Chapter 2
A warm ray of sunlight tickled his eyelids.
The boy, who had been frowning, suddenly snapped his eyes open. He raised a hand and slowly traced his face, then spoke in a voice of disbelief.
"I'm alive?"
He was certain he had died.
The memory of his eight extraordinary meridians being twisted by the red-robed man's palm strike was still vivid.
The excruciating pain of his entire body being hacked to pieces by the blades of the Embroidered Uniform Guard that followed still lingered, almost tangible.
The final blow, which felt like his head was being seared with fire, remained an indelible brand.
"That can't be right..."
He knew his own body's condition well.
Even without that final blow, his injuries were such that even the Divine Healer, renowned throughout the martial world, could not have saved him. His five viscera and six bowels were overturned, and his eight extraordinary meridians had burst.
On top of that, all the fine meridians throughout his body had been severed one by one. Not even a great celestial immortal, let alone the Divine Healer, could have saved him.
The boy lightly pinched his cheek. A sharp sting of pain followed.
"It's not a dream."
Just in case, this time he slapped his cheek.
"Ouch!"
His cheek throbbed. It was definitely not a dream. The boy rubbed his stinging cheek and looked around.
"What in the world is going on?"
He couldn't make sense of it at all. He couldn't even begin to guess.
After rolling his eyes for a moment, he quickly found a solution. He just needed to find someone who knew what was going on.
Changing his train of thought, the boy shifted his gaze.
"Where am I?"
Before looking for a person, he needed to figure out where he was. He had to at least guess whether they were an enemy or not. That would determine how he should act towards them.
He carefully surveyed his surroundings with a cautious gaze. Soon, his expression turned indifferent.
"There's not much to survey here."
It was simple, too simple.
A single bed that he occupied and a lone table were all there was.
"Looks like some kind of inn."
It was hard to see it as a private home. It was clearly an inn somewhere, where travelers would stay and pass through.
"Who brought me here?"
The boy first sat up.
"First, let's check my body's condition."
He didn't know who it was, but if it was an enemy, he had to run. To do that, his body needed to be in good condition. So, he sat cross-legged and gathered his mind. A faint stream of internal energy, less than a handful, flowed from his dantian.
The boy's brow furrowed.
"It's only ten years' worth. Well... after all that chaos, should I be grateful that even this much is left?"
He had come back from the dead. He would have had nothing to say even if he had lost all his internal energy. This much was something to be thankful for.
Sighing, the boy now moved his arms. He was checking for any abnormalities. Both arms were fine.
Next, he twisted his waist. There was a cracking sound, but no pain.
"My body's in good shape. Huh?"
Muttering to himself, the boy's eyes widened.
"Why are my arms so thin?"
To the eyes of a martial artist, they were slender enough to be called gaunt. No matter how long he had been bedridden, his basic frame would prevent him from becoming this thin.
The boy suddenly threw off the blanket.
He saw two legs that, while having some muscle, had not yet shed their youthful appearance.
"Come to think of it..."
A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he felt his chin with his hand. It was smooth. There was no trace of a scratchy beard.
Leaping out of bed, the boy picked up a hand mirror from the table. He swallowed hard and looked into the mirror. And then, his jaw dropped.
"No way!"
A boy with a slender jawline, slightly sharp-looking eyes, and strikingly pale skin.
The young Moyong Gi was there.
***
Seated by the window where the sunlight streamed in warmly, Moyong Gi blinked his eyes repeatedly.
It was difficult to accept the unrealistic situation before him in an instant.
"Was that all a dream then?"
But Moyong Gi himself knew better than anyone that this was not the answer.
The experience from that time was too vivid. If it were a dream, it wouldn't remain so clearly in his mind.
"Well, this is..."
His mind was a complete mess. His head throbbed. Moyong Gi pressed his temples firmly. Then, in an instant, his face contorted.
"Fuck! Why me again!"
He was finally starting to grasp reality. But instead of being happy about returning, irritation was the first thing to rise.
"Leaving aside talented guys like Myung Jin or Cheol Muhan, why me again! I went through all that trouble with a half-baked martial art, wasn't that enough!"
He had fought for ten years. Every single day was a series of tensions. The days he had laid his back on the ground could be counted on one hand.
"I'm sick and tired of seeing blood!"
He had shed an amount of blood that was difficult to bear. Enough to fill the Yellow River and then some.
"But what's the use of that! I couldn't even get close to that bastard!"
The emperor was strong. He couldn't even get close. Exchanging a few words from a distance was all he had managed. He was crushed by the miserable reality.
"Let me rest a little. I've done enough."
He wanted to throw away everything, the emperor, the Orthodox Justice Alliance. He wanted to throw it all away and go back home.
He wanted to live like that, laughing, crying, and sometimes getting angry with his kind older brother, his meticulous sister-in-law, and his twin nephews who were the apple of his eye.
He desperately wanted that.
"Fuck."
But he knew he couldn't.
Myung Jin and Cheol Muhan were waiting for him. He had to keep his promise to Zhuge Yeon. The tangled web of fate bound Moyong Gi like shackles. He couldn't bring himself to cut those ties.
"I have to go. I'm going, but."
A sigh escaped him in the face of the bleak reality.
"Haa. Forget the emperor, it's hard enough to handle that red-robed bastard right now..."
He was certain the moment they first crossed hands.
The red-robed man's level of martial arts was higher than his own. And by a considerable margin.
He was a master of a caliber that Moyong Gi, despite his long years and vast experience in the martial world, had never seen before.
Just thinking about fighting him again made him break out in a cold sweat.
But Moyong Gi quickly shook his head.
"No. I didn't know then, but I know now."
This difference was huge.
Before his return, it was as if he had gone to the battlefield bare-handed. Now, he at least had a kitchen knife on him.
"For now, it's the Dragon and Phoenix Inn."
Moyong Gi scratched his cheek with an ambiguous expression.
The Dragon and Phoenix Inn was filled with nothing but bad memories. He had many ill-fated encounters there.
"If I go there in this state, it'll be no different from before my return."
He didn't think of himself as weak.
Even as he was, there would be no match for him among the rising generation of his age.
This was because the advanced principles of martial arts he had learned through countless real-life battles remained intact.
"But there's no answer to a pack of dogs..."
If they came at him as a group, he wouldn't be able to handle it. He needed a bit more internal energy.
"A cultivation method is out of the question, so all that's left is an elixir..."
Tapping the table as he pondered, a thought seemed to strike Moyong Gi, and a grin spread across his face.
"I know just the thing for that."
For now, he could breathe a sigh of relief.
***
Warriors who showed promise were selected from each of the world's armies.
When gathered, their number was a thousand.
As if they wished to become one with the darkness, their black martial uniforms were each marked with a different number.
A general, looking down at them from a high platform, opened his mouth.
"Bring what has been prepared."
At the general's command, those who were behind him stepped forward.
They opened heavy sacks and poured out their contents.
Books. And martial arts manuals at that.
The Plum Blossom Sword Art, the pride of the Mount Hua Sect.
The Five Tiger Decapitation Saber, filled with the spirit of the Peng Clan.
The Flowing Cloud Sword Art, the bastion of the Zhongnan Sect, and others were revealed one by one.
When the ones who had poured out the manuals stepped back, the general spoke again.
"Take one each."
There was no chaotic rush to fight over the manuals. In the order of the numbers on their clothes, they each picked a manual they liked.
Number One picked the Taiji Sword Art of the Wudang Sect.
Number Two, the Hundred Pace Divine Fist of the Shaolin Temple.
Number Three, the ultimate technique of the Tyrant's Fortress Lord, the Severing Wood Hand.
And what the last one, Number One Thousand, picked up was the Six Harmonies Fist.
Number One Thousand's eyes darkened.
It was an insignificant martial art. So common that it could be found in the marketplace.
If the Taiji Sword Art of Wudang or the Hundred Pace Divine Fist of Shaolin were Mount Tai, the Six Harmonies Fist was a randomly rolling pebble.
Still, Number One Thousand could not say a word. Because even in the military, the law of the jungle still applied.
When the warriors had lined up again after Number One Thousand, the general on the platform spoke with a heavy voice.
"Ten years."
That was the time given to them.
But it surely didn't mean they were to comfortably practice martial arts during that time.
The lined-up warriors waited for the general's next words.
"Only ten will remain."
It wasn't a goal. It was an order.
Since he said only ten should live, only ten must remain.
The lined-up warriors, without exception, gritted their teeth.
But as if that wasn't enough, the general added one more thing.
"And only one will remain."
The warriors' eyes turned bloodshot. Resentment piled up layer by layer.
Forcibly suppressing their rising anger, they placed their right hands over their hearts and gave a military salute.
"Loyalty!"
They had not forgotten their duty. They could not forget.
Still, the general reminded them once more.
"Do not worry about your families. I will ensure they live without wanting for anything."
Those without ties were not considered in the first place.
Only those with clear identities were chosen. Only those who could be controlled were selected.
The warriors trembled with rage. They shuddered at the sheer ruthlessness.
The general, unconcerned, continued.
"Distribute the supplies."
A month's worth of food and weapons suitable for each martial art. Those who had chosen a martial art that did not require a weapon were each given a dagger.
When all the supplies had been distributed, the general drew his sword and raised it high.
"Do not miss the opportunity given by His Majesty! Seize it! Survive! You will be treated with the honor of being second to one and above all others!"
There was no heat filled with greed. The warriors still glared at the general with eyes glinting with killing intent.
But they still did not forget their duty. With restrained movements, they gave a military salute.
"Loyalty!"
The general gave a slow nod.
Then, he swung the sword he had raised high.
"Go!"
The Green Willow Mountain in Gansu had high peaks and rugged terrain. Even if a thousand warriors melted into it, it would not be noticeable. With Number One Thousand as the last, they scattered and hid themselves.
The general beckoned his adjutant with a hand gesture.
"Loyalty!"
"Release the recluses. Have them look after them for two years."
A question appeared in the adjutant's eyes.
He had heard that only ten would remain. To do that, they had to kill and be killed diligently. Looking after them would only be a hindrance.
But he could not voice it. Instead, he gave a military salute.
"Loyalty!"
The general added one more thing.
"The martial arts of the dead must be recovered. In the end, only one martial art must exist."
It was still a difficult thing to understand. This time, the adjutant couldn't hold back either. Instead of a military salute, he voiced his question.
"Wouldn't it be right for the survivor to take the martial art?"
There would surely be strong individuals among the warriors who received the later numbers.
Even if they learned a relatively weak martial art, their outstanding talent would allow them to get ahead.
He thought that such an individual learning a stronger martial art would lead to greater achievement.
But the general had given an order that completely blocked that possibility.
"Insolent! Do you dare to question the will of heaven!"
The booming voice did not hide its anger.
Snapping to his senses, the adjutant dropped to his knees with a thud.
"This subordinate has committed a crime worthy of death!"
He did not dare to ask for forgiveness. It would only provoke the general's anger further. He knelt and awaited his punishment.
"He is sentenced to one hundred lashes. Drag him away."
One hundred lashes would leave him half-dead.
Nevertheless, the adjutant let out a sigh of relief that his head was still attached to his neck.
The general, who had been watching the adjutant being dragged away, turned his gaze.
"No one shall question the will of heaven. If you are told to die, you die. Do you understand?"
"Loyalty!"
The officers and soldiers all knelt in unison.
The general, who had been glaring with sharp eyes, suddenly flinched.
His cheek was cold. It felt as if a cold shard of ice had splashed onto it.
The general raised his gaze.
Pure white snowflakes scattered here and there, sowing their seeds upon the earth.
(End of Chapter)