Chapter 491

Chapter 491
## Chapter 491. Shadow of the Setting Sun (4)

—

The midway point of the War of Righteousness and Demons marked a critical transformation for the Murim Alliance. It was during this era that their naive assumptions—the delusion that the Demonic Cult was just another ordinary enemy faction—were utterly torn away. This was the moment when those who attempted to exploit the conflict for political gain finally faced severe retribution.

Prior to this, the martial dominance of the Murim Alliance, which had flourished during its golden age, had fallen into decay. Consequently, the **Huk-do** (Dark Path) Murim, utterly disgusted by the leadership’s foolish missteps, began to consolidate their forces. Meanwhile, the members of the Alliance, who had previously focused on expanding their regional sects and worldly authority, desperately rallied manpower. They scrambled to reclaim the southern territories while watching with growing dread as the Demonic Cult launched a relentless offensive toward the north.

As total warfare commenced and the entire strength of the **Baek-do** (Orthodox Path) Murim concentrated on the front lines, the retreat finally halted. Yet, the righteous forces found themselves unable to advance either. The fierce, unstoppable momentum of the Demonic Cult had only paused because they chose to thoroughly eradicate every last remnant of the Orthodox Path within the southern domains they had seized.

Throughout this period, countless members of various Orthodox families abandoned their ancestral properties and fled toward the north. As the collective might of the Orthodox Murim converged, they began to form a more precise estimation of the enemy’s true capabilities. Every time the staggering scale of the Demonic Cult’s power came to light, more high-ranking officials within the Murim Alliance secretly chose to desert their posts.

Those who refused to acknowledge the grim reality—that a solitary faction was completely overpowering a grand coalition—personally marched their disciples and allies to the battlefields. They returned only as cold corpses, grimly validating the martial supremacy of their foes. With each passing day, the specter of total annihilation loomed larger over the Murim Alliance.

People who could never have conceived that the mighty Murim Alliance—the undisputed master of the Jianghu and the pinnacle of the martial world—could suffer defeat against the Demonic Cult desperately hunted for an alternative solution. However, the enemy utilized combat methods that were bizarrely alienated from the traditions of the Central Plains. Unfamiliar sorceries and mystifying demonic arts of anonymous origin presented a barrage of techniques the Murim Alliance of that era simply could not comprehend. Investigating these practices only cemented a dark realization: the Central Plains and the Demonic Cult could never share the same sky.

It was then.

—The **Heavenly Demon Tomb** remains hidden somewhere in the north.

A tantalizing rumor reached the desperate ears of the Murim Alliance. Half a millennium ago, the Demonic Cult had centered its activities around the northern landscapes, with their primary stronghold situated in the Heavenly Mountains. Back then, when the Cult suffered near-extinction under the unified assault of the Jianghu Alliance, they had vanished into obscurity without recovering the final resting place of their divine progenitor, the **Heavenly Demon**. Now, a location rumored to be that very **Heavenly Demon**’s burial ground had been detected.

The timing was remarkably uncanny, and the discovery itself was far too convenient. Yet, no one paused to question its authenticity. The Murim Alliance was simply pushed too far to the brink.

While straining to hold the active front lines, the Murim Alliance allocated every spare resource to locate the site. Eventually, their efforts bore fruit, uncovering the colossal **Heavenly Demon Tomb** nestled deep within a subterranean cavern amidst the mountains of Gansu Province.

“If we decipher the secrets of the **Heavenly Demon**, the root of their entire lineage, we will find the vulnerability needed to vanquish them.”

Driven by this conviction, the absolute vanguard of the Murim Alliance ventured into the depths of the **Heavenly Demon Tomb**. They were accompanied by martial artists who, having witnessed the terrifying power of the Demonic Cult, had become hopelessly obsessed with obtaining that superior strength. Alongside them marched those driven by pure avarice, eager to claim the hidden wealth and esoteric relics resting within.

As if anticipating this exact maneuver, the main battlefields fell into a strange lull. Seizing what appeared to be a golden window, the Murim Alliance channeled even more of their numbers into the subterranean structure.

And there, they sustained a catastrophic, irreversible blow.

From that fateful event onward, the Murim Alliance began a rapid, agonizing decline. The cursed catalyst that sealed their doom and effectively surrendered the Jianghu to the dominion of the Demonic Cult was none other than the map detailing the layout of the **Heavenly Demon Tomb**.

And that very artifact was what I currently held in my palm.

“What exactly is this?”

“Pardon?”

**Do Gwang-su** kept his gaze locked onto the leather parchment, carefully monitoring my expressions.

“I asked you to identify this object.”

“Didn’t I explain already? I picked it up from an old shop in Jinha…”

“No, what I am asking is whether you understood its true identity when you risked your life to withhold it under torture from **Amhyang-cheon-ong**?”

“…I am not entirely certain myself.”

In his previous lifetime, **Do Gwang-su** had consistently positioned himself at the absolute rear of our platoon. Despite being a master thief, he guarded his own skin more fiercely than precious jade.

“I see. So that’s how it is.”

*Whoosh.*

The **Holy Fire Demon-Slaying Hand** residing in my left palm erupted into a violent blaze. **Do Gwang-su** instinctively lunged forward to snatch the relic before freezing in his tracks.

“Since this scrap of hide nearly cost you your life, it would be far safer to reduce it to ashes. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“…Ye—Wait, what?!”

**Do Gwang-su** stared at me as if I had utterly lost my mind. The moment I moved to incinerate the leather with the heat of the **Holy Fire Demon-Slaying Hand**, he frantically lunged forward and grabbed my left wrist.

“I’ll speak! I’ll tell you everything! Just please, put out the fire!”

“Then out with it. What is it?”

“……”

When **Do Gwang-su** showed signs of vacillation, I made a motion to let the flames lick the parchment again. Panicking, he resorted to a private audio transmission.

—It hasn’t been confirmed, but it is rumored to be the guide to the **Sword Tomb**.

“……”

The historical map of the **Heavenly Demon Tomb**, an item that shouldn’t have surfaced until the mid-stages of the War of Righteousness and Demons, had emerged well before the war even ignited—rebranded under the moniker of the **Sword Tomb**.

“Uh, **Jin Dae-hyeop**… could I have that back now?”

The pungent stench of a massive conspiracy hung heavily in the air.

Virtually every participant in the **Yongbong-jihoe**, with the sole exception of myself, was well aware of the stories circulating around the **Sword Tomb**, the supposed final resting place where the **Sword Zenith** and the **Black King** were interred. It was a tale that had recently set the entire martial world abuzz.

After retreating to my private quarters, I spread the artifact out to inspect it once more. The aged leather, inscribed with intricate mathematical arrays, secret ciphers, and cryptic illustrations, was an exact match to the map of the **Heavenly Demon Tomb** I remembered from my past life.

*‘Which means…’*

For some hidden purpose, the true identity of the **Heavenly Demon Tomb** had been disguised as the **Sword Tomb**. Furthermore, this specific piece of leather wouldn’t be unique. There would be maps hidden within shattered porcelain, maps constructed by weaving fragments of silk embroidery, and numerous other variations. A multitude of these deceptive guides would already be circulating throughout the Jianghu. That was precisely how the trap had been sprung in my previous existence.

“Ha, those wretched schemers. To think they’ve already set this plot into motion.”

I briefly considered utilizing the information network of the **Hao-mun** to expose the **Sword Tomb** as a complete fabrication. After all, was it not entirely illogical to claim that two legendary rivals, the **Sword Zenith** and the **Black King**, shared a single burial site? At present, the number of people genuinely swayed by this rumor would be minimal, given the glaring logical inconsistencies.

However.

“A frenzy will erupt soon enough.”

In all likelihood, authentic relics belonging to both the **Sword Zenith** and the **Black King** would soon be discovered. No, they would undoubtedly plant genuine artifacts within the site to validate the lie. Only then would the martial world slaughter one another with absolute ferocity inside those tunnels. It was the exact same method they had used to lure the entire Jianghu and the Murim Alliance into that monolithic death trap before.

The Demonic Cult possessed a terrifying understanding of how to exploit base human desires. To them, human lives and deaths were merely resources to be manipulated. They had done the exact same thing to **Song Ye-seol**.

*Grind.*

No matter how desperately a person fought to survive, they would strip away their dignity without a second thought. And we would be left with no choice but to be dragged into their senseless meatgrinder, struggling endlessly just to preserve our fragile existences.

*Knock, knock.*

A sudden rapping on the wood broke my train of thought, prompting me to snap toward the door.

“**Do Gwang-su**, I believe I warned you to stop testing my patience if you value your life.”

Despite having witnessed me severing the fingers of **Amhyang-cheon-ong**, the thief remained hopelessly stubborn.

“**Jin Si-ju**, it is I.”

The voice belonged not to the thief, but to **Il-gak**, who pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“What is it? Did **Do Gwang-su** send you to plead for his map?”

**Il-gak** offered a gentle shake of his head.

“It is not of that nature. I have returned to provide you with an answer.”

“An answer?”

“Regarding the inquiry you posed to me a few days ago.”

He had evidently spent the intervening days pondering my question regarding the purpose behind **Song Ye-seol**’s existence.

“Being a man of slow wit, it required substantial reflection to formulate a proper response.”

I offered no verbal reply. It hadn’t been a question asked with the expectation of a genuine philosophical solution in the first place.

“Scripture teaches that all existence is ultimately emptiness, the Void (**Gong**). Yet, it is said that from the exact moment a mortal conceives intense attachment or craving (**Gal-ae**), that very Void manifests into perceived reality.”

Ignoring my cold demeanor, **Il-gak** steadily continued.

“Yet, despite this manifestation, everything inevitably reverts to the Void. Because the vast tapestry of human emotion and intellect fundamentally originates from nothingness, even the grandest spiritual awakening is ultimately part of the Void—nothing more than a grand insignificance.”

His sermon offered zero solace. If anything, his assertions began to stir a quiet resentment within me.

“Consequently, mortality is inherently plagued by absurdity. The reason those who follow the path of the Buddha sever their worldly tethers and retreat into the wilderness to cultivate the Dharma is precisely to transcend this inherent absurdity.”

So, I remained silent, waiting to see what kind of hollow platitudes this monk would offer to someone who had already lived through a previous life.

“Naturally, that does not imply that every soul who retreats to the mountains successfully grasps the Void.”

**Il-gak** displayed a serene smile as he spoke the next words.

“There is no inherent purpose in life (**Saeng**).”

He continued to prod at my open wounds.

“There is likewise no inherent purpose in death (**Sa**). We merely occupy this transient space for a brief moment before dissolving back into the vast Void.”

His words caused my internal energy to surge, making my martial robes billow as a faint trace of killing intent leaked into the room.

“Even so, willingly cutting short one’s existence is nothing more than an admission that one failed to comprehend life, a confession of utter defeat by reality.”

Faced with the direct pressure of my killing intent, **Il-gak** made no effort to circulate his own inner force. I noticed his steady cadence falter slightly, beads of perspiration forming across his clean-shaven scalp.

“To truly live means to accept that the ultimate destination is the Void, while marching forward regardless.”

“……”

“Every individual’s existence is, in its rawest state, devoid of objective value.”

My survival instincts automatically summoned my inner strength, channeling a destructive concentration of energy into my fingertips. It was the preparation for the **Mueum-cheongsu-in**.

“And it is precisely from the moment a soul embraces the fact that life possesses no inherent meaning that their true existence commences.”

“……”

I forcibly suppressed the **Mueum-cheongsu-in** just as it was on the verge of discharging.

“The moment all worldly measures of success, along with the various burdens that dictate human existence, are viewed as so utterly inconsequential that they can no longer constrain the spirit, an individual achieves boundless liberation.”

I completely unraveled the lethal focus of the **Mueum-cheongsu-in** and reined in my murderous aura.

“You demanded to know what purpose existed within the life of **So-jeo Song**, did you not?”

“…….”

“The ultimate significance of that life is defined solely by the legacy of that life itself.”

I countered his philosophical stance.

“…Speak plainly. Drop the cryptic monastic riddles.”

“Consider this: the residents of Hwapoong Manor deeply loved and looked up to **So-jeo Song**. If those survivors spend the remainder of their days consumed by bitter hatred, remembering **So-jeo Song** as a disgraceful traitor, what kind of destiny awaits them?”

“……”

“On the other hand, if they mourn the tragic fate of **So-jeo Song** while simultaneously binding themselves to a vow to ensure such a horror never repeats, what kind of destiny will they forge then?”

**Song Ye-seol** was gone, leaving behind only the survivors of Hwapoong Manor. Yet, depending entirely on how they chose to remember the departed **Song Ye-seol**, the future path of those people would diverge as drastically as heaven and earth.

“You asked what purpose was found in **So-jeo Song**’s demise?”

“……”

“This is the conclusion I offer.”

The eyes of **Il-gak**, though strained from the sweat induced by my previous pressure, locked onto mine with absolute clarity.

“What did the existence of **So-jeo Song** represent to you, **Jin Si-ju**? Was it merely an empty void? Or did it possess an irreplaceable significance?”

Leaving that final inquiry hanging in the air, the monk turned and departed from the chamber.

I sat there as if turned to stone, completely motionless, watching the moonlight slowly shift across the room. After an indeterminate period had elapsed, the entrance creaked open without a sound, and a shadowy form crept into my quarters.

“…*Eeek*!”

It was **Do Gwang-su**. The thief, who had just managed to slip inside, looked as though his heart had stopped upon finding me wide awake and staring directly at him.

I gestured slightly with my chin.

“…I left it on the tabletop. Take it and go.”

“R—Really? You mean it?”

Without even pausing to verify my intent, **Do Gwang-su** frantically gathered the leather parchment from the table, desperate to flee. It remained surreal to think that this cowardly rogue, who cared only for self-preservation, was the exact same commanding officer who had rescued me from death three times and taught me his personal footwork forms in my previous life.

“**Do Gwang-su**.”

“…Y—Yes?”

“Stay away from the **Sword Tomb**.”

“……”

Receiving no response, I watched him turn back to face me, his expression washed over with sheer bewilderment as he hovered near the exit.

“How—how do you know my actual name?”

“…Leave. Before my patience runs out.”

“……”

Left entirely alone once more following the thief’s departure, I sank back into the depths of my own mind. Try as I might, I could not rid myself of the existential question **Il-gak** had left behind.

[*What did the existence of **So-jeo Song** represent to you, **Jin Si-ju**?*]

In my previous life, my sole desire was survival. Because of that cowardice, I fled, spending the rest of my days drowning in regret until the moment I drew my last breath. In this current life, my goal was to survive alongside others. I had poured everything into that objective, only to be crushed by the realization of how utterly futile my efforts seemed to be.

Though highly improbable, if I were to be thrust into yet another lifetime, how would I even begin to live it? If given another chance, could I truly alter the script and achieve a better outcome?

“Whew…”

Even if another reincarnation awaited me, I would likely fail to alter the fate of **Song Ye-seol**. Even if I tried across a hundred lifetimes. I lacked the power to halt the wave of despair and agony brought forth by the descent of the Demonic Cult. Did that mean **Song Ye-seol**’s entire existence was destined to evaporate into nothingness, stripped of all meaning across every timeline?

“Damn it all…”

I refused to accept that. No, it absolutely could not be that way. Otherwise, my past life of running away, **Song Ye-seol**’s tragedy of being exploited and discarded, and every single casualty I had ever witnessed would be rendered completely pointless.

“Accursed Demonic Cult.”

Reaching out, I grasped an ink brush and began to stroke the paper. Replicating the exact layout burned into my memory, I produced a flawless recreation of the map that **Do Gwang-su** had just retrieved from my table.

“So this is the prize you monsters are dangling.”

For the sake of my pathetic past life, for the countless comrades who perished so that I could draw breath, and for **Song Ye-seol**. Their demises and my continued existence would not dissolve into the Void. They would carry weight.

“I will carve that meaning out using your very flesh and blood.”

A definitive, absolute meaning.