Return of The Mount Hua – Chapter 1742 – Invisible (2)
Editor: Hoamzz
Co-Translator: Xoxo
Udeudeudeuk.
The sensation of fingertips piercing through a skull was excruciatingly vivid.
The spurting brain matter, the face of a man as life drained out of him, and the fishy stench of blood that spread in its wake.
Even amid realistic sensations clinging thickly, strangely his mind gradually grew hazy.
‘What was it…?’
After casting aside the lifeless body, he drove his left hand into the heart of another lunging attacker. One who couldn't even let out a death cry weakly swung their sword last. That blade grazed past the left side of his face.
Pain spread. He was used to it now.
No. Was ‘familiar’ the right word?
Thick blood trickled down his cheek.
He tried to recall something, but couldn't remember. It must have been quite important.
Kwagak!
A sword flying toward his face locked with the ring on his finger. Metal clashing against metal, a sharp sound pierced his eardrums.
Kuuung!
A heavy punch slammed into the center of an enemy's wide-open chest. He caught a glimpse of the shattered ribcage bursting out through the man's back.
Sogeok!
In the midst of it all, something cut across his side.
But he didn't bother to look back. His feet were pointed only forward.
"Ughk!"
With a stifled groan, someone behind him crumpled forward. Glancing down, the unfocused eyes of the fallen one momentarily entered his view.
'Their name?'
Again, he couldn't remember. No, perhaps he had never known from the start. He had never spared a glance for those who followed behind him.
His gaze shifted forward again. Toward the lunging enemies, and somewhere far beyond them.
Where was it? No, what was it?
He didn't know. He had forgotten. Perhaps he never knew at all.
Nevertheless, his feet moved forward. Because if he didn't, he couldn't bear what rose from deep within his chest.
Inside him, acrid flames (염화(炎火)) always burned.
A wrath that felt like it would burn even him if he stopped moving. Endless hatred toward someone he didn't know who. Terrible thirst to the extent of wanting to scrape his throat with a blade.
Since when had he been tormented by this unknown thirst?
Splash.
He stepped through the blood pooling on the ground. The faces of those lunging from the front came into full view.
He read their every negative emotion with a dull indifference.
Anger and resentment, fear and frustration. Someone howled, unable to restrain their rage, while another forced themselves not to flee right there and then.
All of it mixed haphazardly and boiled right before his eyes.
No matter how perfectly and vividly captured, a painting could never become reality. Because it was contained within the canvas.
Just like that, everything before his eyes felt distant and far away.
Kwang!
Those charging forward flew away as one mass.
Flesh burst, bones shattered. Entrails gushed from torn bellies, blood spurted from violently thrown-back heads.
Even within this horrific pandemonium, everything felt like nothing more than a hazy dream.
His hand entered his field of vision.
On pale hands stained with blood, countless mismatched colorful rings were fitted. The wide robe draped over his wrists was dyed red with enemy blood.
It was strange.
Though clearly his, nothing felt like it belonged to him. The intense dissonance made him nauseous.
His stomach churned, his face contorted.
Kwang!
A massive dao flying from somewhere collided with the blue reinforced energy he had hurriedly unfurled.
Intense pain spread as if his body was being crushed, but even that couldn't restore his sense of reality.
The disheveled old man, weeping tears of blood from both eyes, launched another attack. Whenever his white hair flew, his eerie eyes flashed desperately and pathetically.
Kwang!
However, the fist that blocked that dao was devoid of even a shred of emotion.
Sogeok!
A long wound opened on his wrist.
Sogeok!
His chest was slashed horizontally.
Sogeok!
The dao edge grazed perilously close to his neck.
He could feel it through the incoming dao. Martial arts built up to a terrible extent, and firm pride in those martial arts. Even an overflowing desperate heart.
Even amid the haze, those emotions were felt vividly.
He narrowed his vision and stared at the old man's rear. He could see most of the crowd turning their bodies in a panic and fleeing for their lives.
Something that must be protected even at the cost of one's life…
Well, who knows.
Woooong!
Blue energy poured from his fingertips and gathered. Two rings slid smoothly off his fingers, absorbing the energy as if devouring blue flames.
Paaaaang!
Soon, two blue lines streaked across the air.
The dao, which had been swung with full force, flinched for a split second. It was a mere heartbeat, but in a life-or-death struggle, even that gap was absolutely not short.
After a brief hesitation, what the dao blocked was the rings flying toward him.
Kaaaaaaaang!
The dao that collided with the rings bounced back. Simultaneously, a snow-white hand pierced through the center of the old man’s chest like a bolt of lightning.
The old man’s eyes bulged. Shock, despair, and regret rippled in his pupils.
The impression of that was, 'disgusting.'
How touching, to feel regret.
Right, at first he would have tried somehow to protect them. Even at the cost of his own life. He would have steeled his resolve quite firmly.
But at the decisive moment, they always waver. They inevitably hesitate.
And that split second of hesitation not only destroys the thing they meant to protect but also ends their own life as well.
A bitter laugh escaped.
At the most violent moment, the moment when everything collided with everything, the world revealed flesh it had hidden. That inner self is filled with disgusting things we would rather not face.
Kwang!
The head filled with white hair shattered. Brain matter and broken bones were scattered.
The sound of breathing gradually filled his ears more and more.
It was hazy. Even more dim. It was the same whether blood pouring on his skin was hot, whether killing intent piercing his body was sharp, or whether breath grew rough as if lungs would burst.
Only the flame within him grew gradually more vivid.
Rage like swallowing a lump of charcoal, and hatred toward something unknown.
However, he didn't scream desperately unable to overcome this. Doing so would change nothing. He simply staggered forward, walking endlessly, mocking everything that came into his sight.
'What was it?'
Well, he couldn't remember. No, perhaps it had never existed in the first place. It didn't matter anymore anyway.
The foot he stepped down trampled a corpse that had become a lump of meat.
Someday, everyone will reach an equal ending.
His gaze turned upward.
The scorching sun looked down on him. No matter how he might reach out, no matter how he might scream, he would never reach it in his entire lifetime. Yet, his hand found itself reaching out toward the sun.
As his sleeve slid down, numerous wounds were revealed. Only then did he see it. What stained these clothes was not the enemy's blood, but entirely his own.
Extreme dizziness and nausea washed over him.
But instead of collapsing, he put strength in his legs. He flailed his hand toward the sun a little more, and then more, into the empty air. He reached out with a desperation that was almost pitiful.
Amidst his blurring vision, unable to overcome his burning thirst, he opened his mouth…
“....”
His unfocused eyes slowly regained clarity. Slowly, from left to right, he surveyed his surroundings.
The interior of a tent that, despite lavish decoration, couldn't completely hide the rough substance of a field camp came into view.
Having remained motionless for a long time, he slowly raised his hand. The soft blanket covering his body slipped away, revealing his bare upper body without a single thread covering it.
Large and small scars were densely carved crisscross pattern. The wounds he had worn in the dream were now engraved upon his body as faded scars.
As if reminding him that all of it had already passed long ago.
Jang Ilso lightly traced a scar on his chest with his pale fingertips.
There was no emotion, no concern. After all, what everyone saw was the lavish robe he wore. Who would care what state the body underneath was in?
The tent door that hadn't been fully closed was slightly open. Through the gap, the sun already risen to its peak was visible.
Like in the dream, he slowly extended his hand toward the sun.
He would never reach it no matter how hard he tried, but that was precisely why it was worth reaching for.
Perhaps… he must have said these words back then as well.
Feeling a thirst that had become incomparably more intense than it was back then, he spoke.
“It’s a fine day.”
A soft smile played on Jang Ilso's face.
* * *
"How noisy..."
His long fingers tapped near his red lips.
"Mount Wudang, you say?"
"Yes."
Jang Ilso asked with a nasal hum.
“Hmm. The reason?"
"We haven't grasped it yet."
With enemies gathered there, they naturally had eyes monitoring Mount Wudang. However, going inside to find out the detailed cause was another matter.
“I'll find out.”
"No, it's fine. Leave it. What does the reason matter?"
Jang Ilso chuckled.
"What's important is the very fact that a problem is arising. It means the situation is grave enough that they’re making a fuss even while knowing their enemy is watching.”
Ho Gamyeong nodded slowly in agreement. After humming to himself for a moment, Jang Ilso asked.
"Fighting until you're covered in wounds again and again... If you keep fighting tirelessly like that, do you know what happens?"
"They would become like you, Ryeonju-nim."
“....”
Jang Ilso, who had been laughing joyfully, paused and looked at Ho Gamyeong with a sour look. It seemed it wasn't the answer he had expected.
"...Was I wrong?"
"Hmm. No, well, you’re not wrong, but... that’s not what happens to 'normal' people. Normally... the wounds begin to fester.”
Jang Ilso lightly scratched his cheek and let out a low laugh.
"You don't realize it when the blood is rushing to your head. You don't realize how much the pus in your body is eating away at you. You only realize it once time has passed and the fever in your head finally breaks.”
The corners of Jang Ilso's mouth twisted.
"That all the wounds have already rotted beyond saving."
Ho Gamyeong let out a short sigh.
Jang Ilso's words that they weren't the only ones who had suffered damage weren’t wrong.
The reason they were incomprehensibly resilient wasn't simply because they were strong. It was because they had rushed so intensely that they couldn't even look back at their own wounds.
But by now, they must have realized.
That their own bodies were also filled with terrible wounds. And that some wounds were even more fatal because they weren't visible.
Jang Ilso asked while looking at Ho Gamyeong.
"Gamyeong-ah. What would be best?"
A faint glint of playfulness lingered in his eyes. After choosing his words briefly, Ho Gamyeong said.
“If it were me... I would not leave their chaos to chance. I would press them without giving them time to recover."
“Hmm.”
Jang Ilso smiled faintly as if amused. Though it looked like a positive reaction at a glance, Ho Gamyeong knew well this wasn't a sign of affirmation.
“That would be good, too. That would certainly be fun too. However... don't you want to see more?"
"What do you mean?"
“If you slice open a wound and squeeze out the pus, it will surely heal. But... what if you can’t do that?”
“....”
"Leisurely watching those foolish pigs who know their bodies are rotting yet can't do anything seems quite enjoyable too."
Jang Ilso seemed certain. That whatever commotion they were facing, they would never be able to resolve it.
And he was probably right. Because it was Jang Ilso's prediction. Nevertheless, Ho Gamyeong couldn't let go of one unease.
“Even the Plum Blossom Sword Demon couldn't resolve…”
However, he who had spoken suddenly closed his mouth. Because a question crossed his mind.
Why did Jang Ilso meet him alone? Because he fully trusted Ho Gamyeong's strategy that holding him was the way to win this war? Really?
Of course, that might be so. But was that truly the only reason?
“…So you confirmed it.”
Jang Ilso looked at Ho Gamyeong with interest.
"That he's someone who can't do that. To confirm that, no..."
Ho Gamyeong asked with a stiff expression.
"Did you make it so he couldn't interfere?"
Jang Ilso didn't bother answering. He started to bring his wine cup to his lips but paused. With a smirk, he slowly extended the cup forward as if offering a toast.
"Everyone has something they cannot discard. Something they cannot give up."
“....”
"But sometimes, people don't realize that very thing... leads them into the mire."
At this moment, there was one person watching and listening to all of this from behind Ho Gamyeong.
It was a swordsman whose face was hidden by a black mask. It was impossible to guess their expression, let alone their identity.
“What do you think?”
“....”
"Hm?"
Jang Ilso held out his cup to the unidentified figure, but the masked man's hand remained motionless. He dared to refuse Jang Ilso's cup.
However, Jang Ilso merely chuckled without any sign of displeasure.
“My, oh my. You really don't know how to enjoy things."
Jang Ilso brought the cup back and downed it himself.
In the eyes of the masked man watching this, the dregs of countless emotions swirled. They were truly similar to those contained in Baek Cheon's eyes.
Consider supporting me by subscribing on Patreon for 5$. The Patreon membership for Mount Hua and Infinite Mage is the same. The benefit:
Advance chapters of Mount Hua : 35
Advance chapters of Magic Realm Convenience Store Worker : 144 Chapters
Advance chapters of Got a Gallery in the Wild : 10
Comments Box