If one must bear it. (1)

Chung Myung fixed his gaze on the blue sword energy emanating from the masked man.

It was immaculate, devoid of a single blemish.

‘Just Sects’ techniques [정공(正功)/or orthodox techniques].’

It was definitely an orthodox technique. And it had reached quite a high level. This was clear proof that the martial art in question belonged to a prestigious sect.

Chung Myung’s eyes were ferociously distorted.

“…A a traitor.”

At his muttered words, the corner of the masked man’s mouth twitched. A voice that seemed to carry both displeasure and amusement emerged.

“I can’t deny it, but it doesn’t exactly feel good.”

“Stop your chatter.”

A crimson aura flowed through Chung Myung’s sword, thick with murderous intent. At that, the gaze of the masked man – Jin Songwon – darkened.

If someone else had said what Chung Myung did, Jin Songwon would not have objected. After all, it was an undeniable fact. Besides, he was like a walking corpse with no honor left to protect. He had no reason to waste energy taking offense.

But…

“Even if the entire world criticizes me, I have no intention of making excuses.”

“…”

“But you, of all people, cannot. You have no right to utter those words.”

It was Chung Myung’s choice that had driven them to this wretched state. Perhaps it was a decision made without much thought, which led to this catastrophe.

Even if that decision wasn’t wrong, even if it was something no one under the heaven could blame, they at least deserved the chance to let out a single scream. 

And so, he wanted to ask.

“Do you know who I am?”

It was a question burdened with so much that it felt paradoxically simple. Chung Myung gave an even simpler answer to that long-standing question.

“Why bother?”

His voice was colder than ever.

“You’re a traitor anyway. Would knowing it change anything?”

Jin Songwon let out a hollow laugh. It was so true he couldn’t think of a retort.

And yet, those relentlessly cold words stirred up a surge of inexplicable rage within him.

Traitor. Can everything be defined by that single word? Him as well, and Diancang?

“What difference could there be? Between someone who betrayed and someone forced to betray.”

Jin Songwon spoke in a voice tinged with laughter, sounding almost like a hollow self-mockery. But Chung Myung did not accept any of it.

“There’s no difference. The result is the same.”

“…Is that so?”

Jin Songwon let out a soft chuckle. But the bitterness within it did not reach Chung Myung.

Chung Myung had no intention to understand it.

There is no such thing as betrayal without a story behind it in the first place.

Even if others see it as a shameless act of betrayal over something trivial, the betrayer might have had a desperate reason of their own.

It’s impossible that Chung Myung had never encountered such people.

In the past, when he fought enemies far worse than now, when he had to endure a despair far deeper than this, was there really no one who betrayed him? Were there no people who, just to survive, worshipped the Heavenly Demon as a god and raised their blades against the very place they had once belonged to?

“Let me ask you the opposite.”

“…What do you mean?”

“If I had a story – if I had a reason – would you tolerate me driving a blade into your fellow disciples’ necks?”

Jin Songwon momentarily hesitated. Perhaps he couldn’t answer at all.

Chung Myung stared at him as though he already knew the answer. His icy glare raked across Jin Songwon’s heart like a blade.

Chung Myung spoke in a chilling tone.

“That’s why it’s meaningless. No matter the reason, there’s no one who would forgive a person for driving a blade into their comrade’s neck. So the only thing I have to return to you is hatred.”

“…”

“Peddle your sob story in hell, if you must. Maybe someone there will listen.”

Jin Songwon fixed his gaze on Chung Myung.

Through the gap of the mask, countless emotions filled Jin Songwon’s eyes.

“You refuse to listen at all.”

“Because there’s no reason to.”

“Is that really all?”

Jin Songwon’s voice grew quieter.

“Are you not afraid to hear it?”

“Spout your nonsense.”

“Haha…….”

A laugh like the sound of leaking air escaped Jin Songwon’s lips.

“I’m being serious. It would have been better if you were a monster devoid of emotion.”

Chung Myung frowned slightly. Jin Songwon added.

“A monster swallowed up by the cause of justice [정(正) – as in Just Sects]. One who never doubts his own rightness [옳음], never regrets what he’s done, and never once looks back as he marches forward.”

To be honest, Jin Songwon had believed Chung Myung was exactly that kind of person.

At least from what he’d heard, Chung Myung – Hwasan Geomhyeop – seemed like the very embodiment of self-assurance. He walked a path the whole world questioned and feared, without a single tremor of doubt. That was why he shone so brilliantly, and by that radiance, caused everyone around him to wither away.

That was why Jin Songwon had always expected it: the grand reasons that would spill from Chung Myung’s lips, the unfathomable defenses that would justify his own choices.

Yet, when he finally came face-to-face with Chung Myung, there was no trace of that at all.

“But in my eyes…”

And so Jin Songwon found it difficult to bear.

“I see only a man in deep anguish [고뇌*].”

“I suffer from no anguish. Especially not when dealing with someone like you.”

“Is that so?”

Jin Songwon squinted and let out a short laugh.

“Then you could have just swung your sword without an explanation. Yet here you are, wasting all this precious time on me.”

“…”

“You said all you can give me is hatred… so why are you looking at me with those eyes now?”

Jin Songwon could see it. No, it was precisely because he was Jin Songwon that he could see it – the faint pain hidden in that young man’s gaze.

Jin Songwon had once been forced to make an unbearable choice. Had it not been for that experience, he would never have been able to read the pain hidden in those eyes.

But what difference does it make to understand that pain?

That’s all there is to it.

The tip of Jin Songwon’s sword scraped against the ground. From the start, he hadn’t come to Chung Myung seeking an apology.

In fact, no one knew better than Jin Songwon that Chung Myung had nothing to apologize for.

So perhaps this was nothing more than petty venting. And yet, it was a final, desperate scream at the brink of life, something he could not hold back.

Gоoooooooo.

A thicker aura wrapped around Jin Songwon’s sword. And finally, the blade moved.

“I’ll ask you.”

Kaaaang!

“What was so different?”

A heavy sword came crashing down towards Chung Myung’s head. It wasn’t a blow meant to kill, but to overpower. The sheer weight behind it was enough to twist Chung Myung’s wrist.

“Were we the ones you could simply throw away?”

Kwaang!

The swords, which had parted briefly, clashed again. A booming roar followed one after another.

“Tell me.”

Kwaang!

“Were we so worthless?”

Kwaang!

Sword met sword once more.

Chung Myung bit down on his lip. The pressure felt like it might shatter not just his wrist but his entire body.

It wasn’t because Chung Myung’s body was in poor condition now.

Through the intertwined blades, Jin Songwon’s eyes came into his view. In the openings of the mask, Chung Myung saw a familiar emotion surging within them.

Hatred and resentment.

But that’s not all. What truly lies deep within is… a profound emptiness. And it made sense. After all, even hatred or resentment belongs to those who still have something left.

That’s the look of someone who has realized they’ve set foot on a road that cannot be turned back from. Yes, it’s like….

“Say it!”

Kwaaang!

Chung Myung was thrown back.

It was an unbearably pure form of true Just Sects’ technique.

That unyielding energy posed an even greater threat to the current Chung Myung than any demonic art. After all, what is already shaken cannot stand up to what is perfectly steadfast.

Blood surged up from his throat, and his dantian twisted as though it might tear apart.

Yet Jin Songwon brought his sword down on Chung Myung again without a shred of mercy.

Chung Myung slammed his sword into the ground and hurled himself to the side. The sword imbued with immense power crushed the spot where he’d been standing, reducing it to mud.

“Useless!”

Thud!

Jin Songwon shifted his footing in an instant and spun around. The tip of his sword traced a strangely distorted arc before it came hurtling toward Chung Myung’s chest.

Chung Myung frantically blocked it, but couldn’t fully channel his internal energy. It seemed impossible to counter a sword brimming with such fierce energy.

But at that moment, Jin Songwon’s eyes became wide open.

Kaaaaaaaak!

His sword, clashing with Chung Myung’s, bounced upwards.

Even though the sword was forced in a direction completely against his will, there was no recoil at all in his wrist.

Slash.

What he did feel was a searing pain.

Chung Myung’s sword had seized the opening, digging into his wrist. The blade, slicing through flesh, jolted as if to sever the bone. He felt every bit of that movement, all too clearly.

“Haaap!”

But instead of pulling away, Jin Songwon stepped forward. He poured all his internal energy into his wrist to block the enemy sword, then swung his own with all his might.

Kwaang!

When Jin Songwon’s sword strike hit its mark, Chung Myung’s body was hurled away like a cannonball. A thick cloud of dust soon billowed from the spot where Chung Myung crashed into the ground.

Jin Songwon glanced briefly at his wrist. Blood was streaming from a gash so deep that the bone was visible.

It was Ihwa-jeobmog** at a level almost impossible to believe.

‘In that situation?’

It was as though he had performed acrobatic tricks on a single strand of hair stretched between two cliffs – utter lunacy.

And to unleash such a technique not in a mere spar but in a real fight?

Still, what was truly unsettling for Jin Songwon was something else.

Not the large wound carved into his wrist, but the small sword cut [검상(劍傷)] that lay above it.

Compared to the deeper injury below, it could almost be dismissed as a scratch. But if the person who was knocked away by Jin Songwon’s sword energy still managed to swing his sword and leave that mark, its meaning was beyond compare to the earlier wound.

“Ha… haha.”

Jin Songwon let out a dry laugh.

“Yes. That’s how it should be.”

He couldn’t clearly identify this emotion surging within him now. But one thing was certain.

He had yet to pour out everything. No, he hadn’t poured out anything at all.

“I earnestly wished for you to be incomparably strong. More than anyone else.”

After all, if the one who bears this misdirected hatred is overwhelmingly powerful, perhaps it might lessen even a fraction of this injustice.

Chung Myung emerged through the swirling dust. His steps were perfectly steady, without the slightest falter.

“Ptui!”

He spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and fixed Jin Songwon with a chilly glare.

In that moment, Jin Songwon felt an indescribable tremor. His heart surged, and goosebumps rippled across his entire body.

“You’re too quick to feel satisfied. We haven’t even begun.”

“…”

Jin Songwon opened his mouth to answer but then shook his head. What words could possibly matter now?

Conversation was meaningless from the outset. Their swords were not seeking any deeper meaning. His questions and Chung Myung’s answers would forever remain out of step.

Wooong.

Jin Songwon’s sword resonated once more. Chung Myung also strode forward in silence.

Facing each other, they walked closer.

Step. Step.

At the end of a road that would have been better had they passed each other by, they now stood in each other’s way. The one who must press on and the one with no path to retreat had no choice but to meet head-on.

Kaang!

Their swords collided. Amid the explosive burst of energy, neither yielded a step as their blades ground against one another.