows twitched sharply. An inexplicable sense of discomfort surged in. Just as he was about to snap back, Jang Ilso's mouth opened again.
“Then… have you truly told everyone your inner thoughts exactly as they are? Not saying appropriately fabricated words just hoping they would believe?"
The corners of Chung Myung’s eyes trembled faintly.
“Can you really be unashamed before that thing called ‘faith’ that you speak of? If they believe you as much as you believe them, are you truly someone worthy of that belief? Really?"
"Don't babble nonsense. You...”
"Ah, I understand."
Jang Ilso's eyes darkened instantly.
“There must have been reasons. Because it was something you couldn’t say, because it's better not to know, because it's a way to achieve a better result, because it's for the distant future..."
The air brushing his hand suddenly seemed endlessly cold. Though that couldn't be.
“But when you pile excuses on top of one another and hide behind such a mask, the world calls that ‘a lie.’”
Jang Ilso smiled kindly. The more he did so, the more Chung Myung's face stiffened.
"Isn't that right?"
Chung Myung saw it. The mockery on Jang Ilso's face, the eeriness, and the disappointment.
And perhaps these weren't directed at Chung Myung.
"Even one who preaches belief so much easily discusses lies, and tries to show not oneself as is but an appropriately fabricated self. While keeping one's true intent firmly hidden inside."
“...”
“And yet they believe they understand the hearts of others.”
He couldn't say anything.
At least for this moment.
“Hahahahaha!”
Jang Ilso, having quietly observed Chung Myung's face, burst into laughter. It was a laugh that seemed hollow rather than genuinely amused.
"This is why... Right, this is why the world is nothing more than an opera to enjoy and pass through. Each other hiding faces with thick makeup and performing their assigned roles."
Jang Ilso slowly traced his lips with his fingertips. The fingertips, passing the rouge-painted lips to the corners of his mouth, pressed down and slowly moved upward.
As if forcing a smile.
"Aren't you curious what face lies behind that makeup?"
“...What on earth are you trying to say?”
“Ah, or perhaps you lack the courage to check?”
“Jang Ilso!”
Chaeaeng!
Simultaneously with Chung Myung shouting in fury, the cup held in his hand burst out.
Cold liquor flowed down his hand. That sight was like drops of blood.
Jang Ilso, who had been silently watching the liquor drip drop by drop onto the table, slowly opened his mouth.
“I thought you would know.”
"What..."
"The 'you' I've seen is the one most adept at hiding yourself. You're the embodiment of self- conviction, completely incapable of understanding others and believing only in yourself. To you, understanding is merely another name for pity. You call it understanding when you lower yourself to accommodate those lacking."
Chung Myung's face distorted. Unbearable fury surged up.
But just as Jang Ilso's mockery wasn’t directed at Chung Myung, perhaps his fury too wasn't directed at Jang Ilso either.
“This kid...”
Jang Ilso's words were an insult to Chung Myung, worse than any curse.
“Am I wrong? That's how I saw it."
But Jang Ilso still wore the same smiling face.
"Isn't it funny? You who discuss belief try to hide yourself from someone, while I who discuss lies reveal myself without anything to be wary of."
“...”
"This too is an interesting piece of opera. How about it? Will you try putting on makeup too? No, are you already wearing it? Makeup even thicker than mine. Hahahahahahat!”
Chung Myung remained silent watching Jang Ilso laugh with shaking shoulders. The laughter went on for a long time, stirring the desolate night.
“Belief! Belief, you say! Hahahahahaha! How absurd!”
Watching him unable to contain his laughter, Chung Myung thought.
There would not be a trace of bitterness or sorrow in that laughter.
Yet the reason that laughter sounds incomparably wretched must mean wretchedness that Jang Ilso doesn't have was soaked in Chung Myung's heart.
He began to understand.
Why facing this man was always so repulsive. Why watching him made his insides twist unbearably.
Then, finally stopping his laughter, Jang Ilso smiled brightly and casually spoke.
"Then I'll ask one thing."
"...What."
"If that thing called belief breaks, what will you do?"
“...”
“The belief that they will live up to your expectations. The belief that they will think the same way you do. The belief that what you are trying to do is being accomplished through them. If those ridiculous beliefs were to be smashed to pieces…”
The corners of Jang Ilso's mouth turned up crookedly. It was a distorted smile, like that of a demon looking upon a sinner bound to a rack in the deepest hell.
"What nonsense will you spout then, hm? Answer me, Mount Hua Chivalrous Sword?"
* * *
"They've all climbed to the summit."
“...”
Malice Rakshasa Ho Gamyeong gazed at White Face Rock's summit without answering.
The enemies penetrated this far, broke through the mountain without a single moment of hesitation, cut down all those blocking them, and finally reached White Face Rock where Wudang was waiting.
Who would have imagined?
Evil Tyrant Alliance. The rulers of this era who trampled Ten Great Sects, subduing nearly a third of the world beneath their feet.
Could such a display of divine might truly be possible in a place where Evil Tyrant Alliance has gathered? Was there truly even one person who trusted them enough to expect such a situation?
Faced with such questions, Ho Gamyeong had only one answer.
At least one person. Only one person believed that fact without doubt.
None other than Malice Rakshasa Ho Gamyeong himself.
“Truly magnificent, Mount Hua.”
He didn't know whether to marvel or scoff.
But one thing was certain. Just as even the greatest famous sword is merely a blade at best if not held in a proper swordsman's hands, no matter how great the sword called Mount Hua is, it was merely a common sect if not held in the hands of the swordsman called Chung Myung.
‘It makes me feel foolish for having been tense.’
There were plenty of strong sects.
No one considers Shaolin weaker than Mount Hua. And to Evil Tyrant Alliance, which trampled even such Shaolin, Mount Hua’s strength was not even worth debating.
The reason why Mount Hua was special was no longer there.
Ho Gamyeong's eyes sank deeply.
“Who’s that guy?”
"If you're speaking of Nokrim King, he's now below the cliff. It seems leading the main force while following Mount Hua would have been difficult."
Ho Gamyeong nodded slowly.
Even while conversing, his eyes didn't leave White Face Rock's summit even for a moment.
"Begin."
“...But, Strategist. Thousand-Faced Gentleman hasn’t escaped yet.”
"He won't."
"...Yes?"
Ho Gamyeong's eyes shine coldly.
“Because I never gave Thousand-Faced Gentleman such an instruction.”
The adjutants' eyes widened in surprise. Unable to find words, they alternated their gaze between Ho Gamyeong and the summit of White Face Rock.
"Ah..."
"He's someone worthy of being Hao Sect Sect Leader. If he survives, he'll prove his name's worth, and if he can't, then that's all he amounts to."
“...”
"Begin."
"Yes!"
The adjutants nodded without further objection.
Before judging whether this was right or wrong, they had no authority to refuse Ho Gamyeong’s order.
Ho Gamyeong, who had been staring fixedly at the summit, finally slowly shifted his gaze, tracing a path far down the mountain to where someone must be.
'It's time to pay the price for your overconfidence, Mount Hua Chivalrous Sword.'
The heat he had desperately suppressed began to fill Ho Gamyeong’s eyes.
---
Paaaaat!
Even the word ‘lightning’ was insufficient to describe this sword.
The moment it was perceived, it had already arrived. The moment it was felt, it had already pierced through. It was literally a ray of light.
Kwadeudeuk!
Only one thing could be felt. Only the pain was exploding from the pierced neck.
“Kurgh...”
By the time a sound he had never once made himself flowed out.
Paaaaat!
The sword, withdrawn as swiftly as it was thrust, grazed his face and stretched out once more. As if a dozen streaks of light were sweeping past his body.
“Keuhak!”
“Guh!”
As he slowly collapsed and raised his gaze, he saw the one who had ended his life drawing incredibly close. Before he could even summon the will to swing his sword in resistance, the attacker ran past him as if stepping over his collapsing body.
Thump.
Before the soul could leave the collapsed body, Jo-Gol's sword once again fiercely ripped through the air.
"Hyaaaaaaah!"
Jo-Gol's attack, as if splitting a single sword energy into dozens and flinging them out, struck without fail.
“Hey, this guy!”
A giant holding a huge dao spewed fire from his eyes and poured energy into his dao.
However.
Paaaaat!
Seizing the precise moment the giant leaned back to wind up his dao, a sword energy swift as lightning shot toward his body.
'Huh?'
The moment Zhang Han opened his eyes wide, Jo-Gol's sword energy was firmly lodged in his side.
Terrible pain washed over him, but the giant overcame it and swung his dao with all his might. No, he tried to.
But.
Kwadeudeuk!
Jo-Gol's swordsmanship was faster than his shoulder and elbow. The dao, into which he had poured all his strength, stopped short and was unable to extend fully.
With nowhere to go, the internal strength rebounded, and pain like his insides being completely crushed surged through him.
At that moment, a white sword blade dug into the giant's mouth which gaped open unconsciously.
Puuk!
The sensation of a sharp blade piercing flesh and cutting bone. What followed was a thick darkness that flooded his vision.
Kwadang!
Zhang Han's body fell backwards.
“Ca- Captain!”
"The Captain so easily defeated in one stroke..."
Fear began to well up in the eyes of those surrounding them.
How many necks had that pitch-black dao beheaded? How many bodies had it dismembered?
That butcher's sword of a dao couldn't even be properly swung. The dao that looked like it would smash and cut anything if only it were swung.
"Ugh..."
This scene conveyed one meaning.
Just as they were accustomed to cutting down others, that one was accustomed to ending their lives. He knows how they will swing their blades and how they will attack like the back of his hand.
That very young swordsman with the curly hair.
"O- One Sword Splits..."
Sogeok!
One Sword Splits Light Jo-Gol’s sword pierced the enemy's neck. As if having no thought of wiping off blood splattered on his face, Jo-Gol's eyes immediately turned beyond terrified enemies toward Wudang's swordsmen desperately resisting.
Jo-Gol bared his blood-soaked teeth.
"Get out of my damn way! You Evil Sects bastards!”
“Gol, don’t overdo it!”
"If I don't overdo it now, when would I! Damn it!"
Jo-Gol, with bloodshot eyes, stamped the ground fiercely once more like a malevolent demon.
"Really, that punk...!"
Yoon Jong clenched his teeth and followed such Jo-Gol.
Taat!
As Yoon Jong kicked off the ground, he saw the shoulder of an enemy to his side twitch in his peripheral vision.
Paat!
The sword moves before thought. These were Evil Sects he have fought and killed countless times. His body recognizes their intentions even before his mind can.
The extended sword struck away the spear flying toward Jo-Gol's flank in a single stroke, and not stopping there, it severed the spearman's wrist immediately.
“Ahh! Hand! My sooooooooo!”
Paat!
As if on cue, Jo-Gol's sword embedded itself in the screaming person's neck.
Scars left by Evil Sects filled their bodies everywhere. Each wound was akin to a teacher for them. And the same goes for everyone present here.
Pararararak!
Along with a sound like hundreds of butterflies taking flight at once, plum blossom sword energy emitted by Mount Hua swordsmen poured toward enemies filling the top of White Face Rock.
A fantastic sight that cannot be described in words other than wonder transforms the appearance of Mount Wudang into the familiar Mount Hua landscape.
The blossoms in full bloom swayed in the blowing wind, and the swirling plum blossom petals surrounded the bodies of the enemies.
"P- Plum blossom sword energy!"
"Dodge!"
Though they fluttered as if they might vanish at any moment, would there be any Evil Sects left who did not know that each of those delicate petals concealed the most terrifying blade in the world?
Evil Tyrant Alliance martial artists urgently screamed trying to withdraw their bodies, but standing densely packed in this narrow space, there couldn't be any space to retreat.
Sogeok! Sogeok! Sogeok! Sogeok!
The plum blossom sword energy pierced the enemies' bodies without fail.
Excruciating screams erupted from the mouths of Evil Tyrant Alliance martial artists as the sword energy tore through flesh and embedded in bone.
“Eurachaaaa!”
Gwak Hwe leaped toward the front of Yoon Jong. His aim was to stab the neck of an enemy writhing after being pierced by the plum blossom sword energy, decisively cutting off their breath.
"Shut your mouth!"
Kwadeuk!
Twisting and swinging out the sword that had pierced a neck, Gwak Hwe rushed in search of enemies like a hungry viper.
A sword malicious and vicious beyond compare.
"Aaah!"
An Evil Tyrant Alliance martial artist screamed as if wailing and swung his sword with all his might at the blade flying toward him.
However.
Hwaak!
Instead of the expected thunderous clash as sword met dao, only a hollow sound slicing through empty air rang out. Gwak Hwe's sword, which had vanished like an illusion, reappeared right in front of the man's heart.
Kwadeuk!
The sword that struck the enemy's heart in one blow crossed over empty air as if licking seeking the next prey.
Terribly persistent and thoroughly deluding.
Mount Hua’s Plum Blossom Sword, which had evolved thoroughly with the sole purpose of ending the enemy’s life, was driving back the enemies more like Evil Sects than Evil Sects themselves.
“This guy!”
A spearman with bloodshot eyes hurled a spear imbued with all his internal strength toward the protruding Gwak Hwe.
Kwaaaaah!
The spear, coiling the surrounding air with its terrifying force, flew as if to cleave Gwak Hwe's body in two.
Kwang!
“Sasuk!”
But Baek Cheon struck down the spear aimed at Gwak Hwe in one blow. And with his gaze fixed on the enemy, he shouted.
“Don’t stop!”
"Yes!"
Baek Cheon's two eyes emitted piercing brilliance.
“Make sure the enemy knows that Mount Hua is here!”
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