Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1599

Chung Myung felt sick, angry, and sad all at once. He pushed these feelings down and looked straight ahead.

“Ah… Amitabha….”

Hye-yeon was full of emotion. He couldn’t stop himself from chanting the Buddha’s name. His voice shook.

Every sound was loud to Chung Myung.

He even heard Yoo Iseol, who was always calm, holding her sword very tightly.

Whose fault was this terrible scene?

“Chung Myung-ah…”

Hyun Jong sighed and placed a hand on Chung Myung’s shoulder. But after trying to say something, he just shook his head.

What more could he say when he couldn’t even calm himself?

“The air is cold,” Hyun Jong said. It was a vague thing to say, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Chung Myung looked up at the sky. The sun was not up yet. The dawn was grey and cold, offering no hope. The air was so cold it stung Chung Myung’s face, like the world itself was hurting.

So much that his body trembled.

At that moment, Yoo Iseol silently stepped forward.

Creak.

The sword, which had been sleeping in its scabbard, was drawn, slicing through the dawn air, now that it had lost its target.

She quietly knelt and plunged the sword into the ground.

Thwack.

With a sharp sound, like the sound of beheading an enemy, the sword dug into the earth. Gripping the sword’s hilt with one hand and clutching the blade with the other, she silently dug.

“……”

Chung Myung could only watch, speechless.

Hye-yeon had been chanting the Buddha’s name because he was so angry and sad. He stumbled forward, knelt down, and started digging in the ground with his bare hands.

Thud. Thud.

Lee Songbaek, who had come without anyone noticing, also went to their side without a word and dug into the ground with his sword.

Though their robes were different, their hands, united in purpose, were making a tomb for those who had died.

These were the people who, once, he thought would never stand together, facing the same direction.

Chung Myung chuckled softly and looked up at the sky again. It seemed the world’s sorrow had not yet reached that far above.

It stings. It must sting them even more.

Chung Myung let out a short breath and was about to take a heavy step when—

“Ah…”

A faint groan came from behind him. Chung Myung’s gaze, suddenly icy, snapped in that direction.

“Ah, ah…”

Beopjeong, who had barely managed to raise himself, was trembling as he half-crawled, half-walked closer.

At that moment, everyone looked at him.

They felt angry, hateful, and sorry for him. They weren’t sure how to feel about him.

Even in this situation, Beopjeong tried to pray like a Buddhist. His hands shook badly as he tried.

“Ah… Mi…”

Chung Myung gritted his teeth.

“…Shut up.”

“…Tha…”

“Shut your trap!”

His wrinkled hands trembled, and he was pale as death. His body wouldn’t obey him, and he groped forward, unable to even open his eyes.

The golden monk’s robe, torn and soaked in blood, was now rags, and the flesh beneath was covered in wounds. Like a rotten old tree, he looked like he could fall apart any second.

Nothing was left of the once-dignified Shaolin Abbot; he was utterly pathetic.

He was no longer the respected monk who followed Buddha’s rules. He was no longer the leader of the Nine Great Sects. That image was gone.

Here was just a pathetic human, groaning under the weight of his own sins.

And even that sight… Yes, even that sight made Chung Myung angry.

Chung Myung strode towards Beopjeong.

“Chung Myung-ah.”

Hyun Jong grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop him. But Chung Myung, who always listened to Hyun Jong, pushed his hand away this time and kept walking.

Thud.

Thud.

Each time his cold feet stepped forward, Beopjeong’s body trembled faintly.

Finally, Chung Myung, standing right in front of Beopjeong, glared at him coldly with a face more frigid than ice.

At that moment, no one knew what Chung Myung was thinking.

What thoughts were going through that face, which seemed to bear all the world’s anguish?

Snatch.

Chung Myung grabbed Beopjeong by the scruff of his neck. Then, he yanked him forward, shoving Beopjeong’s face towards the terrible scene.

“Look.”

Beopjeong was forced to look.

“Don’t close your eyes, look.”

At the growling voice, Beopjeong struggled to force open his nearly closed eyes. The eyes that fluttered open soon squeezed shut again.

“Ah, Amitabha… Amitabha….”

Tears streamed down Beopjeong’s face, unstoppable.

“Is there a Buddha here?”

The chilling voice pierced Beopjeong’s ears.

“Don’t look for Buddha. You did this. You, not Buddha!”

Beopjeong’s legs gave out.

But Chung Myung’s hand, gripping his neck, didn’t let him fall.

“Look.”

Chung Myung shoved Beopjeong’s head in another direction.

“Look!”

Beopjeong’s eyes filled with it. The sin he could never escape.

It was a terrible mistake that could never be fixed, even if he tried to make up for it forever. The weight of it seemed ready to crush Beopjeong.

Beopjeong slumped. He looked empty and broken.

Watching that, Chung Myung bit his lip.

“Is this what you wanted to gain?”

Why do it again?

“This?”

Having faced such a painful result, why repeat the same actions? What was so important about that name, that reputation? Things that would be nothing once you die.

“Just! Just this?”

Crack.

The fabric of Beopjeong’s robe, held in Chung Myung’s grasp, finally tore.

“Say something! Anything!”

His chest felt like it would burst.

If this was going to happen, he should have succeeded. He should have taken everything he wanted and laughed at those who couldn’t.

If he had succeeded, if he had won, then maybe this pain would make sense!

At that moment, someone grabbed Chung Myung’s hand, which was full of rage.

Chung Myung stared blankly at Hye-yeon, who was holding him. His face was soaked with tears, and he quietly held Chung Myung’s arm, which was clutching Beopjeong’s collar.

He slowly shook his head. Without a word.

“……”

Meeting those eyes full of sorrow, Chung Myung’s strength simply gave out. The hand gripping Beopjeong’s collar loosened.

Beopjeong slumped heavily to the ground. He lay there like a broken doll.

Chung Myung watched him, his eyes cold. Beopjeong looked empty, like a body without a soul. Lost in his own shame, he was no longer the man Chung Myung knew. Chung Myung turned away, a strange feeling in his chest. Was it pity he felt? Disgust? He couldn’t tell.

His voice, when he spoke, was low and chilling. “You must have had someone like that too.”

Beopjeong didn’t react, as if he hadn’t heard.

“At least… one person.”

Someone who would accept him as he was, even if he didn’t become famous or achieve something great.

Then, a black cloud covered the moon. The world went dark, like the heavy feeling in Chung Myung’s heart.

Chung Myung was about to leave when—

“Ugh…”

A sound of weeping came from behind.

“Uhhh…”

It wasn’t a fake cry, but a deep sob that he couldn’t hold back, even as he tried desperately.

“Uh… uh… ugh…”

Chung Myung found this sob familiar, strangely similar.

When he turned around, Beopjeong was crawling on the ground, stumbling.

After a long, painful struggle, Beopjeong’s hand finally reached something: the pale, cold face of the corpse.

“…Gye…”

It was the body of Beopgye, whom Hae Yeon had carried and moved.

Beopjeong stroked the face that could no longer show any expression, his hands trembling.

“Beop…gye. Beopgye…”

Beopjeong’s back shook. It was a pathetic and sorrowful sight.

Beopjeong must have finally understood what he had done.

He saw his terrible mistakes. And he saw Beopgye, who had tried to save him even after everything.

A sad laugh escaped Chung Myung’s lips.

‘Why is it always…

Is it always like this? Do people only see what they had when it’s gone?

Why can’t they value what’s in front of them, instead of chasing things that don’t matter?

Are people always this blind?

“Ugh… ugh… Ah… Aaaaargh!”

A desperate cry burst out.

“Aaaaargh! Beopgye! Gye-yah! Aaaaargh!”

Even those who hated Beopjeong couldn’t say a word, seeing his heart-wrenching grief.

No matter how unworthy of sympathy someone may be, everyone could imagine his sorrow.

“Aaaaargh!”

Chung Myung, who had been watching Beopjeong with a dark look, turned his head.

There’s no time for sympathy for the living.

“Chung Myung-ah.”

Chung Myung nodded, meeting Hyun Jong’s gaze.

“Supreme Elder… the rite.”

“Yes.”

Hyun Jong nodded slowly.

“Let’s do that.”

There is nothing the living can do for the dead. Whether it’s a rite or a Buddhist service, it’s for the comfort of those who are still alive.

Knowing this, people hold onto these acts, hoping that their prayers will reach the dead.

As Chung Myung moved towards the corpses on the ground—

“Sasuk. Supreme Elder.”

Yoo Iseol, who had been quietly watching, approached with a serious face.

“What happened?”

“…Many enemy corpses.”

When Chung Myung looked at her questioningly, Yoo Iseol added quietly.

Hyun Jong frowned. It was normal to see many enemy corpses on the battlefield, so why was she so serious?

But Chung Myung’s face hardened. He understood what Yoo Iseol meant.

“…Many?”

That meant the Nine Great Sects who died here were stronger than he thought.

If not, then…

‘The enemies were weaker than I thought.’

Was it possible the enemies were weaker than they seemed?

Chung Myung widened his eyes and looked sharply in one direction.

“Could it be…!”

The clouds parted, showing the moon again. Chung Myung’s eyes trembled.

“There is no pursuit, Lord. They are burying the bodies.”

“Is that so?”

Jang Ilso smiled coldly. “How touching. They waste their time burying bodies. Foolish. Don’t you think so, Ga-myeong-ah?”

Ho Gamyeong didn’t answer. He stayed silent.

Jang Ilso continued, as if he didn’t expect an answer.

“However.”

“Yes?”

“If they think the war is over, they are being too naive?”

Jang Ilso’s mouth twisted.

“War isn’t just about hurting them. It’s about making their pain worse.”

He looked eastward, the same direction Chung Myung had looked.

“This is…”

A cold gaze stared at the mountain in front of him.

This mountain, the Central Mountain of the Five Great Mountains, was famous for something else besides its scenery.

It was home to Shaolin, the most famous temple in the world, located north of Sosil Peak.

A thin finger took off the bamboo hat. The hat fell to the ground. Underneath, he wore red clothes.

The person in the center was covered in red bandages, even on the parts of his body not covered by clothing.

He spoke, his voice cold and strange, like it came from hell.

“Shaolin, is it.”

“Cult Leader.”

“Yes. I know. I must hurry if I want to avoid the Vice Lord’s nagging.”

A fierce red light shone in the man’s eyes.

“I don’t like cleaning up leftovers… but if I do it, I’ll do it right.”

They moved towards the path to Sosil Peak.

“Let’s go. Today, we destroy Shaolin.”

The Blood Cult was ready to attack Shaolin.