Chapter 962: You Didn't Let Me Down (Part 2)

The red sun began to rise over the vast Yangtze River, and its rays flowed over the river's waves like a flood. It was an incredibly beautiful sight, but the onlookers began to feel a sense of urgency rather than admiration.

As the promised day arrived and four days had already passed, the sun rose as if it were indifferent to their situation. Beopgye's eyes shivered.

"..."

Unbeknownst to them, the long-awaited day had come. Beopgye turned his creaking head to look at Beopjeong.

"Mas... Master..."

However, Beopjeong couldn't bring himself to say more. He simply didn't know what to say.

Beopgye understood Beopjeong's feelings. In this place, the one who understood Beopjeong the most deeply was probably Beopgye.

But even Beopgye thought that Beopjeong would do something before the sunrise of this day. 

However, Beopjeong just turned and looked away without saying a word.

The Shaolin disciples stood like stone statues. Their faces reflected various pains. Over the past few days, they had aged visibly, and their faces resembled worn-out wooden carvings more than human expressions.

The vigor they had shown when they set out for the Yangtze River now felt like ancient history.

Buddhists carry the suffering of the world. But... was this really the kind of suffering they were supposed to bear?

Weren't they all leading everyone into hell instead?

Beopgye looked at Beopjeong again with eyes like red-hot embers.

"Bangjang."

"..."

"Bangjang!"

Only then did Beopjeong slowly turn to face Beopgye. Beopgye clenched his lips. Beopjeong's face wasn't much different from those of the disciples standing behind him. It seemed that they had all aged considerably in the short period of time.

But why was it?

Looking at Beopjeong's face now, he didn't feel any sympathy, even for a moment.

"What should we do?"

"..."

"Bangjang! We have to do something, don't we?"

Beopjeong looked at Beopgye with unfocused eyes.

"Bangjang! This can't go on like this..."

"It's okay."

"Bangjang..."

"..."

Beopjeong turned his head to look at the Yangtze River again, offering no response. The disciples surrounding Plum Blossom Island observed them indifferently.

'As if they couldn't guess what's happening.'

When Namgung is completely defeated, all this turmoil will come to an end. However, Shaolin will carry unhealable wounds forever. Not just ordinary wounds but scars deeply burnt and distorted by fire. These scars will remain until the moment Shaolin, as a sect, loses its name.

But...

'So, what's the point of all this?'

All it takes is one step. Stepping toward that water is not difficult. Once Beopjeong gives the order, the Shaolin disciples will fight valiantly without hesitation against those evil forces.

However...

'Isn't it just for his satisfaction?'

It was a trap over there, a carefully prepared pitfall. What Jang Ilso was aiming for from the beginning wasn't Namgung but rather those who would come to rescue Namgung. He intended to cut off Namgung's arm, take them hostage, stab a knife into their neck, and then aim for those who would come to rescue him.

Yes, that meant Shaolin.

No one could predict what evil is lurking in that rippling blue water. The moment they stepped in, everything Jang Ilso prepared would strangle Shaolin's throat.

Why did he think this way?

Because it was so obvious.

If Jang Ilso only wanted to, he could have sent his troops during these past four days. The Hao Sect and Black Ghost Castle have not yet shown their presence on this Yangtze River.

If they had appeared here, the choice for Beopjeong would have been much easier. They could have never plunged into something practically impossible.

But Jang Ilso didn't send his troops.

As if he was determined not to break the delicate hope Shaolin was clinging to, he was craftily keeping his forces at the ready, ready to tempt Shaolin into attacking Namgung at any moment.

Thud.

Beopjeong grinded his teeth.

'Coward?'

Right now, Beopjeong was more eager to attack than anyone else. When it came to blaming everything that had happened here, it would be Shaolin and Beopjeong.

Would it be difficult for them to order an attack and sacrifice their lives like firewood for negotiation? Would it be difficult to wail in front of the bodies of the dead Shaolin disciples, cry out loud, and scream for Shaolin's righteousness? This was what Beopjeong wanted to say!

Then, Beopjeong would remain an unprecedented moral agent in the world. Shaolin might crumble, but the name of Beopjeong would linger in this martial world like a legend.

But what did it matter?

Didn't Beopjeong know how the Mount Hua Sect, the one who was dragged to the brink of annihilation for the sake of righteousness, suffered? Did Kangho really protect them as they perished together with the Heavenly Demon at the top of the Hundred Thousand Mountains?

Chung Myung. The name Chung Myung, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, must be remembered. He was the one who gave everything to save this martial sect.

So, was that Chung Myung rejoicing in the afterlife right now?

Absolutely not!

'He must be weeping bitterly.'

Most likely, tears of blood were streaming down his face. That choice should never have been made.

Ironically, the one gripping onto Beopjeong's ankle right now was none other than the ghost of that Plum Blossom Sword Saint.

If it weren't for that crazy Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword, the Mount Hua Sect would surely have been wiped out by now. No one in the world would remember the name of Plum Blossom Sword Saint.

Who could force anyone to make such a terrible sacrifice! Who!

"Bangjang!"

"This...!"

It happened just when Beopjeong, with fierce eyes, was about to glare at Beopgye.

"Over there!"

"...!"

With Beopgye's desperate gesture, he turned his head quickly and saw it. Next to the massive hull of Black Dragon Ship, a small boat had docked. Then one person jumped down from Black Dragon Ship to the small boat.

"Jang... Ilso...."

It was unmistakable. Even if they were far away, those clothes easily snatched people's attention.

Another small figure jumped into the raft. He approached them slowly, as if he were leisurely enjoying a boating trip on the Yangtze River.

Thud.

The sound of footsteps echoed sharply in Beopjeong's ears. His heart began to beat faster, and the silence that had clung to it, as if it were attached to blood, suddenly thundered through. It rushed blood to Beopjeong's head.

Paegun Jang Ilso. The mastermind behind all of this! An evil spirit wearing the skin of a human, with no guards, was slowly approaching.

"This..."

Beopjeong's face flushed. He had put so much effort into it that the blood vessels in his eyes had burst, making his eyes turn red. And this rage was not only felt by Beopjeong. Everyone along the banks of the Yangtze, who occupied it, stared at Jang Ilso, putting all the evil they could contain into him. Just his presence alone could make an ordinary person's heart stop, let alone the rest.

But Jang Ilso, in the midst of that sinister presence, remained nonchalant.

Splat.

The wine bottle in his hand shook with a heavy sound. Sitting on a small raft, he leisurely drank his wine, enjoying the malice directed at him. The wine that dripped down his lips fell in droplets onto the Yangtze River.

"Ha..."

Beopjeong, unable to contain his anger, clenched his fist. His fingernails dug into his palm, and the flowing red blood fell on the ground.

'How far does this go...!'

How much more did he have to torture people before he was satisfied? Even the demons that Buddha faced couldn't have been so sinister! The ship that was slowly approaching them came to a stop.

Just around twenty paces away.

If it were someone like Beopjeong, he could rush in an instant and attack.

"Lord Ryeonjul." Jang Ilso, who had been looking at the Yangtze River with a nonchalant expression, glanced back at Ho Gakmyung. His eyebrows were slightly twisted as if revealing his discomfort.

"Let's go a little further. Don't these old men need to hear my voice more clearly?"

"It's not that they're old and deaf, it's just that even if they have ears, they can't hear. This should be enough."

"Tsk." Jang Ilso shook his head in annoyance.

"You have too many fears."

"...It's you who doesn't have enough, Lord Ryeonjul." Ho Gakmyung smiled slightly and added.

"And if it's something related to Lord Ryeonjul, it's right for me to be a coward. Isn't that my role? And Lord Ryeonjul should now value that precious body a bit more..."

"All right, all right. Enough of the lecture." Jang Ilso waved his hand as if he were losing his patience and slowly got up.

Jingling.

The ornaments he wore made a vivid sound when they collided with each other, even from a considerable distance. He cast an arrogant glance towards the warriors of righteous sects who were glaring at him., even though they were close enough for them to be next to each other.

"This..."

Everyone's faces were now contorted beyond belief.

Who wouldn't understand the significance of them approaching within striking distance, with no proper guards? It felt like swallowing hot charcoal whole. Everyone glared at Jang Ilso with fierce expressions.

At that moment, Jang Ilso extended the wine bottle in his hand forward and lightly shook it.

"Care for a drink?"

It was a nonchalant tone. Beopjeong's blood surged backward for a moment. But Jang Ilso seemed to enjoy it as he looked at Beopjeong's face.

"If you're just going to stand and watch, why not have a sip of wine while enjoying this view of the Yangtze River? Doesn't that sound right, Gakmyung?"

"The righteous sect guys won't appreciate the aesthetics."

"True, true. It's a pity. Being too rigid won't get you far."

As if disappointed, Jang Ilso brought the wine bottle to his lips, drinking as if to show off. The wine that had clung to the edge of his red lips trickled down his chin.

It was an eerie sight. Even though Jang Ilso, the current leader of the Evil Tyrant Alliance, who could be said to be the greatest enemy in the eyes of the righteous sects, was drinking right in front of them, no one by the riverside attempted to attack. It was as if they had both feet glued to the ground, watching Jang Ilso drink in front of them.

"Hmm."

After a moment, Jang Ilso took the bottle out of his mouth and let out a satisfied sound. The sight of his white teeth peeking through his blood-red lips was truly sinister.

"At least..."

He looked at everyone by the riverbank and laughed with a distinct, mocking tone. Blatant ridicule was laced in his laughter.

"I thought there would be at least something."

"..."

"I guess I overestimated you. No, no. Maybe I should say I underestimated you since you're so extreme?"

"Hmm..."

Jang Ilso nodded slowly.

"At this point, there doesn't seem to be a need to divide between the righteous and the evil sects. We can't find our way to survive as you do... I've actually learned a thing or two."

"Jang Ilso!"

At that moment, Beopjeong shouted as if his throat were about to burst. Jang Ilso continued.

"Watch carefully, you hypocrites who talk about cooperation and righteousness with your mouths."

Jang Ilso's chilling voice overwhelmed them.

Snap.

Jang Ilso flicked his finger lightly and shrugged.

"I'll give you a reward for enduring and setting foot on our land. From now on, Namgung disappears from this world."

"What..."

"Listen to it. That scream. That cry. That grief. Right here..."

Jang Ilso's lips curled up.

"Hold onto the life you've cherished by exchanging it for your conscience."

A little later, the raft carrying him slowly turned its bow. Jang Ilso cast a glance behind and said,

"Or... would you like to try killing me now? You, esteemed members of the righteous sects?"

"..."

"Hahaha, hahahahaha!"

Shame.

Defeat.

And guilt.

In the midst of this hell, Jang Ilso, carrying rising sun, gradually faded away.

Then.

The fleets that had lined up as if on guard against the righteous sects began to turn their bows in unison.

Towards Plum Blossom Island, where the remaining survivors of the Namgung family lay.