Chapter 583:
The enemies were endless.
He pushed, struck, and kicked. Yet they kept pouring in endlessly.
Gwon-geuk was not flustered.
He had experienced too much to be flustered by such things. He had grown sick of such experiences twenty years ago. Wasn’t the image of demon cultists who would charge forward without changing expression even when their arms were severed and holes were punched through their bellies still vivid in his eyes?
However, that didn’t mean there was no burden.
‘What runs so deep?’
Resentment.
He could see resentment in their eyes.
But Gwon-geuk could not empathize with that resentment.
They could harbor grievances. They could curse and insult. They had sufficient right to do so.
But this wasn’t right.
This was something that ended three hundred years ago. No matter how much resentment remained, was there reason to risk their lives to repay that resentment?
It was futile.
The dead wouldn’t return because of it. It would be different if it were his father or his child who died. But to start a war demanding blood payment because some ancestor he’d never even seen had died—he couldn’t understand it at all.
Would the dead be pleased?
Death is death. The dead are merely dead.
Gwon-geuk had also lost countless acquaintances.
He couldn’t count the comrades and friends who had died in war. Despite experiencing such losses, while Gwon-geuk would mourn their deaths, he wouldn’t try to offer something to their spirits.
The dead are merely dead.
The living must find their own lives.
There were many who couldn’t accept the fact that the war had ended without completing their revenge. Many had protested strongly and tried to charge into the Demonic Cult alone.
So where are they now?
If they had chosen to continue the war then, they would be in the same place as the people they lost. Wasn’t it because they didn’t make that choice that they were able to continue living?
This wasn’t saying to forget the past. Nor was it saying to pretend it never happened and laugh haha-hoho. They could honor them and apologize to them. They could tell the world how great a wrong they had committed and accept the stones and spit that flew their way.
Wouldn’t that be right?
‘I cannot understand.’
Despite living through all these many years, the human heart remained something he could never comprehend.
Wooooooooong.
The force emanating from his right fist pushed people back.
Even in the midst of this chaotic war, Gwon-geuk couldn’t put killing intent into his fists. If he set his mind to it, he could turn all those blocking his path into bloody pulp right now.
And that would be somewhat easier.
But he was deliberately using Heavy Fist instead of Dominating Fist. He pushed rather than struck. He swept with his foot rather than kicked.
‘Perhaps I’m no longer someone suited for the battlefield.’
He had been feeling it.
He had only been able to perform thanks to Jo-hyeon’s ingenious strategies, but Gwon-geuk was naturally someone who found fighting with others distasteful.
He liked training in martial arts, but didn’t want to harm others with those martial arts. He was someone who preferred negotiation and dialogue over quarrels and disputes. He had the qualities to be a wise king in peaceful times, but wasn’t the material to lead through turbulent times.
But he couldn’t do it.
Because there was no one to replace him.
If he stepped back saying he wouldn’t do it, someone else would suffer in his place. What maintained Gwon-geuk’s spirit now wasn’t competitive spirit or desire for fame, but heavy responsibility.
‘It must end in my generation.’
This tiresome fighting.
This endless chain of hatred.
He couldn’t pass this heavy burden to those who would live in future generations. Whether the opponent was Hundred Sword Castle or the Demonic Cult, it was the same either way.
He took one more step forward.
Steadfastly.
The path Gwon-geuk had walked was always like this.
Taking a step forward had never once been easy. He had to fight the Demonic Cult, endure the checks of the Nine Sects, and withstand suspicious gazes wondering if he was filling his own pockets.
Without making excuses, without fighting back, enduring the falling rain as he walked steadfastly forward step by step. That was how this man had lived.
‘I’m lonely.’
Countless people were following him.
They were chasing after him, watching his back.
But Gwon-geuk felt unbearable loneliness in the middle of the battlefield.
He must not lean on anyone.
Everyone was leaning on him. So he had to support them like an upright iron tower.
‘Just someone like me.’
It wasn’t his intention.
He had simply fought back because the Demonic Cult invaded. How could he close his eyes when countless people were dying? He had simply stepped forward and fought with the heart that if someone must die, he should die first.
But somehow he didn’t die, and when the war ended, his name had become a symbol of the martial world. He had merely taken the position of Alliance Leader because of Jo-hyeon’s strong insistence that a firm symbol was needed to avoid division.
In that lonely position.
And now the time had come to pay the price for that glory.
Kuuuuung!
He stepped with True Step.
The ground couldn’t withstand it and cracked. The earth shook as if an earthquake had occurred, lifting those stuck to the ground into the air.
Then one strike.
A fist loaded with internal power so vast it was majestic flew out. Nearly one hundred people were swept away without even being able to resist in a single blow.
It was as if a heavenly god had descended.
‘To be this strong.’
Master Gong-mu was trembling with awe.
Fist.
Something humans are born with from birth.
Unlike other martial arts that use external weapons, fists and palms exert power using only the human body.
Gong-mu took pride in that fact. Though Shaolin used all eighteen types of martial arts, no one could deny that fists were at its center.
That’s why the world’s greatest fist master had always come from Shaolin.
Shaolin’s Arhat Fist had always claimed to be the Northern Star of fists in the martial world.
The one who dared take away that title of world’s greatest fist.
The one he thought was overrated due to his high achievements.
The fists Gwon-geuk displayed shook even Master Gong-mu’s heart, which had believed Shaolin fists were supreme.
‘How could he reach such a realm…’
Strong.
There was no other way to explain it. Each fist, each strike carried experience that shook the earth and turned the sky upside down.
Could he compare?
‘Impossible.’
Before those fists, even Gong-mu would be utterly powerless. Only divine beings from deep within Shaolin who never emerged could face him.
His pride crumbled.
But what filled his crumbled pride wasn’t competitive spirit or envy.
Awe.
One who used the same fists.
One who had risen to the position of world’s best despite not using Shaolin martial arts.
Awe and trust toward him filled Gong-mu.
“What are you all doing!”
Gong-mu shouted in a rough voice unbefitting a monk.
“Don’t burden the Alliance Leader any further! Break through the right flank!”
“Yes!”
Short, concise answers befitting Shaolin monks could be heard. Along with battle cries from here and there, Shaolin monks in yellow robes all turned to the right and engaged with Hundred Sword’s warriors.
“Wudang won’t fall behind either! Let’s go!”
“Yes!”
When Song-hyeon turned to the left flank, Wudang’s swordsmen all raised their swords with Taiji tassels and followed Song-hyeon.
The formation that had been pushing in one direction split into three and began piercing through Hundred Sword’s formation.
And then…
Kuuuuuuuuung!
No man’s land.
The center where Gwon-geuk’s feet touched was swept clean.
They couldn’t block it. It was too great a force for humans to resist.
Those who burned with will, those who raised their competitive spirit—the moment they faced Gwon-geuk’s fist power, they realized. The one standing before them now was not someone they could face with such determination alone.
Tremendous pressure that seemed like it would burst their entire body.
Absurd weight like Mount Tai pressing down.
Determination turned to frustration, and frustration turned to despair.
Gwon-geuk the Unrivaled Under Heaven.
His appearance walking forward with an expressionless, indifferent face was being clearly engraved in everyone’s eyes.
They broke.
Their hearts broke.
A person with severed limbs can fight. Even someone with a severed waist can swing a sword before dying. But one whose heart is broken can no longer fight.
They were pushed back.
Those who had looked only forward and never retreated were unconsciously stepping backward.
“I do not wish to harm you.”
Gwon-geuk’s quiet but weighty voice spread widely.
“Following your leaders’ decisions is not wrong. But throwing away your lives for worthless causes is also not right. Retreat, descendants of Ten Thousand Swords. I respect you. Your retreat from me does not signify Ten Thousand Swords’ defeat.”
It echoed powerfully.
His voice, his soul.
“The wrong must be corrected. Only then will Ten Thousand Swords’ name ring throughout the martial world once again. You must know how to truly step forward, not through vain revenge. So retreat!”
Gulp.
The sound of swallowing dry saliva could be heard.
While Shaolin and Wudang were engaged in fierce combat, only silence filled the area before Gwon-geuk. A strange quiet and strange standoff. Breaking that standoff, one person flew toward Gwon-geuk.
“…Gong-geom?”
“It’s been a long time, Alliance Leader. I believe it’s been twenty years since we last met.”
Gwon-geuk quietly looked at the man before him. An old man wearing white martial robes, the symbol of Hundred Sword Castle, was smiling with joy while looking at Gwon-geuk.
“You wouldn’t even show your nose when I asked you to visit once, yet we meet in a place like this.”
“I’ve been quite busy.”
Watching Gong-geom make light conversation, Gwon-geuk narrowed his eyes.
“Stand down. Now is not the time for reminiscing.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. I too am following orders. Of course, even without orders, I have no intention of retreating.”
“Is that so.”
Gwon-geuk quietly clenched his fist.
A man who had once been a comrade.
A man who had fought together against the Demonic Cult’s invasion, someone he could sometimes entrust his back to. That man now stood before him as an enemy.
“It seems we’ve been rude. These children are a bit lacking to face the Alliance Leader. I’ll be your opponent.”
“You’re not enough.”
“It won’t be easy. But…”
Scrape scrape scrape.
Gong-geom’s sword scraped the ground.
“It would be troublesome if you think the skills you know are all I have. I’ve wanted to cross swords with you for a long time, Alliance Leader.”
“You don’t understand.”
Gwon-geuk spoke firmly.
“If you want to face me, bring at least Cheon-ryu. You’re not enough.”
“We’ll have to see about that.”
Watching Gong-geom approach him with his sword lowered, Gwon-geuk cracked his neck.
“As always…”
Crack.
Bone sounds came from his fist.
“There are those who only learn by experiencing it. I’ll have to accept the trouble.”
Gong-geom leaped from that spot and sent dozens of sword energies rushing toward Gwon-geuk.
Gwon-geuk also unleashed fist energy to meet those energies.
The battlefield was gradually heating up more and more.
