Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 1396: To The Place You Belong. (1)
Previously on Return of the Mount Hua Sect...
Ho Ga-Myung’s expression, as he kicked off the ground, darkened more and more.
He normally didn’t show emotion on his face, but before the carnage in front of him, even he couldn’t help it.
All he could see were corpses everywhere.
The mangled corpses and the ground soaked in dark red blood; only the word “blood path” could describe the scene.
‘Could all of this really be the work of one person...’
Awe came before anger. This was not a sight that strength alone could produce.
Who else in the world could create such a scene besides that Plum Blossom Sword Ghost? Even against the Ten Thousand People Clan.
Seeing this, he finally understood why killing just one person had become so slow.
Even if it weren’t Ho Ga-Myung, anyone in this situation would reach the same conclusion. The scenes he witnessed were that shocking.
How many people had to be slashed, how many sword swings, for one person to create this devastation?
‘But in return, that bastard won’t be unscathed either.’
As long as he’s human... no, even if he’s a monster, he can’t commit this and remain whole.
“Hurry.”
“Yes!”
Ho Ga-Myung increased his pace. The bastard must also stand at the brink of life and death. This time he had to cut that throat for good.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Surround him! Don’t let him escape!”
Screech!
He had never felt regret.
Loss over forfeited power? Compared to all the things he had to lose despite not wanting to, the strength he once carried was trivial.
“Encircle him! Give him no opening to slip out!”
Screech!
But if he still had that power, he could have stopped the blade that cut his shoulder. He could have avoided the sword that pierced his side. He could have laughed calmly while facing all these enemies.
If he’d focused solely on regaining his strength after returning... or at least taken better care of himself, he could still be a Sword Saint here—aloof and strong.
So does he feel regret now?
Perhaps...
Shing!
A sword shot out like lightning and pierced an enemy’s throat without mercy. An indescribable expression crossed the enemy’s face, unable to accept death. Then red blood gushed from his mouth.
“Gurgle...”
A heavy weight settled on the tip of the sword that pierced him—the full weight of a person. Normally it would feel almost weightless, but at this moment it felt crushing.
Was it fatigue? Or was the weight of life he felt simply not what it used to be?
“This wretched...”
Chung Myung seemed on the verge of collapse but wouldn’t fall, and a terrified enemy hesitated for a moment. That gave Chung Myung a breath; he forced his bowed head up.
The world blurred and sharpened repeatedly.
How many had fallen? He didn’t know. He’d long since given up counting.
‘It’s hot...’
His body felt like a ball of fire. No, at times it felt like endless cold ice. Maybe both.
His internal qi had long since run out, and crushed wounds were eating away at his body.
The price for killing so many wasn’t exactly steep, but its aftermath pushed Chung Myung toward a single clear outcome.
His eyelids felt unbearably heavy. With half-closed eyes he scanned around. All he saw were enemies in red clothes.
Once such scenes were perfectly familiar; breathing within them felt natural. Now they felt strange—has Chung Myung grown weak? Or...
Ssshh.
The dead body’s weight slid off the sword. Though the burden was gone, the blade still felt heavy—too heavy to lift.
The world kept losing its edges.
It felt like nothing remained in the world but enemies. Yet why couldn’t he turn away, why couldn’t he let go and find rest?
Was there still attachment?
Those never truly understood by others end up mocking everything—even themselves. It’s a habit. Better to receive an enemy’s small, comprehensible gaze than to face stares that see you as something strange. It’s a different kind of understanding.
He tried to twist his mouth into a smirk, but his face didn’t move. His mouth no longer held ease or menace.
‘Even the bluff is gone...’
A laugh slipped out—not to threaten, but a self-mocking hollow chuckle.
“What are you doing! Kill him! He’s at his limit!”
“Eeaaah!”
Someone thrust a spear in a frenzy. Instinctively he swung his sword to block the incoming spear.
Crunch!
A sharp metallic sound and the noise of a blade slicing flesh rang almost together—the chilling sound when a keen edge cuts through skin and transmits into the skull.
When they clashed, the sword that ricocheted was the Tang Family’s spirit that had cut down countless foes—the blade that had never once betrayed Chung Myung’s will.
The spear strike itself wasn’t remarkable, but his weakened sword couldn’t even stop an ordinary attack.
“Ugh...”
Shing!
Chung Myung gritted his teeth and swung like lightning. The Ten Thousand People Clan sword, which had hesitated in surprise at his handiwork, had its head torn from its body.
Chung Myung’s knees buckled.
The blade was utterly powerless, his reactions ever slower. Everything he’d piled up seemed to backflow and spill out of him.
“Cough...”
Each cough brought blood. Yet the body that nearly toppled somehow steadied itself again.
“Cough! Cough!”
A strange fervor began to ripple in the eyes of enemies who dared not come closer but stared at Chung Myung.
The Plum Blossom Sword Ghost, who had seemed endless, now showed weakness before them. Perhaps... maybe they could accomplish the feat of cutting that beast’s throat with their own hands.
It was dangerously tempting and lethal. There was no one here who wouldn’t waver before it.
Those who swallowed dryly took cautious steps toward Chung Myung. The circle around him began to close, little by little.
Grip.
Chung Myung grabbed the spear lodged above his heart with his left hand. He pulled, but the hooked blade was embedded in flesh and wouldn’t come free.
Crack.
He finally snapped the spear shaft without hesitation and spat the blood pooled in his mouth.
In his narrowed vision there were only enemies. The whole world was full of foes. Foe, foe, foe, and more foe.
‘...Just cut them down.’
Cut and topple. And open a path. As he had done countless times before. As he had always done. Then a way opens.
‘And after that?’
There will be more enemies. Even if he felled them, new foes would appear behind them.
Cut, cut, cut again. Cut once more...
What remains at the end of it all?
“Huh...”
A sound that might be laughter, a groan, or a sob slipped from his lips. Nothing would change. It had always been this way.
He had never been arrogant about his strength. He hadn’t recklessly assumed he’d survive every battle. He had simply managed to survive one deadly fight after another—without particularly yearning to live.
It wouldn’t be strange if his luck ran out here.
The ending that everyone met. The end Chung Myung too should have met had come for him—terribly slow, terribly clear.
Propped up by his sword, Chung Myung forced his collapsing body upright again and again.
“D-Die!”
Before the enemy could extend his blade, Chung Myung’s sword moved a step faster. Sword qi from the tip sank straight into the foe’s chest.
“Gurgle...”
The injured enemy staggered briefly, but that was it. He grabbed the wound and stood his ground instead of falling.
Even the sword spirit could no longer exert its strength. It couldn’t fully pierce a human’s soft flesh.
Any regrets?
No. There was nothing to regret.
In the past he saved the world, but he lost all the things he shouldn’t have.
But this time it’s different.
‘...I protected them.’
Long ago... yes, it should have been this way long ago.
He never wanted to again be the lone survivor looking at the dead. He didn’t want to suffer the pain of collapsing alone in an empty world.
Even if everyone pointed and called it foolish and stupid, this had been his only path from the start.
‘Sahyung...’
You wouldn’t know. How far the mission you trusted me with pushed me.
You couldn’t understand. The dead can know nothing.
You’ll never know what it felt like to be the lone one left after everyone’s death.
Now that it’s come to this... I wasn’t as great or strong as you thought.
Shing!
Dozens of blades flew toward him.
Before his consciousness could react, Chung Myung’s sword cleaved the air. The instinct imprinted in his body didn’t abandon him until the very end.
Klang!
The blades shattered. The shards pierced enemies and also lodged into Chung Myung’s exhausted body.
“Cough!”
A metallic clump of blood kept spurting out. It felt as if every drop inside him had already dried—strangely so.
He lifted his head with effort as dawn was breaking. The red twilight sky gazed down on him, like the unforgettable sky of that day.
Like Mount Hua’s final day as he remembered it.
That day, if his sahyung and sajaes’ greatest wish as they died was for Mount Hua to bloom Plum Blossoms again, and if what he wished most then was that his death might save just one more life...
Hasn’t Chung Myung now fulfilled that role?
What he set out to do was done. What his sahyung-sajaes wished for was achieved. They may be unreliable, pitiful, stupid as can be—but they’re good men.
Isn’t that enough?
They will prevail—even without him.
No matter how cold the wind, they will endure and carry it on. They will continue what those fallen before guarded and add to that will.
‘Will they resent me?’
They will. They’re that sort of people. They’ll be angry, curse, and... cry some more.
But they’ll forget soon enough.
Just as he forgot Chung Mun and built a life with new people. Just as they laughed and made noise at a new Mount Hua instead of the old one.
His absence will sadden everyone for a while, but in the end they’ll forget. New flesh will grow over the wound, and grass will one day sprout on the parched earth.
That makes him a bit... just a little... resentful.
“What are you doing! Kill him! Kill him at once! He’s at his limit!”
The enemies surged forward.
His vision blurred, his arms would not move. Sensation dulled. He was too pathetic and small to overcome anyone now.
Screech!
Blood flowing down the Dark Fragrant Plum Blossom Sword stained his fingertips.
He had cut somewhere on an enemy, but he couldn’t tell. His legs wouldn’t obey.
But he had to cut down at least one more.
Each life he cut off would make those who survive even a little safer. So one more! Even just one more person...
Screech.
‘Chung Mun sahyung.’
Would he smile? Would he praise Chung Myung for what he accomplished upon returning?
Maybe he’d scold him. He always did. He might be angry that he went so far when it wasn’t necessary.
He hoped so.
‘I did my best, Chung Mun sahyung.’
So... please... just think of me a little... just a little bit with pity.
His knees finally gave out. The ground seemed to rise. The world spun so dizzy he couldn’t tell up from down.
A different death from that time was coming for him.
It’s all right. He had left it behind.
Somewhere in Shaanxi, somewhere on Mount Hua where the Plum Blossoms bloom, in the hearts of those who will wail, on the tips of swords not yet fully tempered—he had left enough.
So even if this is the last, there are no more regrets. Yet...
“Finish him off!”
“He’s exhausted! Sever his neck!”
But even so... even so...
Kaaaaang!
A flying blade suddenly struck the sword that shot upward.
Kicking off the ground, Chung Myung leapt into the midst of his enemies. The ferocious sword qi that poured forth split the foes in an instant.
“Ah...”
Chung Myung’s mouth opened, and a beast-like scream tore out.
“Ah... Aaaaaaah!”
He wanted to live.
The squeezed-out sword qi cleaved those filled only with malice. Muscles tore, bones crushed, but he swung and swung again.
He wanted to live.
“Aaaaaaaaaah!”
He wanted to live and laugh again. He wanted to return alive to Mount Hua.
The place he left. The place he had to return to.
The place where everyone awaited him.
“Aaaaaaaaaah!”
Chung Myung’s scream as he leapt between raised blades thundered through the forest.
I want to live.
