It’s Time To Wake Up From The Dream. (4)

“Ugh…”

Beop Jeong’s eyes trembled.

The Pirates’ fleet filled the vast Yangtze River, looking like a menacing black wave.

Of course, it was a sight they’d seen sickeningly often until now, so there was nothing particularly surprising or shocking about it.

But the problem was different: the flotillas that had cleaved the Yangtze River suddenly slowed in unison and began to stop in place.

That meant the Pirates had reached their intended destination.

Ahead of that fleet lay the wide expanse of Nanjing.

“Th-This…”

The land that should have been covered in green grass or ochre soil was filled not with grass or dirt but with people — those the world called the Four Sects Alliance.

The Ten Thousand People Clan and Black Ghost Fort, and even the smaller evil sects gathered from all directions.

The moment Beop Jeong saw that tremendous force with his own eyes, even he felt his legs go weak.

“A-Abbot.”

The Kongtong sect leader Jong Ri-Hyung also spoke in a trembling voice.

“W-What should we do now?”

Of course, Jong Ri-Hyung had never seen such an assembly of martial men. He could feel, bone-deep, what it meant to be overwhelmed by numbers.

Even a pack of insignificant dogs, if there are dozens, can tear apart a tiger. No matter how their average martial skill compared unfavorably to the prestigious Justice faction, when numbers like that gather, such differences could be ignored.

‘But what if they board those flotillas and cross to the north bank?’

Could they stop them?

Even if the Nine Great Sects held the riverbanks, could they possibly stop all those who seemed enough to fill the entire Yangtze?

At that moment Peng Yeop spoke in an emotionless voice.

“…It would be better to withdraw.”

But Jong Ri-Hyung knew that even Peng Yeop’s voice trembled faintly.

“If they attack across the river, our forces here cannot withstand them. At best we might inflict minor damage and then be annihilated.”

It was a calm, objective statement.

“B-But Peng Family Lord. If we do that…”

Jong Ri-Hyung began with a flustered face, but Peng Yeop coldly shook his head as if he already knew what would be said.

“This is no time to talk about honor.”

“…”

“Or what? Sect leader Jong, do you think we can stop them with only us?”

Jong Ri-Hyung fell silent as if his mouth had been filled with honey.

Unless all the other Nine Great Sects were gathered here, there was no way three sects alone could hold them. Besides, Shaolin’s forces weren’t even intact.

“Abbott, make a decision.”

Peng Yeop gently urged Beop Jeong. But Beop Jeong said nothing and merely stared fixedly across the river.

“Abbott.”

Just as Peng Yeop tried to press again, Beop Jeong opened his mouth and a boiling voice escaped.

“I tried to prevent this… I warned so many times! Foolish ones!”

What could have been handled had become this worst-case scenario because of the Heavenly Friends Alliance’s foolish choice.

His jaw trembled with fury.

Now there was no way to stop the Four Sects Alliance’s crossing. They would surely advance past Hubei to Henan.

What Jang Ilso sought was clear.

The Central Plains are vast. The Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families are grouped under the Nine Great Sects label, but in reality they are scattered across the wide Central Plains. Only about half of those sects are gathered north of the Yangtze, centered on Henan.

If he could seize that area?

If he could fight a decisive battle against the heart of the Nine Great Sects — centered on Shaolin, Wudang, and the Southern Island Sect — and seize its center?

Then the other sects scattered in the remote regions of the Central Plains could be picked off one by one at any time.

If Wudang and the Southern Edge sects opened their gates and joined, it might be possible to stop them; the central sects of the Nine Great Sects were certainly strong. But there would be no avoiding the aftermath of that war.

Beop Jeong knew why Shaolin and Wudang could be the center of the martial world.

It mattered that their martial arts were excellent, but more importantly they were rooted in Henan, the heart of the Central Plains.

From cults to the Demonic Cult, enemies prepared to fight to the death to destroy sects had always advanced toward Henan from the periphery of the Central Plains.

Therefore, however brutal the wars, Henan never burned unless defeated. That was how, a hundred years ago when the Demonic Cult ran rampant, Shaolin at least was spared from burning.

But this time was different.

If the Four Sects Alliance marched straight north to Henan, then even if they won, Shaolin would inevitably suffer catastrophic losses.

At the very least, Mount Song would burn without leaving a single cornerstone. Even victory would leave only scars.

How could they accept the horrific result of their headquarters burning and losing all disciples who would carry on Shaolin, while others reaped the fruits of their victory?

Cold sweat ran down Beop Jeong’s back.

“Hegemony Lord… this cunning, treacherous man…”

They had expected the Four Sects Alliance would target the Heavenly Friends Alliance first. But Jang Ilso’s blade was aimed not at the Heavenly Friends Alliance but directly at Beop Jeong’s throat.

Knowing Henan would burn, would they withdraw for now?

Or would they stay to the last person and fight to the death here to at least lessen the damage to Henan?

Beop Jeong could not easily choose either option.

“A-Abbot!”

At that moment, Jong Ri-Hyung’s ripping shout snapped him out of his thoughts. Then Beop Jeong clearly saw the flotillas filling the Yangtze all turn their prows.

Their direction was south!

Beop Jeong opened his mouth in stunned daze.

“…Alliance is…”

“Yes?”

“The Heavenly Friends Alliance! Where is the Heavenly Friends Alliance now?”

“W-Well, surely…”

Beop Jeong’s gaze turned to the hill rising over the Nanjing plain across the river.

From that distant place a familiar figure could be seen.

A vein bulged in Beop Jeong’s throat, and then a booming shout burst forth.

“HYUN JOOOOOOOOONG!”

It was a cry of despair, of reproach, and of desperate pleading.

The world seemed soaked in silence.

No — perhaps it was filled with countless noises — but whichever it was, it mattered little to Hyun Jong.

What mattered was that as far as he could see, it was all enemy.

Countless flags bearing the symbols of the Ten Thousand People Clan and Black Ghost Fort fluttered, and between them huge banners stood, adding to the pressure. The red character ‘Hegemony’ written on them seemed to stab at their eyes and chests.

And more than anything else, catching the eye was the snow-white carriage standing in the midst of that enormous army.

The grandeur of the large carriage drawn by eight white horses was imposing even from afar.

Anyone who knew the current martial world even slightly, anyone with even a passing interest in the tides of the realm, would know who rode in that carriage.

“…Jang Ilso.”

He was here.

He led all who followed him and, as if mocking the Heavenly Friends Alliance’s desperate struggles, had already seized the retreat and stood aloof.

Hyun Jong’s mind went white with shock.

He felt neither anger nor hatred. What gripped him was a vast emptiness that words like ‘dreadful’ could not fully describe.

‘Oh Heavenly Lord…’

How could it be so cruel? How could one be so heartless?

He had not asked for much. He had not shouted for rightful recompense for the agreements and decency they had upheld.

He only hoped for a small measure of peace sufficient to not nullify the blood and suffering his disciples had shed.

But had even that been too much to ask?

“Oh…”

“Th-This…”

Those who had reached the hilltop a step later were, like Hyun Jong, speechless. Even Tang Gunak of the world, and Meng So who seemed fearless, clenched their fists before the spread of despair.

“Is it too late…?”

Im So-Byeong forced a bitter smile.

The reality they had looked away from in hope was now aimed at them like the sharpest blade.

Perhaps it had been decided from the start. Maybe it was the harsh judgment they had to accept for daring to set foot on land dominated by Hegemony Lord Jang Ilso.

“…Fighting is…”

Tang Gunak stopped mid-sentence and shook his head.

It was meaningless. No matter how much the Heavenly Friends Alliance’s strength was concentrated here, breaking through them all and crossing would be sheer recklessness.

“Green Forest King! Is there a way to bypass them?”

“…”

“Green Forest King?”

Tang Gunak grasped at Im So-Byeong as if grabbing at a straw, but Im So-Byeong only answered with a bitter expression.

“It’s too late. Our opponent is the Hegemony Lord. They will not let us go.”

Tang Gunak quietly closed his eyes.

He had known it, too, but hearing it from the Green Forest King’s own mouth felt different. It was like being sentenced to a predetermined end. All that remained was desolation.

‘Was our decision wrong?’

They could not say that.

But if it was not wrong, then why were they meeting this outcome?

Despair is contagious.

Those who couldn’t move forward to see the river’s situation could gauge enough from the reactions of those in front. With senses on edge, despair rushed in faster.

“Ah…”

At that moment the Pirates’ flotillas changed course and surged toward them. The instant the numerical might of the 18 River Families set foot on this land, everything would be over.

Just as everyone there was about to put down the two letters ‘hope,’ Baek Cheon, who had been carried, strained and pushed Hyun Jong’s back and stepped down.

“Ba-Baek Cheon?”

Once on the ground he steadied his swaying head. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hurriedly bent over.

“Cough!”

A lump of dead blood gurgled out. Seeing the ominous color of the blood, Hyun Jong’s eyes widened. He realized, belatedly, that Baek Cheon’s condition was more serious than he’d thought.

“Y-You! Your body…”

Drrrkk.

But Baek Cheon, instead of speaking, slowly drew his sword.

“W-What are you going to do?”

“Now…”

Baek Cheon forced his drooping head up. His blood-soaked lips formed a smile.

“…If we just break through over there, it’s the Northern lands…”

“…”

“Right?”

At that moment those who had come down to the ground dragged their feet and approached Baek Cheon.

“We’re all here, sasuk.”

“Ha, it’s been long. Now it’s over.”

“Now we just have to break through there!”

“I’m tired. Let’s do it quickly.”

“Amitabha. I won’t come back to the Southern lands ever again.”

Shock and stupefaction filled Hyun Jong’s and Tang Gunak’s eyes as they looked at them.

The Five Swords, and Hae Yeon. They drew their swords with calm faces, their bodies battered yet still willing to fight.

It was meaningless. Resistance was pointless.

With bodies like those, they’d die without properly swinging a sword.

But who could dare tell them that?

Who could call hollow the will of those who dragged their unmoving legs and, with battered bodies, cried that they’d still fight?

“You all…”

“Do not worry, Former Sect Elder.”

Baek Cheon smiled faintly.

“Opening the path is our specialty. Right?”

All of the Five Swords nodded.

At that moment Hyun Jong realized — rather, he had been forced to realize.

That the disciples he had always believed he must hold tightly and protect were in fact leading him instead.

Mount Hua was not protecting them — they were protecting Mount Hua and the Heavenly Friends Alliance.

Baek Cheon dragged his feet and stood at the edge of the hill. His blood-soaked robe fluttered.

He saw the enemies filling the land and the ships pressing in like waves.

“Magnificent.”

Any who had taken up a sword, anyone who had hoped to be a hero, had likely dreamed of such a sight at least once.

At last Baek Cheon’s wish was coming true.

A voice of Chung Myung that he had once heard echoed in his mind.

• A hero? Well, I don’t know, but… perhaps a hero is someone who dreams an unbreakable dream, even until the moment of death.

“Alright.”

Baek Cheon lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Then I won’t let it break. Not ever.”

His sword soon glowed with a red murderous aura.