Chapter v13c1

The phoenix throws itself into the flames every three hundred years,

reborn from the ashes, they say?

The immortal phoenix, the firebird, does so…

The current martial world is too old!

I will make you reborn from the flames of regeneration.

The old past will crumble in these gray ashes,

and a new history will be born in the dawn’s light.

The stories of the past will end here,

and new stories will begin!

**The Unfinished Story**

– The Continuing Tale

Jong Kwae’s story wasn’t over yet.

When the joint conference of the righteous and demonic factions unanimously approved the plan to eliminate Wi Cheon-mu, the Heavenly Tribulation Blood God, from the martial world, the land went into overdrive.

The approved plan allowed for no further failures. At that time, Gal Jeung-hyeok, the Hegemon Blade, and Hyeok Wol-rin, the Taiji Divine Lord, had yet to reveal themselves.

A massive workforce was mobilized, concentrated in one location. The construction of the trap to stop “him” began. It had already been proven, at a heavy cost, that no mechanical contraption in the current martial world could stop him. Therefore, the trap had to be based on manpower, with humans as its core. Even the One Hundred and Eight Cycle Demon-Slaying Formation, a deadly trap designed by the renowned Trap Master Do Byeok-gun (father of Do Gul-gun, the Trap Prodigy), which was said to be inescapable even for one hundred and eight demons, had been effortlessly broken by “him,” leaving only minor scratches as a token of his amusement. After that incident, Trap Master Do Byeok-gun, despairing at the limitations of his skills, never again held a hammer or chisel, the extensions of his limbs, in his trembling hands. And it meant that there was no longer any trap technology in the martial world that could even offer a glimmer of hope against “him.”

Sacrifice was inevitable, and everyone was prepared for it. The righteous and demonic alliance wasn’t so naive or unrealistic as to expect a miraculous solution without any casualties. They knew that the chances of success were slim, even if they were willing to pay an immeasurable price in blood and sacrifice. Thus, the three trials were finally completed. People called them the “Three Gates of Tribulation Extinction,” imbuing them with their hopes and desires.

A letter, meticulously crafted by dozens of scholars, was sent to the headquarters of the Heavenly Tribulation. It was a challenge, a gamble.

The letter contained the blood, sweat, and tears of countless people. It was perhaps the first time in the history of the martial world that the righteous and demonic factions, black and white, had united, setting aside their differences in affiliation, ideology, and beliefs.

And… the fateful day arrived, amidst a growing sense of anticipation and anxiety.

The chosen location was Falling Goose Peak, the southernmost of the five peaks of Mount Hua, known as the Western Peak.

Hundreds of leaders from the righteous and demonic factions gathered at Mount Hua, waiting for “him” with a burning thirst and impatience. And…

He arrived, as promised.

The members of the righteous and demonic factions were filled with shame and humiliation. He had appeared alone, without a single escort, as if he didn’t even acknowledge their existence, or perhaps considered them nothing more than dirt beneath his fingernails.

“I was the one in charge of the first trial.”

Sky-Soaring Cloud-Treader Jong Kwae’s self-deprecating words brought the Cheonmu Academy delegation back to the present. But no one spoke. None of them, not even Binggeom and Yeomdo, had ever heard this story before.

Jong Kwae continued, his eyes flickering with a distant memory. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

“I volunteered. Honestly, I wasn’t confident in my martial arts skills, but I believed that no one could surpass my speed. Arrogance… it was. Sigh…”

A sigh, heavy with regret, escaped his wrinkled lips. He continued,

“It wasn’t a mission with a high survival rate. But I was young and reckless back then. It was a matter of pride, I suppose. Of course, ‘he’ was terrifying, but as I said, I was proud of my speed. I believed that even ‘he’ couldn’t catch me. ‘No matter how powerful his martial arts are, I’m the fastest in the land when it comes to lightness techniques,’ I thought. It was a foolish thought, but I truly believed it back then.”

“So, in short, you were confident that you could run away without getting caught!”

All eyes turned to the source of the blunt summary: Bi Ryu-yeon.

Murmurs of disapproval arose from those who didn’t know him well, but Bi Ryu-yeon remained unfazed, even defiant.

“Did I say something wrong? Or am I supposed to sugarcoat the truth like everyone else?”

He acted as if he couldn’t understand their behavior. The Jujakdan and his friends, who were immune to his antics, simply ignored him, but the others couldn’t.

As they squirmed in their seats, embarrassed by Bi Ryu-yeon’s thoughtlessness, a hearty laughter erupted from one side, breaking the awkward silence. It was Jong Kwae, laughing heartily.

“Hahahahahaha! You’re a refreshing young man. You’re right! You’re absolutely right! There’s no need to be secretive about the truth. Absolutely not!”

While everyone else was stunned by Jong Kwae’s laughter, Bi Ryu-yeon simply shrugged, as if to say, “See? No problem! What’s the big deal?”

After laughing for a while, Jong Kwae continued, his voice slightly brighter, as if the laughter had cleared some of the darkness within him.

“But back then, I was truly confident in my speed. There was no one in the land who could keep up with me! That’s why people gave me the nickname ‘Sky-Soaring Cloud-Treader,’ a title that implied the ability to fly through the sky and tread upon clouds. It was my pride and honor. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that it was just an empty title!”

His aged eyes, no longer twinkling with amusement, were cold and hard. The dark veil, momentarily lifted by the refreshing laughter, had returned, casting a shadow over his face.

A hundred years had passed, but the terror etched in his memory remained vivid, undimmed by the sands of time and forgetfulness.

He could never forget the wind of that day, the sky that had been red as blood.

A hundred years ago!

He had seemed so relaxed.

Wi Cheon-mu, the Heavenly Tribulation Blood God, strolling leisurely across the vast plain before Falling Goose Peak, as if he were on a casual walk, and the one hundred and eight leaders of the righteous and demonic alliance, tense and anxious, as if facing a war that would decide the fate of the nation.

It was a stark contrast.

To maintain secrecy, no one had brought any escorts. The fewer people knew, the better.

It was a confrontation between one man and one hundred and eight, but the ones trembling in fear and anxiety were not the one, but the one hundred and eight.

For instance, no one dared to meet his gaze directly. It was almost comical how they pretended to look at him while actually focusing on his nose or mouth. Some even blatantly stared at the ground, the dust, the pebbles, or the trees behind him, as if avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Master Hye-won, the abbot of the Shaolin Temple, who had been chosen as the representative of the one hundred and eight, stepped forward, carrying a large, sturdy-looking chest. He opened the chest without a word. It was made entirely of iron, seemingly indestructible. It had eighteen locks, all large and heavy, as if made of solid metal. It was a clear indication of how carefully the chest had been guarded. And perhaps as a precaution, although there was no guarantee it would be effective, the sect leaders of Mount Hua and the Wudang Sect stepped forward as well, flanking Master Hye-won.

The heavily sealed iron chest was opened, and “his” gaze fell upon its contents. He nodded after confirming its authenticity.

“I’ll be back for it soon!”

A short, but firm declaration. It was as if he were stating an inevitable fact. His voice was low and eerie, like a whisper from the underworld.

“Amitabha! W-We won’t let you!”

Master Hye-won, mustering his courage, responded, chanting a Buddhist mantra as if to ward off the clinging darkness. It had taken a lot of effort to utter those few words. His opponent’s aura was overwhelming.

Fortunately, he didn’t resort to violence and steal the chest, but the sect leaders of Mount Hua and the Wudang Sect, even after returning to their companions, couldn’t seem to remove their hands from their swords. Goosebumps, like spring grass, still covered their arms and backs.

The iron chest was sealed again with eighteen locks, and the keys were divided among eighteen people. Three of the locks were directly connected to the chest itself, forming a single unit. And the chest was equipped with a secret explosive device that would detonate and incinerate its contents if it was opened without the keys.

The black chest, containing the fate of the martial world, was carefully sealed and escorted by dozens of leaders to the summit of Falling Goose Peak. It was perhaps the most valuable bait in the history of the martial world.

…And at the appointed hour of noon,

“He,” who had been standing motionless like a statue, finally moved.

“And finally, I, the young Jong Kwae, in charge of the first trial of the Three Gates of Tribulation Extinction on Heavenly Martial Peak, came face to face with him. Honestly, I had only heard rumors until then, never faced him directly. Do you think my actions back then were a courageous decision?”

Namgung Sang was flustered by the sudden question.

“M-Me?”

People tend to panic when they don’t know what to say.

Jong Kwae nodded.

“You, who possess considerable swordsmanship, yet are often indecisive, weak-willed against women, hesitant to confess your feelings, obedient to your superiors, and prefer to blindly follow others’ decisions rather than making your own.”

Each word felt like a dagger piercing Namgung Sang’s heart.

‘Ooh! Sharp!’

Exclamations of admiration arose from the others. Jong Kwae’s assessment was spot-on. No one could argue with him. Namgung Sang blushed, despairing at the fragility of their friendship. He stammered,

“Y-Yes! Of course. It was a courageous and bold decision, considering the future of the martial world.”

He managed to answer, clutching his aching chest. Jong Kwae shook his head slowly, his voice firm and unwavering.

“No! It was a reckless act of folly.”