Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 1274: A Tiger Trapped In Poison, I Suppose. (4)

Humankind deployed every conceivable method to conquer the vast ocean. Consequently, individuals who were once confined to coastal waters could now venture into distant seas.

Though an ordinary person might find it difficult to grasp, the persistent efforts and unwavering resolve of those who challenged the sea led to this monumental achievement. Yet, ironically, the more humanity wrestled with the ocean, the more its immensity became apparent. No matter how they rowed or unfurled their sails, there always came a point where the ship defied their command.

In those dire moments, all that remained was to surrender to the waves, hoping for the sea's guidance or the mercy of its mythical Dragon King.

Gwak Hwan-So gazed at the tumultuous sea with a sense of bewilderment.

Towering waves crashed, and a fierce headwind howled. In such circumstances, human strength proved utterly futile. All that could be done was to secure the sails, stow the oars, and endure in silence.

Truthfully, Gwak Hwan-So did not entirely detest these moments. One might even say it was when humanity truly became one with the sea, when the ocean's currents merged with human intent.

But now, as Gwak Hwan-So stared at the unforgiving sea, his eyes reflected not the satisfaction of unity, but a profound sense of helplessness.

He had once believed that nature was meant to be harmonized with, not confronted, and thus, being swept along by its might hadn't felt entirely unwelcome. Now, Gwak Hwan-So bitterly understood that such a belief was merely a comforting delusion for the weak.

'War...'

His hands continued to tremble, a tremor that persisted long after they had left the shore. He dared not withdraw them from his sleeves, fearing they would betray his inner turmoil.

It was utterly absurd. Reflecting on it now, what had just transpired was precisely the scenario Gwak Hwan-So had yearned for throughout his life. He had long anticipated the day he could wield his sword against the wicked disciples of the Evil Sect who plagued the world. Though circumstances had compelled him to wait, he had sworn countless times that upon receiving the opportunity, he would fight with unparalleled valor, demonstrating the indomitable spirit of the Southern Island's sword.

But… the reality of the war he had witnessed was nothing like his imaginings.

The coppery scent of blood still assailed his nostrils. He realized with sickening clarity just how repulsive the odor of human blood could be. He had never comprehended the desperate shrieks of those dying with their entrails spilling forth. Nor did he know that in such savage close combat, it was common to crush a fallen comrade's head underfoot to advance.

The supposed romance of the battlefield he had heard of and dreamt about was nothing but a deceptive illusion. The bonds and camaraderie forged in the crucible of life and death? 'What utter nonsense...'

Gwak Hwan-So bit his lip fiercely. He longed to show those who spoke of such ideals the vacant eyes of someone whose heart had been pierced. Anyone who had witnessed a man desperately searching for his severed limb, his gaze lost and unfocused, would understand that the battlefield offered only the putrid stench of corpses.

Gwak Hwan-So clutched his own shoulders, his trembling hands finding a meager anchor.

The death cries of the fallen continued to echo in his ears.

What made the ordeal even more unbearable was that among those who had screamed and perished were his own disciples.

“Yang So…”

He was a disciple Gwak Hwan-So had particularly cherished. Smaller than his peers and possessing a gentle nature, Yang So never quite fit into the rough-and-tumble environment of the Southern Island Sect. He was the type who often mused it might be better to leave the mountain and forge his own path. Yet, Yang So never abandoned the Southern Island Sect. Though his martial skills were somewhat lacking, his unwavering loyalty and desire to share the fate of the Southern Island led him to join the southern expedition. Thus, he met an ignominious end, never even leaving the Southern Island's shores. His fate was so tragic that his body couldn't even be recovered.

An overwhelming sense of loss gnawed at Gwak Hwan-So's core.

‘What have I been looking at all this time?’

If he could, he would tear apart the younger version of himself who fantasized about battlefield glory. The blood spilled on that battlefield was the blood of the disciples he cared for, and any fleeting fame attained was bought with countless lives.

What had he truly been seeing? What had he been dreaming of?

“Sahyung.”

Gwak Hwan-So turned his head. Disciple Lee Ja-Yang was approaching, his complexion paler than usual, indicating he too was grappling with significant emotional distress.

“What is it?”

“…Eight are dead.”

“…”

“Eight of them are gone.”

Gwak Hwan-So shut his eyes tightly.

‘It was such a one-sided engagement.’ They had maintained the offensive relentlessly, shattering the enemy’s defenses and capturing their vessel in a single, decisive assault. A resounding victory, an overwhelming triumph by any measure. And yet… eight lives had been lost.

Then, what awaited them in southern lands, where battles were surely far more ferocious than even this encounter? How many lives would be sacrificed there?

“…Have you identified them?”

“Yes, sahyung…”

Gwak Hwan-So, on the verge of requesting their names, simply shook his head, his expression utterly devastated.

What possible meaning could it hold?

Even if the identities of the fallen were known, retrieving their bodies for burial was impossible. These warriors weren't merely departing the battlefield; they were marching headlong into another.

“The casualties are considerable.”

“Indeed… but had it not been for Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, the losses would have been far more severe. Perhaps…” Lee Ja-Yang’s words faded, but Gwak Hwan-So understood the unspoken implication. ‘The entire Southern Island Sect might have been wiped out.’ That assessment was not inaccurate. No matter how swiftly they captured the enemy vessel, if pursuit had continued and they were intercepted before moving the ship, they would have undoubtedly met a watery grave. Chung Myung single-handedly averted that catastrophic outcome.

“…Looking back, it was an incredibly reckless endeavor.”

“Agreed.”

“Had I foreseen the nature of this operation, I would have declined participation.”

“You likely would have.” Gwak Hwan-So’s response was delivered with unwavering calm, causing Lee Ja-Yang’s expression to twist.

“Sahyung, are you not infuriated? We very nearly perished due to a single misstep! And our disciples lost their lives because of that rash plan!”

Gwak Hwan-So regarded him silently. Lee Ja-Yang clamped his jaw shut.

“Is it their fault that the disciples perished?”

“…No, I merely meant…”

“And if they had informed us of the potential outcome, you would have refused, as you stated. So, where would we stand now?” Lee Ja-Yang found himself speechless.

By this point, they would almost certainly have been annihilated defending their main hall. While the expedition to the southern lands offered no guarantee of saving the Southern Island Sect, it had undeniably bought them precious time and extended their existence. ‘They couldn't have possibly warned us beforehand.’ This was not something that could be accepted merely through explanation; belief would only come from witnessing it firsthand. Who in their right mind would credit the notion that an individual could single-handedly halt the main force of the Ten Thousand People Clan and buy precious time? Therefore, they could not disclose it. Truths that no one would believe hold no value whatsoever.

“They bear no fault. Any blame lies with us; blinded by the ambition of reaching the southern lands, we failed to accurately assess the situation.”

“But…”

“How could those dwelling in the water comprehend the ebb of the tide, or even anticipate that it would ebb at all? You should have considered it, and I should have considered it. Our own foolishness nearly led to the demise of everyone. And now you seek to assign blame to others?”

“…”

“Those lacking in skill allow their fervor to outstrip their capabilities, rendering them unable to perform even what they are truly capable of. And now you wish to fault the innocent?” Lee Ja-Yang contorted his face, biting his lip until it drew blood.

Gwak Hwan-So sighed, observing his distraught companion. He understood Lee Ja-Yang’s visceral reaction. What recourse did a disciple have? How could one console another who had lost a cherished comrade due to their own perceived weakness and folly? Even when aware of its falsehood, people crave someone to blame; even when knowing it's unjust, they desire someone to resent.

“I apologize, Sahyung.” At this, Lee Ja-Yang bowed his head to Gwak Hwan-So.

“I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, then confessed, “…was foolish and lacked courage.”

“Ja-Yang…” Gwak Hwan-So watched him quietly, a subtle shake of his head conveying understanding. He empathized with Lee Ja-Yang’s feelings perhaps more than anyone. Furthermore, given Lee Ja-Yang’s reputation for level-headedness within the Southern Island Sect, the shock he experienced must have been profound.

A brief, heavy silence hung between them. Just as Gwak Hwan-So moved to break the palpable awkwardness, Lee Ja-Yang spoke again.

“Sahyung.”

“…Proceed.”

“How… how can they be like that?” Lee Ja-Yang inquired, his face hollow with bewilderment. “I cannot comprehend it. How can they remain so composed under such dire circumstances? After witnessing the might of the Ten Thousand People Clan, how could they…” His voice trailed off, the depth of Lee Ja-Yang’s shock evident. It was akin to someone accustomed only to a sky perpetually shrouded in clouds suddenly ascending above them, only to discover an unfathomable expanse of heavens stretching beyond. Before any potential joy, there would be overwhelming despair and utter bewilderment.

“How can they maintain their rationality in such a situation? And more importantly, how are they not consumed by terror?”

“Do you presume I possess that knowledge?” Gwak Hwan-So countered, shaking his head. Strength is a quantifiable concept; their power versus our weakness requires no further elaboration. Through diligent training and effort, the disparity could be somewhat bridged, if not entirely eliminated. But… the image remained seared into his mind: Chung Myung’s solitary figure, charging headlong into a horde of maddened adversaries. ‘If I were to attain the strength of that individual, could I replicate such a feat?’ Gwak Hwan-So already knew the answer.

“One thing is undeniably clear: while we on this island dwelled in our grievances and fury, they were out there, engaged in combat and shedding blood.”

“…”

“We were accustomed to looking down upon the pampered young masters from the mainland, deeming them arrogant and lacking substance…” Gwak Hwan-So let out a dry chuckle. “It appears the true pampered youths were ourselves, gentlemen who have never truly wielded a sword with the intent to kill.”

“Sahyung…”

“You asked how one could fight in such a manner, did you not?”

Lee Ja-yang directed a bewildered gaze at Gwak Hwan-So. Gwak Hwan-So’s eyes, however, were fixed on the distant Southern lands.

“I cannot say for certain now, but we shall soon discover the truth. Or rather…”

Gwak Hwan-So’s expression had hardened, taking on a grim resolve.

“We must ascertain it. Failure to do so will undoubtedly lead to our demise out there.”

Lee Ja-Yang slowly inclined his head in agreement.

Their arduous journey had only just commenced. Should they manage to survive and successfully navigate the Southern lands, rife with the presence of that malevolent Evil Sect, they might then begin to comprehend the brutal conflict that had unfolded on this very coast.

‘One can only hold such hopes.’

Gwak Hwan-So gently closed his eyes.

After a considerable period spent calming his agitated breaths, a sudden recollection prompted him to inquire.

“What is the current condition of Taoist Chung Myung?”

“...It appears they are in the process of extracting the poisoned needles from his body and attending to his wounds.”

“Extracting poisoned needles?”

“Indeed. They reported that over ten poisoned needles, each longer than a finger, were embedded within him. That fellow Yeop Dong remarked that an ordinary individual would have succumbed to such injuries multiple times over.”

Gwak Hwan-So was taken aback for a moment.

“He appeared quite well…”

“...Evidently, it is of little consequence to him.”

Lee Ja-Yang continued in a somber tone.

“To that particular individual.”

Gwak Hwan-So’s gaze shifted towards the nearby cabin.

After a prolonged period of silent contemplation, observing the cabin where Chung Myung was receiving treatment, Gwak Hwan-So finally exhaled a deep, weary sigh.