Call Of The Spear [EN]: Chapter 562

Nangseon’s Romantic Tale – Extra Story 1

The Annihilation

Shuaaa.

A chilling wind lashed against the gaunt trees, creating a desolate sound.

The moonlit, icy wind knocked on the latch as if begging for entry.

Consequently, the locked latch rattled and shook.

A sound that awakened one from a deep sleep.

With the chilling wind sending moonlight through the gaps in the latch, a man awoke from his slumber.

The man, who had been resting in his chamber, quietly rose and placed his hand on the latch.

Clunk.

Instantly, the cold wind seeping through the cracks and the clamorous noise ceased, replaced by a gentle breeze that filled the chamber.

“Umm…”

The woman, who had been sleeping peacefully, stirred, her eyelids still closed.

The man stroked her hair as if to reassure her.

Touched by his affectionate gaze and gentle touch, she drifted back into a deep sleep. The man sat on a chair, relying on the light of a single lamp, and picked up a brush.

The man’s features, though delicate, possessed a sharp, intelligent gaze.

However, his demeanor was gentle, and his eyes held a radiant golden hue.

The man’s act of writing, stroke by stroke, in flowing calligraphy, was reverent and sacred.

How long had he been holding the brush?

His brush, which had been moving without pause, soon came to a halt at the sound of the woman’s voice.

“What are you writing?”

Thud.

The man, having placed the brush on the inkstone, wore a faint smile.

“I was writing about the sky I saw, and the sky I hope to see in the future.”

The woman, with her long white hair flowing freely, glanced at the words he had written but could not understand them.

It was a script she had never seen before.

Yet, she could sense that each character contained an immeasurable, unknown power.

And so, the woman.

No, his wife, smiled softly.

“Then, would you tell me about it? I have many questions about the sky you passed through on your way here.”

The woman’s hands, reaching out, encircled the man’s neck and chest, embracing him.

With a chuckle at her playful touch, the man felt his wife’s skin and warmth as he began to speak.

“I happen to be writing about the sky where I first met you, so you should know it well.”

“Ah… Have you been there?”

The sky where he and she first met.

A sky particularly special and full of lingering attachments among countless others.

And a mountain.

“Has Baek Mountain [also known as Changbai Mountain, a significant mountain in Korean and Chinese cultures] changed much?”

To his wife’s question filled with longing, the man replied.

“Well, I too am still in the process of seeing it.”

With an enigmatic murmur, the characters he had written floated into the air, emitting light as he moved his lips.

Soon, they spread in all directions, and the room sparkled entirely in gold.

A mountain came into view.

The longed-for white mountain.

It was Baek Mountain.

* * *

Baek Mountain (白山).

A sacred mountain covered in pristine white snow, seemingly reaching towards the heavens.

The figure of a man gazing at it appeared as a mere dot on the white snowfield.

The man, gradually revealed amidst the swirling winds, was a wanderer wearing a conical hat and a sword at his waist.

Nangseon with golden eyes.

It was Cheonbeom.

“Hmm…”

Baek Mountain, with its chilly winter weather and seemingly imbued with sacred energy, exuded a sense of reverence.

With a sharp whooshing sound, the white snow powder that had accumulated on Baek Mountain scattered wildly.

However, Cheonbeom’s eyes were captured by a sense of sorrow, unable to break free.

“Is this truly Baek Mountain…”

It was unmistakable.

Yet, what should have been visible was not there.

The massive, sturdily standing pavilion.

The people busily moving beneath it.

Not a single one, not even a trace, could be seen.

Thus, all he could do was stand blankly, reminiscing about the past.

“Why do you keep looking at this place? It seems to be a mountain you have ties to.”

Turning his head slightly, a man approached and asked cautiously.

However, unlike his polite tone, his eyes were filled with wariness.

‘A mountain keeper, perhaps.’

He was a middle-aged man dressed in tattered attire, layering cloths that could hardly be called robes.

His shabby conical hat, unkempt hair falling down, and, above all, the lingering scent of the mountain emanating from him were striking.

The nameless mountain keeper’s caution was understandable.

On this cold winter day.

In this weather with even snowstorms raging, he was simply standing on Baek Mountain, gazing at the scenery, so why wouldn’t he be wary?

“As far as I know, this magnificent mountain is said to have a corresponding hermitage…”

It was not visible.

At that, the mountain keeper’s eyes flickered like a candle flame in the wind.

However, it was only for a moment.

The mountain keeper scoffed, as if having heard something ridiculous.

“Hermitage? You’re saying funny things. Are there still people who believe in such superstitions in this day and age? Mountain hermits or monsters are all stories from bygone eras. What age do you think we live in to be talking such absurdities…”

Tsk tsk, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Young man, if you live chasing illusions, you’ll ruin your own future.”

“Illusions, you say…”

He was steeped in bitterness as he stared at the relentlessly swirling snowstorm.

He thought it wouldn’t be, but it was true.

‘This too is the flow of time.’

So much time had passed that there was no one who remembered his figure.

So much time had passed that it was not strange for things to have changed like this.

Now, no longer.

The Baekseon Clan, situated on Baek Mountain, was gone.

Whether something has form or not, it fades away with time.

He knew it was a natural course, but he couldn’t help but feel a chill in his heart.

“Even if there were such things, what good would they be? In this day and age, if you hold a gun in your hand, even a waist-high child can kill someone. In this chaotic world, a hermitage? Even if it existed, what could it possibly do? It would be better to learn gunnery.”

“……”

Saying that, he glanced at the sky and let out a deep sigh.

“I may have said some unpleasant things, but young people like you occasionally come up this mountain and ask. So, I always have to say the same thing. So, don’t be too angry.”

“It’s not that. I just…”

“Just?”

“I just wanted to hold the last moments of those I cherished in my heart.”

Nothing is eternal in this world.

Whether it has form or not, everything is destined to wear away and disappear someday.

Even those who pursue cultivation cannot escape that cycle.

He simply wanted to see what had become of the ties of the past, once connected but now severed.

He wondered if he could hold their last moments in his heart, but….

‘Now, so much time has passed that I can’t even hear a snippet of their story.’

Without a trace.

The merciless years seemed to have erased even the cultivation that their ideals had reached.

‘The celestial and earthly energies of the Lower Realm were strange. It wasn’t my imagination.’

Unlike when he was here before, the celestial and earthly energies of the Lower Realm were faint and weak. He suspected that was why they had fallen into the current state.

With a lack of celestial and earthly energies, it was difficult for cultivators to practice, and they inevitably fell into decline.

A world where the Dao [the Way, the fundamental principle of the universe in Taoism] had disappeared into the annals of history.

That was the current state of the Lower Realm.

Now, there was no longer any cultivation or immortal practice here.

‘My sin is heavy.’

All of this was because he had taken the energies of various Lower Realms for his own use and wielded them.

“It’s late today, so you should go down tomorrow. It’s a humble place, but there’s room for one to lie down. Baek Mountain is equal to everyone, so if you go down now, you’ll become food for the mountain beasts.”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Cheonbeom said, placing his hand on the sword at his waist.

At that, the mountain keeper chuckled and took something out of his pocket.

It was a strange object made of wood and metal, but Cheonbeom immediately recognized what it was.

“A gun, is it?”

“I have something to protect myself. If you want to die, I won’t stop you, so do as you please.”

The mountain keeper, having put the gun back in his pocket, strode up the mountain.

In keeping with the changed times, Cheonbeom followed behind him.

Soon after.

The mountain keeper and Cheonbeom headed towards a place similar to a mountain lodge.

It was a lodge connected to the massive cave of Cheonhogul, where he had stayed before.

“Are you living here alone?”

“Yes. Don’t bother asking about my story. I’ve just ended up settling down here after living this way and that.”

Who in this world doesn’t have a story? Cheonbeom stared at him as if to see through his eyes, then averted his gaze.

“But why are you looking for a hermitage? Did you want to become an immortal or something?”

He asked with a smirk, and Cheonbeom also chuckled and replied.

“It would be nice if I could. But I prefer living together with others; I don’t particularly want to live alone.”

“Hahaha! Anyone would think you’ve already become an immortal!”

The mountain keeper clapped his knees and burst into laughter, then stopped laughing, stroked his beard, and pondered.

“Living alone… Well, if you become an immortal, you’ll live forever, so all your family and friends will die. I’ve never thought about it from that perspective.”

The mountain keeper, who had been expressionless, became animated as they talked about immortals.

“If there really are immortals, wouldn’t there be other immortals besides yourself? You could become friends with them, couldn’t you? Besides, an immortal is someone who has inherited the role of the heavens, so they should be willing to endure that much!”

It was an answer unlike a mountain keeper.

Cheonbeom smiled bitterly.

“Well, if he hadn’t shaken it off, I wouldn’t be like this now.”

At that, a burst of laughter erupted.

The winter wind seeped into the mountain lodge, but for now, only a warm warmth filled the space between them.

And as the laughter subsided.

Beom began to speak.

“I heard that there used to be a great cultivation sect called the Baekseon Clan here. It was said to be a very impressive place.”

The mountain keeper’s eyes flickered like a burning bonfire.

“…But now, it’s all become meaningless. I too was a fool who was drawn to such illusions…”

The mountain keeper shook his head and slurped down a tea that tasted like diluted rice water before getting up.

Then, he immediately handed over an old book that was in his bundle.

“Seeing you reminds me of my old days, so I can’t just leave you alone.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a book that tells of the end of the cultivation world that you’re looking for, which has now disappeared and is hard to find any trace of.”

It seemed to be an old document.

The words were worn and difficult to see, but it was a book that could be read if one read it slowly.

‘This place is…’

The Seon Land [a mythical or idealized place associated with immortals and spiritual cultivation] he was talking about.

He seemed to know where he was referring to.

“It records the words about a place called Seon Land by the ancient immortals. I don’t know if it’s just a record of simple delusions or a place that actually existed, but I once wanted to go there. Without even knowing what name it had.”

But now, as if it were a thing of the past, he turned his back with his hands behind him.

As the crackling bonfire flickered, the shadows swayed.

Cheonbeom slowly read the words that were faintly visible.

“A stone that hides the fire. There is a path only if you go to the mountain within the mountain, the fire within the fire.”

“But the path to Seon Land is just incomprehensible words. I gave up long ago. I went to many places and challenged myself, but I failed every time, so I gave up.”

That place was.

The mountain within the mountain.

Naesan.

It meant Yeongnaesan.

Yeongnaesan.

‘The one who wrote this is truly well-versed in cultivation.’

Cheonbeom stroked the book and carefully examined the writing.

As he stroked the letters and closed his eyes.

The surrounding scenery was dyed in darkness, and for a moment, the figure of a woman appeared.

He had read the memory of the writing.

‘……’

The woman writing with a brush looked somehow familiar.

She had sharp eyes but firm lips.

The antique room scenery and the faintly sorrowful eyes were enough to shake Cheonbeom’s heart.

Because she was the woman who had captured the heart of the man who had made Sangcheon his own.

But the woman he had no choice but to leave alone, his wife.

“……Yoho.”

It was because it was Yoho.