Chapter 479

Chapter 479
## Chapter 479. Each Other’s Purposes (3)

—

When a human being is subjected to prolonged, crushing stress, the psychological burden eventually becomes unsustainable. Facing the constant specter of mortality pushes mortal endurance to its absolute boundaries. Under such unyielding strain over an extended duration, people occasionally manifest a bizarrely tranquil demeanor instead of panic.

During the initial phase of the Great War between Justice and Evil, under the relentless, daily threat of annihilation, lower-tier combatants who lacked the fortitude to handle the suffocating quietude of the post-battle nights frequently deserted or ended their own lives. Conversely, once the conflict reached its midpoint, the survivors began behaving like raucous carousers at a carnival. They would secretly brew illicit liquor from rations, wager an entire month’s wages on a single roll of the dice, and carouse while constantly gambling with their mortality. Fresh recruits arriving at the front lines for the first time viewed their conduct with a misplaced sense of awe. Yet, looking beneath the surface, these veterans were simply broken shells of men who had discarded all semblance of reason after being utterly crushed by the psychological weight of impending doom.

Viewed in that light, the suffocating anxiety currently blanketing Hwa-pung-jang was merely proof that its residents were ordinary human beings.

“….”

Furthermore, that heavy dread had seeped into the members of the Yong-bong Association. Finding themselves abruptly dragged into an active conflict caused the collective morale of the Yong-bong Association to plummet precipitously. Even though they possessed firsthand experience navigating the turbulent currents of the Muk-rim, acting impulsively in the heat of a crisis was entirely different from sitting idly and waiting for violence to arrive.

*Chomp, chomp, chomp.*

Their profound anxiety was unmistakable; though the dinner hour had come and gone, virtually no one had the appetite to touch their portions.

“…*Danju*, how can you even swallow that right now?”

Faced with a collective stare that treated me like some sort of bizarre phenomenon, I replied calmly.

“The culinary talent here is actually quite impressive, you know?”

“No, that misses the point entirely. Isn’t it an established custom to fast prior to a critical engagement or a duel?”

Granted, prominent martial organizations frequently require their disciples to skip meals before a formal match or an official grading. This is because contemporary martial artists are typically measured and valued based on these structured assessments. However, that practice is strictly confined to controlled environments.

“True, engaging in combat on an empty stomach has its merits. If you remain tense, you risk suffering from severe stomach cramps.”

A authentic theater of war bears no resemblance to a controlled sparring match.

“Nevertheless, if the engagement drags on, you will ultimately perish from starvation rather than a lack of martial prowess.”

“What did you say?”

Skirmishes can erupt unexpectedly at any hour, and no referee exists to call a halt to the bloodshed. Because adversaries will not halt a life-or-death struggle to accommodate a lunch break, missing a meal means you cannot predict how many hours you will have to swing a blade while completely malnourished. Even a prominent expert possessing immense internal reservoir can fall to a random, errant strike simply because their body ran out of fuel.

“Do you honestly believe Hyeol-cheon-bo will grant you a recess to dine mid-battle? Do you imagine Gwi-gol-mun will pause to let you quench your thirst?”

“….”

On a genuine battlefield, the warrior who nourishes themselves, tends to their bodily needs, and secures proper rest is the one who ultimately survives. This holds particularly true in a scenario like this where the enemy numbers are staggeringly superior; one must be exceptionally diligent in self-preservation.

“Perishing in the heat of battle is a consequence of poor survival skills. Do not lose your life over something so entirely foolish.”

Upon hearing my counsel, Danmok Gyo-ryeon, who had initiated the query, gave a violent shudder as though thoroughly unnerved. Her gaze then shifted to Yong So-a, who was methodically consuming his food, which finally prompted her to begin eating her own gruel. Witnessing this, the remaining members of the Yong-bong Association slowly began retrieving their utensils as well.

“Young Hero Jin. My name is Song Ye-seol.”

Right on cue, she arrived bearing the items I had requested. Stepping out into the courtyard, I found Song Ye-seol straining under the weight of a massive burlap sack and several high-capacity canteens. These were the rations of dried meat and water containers I had asked for prior to the impending clash. Because the Yong-bong Association functioned primarily as a social circle for leisure and dining, none of them had brought any functional field gear aside from their personal, treasured weapons.

“I appreciate your diligence, Miss Song.”

I promptly unfastened the top of the sack. The interior was packed to the brim with high-grade dried meat jerky. I proceeded to stuff my pockets with as much jerky as they could hold while simultaneously inspecting the water canteens. Throughout this entire process, Song Ye-seol remained rooted to the spot, keeping her gaze locked onto me without blinking.

“Is there something else you require from me?”

“No… it is just that this feels rather peculiar.”

Song Ye-seol spoke hesitantly at first, but unable to restrain herself any longer, she finally voiced the underlying question she had been holding back.

“What is your true motivation for offering us your assistance?”

“Comrades standing by comrades is…”

“There is no need for hollow platitudes. I have reached an age where I am fully aware of how the world operates.”

I silently calculated her age in my head. She was likely just over twenty years old. Had she been raised in a sheltered environment like a delicate greenhouse flower, she might still be ignorant of worldly realities. However, if she was someone who had scratched out an existence like a hardy weed, she had undoubtedly experienced enough to grasp the unforgiving nature of reality. Song Ye-seol undeniably belonged to the latter category.

It was completely logical for an individual of her background to bristle with suspicion when thrown a lifeline. Having cursed the freezing indifference of existence for so long, she now reacted with intense wariness, as if a genuine offer of warmth might blister her skin. As someone who had surrendered even the final remnants of her own livelihood for the sake of others, she was incapable of prioritizing herself, nor could she conceive that a stranger might care for her well-being. Even so, the sole reason she managed to retain her psychological grounding was likely the existence of a sacred duty she felt compelled to shield at all costs.

“I simply… wished to extend a hand.”

That was the absolute truth behind my actions. Because through the lens of the *sa-ryeon*, I could perceive the immense weight of terror and vulnerability she was enduring all on her own. I, too, had once spent an eternity wandering through a hollow, dark chasm, driven by the paralyzing terror of losing my own home and the crushing grief when that home was ultimately stripped away from me.

“It is nothing more complicated than that.”

I was offering this assistance as a form of personal redemption, an apology to my past self and to my younger martial brothers.

“There is no hidden agenda here.”

She must have been biting down on her lip with incredible force, as a trickle of crimson blood began to seep from the edge of her mouth. That blood served as a physical manifestation of her resolve to suppress the overwhelming urge to weep. It resembled a silent oath to never again allow herself to be duped by performative kindness. I retrieved a clean cloth from within my garments and extended it toward her. Yet, she merely continued to glower at me, motionless as a stone monument.

“The mortal realm is unforgiving, and the *Kangho* is even more merciless. Even so, not every soul navigating this space is a malicious demon or a phantom.”

During the bitter despair of my previous existence, I crossed paths with the So-jeong-dae. Within the ranks of the So-jeong-dae, I encountered numerous companions, bled alongside them, and bore witness to their ultimate sacrifices.

“There are moments when we choose to fight completely ignoring personal gain or detriment, and instances where we advance while fully embracing our own ruin. That concept is precisely what defines righteousness and chivalry. Is the sole reason we designate our path as the ‘Orthodox’ not because we esteem these principles above all else?”

The ideals of justice, chivalry, and self-sacrifice—which had been entirely absent within the grand halls of the Murim Alliance—were actually not far out of reach. They flourished naturally among comrades who resolved to bleed together, embedded deep within the determination of those who sought to preserve their companions. Down among the common, low-tier mercenaries where profanity ran rampant and hollow pacts or strategic calculations held no sway, lay the true foundation of the genuine ‘Orthodox’ spirit.

“Are the Lord of the Manor, yourself, and the numerous souls holding the line at Hwa-pung-jang… not currently risking their lives here precisely to defend those very ideals?”

*Drip.*

The tears she had desperately held back while drawing blood finally spilled over her eyelids and ran down her skin. The evening firmament was perfectly pristine without a solitary cloud in sight, yet spherical droplets took shape and splattered against the dirt.

“I chose to stand here because I was deeply moved by the conviction of the people of Hwa-pung-jang. If I am forced to articulate a motivation for my presence, I offer that as my definitive answer.”

*Sob… sob…* Song Ye-seol, completely overcome by her weeping, finally accepted the fabric when I proffered the handkerchief a second time, using it to clear away her tears and the blood.

“Do not burden your heart with excessive worry. The absolute catastrophe you have envisioned will not come to pass.”

Song Ye-seol, gradually stemming the flow of her tears, regained her emotional footing and questioned me in a rigid tone.

“What gives you the authority to make such a claim?”

“Do we not have Yong So-a on our side?”

“Ha… haha!”

Her severe expression dissolved instantly as she let loose an incredibly incredulous laugh. Illuminated by the radiant, golden moonbeams, her laughter evoked the image of a humble gourd flower glistening with morning condensation. A gourd flower that lacked the ostentatious brilliance of cultivated blooms, yet radiated a profound beauty far exceeding anything else growing amidst the wild brush.

“Why does a gentleman vocalize such grand convictions only to immediately take cover behind another person?”

“While I am a man, I do not possess the temperament of a grand savior. I prefer to take cover behind an individual who truly embodies the essence of a hero.”

Despite it being a self-deprecating jest, Song Ye-seol clutched her midriff and laughed uproariously. Having amused herself for quite some time, even neglecting to finish drying her face, she leaned in and murmured softly while gazing at the cloth stained with her essence.

“…I find myself wishing that we had walked the halls of the Murim Academy as classmates.”

“Provided we resolve this predicament successfully, what is stopping you from preparing diligently over the coming months to sit for the standard admissions test?”

Song Ye-seol regarded me with an expression that carried an incredibly intricate weight.

“No, by the time that rolls around, I doubt the object of my desire will still reside there.”

What could she possibly imply by that? The Murim Academy was scheduled to remain fully operational right up until the precipice of the Great War between Justice and Evil.

*Thud-thud-thud-thud.*
*Thud-thud-thud.*

In that precise instant, the hurried clatter of rushing footsteps reverberated through the air.

“I shall take my leave first.”

I instinctively reached out to detain Song Ye-seol but thought better of it, opting instead to project my sensory aura outward. Given that the overall dimensions of Hwa-pung-jang were roughly comparable to the historical grounds of the Tae-ul Sect, mapping the area required minimal exertion. My sensory web picked up exactly four approaching entities. Judging by the chaotic, uncultivated malicious energy radiating outward in every direction, they clearly belonged to the Unorthodox Path.

As I stood there contemplating my next move.

“Do you intend to remain stationary?”

A grating, entirely flat voice cut through the air.

“…Did you not previously state an aversion to confectionery?”

Standing right there was Yong So-a, holding a collection of sweet treats he had somehow managed to source.

“Given your awareness that proper caloric consumption is vital prior to a confrontation, were you truly oblivious to the fact that glucose significantly elevates mental acuity?”

“Ah, is that an actual scientific fact?”

“Have you developed romantic feelings for that maiden?”

“Pardon me?”

Yong So-a directed his gaze toward the pathway where Song Ye-seol had just departed.

“It defies logical comprehension. Utilizing objective criteria for aesthetic beauty, either Namgung Seon-hwa or Seong Mo-ran, who accompanied us during the standard evaluation, would be deemed far superior.”

As I glared at him with an expression that clearly signaled my absolute bewilderment at the nonsense pouring from his mouth, he pressed on.

“I posed the question because I could not discern the underlying logic behind your sudden vow to defend Hwa-pung-jang.”

“….”

In my previous incarnation, Yong So-a existed as a remote, unreachable celestial body that defied all comprehension. And currently, despite our proximity narrowing to the point where I recognized his ability to discern the threads of fate, I remained utterly clueless regarding his internal machinations.

“Are we not departing?”

“For what purpose? Do you intend to join the fray as well?”

“Was it not your explicit strategy to halt this conflict by thrusting my person into the vanguard?”

With those words, Yong So-a popped a sweet into his mouth and commenced walking directly toward the sector where Song Ye-seol had vanished. I truly could not fathom the inner workings of his mind.

Upon navigating to the primary training plaza of Hwa-pung-jang, I found the residents of the manor already arrayed in a crescent formation around four intruders, their blades unsheathed and their eyes burning with lethal intent. In stark contrast, the quartet of Unorthodox Path figures who had infiltrated Hwa-pung-jang stood there completely at ease, without so much as resting their hands on their hilts. Their collective posture mirrored that of a feral canine pack preparing to bring down an apex predator.

“What manner of underhanded scheme is this!”

“Come now, I already informed you that I have absolutely no interest in conversing with small fry like yourselves.”

“Watch your mouth!”

“Word reached us that the Yong-bong Association had arrived on the premises. We crossed over specifically to cross paths with them, so produce them without delay.”

As the Unorthodox Path operatives jeered openly, the complexions of the Hwa-pung-jang contingent flushed crimson with rage.

“Ah, speaking of the devils, they arrive right on schedule.”

The moment myself and Yong So-a stepped into view, every single eye in the plaza locked onto us.

“You lot constitute the Yong-bong Association, correct? Step forward so we may parley. If the atmosphere here is too restrictive, we can easily settle this beyond the gates.”

Their demeanor radiated an absolute contempt for the hosts of Hwa-pung-jang. I could easily deduce their underlying strategy. They were attempting to employ psychological misdirection to isolate the Yong-bong Association while simultaneously breaking the spirit of Hwa-pung-jang. I offered absolutely no verbal acknowledgment. It would be entirely inappropriate to take action while disregarding the authority of Hwa-pung-jang on their own territory.

*Crunch.*

To make matters worse, Yong So-a chose that exact moment to loudly masticate another confectionery right beside me. Because we remained entirely stationary, the Unorthodox Path group finally began to scowl in irritation.

“Are you lacking auditory comprehension? Or have your knees turned to jelly from terror?”

As I casually cleaned out my ear canal with an expression that asked what annoying stray dog was barking, the individual who had been projecting his voice unsheathed his blade.

*Clang!*

“Splendid, so your lot prefers to see blood spilled before talking! So be it!”

Just as he prepared to march aggressively toward our position.

“Hold your ground!”

Gongson Myeong barked out an order. He then shifted his gaze directly to me.

“Young Hero Jin, do you possess any desire to engage in a dialogue with them?”

“My primary concern is that I might inadvertently bring complications upon Hwa-pung-jang.”

“Dismiss such thoughts. Regardless of your presence, Hwa-pung-jang has already been pushed to its absolute threshold.”

If that is your assessment, then so be it.

With measured movements, the ranks of Hwa-pung-jang parted to form a corridor for the two of us. The Unorthodox Path ruffians immediately adopted highly smug expressions.

“You ought to have shown such compliance from the very beginning.”

The precise instant the Unorthodox Path fellow who had drawn his weapon made a move to return it to its sheath.

“For what reason are you concealing that blade? Once steel is bared, it demands to be swung.”

“….”

The countenances of the Unorthodox Path quartet instantly turned rigid, and a freezing stillness settled over the entire plaza.

“You insolent…”

“When a true gentleman unsheathes his weapon, he ensures it tastes flesh before returning it to its housing. Tell me, do you actually possess the anatomy of a man?”

A flash of sheer bewilderment manifested on the Unorthodox Path speaker’s features.

“Observing you closely now, judging by the patchy state of your facial hair, it is glaringly obvious you lack the proper masculine equipment. Did you perhaps botch an attempt to become a palace eunuch and find yourself relegated to Unorthodox Path grunt work instead? Fascinating… was Hyeol-cheon-bo known as an enterprise that actively recruits castrates? My word, regardless of how unconventional an organization prides itself on being, I was unaware your ranks were so entirely progressive.”

“Y-Young Hero Jin…”

Gongson Myeong appeared to be muttering an objection, but his voice was far too faint to register properly.

“You… you wretched… insolent whelp…!”

“What can an individual who cannot even function biologically hope to achieve? Do you possess the courage to clash?”

I rested my palm deliberately against my scabbard and catalyzed my internal reservoir to its absolute zenith. My internal energy, which had accumulated to a staggering three and a half *gap-ja*, manifested so violently that my martial attire strained at the seams, directing a concentrated wave of pressure squarely at them, while the detritus of the primary training plaza billowed upward to completely shroud their forms. As the cloud of dust dissipated, it revealed that every single member of the Unorthodox Path squad had instinctively bared their steel.

“Hehehe—what a collection of faint-hearted curs. And here I assumed only the Hyeol-cheon-bo lackey was lacking in manhood, yet it appears the representatives from the companion sects are similarly deficient?”

The features of the four Unorthodox Path operatives contorted violently, as though they had swallowed something utterly vile. For Unorthodox Path scoundrels who prized their reputation far above their own lives, the present scenario was equivalent to encountering a blood rival on a precipitous mountain pass, yet not a single one dared to launch an offensive. Having thoroughly shattered their bravado, the moment had arrived to dictate terms.

“Now then, what was the urgent matter you wished to discuss?”

“….”

Utterances serve as a reflection of the soul, which is precisely why the ancient philosophers advocated for the meticulous selection and refinement of one’s vocabulary, but that doctrine applies solely when interacting with human beings. When managing hounds, one must invariably communicate utilizing the vocabulary of hounds.

“Articulate your business, you half-wits. Did your vocal cords get severed alongside your manhood?”

Their complexions, which had previously flushed a violent crimson, gradually deepened into a dark, suffocating hue. Only the representative from Hyeol-cheon-bo managed to force a reply through his teeth.

“T-This dynamic constitutes an isolated dispute between Hyeol-cheon-bo and Hwa-pung-jang. Any unwarranted intervention by the Murim Alliance risks triggering an all-out confrontation with the Sa-heuk-ryeon.”

I anticipated that exact line of argument.

“And what of it?”

“….”

Adhering to a path of virtue can be an incredibly grueling endeavor, but there are instances where blistering invective yields far superior results than the wisdom of the sages when dealing with certain specimens.

“You have escorted individuals sporting garments visibly emblazoned with the insignias of Man-pa-jang, Jin-pyeong-hoe, and Gwi-gol-mun, yet you possess the audacity to claim this is an isolated matter between Hyeol-cheon-bo and Hwa-pung-jang? Tell me, do your organizations happen to drive an iron spike into the skulls of their recruits upon enlistment?”

It is truly a challenging era to navigate while relying solely on polite discourse.

“From the very outset, Hwa-pung-jang has maintained an alliance with the Murim Alliance. It is completely within the realm of reason for the Yong-bong Association, which ‘coincidentally’ happened to be journeying through the territory, to offer succor to Hwa-pung-jang.”

“Are you truly oblivious to the fact that if the Murim Alliance commits its forces, the Sa-heuk-ryeon will deploy its entire might in response?”

“Was that an official decree issued by Tactician Dam?”

“What?”

The Hyeol-cheon-bo operative’s eyelids fluttered open in sheer shock.

“I am inquiring whether Tactician Dam personally verified that claim. That should the Yong-bong Association intercede, the Sa-heuk-ryeon will provide reinforcement.”

“What ridiculous nonsense are you…”

“Your grand Sa-heuk-ryeon’s Chief Tactician only recently deserted the Murim Alliance, did he not? I, as a red-blooded man, carried Dam-ak on my very back! I personally oversaw his sustenance! We even shared quarters inside a subterranean cavern! Confound it, I managed every aspect of his well-being! From what position of authority does an insignicant piece of refuse like yourself dare to brandish the name of the Sa-heuk-ryeon!”

The Hyeol-cheon-bo fellow, utterly caught off guard by this surreal revelation, sat frozen in a stupor for a prolonged moment before stammering out a reply.

“T-The Black Flame Dragon?”

Blast it all, why must that ridiculous title surface in this specific environment?

“Who are you referring to?”

“Your notorious moniker…”

“I lay no claim to such an absurd designation! You absolute fool!”

The individual, frantically restructuring his thoughts with a thoroughly dazed expression, finally managed to verify.

“Jin, Jin So-un?”

“Jin So-un, you miserable cur! Can your intellect not even retain a simple three-syllable name!”

“Jin So… no, Young Master Jin So-un, what purpose brings you to this location…”

Observe how rapidly this scoundrel adjusts his posture. And exactly when did you earn the right to address me so informally?

“Does your collective organization lack even a functional intelligence apparatus despite boasting a roster of a thousand practitioners?”

“….”

Then again, all disorganized Unorthodox Path syndicates that rapidly swell their ranks without performing any background checks display this exact level of incompetence.

“Hmph… in that case, you remain entirely ignorant regarding the identity of my grating companion here as well, I presume?”

*Crunch.*

“This individual right beside me, who is currently consuming confections with zero regard for the gravity of the situation—”

*Crunch.*

“Is none other than Yong So-a of the Wudang Sect.”

“!!!”

The complexions of the Unorthodox Path operatives turned utterly white.

“Deliver a message to your master. Should he lay a single finger on Hwa-pung-jang.”

*Cruuuunch.*

“The Wudang Sect will mobilize.”

“….”

“What are you still doing standing there, clear out of our sight immediately! What? Do you require a physical puncture wound to assist your departure?”

The contingent that had previously marched onto the grounds with grand theater scrambled toward the main entryway as if participating in a sprint to see who could vacate the premises fastest, entirely forgetting to even sheathe their bared steel. Once their silhouettes had completely vanished from the horizon, I executed a smooth pivot and brought my hands together in a respectful salute.

“Everyone, put your anxieties to rest. Regardless of the intimidation tactics those scoundrels attempt to employ, we have no intention of abandoning Hwa-pung-jang.”

“….”

I deliberately delivered the proclamation with booming enthusiasm, yet the crowd remained utterly frozen. What, had they already been cowed into silence by a bunch of low-level thugs? But I instantly sensed that was not the case… because the collective gaze of the assembly was focused squarely on my person with a highly bizarre intensity.

“…?”

Why is everyone staring at me like thi… In that precise moment,

“In all honesty.”

The annoying fellow who completely lacked situational awareness muttered under his breath.

“It is utterly impossible to discern which party represents the Unorthodox Path.”

*Crunch—*

What on earth is this lunatic prattling about while continuously stuffing his face with sweets?