Book 13 Chapter 1

An Unfinished Story

- A Continuing Tale

It is no exaggeration to say that Jongkwai's story is not yet over.

As the strategy to eliminate Wi Cheonmu, the Blood God of a Thousand Tribulations, who was the embodiment and entirety of the Heavenly Tribulation Spirit, was unanimously approved at the Orthodox and Unorthodox Martial Arts Joint Council, the martial arts world began to bustle with activity.

Once approved, the plan could not tolerate any further failure. At this time, Gal Jungyeok, the Saber of Heaven's Domination, and Hyuk Wolrin, the Divine Lord of Tai Chi, had not yet revealed themselves.

A massive number of personnel were concentrated in one place, to the point of overcrowding. Soon, the work of setting up traps to stop 'him' commenced. The unfortunate fact that no existing mechanism in the martial arts world could hinder him had already been revealed at the cost of painful sacrifices and suffering. Therefore, the trap had to be made of people, or rather, a trap where people formed the core. Even the ultimate mechanical formation, the Hundred and Eight Consecutive Annihilating Ghost Formation, which was said to be inescapable by even a hundred and eight ghosts and contained the life's work of Do Byeokgun, the Heavenly Mechanism Craftsman (father of Do Gulgun, the Heavenly Mechanism Hunter), who was called the greatest master of mechanical formations at the time, was bypassed by him with only minor damage, as if in jest, without suffering any fatal wounds. After that incident, the Heavenly Mechanism Craftsman Do Byeokgun, despairing at the limitations of his own skills and abilities, could never again hold a hammer or chisel, which were extensions of his limbs, in his trembling hands. And this meant that there were no longer any mechanical techniques in the martial arts world that could stop him, or even offer a glimmer of hope.

Sacrifice was unavoidable under the circumstances, and everyone was prepared for it. The Orthodox and Unorthodox Alliance was neither so shameless nor so unrealistic as to hope for a miraculous resolution without any sacrifice. They all knew well that even if they paid an immeasurable price in countless sacrifices with a heart of shattered bones and broken bodies, the probability of success was slim. And so, at last, three gates were completed. People, pouring their hopes and wishes into these three gates, called them the Three Gates of Annihilation.

A letter, meticulously crafted by dozens of scholars, was sent towards the main base of the Heavenly Tribulation Spirit. It was both a challenge and a gamble.

It was impossible to measure the countless drops of sweat and blood poured into this single letter. It was perhaps the first time since the dawn of martial arts history that the black and white, the orthodox and the unorthodox, regardless of affiliation, ideology, or thought, had united in such a way.

And… as anxiety gripped the people, the fated day dawned.

The place chosen by fate was Luoyan Peak, located to the south of the five peaks of Mount Hua, known as the Western Peak among the Five Great Mountains of the Central Plains.

Hundreds of leaders of the orthodox and unorthodox martial arts world, who had gathered at the Hua Mountain Sect, waited for 'him' with burning thirst and anxious impatience. And…

As promised, 'he' came.

Upon receiving the report, all the masters of the orthodox and unorthodox martial arts world had to blush with shame and humiliation. As if they were beneath his notice, or as if he regarded them as no more than dirt under his toenails, he appeared alone, without a single attendant.

"The one who was in charge of the first gate back then was this old man."

This self-deprecating remark from Jongkwai, the Flying Sky Walker on Clouds, instantly pulled the representatives of the Cheonmu Academy from the past into the present. However, no one spoke. None of the people present had ever heard any of the stories that were now flowing from Jongkwai's lips. Not even Binggeom or Yeomdo.

Jongkwai, with his wavering eyes, continued his story. The old man remembered the events of that day as vividly as if they had happened last night.

"Actually, I volunteered. Honestly, in terms of sheer martial power, I wasn't confident, but I believed that in terms of speed, I was second to none. It was arrogance… *Sigh*…"

A sigh laden with regret escaped the old man's wrinkled lips. Jongkwai continued his story.

"It wasn't a mission with a high survival probability. But I was young and impetuous then, unable to discern right from wrong. It was a kind of desire for honor, perhaps. Of course, 'he' was terrifying by name alone, but as I said before, I took pride in my fast legs. I believed that even 'he' could never catch up to these legs. 'No matter how earth-shattering his martial arts may be, my lightness skill is the best in the martial arts world.' It was an absurd thought, but at the time, I truly believed it."

"So, to put it briefly and simply, you were confident you could run away swiftly without getting caught by the scruff of your neck!"

At that moment, all eyes turned in one direction. The author of this blunt summary was none other than Bi Ryuyeon.

Despite the rebukes from many who didn't know his true nature, Bi Ryuyeon remained unfazed, even proud.

Not only that.

"Huh? Did I say something wrong? Or do I have to speak the truth carefully, like some people?"

Bi Ryuyeon's attitude seemed to suggest he couldn't understand others' actions. The Suzaku Brigade and his friends, who had become immune to his behavior, simply let it pass. But the rest of the people couldn't.

As people were anxiously flustered by Bi Ryuyeon's thoughtless rudeness, a hearty laugh erupted from one side, capable of dispelling the awkward situation. It was Jongkwai, laughing heartily.

"Hahaha! Young man, you speak so refreshingly. You are right! You are absolutely right! There's no need to hush up the truth like cowards. Of course, there isn't!"

While everyone was dumbfounded by Jongkwai's booming laughter, only Bi Ryuyeon shrugged. It was as if he were saying, "See? There's no problem! Why all the fuss?"

After laughing for a long time, Jongkwai continued his story in a slightly brighter voice, as if some of the dark energy accumulated in his chest had been released through laughter.

"But back then, I was truly confident I could escape. At that time, there was no one in the martial arts world faster than my shadow! Thus, people gave me the nickname 'Flying Sky Walker on Clouds,' meaning I could fly through the sky and tread on clouds. That nickname was my pride and honor. However, it didn't take long to realize that the nickname 'Flying Sky Walker on Clouds' was an empty fame!"

His aged eyes, devoid of any trace of laughter, were now cold and stern. The gloomy curtain that had been briefly lifted by a pleasant breeze cast a shadow over the old man's face once more.

Though a hundred years had passed in vain, the horror etched in his retinas remained clear, unerasable by the sands of time and forgetfulness.

The old man could never forget the wind of that day, the sky that was as red as blood.

A hundred years ago!

He looked incredibly relaxed.

Wi Cheonmu, the Blood God of a Thousand Tribulations, enjoying a leisurely stroll on the vast plain spread out before Luoyan Peak, and the one hundred and eight leaders of the orthodox and unorthodox alliance, displaying the tension of facing a war that would determine the fate of their nations.

The contrast was striking.

To maintain secrecy, no one brought any attendants. The fewer people who knew, the better.

It was a meeting of one against one hundred and eight, separated by a hundred paces, but it was the crowd of one hundred and eight humans, not the single person, who trembled with fear and anxiety.

For instance, no one had the courage to look directly into his eyes. Pretending to meet 'his' gaze by looking at his nose or mouth was almost cute. Some had their eyes fixed on the dry ground, on rolling stones covered in dust, or on nameless trees behind them.

Representing the one hundred and eight, Master Hye-won of the Shaolin Temple, the abbot, stepped forward carrying a large, sturdy-looking box. Without a word, he opened the box in front of him. The box was made entirely of steel, appearing strong enough to withstand any impact. There were as many as eighteen locks on the box, all appearing large and robust, as if made from solid metal. This clearly showed how strictly the box had been guarded. And to prepare for any contingency, though their usefulness was uncertain, the sect leaders of the Hua Mountain and Wu Dang sects walked out as protectors.

The heavily sealed steel box was opened, and 'his' gaze fell upon its contents. After confirming the authenticity of the contents, he nodded.

"I will come to collect it soon!"

A short but firm declaration! His tone was as if confirming a predetermined future. It was a low, eerie voice that seemed to emanate from the underworld.

"Amitabha! We… we will not let that happen!"

Master Hye-won, summoning all his courage as if to cast out the clinging, wriggling shadow of darkness with his Buddhist incantation, replied. A great deal of mental energy was consumed to utter this short sentence. The pressure emanating from the opponent was immense.

Fortunately, he did not display any sudden malice and try to snatch the box in question, but the sect leaders of Wu Dang and Hua Mountain couldn't remove their hands from their sword hilts for a long time even after returning to their comrades. The goosebumps that had erupted on their spines and forearms, as vividly as spring grass, showed no sign of subsiding.

The steel box, returned, was re-sealed with eighteen locks, and eighteen people divided the keys. Specifically, three of the locks were directly connected to the box itself, as if they were one body (i.e., cast as one piece). And the steel box was equipped with a secret special ignition device, so if it were opened without a key, an explosion would occur, burning and melting all its contents.

The black box, containing the fate of the martial arts world, was once again securely sealed and ascended to the peak of Luoyan Peak under the protection of tens of leaders of the orthodox and unorthodox factions. Surely, there had never been a more magnificent and valuable bait in the history of the martial arts world.

…And at the appointed noon.

'He', who had stood frozen like a stone statue in a suspended time, finally began to move.

"And finally, the young me, who was in charge of the first of the Three Gates of Annihilation on Cheonmu Peak, came face to face with him. In fact, until then, I had only heard rumors, but I had never confronted him directly. Do you think my actions at that time were a courageous decision?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Namgung Sang stammered.

"Y-you mean me?"

When one's words fail, one becomes flustered.

Jongkwai nodded.

"You have considerable swordsmanship, but you are sometimes indecisive, infinitely weak towards women, hesitant when you have something to confess, disobedient to your superiors, and you prefer to blindly follow the decisions of others rather than making your own."

*Thump, thump, thump!*

Each word struck Namgung Sang's heart like a dagger.

'Wow! How sharp!'

Sporadic exclamations of admiration burst out from all around. There wasn't a single point in that long critique that could be corrected. Therefore, no one came forward to refute him. Despairing at the futility of their past friendships, Namgung Sang blushed and said,

"Yes… yes! Of course. I think it was a very courageous and bold decision considering the future of the martial arts world."

Clutching his aching chest, Namgung Sang managed to answer. Then, Jongkwai, leaning on his two crutches, slowly shook his head and said decisively without a moment's hesitation:

"No! It was truly a reckless folly."

"'Is this the first one?'

When he asked, I replied in a voice trembling like a quaking aspen.

'Y-yes. Th-this is the f-first gate.'

Only after drawing out all the latent courage hidden in the depths of my heart, along with all the arrogance produced by youthful blood, could I barely answer his question. I was too ashamed to say, 'I am the gatekeeper of this first gate.'"

The moment he saw him directly, Jongkwai's decision began to be regretted. Before meeting him in person, he thought his reputation was exaggerated, but upon meeting him, wasn't it rather understated? Even though he took no threatening action, he felt death lurking nearby. His heart pounded as if it would burst, and his breath caught in his throat.

A chill wind brushed past Jongkwai's neck.

"For the first time in my life, I vividly experienced the true meaning of the fear of death that day. I doubt I will ever forget that fear, even when I am old and senile and lose my mind.

He spoke in a relaxed voice.

'What will you entertain me with?'

He was as calm as if he had just come for a stroll. However, his voice had a magical quality that awakened the primal fear latent in a person's soul. Anyone who heard that voice felt anxiety and fear and trembled. Some, to shake off that anxiety and fear, pledged allegiance to him and bowed their heads.

'The Orthodox and Unorthodox Alliance Council has asked you to prove your ability to subdue the entire martial arts world if you possess it. This gate is where you prove your lightness skill.'

A smile flickered across his lips and disappeared. It was fleeting, but the old man remembered it vividly.

'A meaningless preamble. What's the main point?'

He was truly arrogant. It seemed as though nothing in this world could threaten him. The old man had to admit that he possessed an awe-inspiring divine power that even the heavens would fear. Still, I did my duty.

'Catch me and leap over that cliff before the sand in this hourglass runs out.'

What I took out then was a very small hourglass, about the size of a thumb. It was my own devised plan. And as you might guess, that cliff is the one right before your eyes!"

Instantly, the gaze of the delegation followed Jongkwai's fingertip towards the precipice-like canyon, which gaped open like a gateway to hell. A cold wind, mingling with the sound of flowing water from the dark depths below, sounded like an ominous cry escaping from the cracks of hell's gates.

It was then.

"How pathetic!"

From Bi Ryuyeon's mouth, another word that showed a lack of awareness of the situation blurted out. It didn't seem like he intended to tease Jongkwai, but truly thought so. Everyone furrowed their brows. They had to worry again about how to resolve this rude incident.

In fact, after the battle at Thunderclap Valley, Bi Ryuyeon's position among them had subtly shifted. Although they tried to deny it in their hearts, what they saw (though not clearly), heard (though not properly), and felt (though not with certainty) was undeniably real, not a dream. (Though there was still some room for doubt) Therefore, treating Bi Ryuyeon carelessly was extremely awkward.

Jongkwai, who thought he would finally erupt in anger at this repeated rudeness, trembled as if struck by lightning and stared intently at the ground.

His hands clenched his crutches as if to crush them. A faint, strained voice barely escaped the old man's lips. At first, it was too low to be understood without careful listening.

"Yes… it was pathetic. It was a truly pathetic plan. But no one expected to be so utterly disregarded… He said so too!"

The echo of the hundred-year-old ridicule still rang in his ears like a temple bell.

"'How pathetic! I will wait until half the sand in that hourglass runs out. Show me your skills. Run as far as you can!'

He paid no attention to me. I was merely a plaything. I was maddened, but I had neither the strength nor the right to retort.

As the sands of fate began to fall, I ran with all the strength I could muster. There was still a considerable distance to the cliff, and he kept his promise and did not move. Of course, given the small size of the hourglass, the time he waited was also far too short.

But I had faith. I leaped with all my might to cross the canyon. Of course, I had no intention of committing suicide. I had my own special secret technique, so I was confident I could leap across the canyon. It was a method only I could employ.

When I leaped from the edge of the canyon, about half the sand in the hourglass had fallen. I used my trump card and safely crossed to the other side of the canyon without falling to my death. Then I looked back. At that moment, I was so astonished that my eyeballs nearly popped out. He was already leaping from the other side of the canyon.

And he leaped across the canyon, which seemed to stretch to the end of the world, with the abyss of hell welcoming him below with its gaping maw, in a single bound!"

In a single leap!

"H-how is that possible! How can a human, made of flesh and blood, achieve such a thing!"

While they couldn't bring themselves to say the words 'absolutely impossible,' the past story of Jongkwai that the representatives of the Cheonmu Academy heard was not something they could easily believe. It was an alien tale that surpassed the boundaries of their common sense.

Then, a self-deprecating smile formed on Jongkwai's lips.

"Do you still think of him as a human like yourselves?"

Jongkwai shook his head, denying it completely.

"No. He is not human. If you have been thinking of him as belonging to the category of humans until now, you will soon realize how mistaken your judgment has been! And how tremendous a misjudgment it was!"

Jongkwai's words were filled with conviction.

"If he were merely an extraordinary human, we would not have gone to such lengths to hide this story for a hundred years!"

The old man paused for a breath and then said in a firm voice to all those listening to him.

"We on the other side were not just watching and cheering him on. Of course, due to time constraints, we couldn't even curse him with wishes of failure. As you know, proper curses take a long time. Instead, we fired countless arrows with the powerful bows already prepared. Dozens of steel arrows whistled through the air towards him.

Normally, a person's body has very limited mobility once they leave the ground due to constraints on their actions. We exploited precisely that loophole.

However, none of that mattered to him. He dodged and deflected the steel arrows, which could pierce steel plates, with impossible movements that a human could not exhibit, and landed gracefully on the opposite cliff. And he said,

'How pathetic!'

His voice was full of weariness. At that moment, my eyes met his."

Jongkwai paused for a moment and looked around at the people.

"What do you think this old man did then?"

The representatives of the Cheonmu Academy remained silent, no one daring to speak. Then, Jongkwai said with a wry smile, his tone seeming to mock himself.

"I should have run away as fast as my legs could carry me, like a dog with its tail on fire! That would have been the most normal and wisest choice! But I didn't. Or rather, I couldn't. Until he slowly approached and put his hand on my shoulder, I just stood there with my eyes wide open, like a statue, like a doll. I didn't dare to run away. Shamefully, I was already frozen in place."

Jongkwai's voice was so agitated, as if he were reliving that day a hundred years ago. His eyes seemed to be fixed on the past rather than the present.

"When he placed his hand on my shoulder, the last grain of sand fell, and I collapsed to the ground. I knew that because the signal was supposed to go off when the last grain of sand fell. It was a shameful spectacle. But I no longer had the strength or the courage to stand. However, my instincts were still alive. The instinct for survival. I unconsciously felt that I needed to distance myself from him."

Jongkwai continued with a stern expression.

"I dragged my buttocks on the ground, using my hands as feet, and continuously retreated backward. It was a pathetic sight, but I didn't have the luxury to think such things. Think about it! A person who boasted of unmatched speed in the martial arts world, now retreating backward like a defeated dog, like an insect, trembling with fear and cherishing his life, using his hands as feet instead of his weakened legs! How ridiculous it must have looked! It was a spectacle worthy of being talked about for ages!"

He still seemed not to have fully escaped the fear of that time. Fragments of memories from over a hundred years ago were like invisible shackles, binding his mind and body.

Perhaps the old man wished someone would point at him and laugh heartily. However, for the past hundred years, no one had dared to ridicule his pathetic display.

"What do you think this old man thought when he approached?"

Again, silence… Who could dare to guess? What they were hearing was, from their perspective, a story no different from a myth or legend.

"I couldn't think of anything. I just stared blankly at his approach, like an audience watching a Peking opera. I didn't resist, nor did I even think of running away. Not only my legs but also my hands, which were bleeding from being scraped, had no strength. The sheer presence he exuded was that terrifying. Finally, standing before me, he looked down at me and uttered in a very bored and weary voice, 'Is this all? Useless legs!'"

The pain that transcended a hundred years flashed across Jongkwai's aged face like a gust of wind. This was perhaps the most painful part of his recollection.

"After the judgment was passed, the punishment was executed. At that moment, a black flash ignited before my eyes. Then, a searing pain, like being burned, and an excruciating agony that felt like it would rip my soul apart, struck my entire body like lightning. And… and… I surrendered my legs to him, powerless, with my eyes wide open."

*Gulp!*

The sound of swallowing dry saliva seemed to reverberate louder than thunder. The representatives of the Cheonmu Academy, without realizing it, clenched their fists and listened to Jongkwai's story with utmost seriousness. The calm yet genuine horror in the old man's voice lent a vivid sense of realism to the story, drawing them into the scene a hundred years ago.

Jongkwai continued.

"As I lay bleeding in a pool of blood, screaming and writhing after losing my legs, he cast a careless glance at me and said, 'I take these legs as the price of your arrogance! From now on, you will never be able to boast of your speed in front of people again.'"

As if the ice pick of fear, deeply embedded in his heart, had not yet melted, Jongkwai's voice trembled even more severely. The despair, fear, and terror he felt then were conveyed even more vividly.

"I had never heard such a cold, terrifying voice in my life. And on that day, Jongkwai, the Flying Sky Walker on Clouds, died. All that remains is his shell. How could the Flying Sky Walker on Clouds, without legs, be the Flying Sky Walker on Clouds, or dare to be called the world's number one lightness skill? Of course, even with my legs intact, I would have been a loser who could no longer claim to be the world's number one lightness skill. And so, my fate came to an end with the last grain of sand in the small hourglass. The old man's sorrowful old tale ends here."

Jongkwai concluded his tale, steeped in regret and pain, with a bitter voice. Even this simple act of looking back seemed incredibly difficult and painful for him.

"…"

Silence swallowed all words.

Even after the story ended, the delegation, still captivated and unable to escape its grasp, remained lost in deep thought, no one daring to speak.

"Sigh…"

A deep sigh escaped from Jongkwai's chest.

"I have not yet awakened from that terrible nightmare. Until his death is confirmed, I will likely remain imprisoned in this nightmare tower made of despairing black stone pillars, unable to escape."

How many long years of sighs had he endured with suffering?

No one other than himself could answer that question.