“Even the finest armies of the world seem unable to handle the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint.”

Ho Ga-Myung slightly frowned as he watched Gwi Yang sneer so openly.

“Even after that, he still seems intent on moving his mouth.”

“Kuk kuk kuk.”

Gwi Yang laughed without answering, and Ho Ga-Myung shook his head.

“There’s no way the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint could have devised such a stratagem.”

“Are you underestimating him?”

“No.”

Ho Ga-Myung answered calmly.

“He’s not the sort who needs to trouble himself with plans to flee unscathed. Such schemes are the kind thoughts of rats like me.”

“........Rats?”

“Yes. And on that ship there’s a rat like me aboard.”

“So it’s the Green Forest King.”

“Indeed.”

Gwi Yang nodded. Indeed, such petty tricks were often used by the Green Forest.

“Thinking about it leaves a bad taste.”

Gwi Yang spat the blood from his lips.

“Well? How about making them regret leaving us behind?”

“Regret?”

“They’ll expect us to pursue them immediately. But I think they have a bit of leeway.”

Gwi Yang glanced toward the Southern Island.

“We should make them pay dearly for daring to leave us.”

“Impossible.”

Ho Ga-Myung cut him off as if there was nothing to consider. Gwi Yang’s brows twitched in displeasure.

“I have no reason to listen to you.”

“You seem to understand the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, but you still don’t know the Green Forest King well enough.”

“Hm?”

“He’s not that easy. He knows we’ll be forced to pursue immediately.”

“Why’s that?”

“Have you forgotten what’s in Guangdong?”

At that, Gwi Yang fell silent for a moment.

What’s in Guangdong? It’s a question that needs no thought—at least not for them.

“...It’s our main headquarters.”

“Yes.”

Across that sea lies the Ten Thousand People Clan’s main headquarters. And that headquarters is currently empty—the remaining forces were all taken by Ho Ga-Myung.

“If we fall behind, they’ll without hesitation strike for the headquarters. Rather than burn the Southern Island, they’d prefer to make us lose the main base.”

“Are they obsessed with that pavilion?”

“Pavilions are meaningless—the issue is that the headquarters’ storehouses still hold the wealth and provisions stocked up for the war with Northern lands.”

Ho Ga-Myung said in an emotionless voice.

“If, while slaughtering the Southern Island, the headquarters’ provisions were all burned—then the Alliance lord would likely test you himself. To see whether a person can survive whatever fate befalls them.”

Gwi Yang fell silent.

He feared nothing in the world, but place was another matter. Just imagining that place approaching with a smile sent chills down his spine.

“...We must hurry.”

“If you have time to talk, move. Even now that rat is probably praying we’ll delay even a little longer.”

“Understood.”

Gwi Yang turned and left without hesitation. Ho Ga-Myung watched the departing ship with cold eyes and muttered.

“You seem to have been drunk on it as well, Green Forest King.”

Ho Ga-Myung lifted a corner of his mouth. It was a scheme befitting Im So-Byeong and yet entirely unlike him.

Tactically it was utterly Im So-Byeong—forcing the opponent’s choice and deriving benefit from it.

But strategically it was not Im So-Byeong at all.

But the Im So-Byeong he knew would never do such madness. If he led the comparatively weaker Green Forest followers through prolonged strife, he would surely understand what it meant to lead the Southern Island Sect’s disciples in breaking through Southern land.

He wouldn’t be ignorant of what such a breakthrough entails.

In this situation, the only choice Im So-Byeong should have made was one: abandon Southern Island without looking back and leave.

If so, Southern Island might be lost, but the core of the Heavenly Friends Alliance could have returned alive. Im So-Byeong would have known that was the right course.

Yet there is only one reason Im So-Byeong chose this path.

Those who manipulate the world with their minds are, in the end, driven by things beyond reason. It’s strange but tediously recurrent that the most rational are drawn to the most irrational.

Drunk on the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint, Chung Myung, Im So-Byeong likely had no other choice. Proposals his followers wouldn’t choose were pointless; he could only do his best within limits.

From that angle, Im So-Byeong’s stratagem had merit. But...

“In exchange, the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint must die.”

Ho Ga-Myung would make it so.

Even if it meant losing everyone else, even if he must give his neck as punishment for killing the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint by his own decree, he would never let that man return alive to Gangnam soil.

Because that was the only way to part with the unbearable anxiety that had plagued Ho Ga-Myung since the moment he first met that man.

“Bring the pigeon!”

“Yes!”

Ho Ga-Myung started ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to turn away without interest, then paused.

‘More than that...’

He scanned the horribly ravaged coast and murmured.

“The Mount Hua’s Sword Saint...”

Isn’t it almost laughable to call someone with hands so cruel even the Evil Sect would shudder at a ‘sword saint’?“

“I’d prefer a Plum Blossom Sword Ghost.”

Ho Ga-Myung sneered slightly and turned away without regret.

The waves carelessly pushed away the flowing blood.

“Throw it!”

“Hrrrghaaah!”

Jo Gul tore a plank from the deck and hurled it with all his strength. The board spun fiercely across the water, and Chung Myung himself ran across it and leaped into the air.

“Ugh-cha!”

Each time Jo Gul and Yoon Jong threw a plank, Chung Myung stepped across them in succession, drawing steadily closer to the ship.

At last, after stepping on the final plank and leaping high, Chung Myung landed upon the deck.

Thud!

With a dull sound, red blood plopped onto the deck.

“Chung Myung!”

“Are you... okay...”

The Mount Hua disciples who intended to rush like the wind flinched and froze involuntarily. The murderous aura radiating from Chung Myung made even them recoil.

‘Chung Myung......’

Yoon Jong bit his lip.

A terrible chill flowed from Chung Myung’s eyes—enough to make one believe he was a demon freshly clawed out of hell.

If they approached another step, it felt as if the sword in his hand would fly at them. Even knowing he wouldn’t, none could easily move.

While everyone stood frozen, only one person did not stop and walked straight toward Chung Myung.

“Chung Myung.”

At that, Chung Myung’s gaze snapped sharply toward him. The hand gripping the sword trembled for a moment.

“Are you alright?”

At that single word, the murderous intensity in Chung Myung’s eyes slowly slackened. Staring blankly at Yu Yiseol, who had come close, Chung Myung slowly lowered the sword he held.

“...Of course.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

Chung Myung shrugged and joked, then wiped his sword and slid it back into its scabbard.

“Ch-Chung Myung!”

“Sahyung! You’re hurt!”

Only then did the other Mount Hua disciples shout and rush forward.

Namgung Do-Wei exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

His whole body was drenched in cold sweat in an instant. It had been only a brief standoff—barely enough for one breath—but the pressure it placed on him exceeded imagination.

‘That Mount Hua’s Sword Saint......’

The Chung Myung he knew was always composed.

Even if his sword was deadly, Chung Myung always watched his surroundings even in crisis. At least that’s how Namgung Do-Wei had seen him.

That Chung Myung had been unable to control his murderous aura showed how fierce the coastal battle had been.

But what jolted Namgung Do-Wei was not the Ten Thousand People Clan that had driven the Mount Hua’s Sword Saint to that state.

He was shocked that Yu Yiseol had approached the aura-emitting Chung Myung as if nothing unusual had occurred.

‘How could he do that?’

Even Namgung Do-Wei, who had kept some distance, felt at that moment a murderous impulse to draw his sword. To be honest, it was less a desire to draw steel than to hurl himself overboard.

How could anyone approach such a radiating killer without drawing a blade? If Chung Myung had swung, their heads would have been cut off.

‘This isn’t normal...’

Was it that the other Mount Hua disciples didn’t trust Chung Myung and so wouldn’t approach?

No one truly believed Chung Myung would swing at them. Yet bodies froze—human reaction and survival instinct when faced with unexpected danger.

No one who cared for their life even a little would do such a thing.

“Take it off, Sahyung!”

“...Are you insane?”

“What the hell are you talking about! I’m saying take off your clothes to check the wound!”

“Why are you shouting?”

As always, when Chung Myung began tussling with Tang Soso, Baek Cheon approached Chung Myung carrying a large bucket.

“Chung Myung.”

“Hm?”

When Chung Myung looked up, Baek Cheon offered the bucket in his hands.

“...Wash up a bit first. You look awful.”

Not because he’s filthy—it’s that always being splattered in blood like a demon looks bad. Especially when they’re not the only ones here.

Only then did Chung Myung glance around.

He saw Southern Island Sect’s disciples who couldn’t even muster the courage to approach; even Geum Yang-Baek, Southern Island’s sect leader, stared at them with a pale face but couldn’t bring himself to come over and speak.

“Tch.”

Realizing anew how different this world was from before, Chung Myung took the bucket Baek Cheon offered.

He immediately poured it over his head.

Shhhh!

Water poured and washed away much of the blood that had coated Chung Myung. It wasn’t perfectly clean in one go, but it was much more presentable.

In that moment Baek Cheon eyed Chung Myung’s body swiftly. He clearly saw the clothing covering Chung Myung’s leg darken with fresh wetness.

“Your leg...”

“Hm?”

Chung Myung glanced at his leg as if it were nothing. Through the long tear in his clothing a deep wound was exposed.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it poisoned?”

Baek Cheon’s face hardened.

After washing off the other’s blood, Chung Myung’s own blood became visible. Its color was blackish. Baek Cheon bit his lip hard.

“Soso. The antidote...”

“Enough.”

Chung Myung shook his head and stretched his hand forward. His hand slowly darkened, and from his fingertips a red, concentrated blossom flared. At the same time a sharp, pungent scent radiated all around.

“Not even that potent a poison, really.”

“You...”

“Don’t worry. I tore the ship apart for the price of one blow to my leg.”

Baek Cheon bit his lip silently.

‘I misjudged.’

It wasn’t that he underestimated the opponent. But with the Ten Thousand People Clan’s main forces on the Yangtze, he thought there’d be no one here who could match Chung Myung.

That complacent judgment nearly produced irreversible consequences.

“Chung Myung. I...”

“Sasuk.”

“Hm?”

“There’s no time for idle talk. Move. Those bastards will be on us soon.”

“......”

“Isn’t that right?”

A deep sigh escaped Baek Cheon.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“Then tell them to increase speed.”

“Right.”

As Baek Cheon moved to give orders, Chung Myung looked back toward the coast.

’ Ten Thousand People Clan......’

They’re more brutal than he thought. But there’s no choice. This isn’t done because they can; it’s done because they must.

‘I will get us out at all costs.’

Cold murderous intent streamed from Chung Myung’s eyes.

And Yu Yiseol quietly watched that Chung Myung, his eyes unreadable as ever.