If one must bear it. (6)

Boom! Boom!

Sword energies collided. Chung Myung’s plum blossoms crash into Jin Songwon’s sword energy and dissipated.

Before they could even fully bloom.

Blood trickled down, staining the hand gripping the sword. Chung Myung glanced at his own hand.

The blood will remain. And its stench will linger as well.

And so, once this battle is over, this hand will be stained a bit redder than it is now. No matter how much it’s washed, this won’t come out.

It’s nothing special. Nothing particularly significant.

Chung Myung knew. Even if others didn’t, he himself could not ignore these “stains.” Because, in the past, his hands, too, were stained in this very way.

The person standing before Chung Myung was looking at him with eyes filled with resentment and hatred.

It was truly a strange thing.

Chung Myung had seen such eyes countless times before, and he had ignored them just as many times. He had experienced hatred and resentment far worse than this.

However, he never grew numb to it. A gaze that once meant nothing to him had now become burdensome.

And so, he had no choice but to realize this once again.

No matter how cold one’s heart becomes, it can never turn into steel, and even withered emotions can never fully vanish.

Jin Songwon’s gaze, his screams, his emotions poured in. The consequences of Chung Myung’s decision now stood right before his eyes, like ‘debris’ that had yet to dissipate.

This debris clung tenaciously no matter how hard he tried to peel it away, like damp ash.

Yes, just like the smell of blood lingering on his fingertips.

“What are you spouting, as if you know anything!”

Jin Songwon shouted, as if he might cough up blood at any moment.

“You bastard! What do you even know!”

There were hundreds, thousands of things Chung Myung could say. He could talk until dawn and still have more to say.

But what use is any of that?

In the end, every word Chung Myung spoke carried meaning only for himself. Just one step away and it all becomes worthless – a meaningless excuse.

One corner of Chung Myung’s mouth curled up. There was one thing he agreed with among the words spoken by the Sect Leader of Diancang.

Yes. If you’re going to earn resentment, you might as well become a proper villain. It doesn’t matter if it amounts to nothing more than a shabby display of false malice.

Because there’s nothing more laughable than committing a sin and then sniveling about it.

Flash!

A powerful surge of sword energy poured towards him.

Chung Myung thought that it felt almost like tears. As if, with no tears left to shed from his eyes, this man was crying through his sword instead.

That sword energy grazed Chung Myung’s body.

This kind of pain was familiar enough to make him nauseous. Yet, what he felt from this wound was strangely different.

“You…..!“

Kwaaang!

Jin Songwon’s sword and Chung Myung’s sword clashed fiercely. That sword was filled with such deep resentment that it was almost overwhelming.

Of course.

‘Not being wrong’ doesn’t mean ‘being right’. Likewise, being right doesn’t guarantee you’ll be ‘understood’.

He lacked power. He lacked the ability to carry out his will. He even lacked the fierce resolve to protect what he had so proudly proclaimed.

So he had to realize that he, too, could not escape the idea that the weak inevitably reach a crossroads of choice.

The strong don’t need to choose, for they can do everything. But the weak will eventually face a moment where they must choose. Since they can’t do everything, they have to give something up.

And so, he abandoned it.

In order to give up what should never be given up, he compared things that were beyond comparison.

Dalai Lama flickered in Chung Myung’s mind. That face, like a stone Buddha [석불(石佛)]. And yet, the rosy face of a child who couldn’t hide a glimmer of sorrow.

‘A living Buddha.’

Chung Myung let out a laugh before he even realized it.

‘Thinking about it again, it really did seem like fraudulence.’

The Heavenly Demon had appeared again in this world. Feeling his presence, Chung Myung’s body was so shaken [경동(驚動)] that it triggered the onset of demonic possession [입마(入魔) – Glossary].

Yes, perhaps those words might have been the truth. But Chung Myung knew better than anyone that wasn’t the whole story.

The inner demon [심마[(心魔)] was already inside him. Ever since he abandoned what should have never been abandoned.

“Those words….!”

Boom!

Jin Songwon’s sword came flying at him once again at a terrifying speed. He had to block it. He could block it.

It wouldn’t have been too difficult.

Crunch.

But that sword pierced Chung Myung’s shoulder. His body kept refusing to follow his will.

“Could you say those words in front of the ones who died!”

Jin Songwon’s cry suddenly stirred up Chung Myung’s memories of the past. A certain day, now faded, when he had spoken those words to Chung Mun.

– Could you spout those words in front of the dead brats, too?

Chung Mun did not reply. He merely glanced at Chung Myung with a detached look, as if clad in armor.

‘Yes. That was how it was.’

Chung Mun was always strong.

Even if his martial arts were lacking, even if he commanded fewer forces, he was always the strong one.

And Chung Mun himself must have known that the entire world saw him as strong one and relied on him.

So Chung Mun could never say, ‘I am weak, and I have no choice but to make a decision.’ Even if that was the undeniable, perfect truth, and even if everyone already knew it, speaking those words aloud would have carried a different meaning.

Chung Mun had to choose and distinguish between those who should die and those who should not, those who must survive and those who need not. Among those who must not die, among those who had to survive.

Boom!

Chung Myung’s scattered sword energy lodged itself into Jin Songwon’s body. The vicious plum blossoms were gnawing at a man trembling in guilt, like the fangs of a venomous snake.

Jin Songwon’s blood mixed with the plum blossoms.

This sword spilled blood to bring forth the blossoms. This sword brought forth the blossoms to spill blood.

Swish!

Chung Myung’s sword once again slashed deeply into Jin Songwon’s arm. Almost simultaneously, Jin Songwon’s sword left a long wound on Chung Myung’s side.

Jin Songwon spat out his question.

“How is it?”

“…”

“What do you feel, seeing with your own eyes the results you created with your own hands?”

After asking, Jin Songwon turned his head. It wasn’t the sort of action one should take with an enemy right before him.

Truly reckless.

However, Jin Songwon did not seem afraid of losing his life to Chung Myung’s sudden attack. He even calmly stretched out his hand and pointed behind him.

“Do you see the hellscape you’ve created?”

Chung Myung let out a brief laugh. Did he want him to feel guilty?

Perhaps Chung Myung had known from the start who those masked individuals were.

Chung Myung sneered.

“So this is all you’ve got, venting your anger like this?”

“You…”

“Becoming the dog of those who brandished their swords against you, just to blame the ones you failed to protect. Is that the choice of someone so esteemed?”

He expected an immediate burst of fury. At the very least, some protest against the injustice.

But the moment Chung Myung finished speaking, Jin Songwon’s gaze unexpectedly darkened.

“Venting my anger, is it? Maybe so.”

“…”

“But what else can one do? If you have no power to resist, you have no choice but to kneel.”

A hollow laugh escaped him. Its deep self-mockery overlapped with a certain laugh Chung Myung once knew.

Chung Myung closed his eyes for a moment.

‘In the end, it’s no different.’

In the end, he, too, is just weak. He was forced onto a path he couldn’t choose.

And so, he ended up choosing a path he should never have taken.

At the end of that path, there must be some reason why he has to endure this kind of humiliation.

What could Chung Myung possibly do for someone like that?

Sssssrt.

Chung Myung’s sword scraped the ground.

“…..I’m sick of it.”

Spitting out the saliva that had gathered in his mouth, Chung Myung glared coldly at Jin Songwon.

“I’ve heard enough of your pathetic whining. Let’s end this now. You’ll feel better. Once you’re dead, it’s all over.”

At that, the corner of Jin Songwon’s mouth, hidden behind his mask, twitched briefly.

“With that body?”

Instead of saying ‘with those skills,’ he said ‘with that body.’ Crossing swords, he had noticed Chung Myung was far from being unscathed.

Jin Songwon glanced around.

“You must be in a hurry. Things don’t seem to be going your way.”

He was right. Tang Guak and Namgung Dowi, both on the brink of death, came into view.

“I’m curious. Will you make a choice again? If it were you, you could do it, right? No matter who else dies, you could order them to save those two first. Well? Will you commit the same act again?”

In response to Jin Songwon’s mocking question, Chung Myung said nothing. Jin Songwon let out a chuckle.

“You should at least be consistent. Then again, maybe you’ve been consistent all along.”

Yes, perhaps so. Maybe that was all Hwasan was worth to him. That was all there was to it. Whether it’s the truth or not doesn’t matter anymore. It’s laughable even to debate at this point.

Jin Songwon aimed his sword.

“Right. Let’s end it.”

It no longer matters who was right.

Now, the only thing that matters is that they cannot live under the same sky anymore. That each other’s very existence is unbearable. That’s all there is to it.

Jin Songwon gripped his sword tightly.

So he had to finish this quickly. Before that accursed gaze could shake his resolve. Before that deepening regret, growing stronger with every clash, could corrode his keen edge.

Jin Songwon and Chung Myung aimed their swords at each other. They suppressed the emotions that kept surging up, sharpening the killing intent in their blades instead.

They held their ground for a moment. And then…

Paaat.

Without anyone taking the lead, the two of them shot off towards each other.

Piiiiiing!

The Sun-Shooting Sword Technique simply pierces. No matter what it faces, even the sun in the sky, it pierces through in one unwavering strike.

Paaaaat.

Meanwhile, the Plum Blossom Sword Technique is a sword that blooms. Even if cut down, over and over, it ultimately blooms again.

Jin Songwon’s sword pierced through the plum blossoms Chung Myung had summoned. It penetrated them again and again, yet countless plum blossom sword energies continued to block his way.

But the very essence [진수(眞髓)] of The Sun-Shooting Sword Technique is to keep piercing a hundred, a thousand times more.

When he first took up the sword of Diancang, his master had told him:

– Even if you die pressing forward, do not hesitate. That is the sword of Diancang.

Yes. That was indeed what he said.

The razor-sharp sword energy gathered at the tip of the blade ripped apart the fragile petals. Although the petals left unscathed embedded themselves into his flesh and shards of torn sword energy again slashed his body, Jin Songwon pressed forward without a moment’s hesitation.

To pierce through is to advance. To move towards a single point is to remain unshaken.

In the face of that resolve, the delicate petals could not stand as a wall.

He finally pierced through all of it – thousands and tens of thousands of sword energies, a sea of petals, all torn apart.

And when he faced Chung Myung’s visage hidden behind them, Jin Songwon realized it.

No, he acknowledged it.

‘Me…?’

Chung Myung’s sword reached the tip of his blade.

Paaat.

Until now, Jin Songwon’s sword had never wavered once, but it trembled faintly. Barely perceptible, yet undeniably there.

‘I’m going to lose.’

Only those unwavering can truly embody the sword of Diancang. But he had cast aside his own firmness.

What he now wielded with his hands was not the sword of Diancang. From the moment he bowed his head before Jang Ilso, he was left with nothing but an empty shell.

Paaat.

Jin Songwon’s blade sliced a long gash across Chung Myung’s face as it swept past.

‘Master.’

There was no regret. Even if he were placed in the same situation again, he would have made the same choice.

At last, Chung Myung’s sword flew in.

There was not the slightest tremor.

The unwavering resolve Jin Songwon had so long yearned for was right there. No matter how shaken or wounded he might have been, there was a tenacity in that sword that never ceased to move forward.

Jin Songwon closed his eyes. It was all over now.

But the sound that reached his ears at that moment was not that of his neck being severed, but the piercing clash of metal striking against metal.

Kaang!

Jin Songwon opened his eyes again. The back of a stranger came into his view.

No matter how generously you tried to phrase it, you couldn’t call his statue impressive.

Shoulders trembling pathetically, heaving raggedly, a blood-soaked man gasping for breath.

Jin Songwon stared at him, dumbfounded. A man who had forced his way through this horrifying battlefield to stand before him.

“Stop.”

Baek Cheon. He had saved Jin Songwon.

“Now, stop this foolish nonsense.”

With a sword aimed at his fellow disciple.