Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 1273: A Tiger Trapped In Poison, I Suppose. (3)

“The finest armies of the world seem incapable of even touching the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint.”

Ho Ga-Myung’s eyebrows knitted slightly as he observed Gwi Yang openly sneering.

“Even so, he still intends to spout more nonsense.”

“Kuk kuk kuk.”

Gwi Yang let out a laugh without offering a reply, prompting Ho Ga-Myung to shake his head.

“There is no scenario where the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint would contrive such a stratagem.”

“Are you looking down on him?”

“No.”

Ho Ga-Myung responded with a level tone.

“He is not the kind of person who needs to concern himself with devising plans to escape unscathed. Such tactics are the domain of lesser beings, akin to rats like myself.”

“........Rats?”

“Indeed. And on that vessel, there is a rat like me onboard.”

“So, you are referring to the Green Forest King.”

“Precisely.”

Gwi Yang nodded assent. It was true, such petty tricks were commonly employed within the Green Forest.

“Contemplating it leaves a foul taste in my mouth.”

Gwi Yang spat a trickle of blood from his lips.

“Well then? Shall we make them regret their decision to abandon us?”

“Regret?”

“They will anticipate our immediate pursuit. However, I believe they have afforded themselves a slight advantage.”

Gwi Yang’s gaze drifted towards the Southern Island.

“We shall make them pay a steep price for daring to leave us behind.”

“That is impossible.”

Ho Ga-Myung interjected, dismissing the notion without a second thought. Gwi Yang’s brows twitched in irritation.

“I have no obligation to heed your words.”

“You seem to grasp the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint's abilities, yet you still fail to truly understand the Green Forest King.”

“Hm?”

“He is not as simple as you perceive. He is aware that we will be compelled to give immediate chase.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you forgotten what lies within Guangdong?”

At this inquiry, Gwi Yang fell silent for a beat.

What was in Guangdong? It was a question that required no deep contemplation – certainly not for individuals like them.

“...It is our main headquarters.”

“Correct.”

Across that expanse of sea lies the main headquarters of the Ten Thousand People Clan. And this headquarters is currently unguarded; all remaining forces were commandeered by Ho Ga-Myung.

“Should we fall behind, they will strike for the headquarters without hesitation. Rather than torching the Southern Island, they would much prefer to see us lose our primary base.”

“Are they so fixated on that pavilion?”

“Pavilions hold no significance – the crucial matter is that the headquarters' storehouses still contain the vast wealth and provisions meticulously stockpiled for the impending war against the Northern territories.”

Ho Ga-Myung stated, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“If, while engaged in the slaughter on the Southern Island, the headquarters' provisions were to be consumed by flames – then the Alliance lord himself would likely subject you to a trial. To ascertain whether an individual can withstand whatever fate befalls them.”

Gwi Yang became silent.

He feared no entity in existence, but that particular location was an exception. Merely picturing it approaching with a smile sent a shiver down his spine.

“...We must proceed with haste.”

“If you possess the time for discourse, then move. Even now, that elusive rat is likely hoping we are delayed even a moment longer.”

“Understood.”

Gwi Yang turned and departed without a hint of hesitation. Ho Ga-Myung's gaze followed the receding ship with chilling intensity as he murmured to himself.

“It appears you too have been intoxicated by it, Green Forest King.”

Ho Ga-Myung curved the corner of his lip upwards. It was a scheme that suited Im So-Byeong perfectly, yet it was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

From a tactical standpoint, it was pure Im So-Byeong – forcing the opponent's hand and capitalizing on the outcome.

However, strategically, it bore no resemblance to Im So-Byeong at all.

The Im So-Byeong he knew would never engage in such reckless behavior. If he were to lead the comparatively weaker Green Forest contingent through prolonged conflict, he would undoubtedly comprehend the implications of guiding the Southern Island Sect's disciples in a breakthrough across Southern lands.

He would not be oblivious to the true meaning of such a strategic advance.

In this specific predicament, the only logical course of action Im So-Byeong ought to have pursued was singular: abandon the Southern Island without a backward glance and effectuate an escape.

Were he to do so, the Southern Island might be lost, but the core of the Heavenly Friends Alliance could have returned alive. Im So-Byeong would have recognized this as the correct path.

Yet, there exists only one reason why Im So-Byeong chose this particular course of action.

Those who seek to manipulate the world through sheer intellect are, ultimately, driven by forces beyond rational comprehension. It is a paradoxical yet tediously recurring phenomenon that the most logical minds are inexplicably drawn to the most irrational pursuits.

In his infatuation with the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, Chung Myung, Im So-Byeong likely had no other viable alternative. Proposals that his followers would reject were futile; he could only act to the best of his limited capabilities.

Viewed from that perspective, Im So-Byeong's stratagem possessed a certain merit. But...

“In exchange, the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint must perish.”

Ho Ga-Myung resolved to make it so.

Even if it meant the annihilation of all his companions, even if he were to forfeit his own life as retribution for ordering the demise of the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, he would never permit that man to return alive to Gangnam’s soil.

For it was the sole method by which he could divest himself of the crushing anxiety that had relentlessly tormented Ho Ga-Myung since the very instant he first encountered that formidable individual.

“Summon the carrier pigeon!”

“Yes!”

Ho Ga-Myung, commencing to turn away with an air of disinterest, paused abruptly.

‘More than that… ‘

He surveyed the grievously devastated coastline and murmured his thoughts.

“The Mount Hua’s Sword Saint...”

Isn’t it almost laughable to style someone with hands so cruel that even the Evil Sect would shudder as a ‘sword saint’?“

“I’d prefer a Plum Blossom Sword Ghost.”

Ho Ga-Myung gave a slight sneer and turned away without a second thought.

The ceaseless waves washed away the flowing blood.

“Throw it!”

“Hrrrghaaah!”

Jo Gul ripped a plank from the deck and flung it with all his might. The wood spun violently across the water, and Chung Myung raced across it, launching himself into the air.

“Ugh-cha!”

With each plank Jo Gul and Yoon Jong tossed, Chung Myung stepped across them in rapid succession, closing the distance to the ship steadily.

Finally, after planting himself on the last plank and soaring upwards, Chung Myung touched down on the deck.

Thud!

A dull sound was followed by a splat of crimson blood upon the wooden planks.

“Chung Myung!”

“Are you... alright...”

The Mount Hua disciples, who had been poised to rush forward like the wind, hesitated and froze mid-step. The deathly aura emanating from Chung Myung caused even them to flinch back.

‘Chung Myung......’

Yoon Jong bit his lip.

An intense chill radiated from Chung Myung’s eyes, compelling one to believe he was a demon freshly escaped from hell.

It felt as though the sword in his hand would leap out at them if they dared to step closer. Even with the certainty that he wouldn't, no one could easily move.

While everyone else remained rooted to the spot, only one individual advanced without pause, walking directly towards Chung Myung.

“Chung Myung.”

At the sound of his name, Chung Myung’s gaze snapped sharply towards the speaker. The hand gripping his sword trembled momentarily.

“Are you alright?”

Upon hearing that simple question, the murderous intensity in Chung Myung’s eyes began to subside.

Staring blankly at Yu Yiseol, who had approached him, Chung Myung slowly lowered the sword he held.

“...Of course.”

“You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing.”

Chung Myung offered a dismissive shrug and a jest, then wiped his sword clean before sheathing it.

“Ch-Chung Myung!”

“Sahyung! You’re wounded!”

It was only then that the other Mount Hua disciples shouted out and surged forward.

Namgung Do-Wei released the breath he had been holding.

His entire body was suddenly slick with a cold sweat. Though the tense confrontation had lasted but a moment, barely enough time for a single breath, the pressure it exerted upon him was immeasurable.

‘That Mount Hua’s Sword Saint......’

The Chung Myung he was familiar with was always composed.

Even when wielding his deadly sword, Chung Myung consistently observed his surroundings, even amidst dire crises. At least, that was the impression Namgung Do-Wei had always held.

The fact that this Chung Myung had lost control of his murderous aura was a stark testament to the ferocity of the battle at sea.

However, what truly astonished Namgung Do-Wei was not the Ten Thousand People Clan that had pushed the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint to such a state.

He was taken aback that Yu Yiseol had approached the aura-emanating Chung Myung as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“How could she do that?”

Even Namgung Do-Wei, who had maintained a respectful distance, had felt an urge to draw his own sword at that moment, a homicidal impulse.

To be candid, it felt less like a desire to unsheathe his blade and more like an instinct to fling himself overboard.

How could anyone possibly approach such a radiating killer without drawing a weapon? Had Chung Myung swung, their heads would have been severed.

“This is not normal...”

Was it that the other Mount Hua disciples doubted Chung Myung and thus refused to approach?

No one genuinely believed Chung Myung would attack them. Yet, their bodies had frozen—a primal human reaction and survival instinct when confronted with unforeseen peril.

Anyone with even a sliver of self-preservation would not have acted in such a manner.

“Take it off, Sahyung!”

“...Are you out of your mind?”

“What in the world are you saying! I’m telling you to remove your clothes so I can check your wound!”

“Why are you yelling?”

As was typical, when Chung Myung began his usual scuffle with Tang Soso, Baek Cheon approached him, carrying a large bucket.

“Chung Myung.”

“Hm?”

Upon meeting Chung Myung’s gaze, Baek Cheon extended the bucket he held.

“...Wash yourself first. You look absolutely dreadful.”

It wasn’t merely because he was filthy; the sight of him constantly coated in blood, like a demon, was unseemly. This was especially true given they were not alone.

Only then did Chung Myung cast his gaze around.

He observed the disciples of the Southern Island Sect, who lacked the courage to even approach them. Even Geum Yang-Baek, the sect leader of Southern Island, watched them with a pale face but couldn't bring himself to come over and speak.

“Tch.”

Realizing anew how drastically different this world was from his past, Chung Myung accepted the bucket from Baek Cheon.

He promptly poured the entire contents over his head.

Shhhh!

The water cascaded down, washing away a significant portion of the blood that had caked Chung Myung. While not entirely clean in a single action, he appeared considerably more presentable.

At that instant, Baek Cheon’s eyes quickly scanned Chung Myung’s person. He clearly noticed the fabric covering Chung Myung’s leg darken with fresh moisture.

“Your leg...”

“Hm?”

Chung Myung glanced down at his leg dismissively, as if it were of no consequence.

A deep gash was exposed through a long tear in his clothing.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it poisoned?”

Baek Cheon’s expression grew grim.

The blood on Chung Myung’s hands, after washing away the other person’s gore, revealed its own dark hue. Baek Cheon’s lip quivered with the force of his bite.

“Soso. The antidote…”

“Enough.”

Chung Myung declined, extending a hand forward. His fingers gradually turned dark, and from their tips, a concentrated, crimson blossom ignited. Simultaneously, a sharp, acrid aroma permeated the surroundings.

“This poison isn’t even that potent.”

“You…”

“Don’t fret. I destroyed the ship for the price of a single blow to my leg.”

Baek Cheon remained silent, his lip clamped tight.

‘I made a miscalculation.’

It wasn’t that he had underestimated their foe. However, with the main forces of the Ten Thousand People Clan positioned along the Yangtze, he had assumed no one present could contend with Chung Myung.

That presumption of safety had almost led to catastrophic consequences.

“Chung Myung. I…”

“Sasuk.”

“Hm?”

“There’s no time for pleasantries. Move. Those scoundrels will be upon us shortly.”

“......”

“Isn’t that correct?”

A heavy sigh escaped Baek Cheon’s lips.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“Then instruct them to hasten their pace.”

“Understood.”

As Baek Cheon moved to relay the command, Chung Myung’s gaze drifted back towards the distant shore.

’Ten Thousand People Clan……’

They were far more ruthless than he had initially reckoned. Yet, there was no alternative. This action was not born from capability but from sheer necessity.

‘I will ensure our escape, at any cost.’

A chilling wave of murderous intent emanated from Chung Myung’s eyes.

Meanwhile, Yu Yiseol observed Chung Myung with quiet intensity, his expression as inscrutable as ever.