Monochrome Sovereign [EN]: Chapter 1288

Even amidst the brutal battle, the fight between the two men seemed to unfold in another world.

In fact, none of the experts gathered there approached them. They neither helped nor urged retreat or advance.

Thus, the fight between the two escalated to a climax.

Kwaaaang!

The impact of the sword strikes was truly formidable.

Cheol Mok-Hoo gritted his teeth. He deliberately swallowed the blood that surged up his throat, but eventually, the corners of his mouth were stained with blood.

‘That old man is a monster.’

It was a terrifying swordsmanship.

He knew from the first moment he saw him that his internal energy and stamina were severely depleted.

Moreover, the fire energy was burning near his heart meridian [a key energy pathway in traditional medicine]. In fact, he was in a state where he couldn’t move, shouldn’t move.

Yet, the sword he wielded was full of life. His body was dying, but only his sword was alive. It seemed to move on its own.

“Just die already!”

Whooong!

Cheol Mok-Hoo, having spotted an opening in Jongri Baek’s defenses beneath the Overlord Sword that had grazed his hair, unleashed a Fiery Divine Palm.

Puh-ung!

Jongri Baek’s face turned pale.

The terrifying force surging up his side felt like his internal organs were being cooked whole. He didn’t feel the pain because he thought he had already given up on life, but this strike was impossible to ignore.

“Keuh.”

If he couldn’t ignore it, he would accept it and fight.

With superhuman mental strength, he rotated his upper body and swung the Overlord Sword towards Cheol Mok-Hoo’s neck.

Kwang!

Each strike unleashed an enormous force.

Cheol Mok-Hoo’s face showed a look of dismay.

“What kind of monster is this!”

Monster, that’s harsh.

With a wry thought, he swung the Overlord Sword once more. On the extending blade, true energy like lightning flames surged menacingly.

It was the Ten Swords of the Soul Reaver Cult, Thunder Fall.

Flash!

Like actual lightning falling, two phantom-like swords descended on Cheol Mok-Hoo.

Puh-buh-buh-buk!

Even before the swords touched him, blood burst from various parts of Cheol Mok-Hoo’s body. The pressure of the swords was that strong.

Cheol Mok-Hoo, not even aware of his injuries, wildly swung his fists. He was trying to block the sword strikes with the techniques of the Yama King’s Eight Fists [a powerful martial arts style].

Kwakwang! Puuh-uh-uh-ung!

Certainly, Cheol Mok-Hoo was a strongman.

He couldn’t exert his full power due to the accumulated fatigue and enormous internal energy consumption, but his opponent was Jongri Baek, known as the strongest swordsman in the Central Plains. Even if his power had diminished, it was nearly impossible to break through his techniques.

Yet, he pushed through such swordsmanship with force, cutting off the vital points and reducing the power of the techniques to less than half. It was not for nothing that he had become the Flame King.

Kung!

The Overlord Sword, having lost the power of Thunder Fall, was planted into the ground.

Seogeok!

Although the power of Thunder Fall had disappeared, the sharpness unique to the sword remained until the end. A sharp wound appeared on Cheol Mok-Hoo’s upper body where the sword’s edge had caught him.

Cheol Mok-Hoo gritted his teeth and charged forward.

Kwang!

Jongri Baek coughed up blood and flew away.

He had blocked the impact by raising his sword, but the penetrating force of the Yama King’s Eight Fists was too strong.

“Master!”

Oh Gu-Mun, who had been watching his master’s fight while cutting down enemies, turned pale.

Jongri Baek, who had been thrown back with a thud, finally planted his sword into the ground and rose, but his increasingly disheveled energy was telling him that his death was imminent.

“Master!!”

Kwakwang!

Oh Gu-Mun charged forward, cutting down the enemies blocking his path.

Jongri Baek’s eyebrows twitched.

‘Don’t come.’

This is my fight.

He was clinging to ‘now’ with the selfish desire of a sword master who had once commanded the world, determined not to die without a fight, even if it meant fighting a master.

Jongri Baek knew well how much of a burden that was. Yet, Yeon Ho-Jeong had properly set the stage for him to die.

Since the stage had been set, he couldn’t just die a meaningless death without even performing a proper sword dance.

‘Thank you for indulging this old man’s stubbornness.’

Flash!

Jongri Baek’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light.

Fire energy poured out from his bloodshot eyes. The fire energy flowing through his heart meridian had even invaded his brain.

Yet, he did not lose his mind.

The capacity of his upper dantian [an energy center in the body] could not explain it. The mental strength of the old swordsman, sensing his end, was suppressing even the madness given by the fire energy.

“Come at me again!”

Jongri Baek shouted thunderously as he charged.

Cheol Mok-Hoo’s face contorted.

“Why does a dead man keep moving!”

“Shut up!”

Flash!

A murderous intent was etched on the blade that was slicing diagonally.

The power was weaker than before. Still, it was threatening. The murderous intent contained within it was far more dangerous than the actual power of the martial art.

Cheol Mok-Hoo’s left fist struck the blade.

Kwang!

The Overlord Sword, sent flying with a boom, was planted into the ground.

Taking advantage of the gap, Cheol Mok-Hoo’s right fist flew towards Jongri Baek’s head.

“Die!”

Of course, you’ll die, you bastard.

Watching the fist full of flames expand menacingly, Jongri Baek thought.

So, this is how I go.

Looking back, it wasn’t a bad life. He had met a bad-tempered master and suffered terribly while learning swordsmanship, and since all he had learned his whole life was swordsmanship, all he could do was fight even when he went out into the martial world.

Then, he had gained the reputation of being the greatest swordsman in the world, and he had also met a disciple who was more precious than that. And he taught that disciple the sword.

Sword, sword, sword.

His life was filled with nothing but swords.

His temperament was as bad as his master’s, so he couldn’t make a single decent friend. But it was okay. The sword was his friend.

He had met a disciple he thought was more precious than his reputation, even more precious than the sword, but when he slept, he always thought of the sword.

I really lived a hard life.

Others made friends, drank alcohol, and lived with fox-like wives and rabbit-like children. They said that was a human life, but he scoffed at them, seeing the dark circles under their eyes.

But looking back, even though those guys looked tired, they also looked happy.

He thought that was a real human life.

People should do productive things. There is nothing more productive than working, having children, and raising them.

He was different.

Far from being productive, he lived a life of cutting off people’s heads. He had lived a life of killing people without doing anything for the world, so even the King of Hell would click his tongue at his life.

All that was left for him was the body he had abused for over seventy years. There was nothing he could do except die and become fertilizer for the world.

Still, was it excessive self-confidence to think that it wasn’t a bad life? Or was it a claim similar to an excuse to ignore his wrong life?

Jjeo-uh-uh-uh-ung!

With a strong vibration, his short yet long reverie came to an end.

“What?!”

Cheol Mok-Hoo’s eyes shook.

The old man, who was on the verge of death, had somehow raised his sword and blocked his fist.

‘A wrong life… but it’s still okay.’

Jongri Baek unconsciously swung his sword.

It was the technique of the Soul Reaver Cult’s One Sword, Mountain Severance, which he had swung tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of times.

He didn’t know why he suddenly started swinging his sword. He just swung it because he could.

‘Oh?’

The feeling of the sword catching something was quite heavy.

‘Oh ho, finally.’

Even though his body was in this state, the essence of the sword was showing itself as if he was concentrating on swinging it.

With that one strike, his opponent’s arm was cut off, but that was not a big deal for him.

The important thing was this feeling. The feeling the sword gave, the heavy feeling of the sword catching something.

‘Shall I try again?’

His wrist turned, and his shoulder swayed.

Kwang!

His whole body felt like it was crumbling from an unknown impact.

But he didn’t feel the pain.

‘That’s not it. It’s not the arm, it’s the waist, the waist. If my master had seen that, he would have cursed me all day, that last swing.’

Again, and again.

He swung the Overlord Sword, twisting his crumbling body.

‘That’s right.’

Something else was cut along with the air.

The sword was getting heavier. Yet, the speed at which he swung it was faster. It was proof that the strength of his whole body was being transferred to the sword.

‘Not bad, but not good either. This is not the ultimate.’

Again.

He gently extended his foot and slashed diagonally upwards.

In an instant, it felt like a storm was swirling around the tip of the sword. The strong force that had risen from his foot passed through his waist and chest, through his shoulder and wrist, and seemed to permeate to the tips of his fingers.

‘This is it.’

It was the moment the sword gained life.

My strength, my will, gives life to the sword.

Only when it reaches this level can it be said to have reached a realm. The sword itself goes the path it should go, while maintaining a state where the entire hilt and tip of the sword are full of power, capable of cutting through water and air.

Soft and soft.

As the strength left his body, his bones and muscles seemed to become limp.

The more that happened, the stronger the sword’s life became. The reason he was able to swing it as many as twenty-four times in that short time was because he was able to melt himself into the sword.

‘This is exhilarating.’

It was as if a sigh of admiration was coming out.

‘Yes, this is the fun.’

Learned the sword from his master? Nonsense.

From the moment he was born, he had grasped the sword as if it were his destiny. At that moment, he had already reached the truth.

But after being taught by his master, he gradually lost the truth. His strength grew, and his fighting skills improved, but he was moving further away from the truth.

Why?

‘I was arrogant.’

The absolute internal energy technique, the invincible swordsmanship, the innate talent.

All of that had blinded him.

‘Now, I have regained the truth I encountered the first moment I grasped the sword.’

He felt like he was going to cry.

He swung his sword again.

His opponent was already so broken that he could no longer maintain a human form. He had died, unable to avoid the force and sharpness of the Overlord Sword.

The opponent died, but the sword lived.

Rather, it was coming to life even more vigorously. It was pulsating.

‘I’m sorry.’

Having strayed from the truth, he had lived as a butcher, cutting off people’s heads.

The sword was always whispering to him. To give it a little more power, to take away a little more power.

To handle it a little better, just a little more.

It told him that if he did that, there would be nothing he couldn’t cut in the world. It had been shouting all along that he could become strong enough to cut even illusions and agony.

For all those long years, it had shouted until its throat was sore, yet it had not betrayed him.

And now, Jongri Baek heard the true voice of the sword.

‘I will be with you even in death.’

The final strike.

The one strike he had learned from his master, and the one he had established, split the world.

Flash!!

A blade of light shot out in a straight line, cutting down dozens of Shin Hwa Ryung [a group of warriors] and disappearing.

Jongri Baek didn’t even realize that. He was satisfied just by seeing the sword full of life.

‘Huh?’

He was about to look down at the sword with a smile, but the sword was already planted in the ground. He had lost the strength to hold the sword and had dropped it.

At that moment, Jongri Baek experienced the world lowering. His legs had given out.

Woo-oong!

The sword cried. It cried sadly.

‘Don’t be sad.’

Jongri Baek smiled.

‘I’m sorry. And I don’t regret it.’

Meeting the truth, meeting the sword.

‘I will be with you in the next life as well.’

Sword, sword, sword.

He didn’t need the false name of the greatest swordsman in the world, nor the power to intimidate the world.

For him, the sword, only the sword, was precious.

“Master!!”

He saw his damned disciple running towards him from afar.

In an instant, a sigh of admiration came out.

‘There was. Something more precious than the sword.’

The face of his disciple, who was running while shedding tears, was truly funny.

‘So, I will die with the sword. I won’t die with you.’

Jongri Baek’s eyes closed.