Chapter 49

Chapter 49
“How do you feel? Has any of your strength returned?”

Ak So-gun came to see him after ten days had passed.

At this point, Baek So-cheon could scarcely keep himself upright. Sitting up unaided was impossible; he had to prop himself against the wall for support.

“Alliance Lord. Please pardon my lack of decorum.”

“Think nothing of it! Lie back down and rest comfortably.”

“No, I am alright.”

“I stayed away until now so as not to interrupt your recovery.”

His voice was soothing, his expression gentle. Simply being in the Alliance Lord’s presence brought comfort. From the day they first crossed paths when Baek So-cheon was appointed leader of the Iron Sword Unit, the man had served as an unshakable pillar in his life.

“So-cheon.”

“Yes, Alliance Lord.”

Ak So-gun grasped Baek So-cheon’s hand.

“Because of your valor, this conflict has concluded. The Black Heaven Alliance has requested an armistice.”

Delight resonated through Ak So-gun’s words as he shared the development. Yet Baek So-cheon offered an unforeseen reply.

“We must reject the armistice.”

“We must?”

“The Black Heaven Alliance Lord suffered critical injuries during our duel. We must eliminate him while he is vulnerable.”

“Are you urging that we press on with the conflict?”

“Do you believe the blood shed thus far has not been enough?”

“No, do not take me the wrong way. My concern is that the Black Heaven Alliance Lord will merely reignite hostilities later. Should that happen, our casualties will far surpass the cost of finishing it right now.”

“And your proof?”

“It is an instinct.”

Ak So-gun let go of his hand, his demeanor darkening.

“We cannot rekindle a finished war purely on the back of an instinct.”

Faced with such firm opposition, Baek So-cheon swallowed his words.

“As you say, Alliance Lord.”

“Get some rest now; exhaustion weighs on you. I will return another time.”

Ak So-gun stood and exited the chamber.

Baek So-cheon wished to clarify his meaning, yet seeing the irritation radiating from Ak So-gun’s departing form made him hold his tongue.

Had he ever witnessed him this incensed? Could merely suggesting an end to the conflict warrant such wrath?

All at once, he remembered the crimson speck within his eyes on that fateful day.

Ten days following that encounter, Baek So-cheon stepped out of his quarters for the first time.

Walking was still beyond him, so he had to be wheeled along inside a small cart.

Healers crossing through the courtyard bowed low with reverence.

“It brings us immense relief to see you survive.”

“It is entirely owed to your care, physicians.”

This was the internal infirmary of the Murim Alliance, overseen directly by the Divine Physician.

Looking up at the open sky from the healers’ rear courtyard brought a measure of calm to his suffocated chest.

Watching the immaculate, cloudless expanse above made the prolonged conflict seem like a fleeting illusion. Yet it was far from unreal. Much like an amputee enduring the ache of a lost limb, he often cried out in agony when instinctively striving to summon his inner power.

Just then, Ak So-gun made his appearance alongside his retinue.

He waved off the attendant and took hold of the handles himself.

“Alliance Lord.”

“Forgive my short temper the other day.”

“Not at all; I spoke out of turn.”

“No, the fault was mine. Your perspective was entirely understandable. I was merely on edge.”

“Please, think nothing of it.”

The day he had walked out in a huff, Baek So-cheon had harbored deep bitterness. Yet in retrospect, he recognized the heavy burden resting on the Alliance Lord’s shoulders. Leading the righteous faction, he naturally sought an immediate conclusion to the bloodshed for everyone’s sake.

“The Divine Physician briefed me. Do not lose hope. I will search every corner of the Central Plains to uncover a cure for you.”

“Your words alone mean the world to me.”

The sincerity behind the sentiment was unmistakable.

“So-cheon.”

Whenever they were by themselves, he occasionally addressed him without titles.

“Yes, Alliance Lord.”

“My deepest gratitude. You preserved us all.”

Yet following that occasion, Ak So-gun ceased visiting for an extended period.

That did not signify complete neglect toward Baek So-cheon. He showered him with lavish gifts and permitted him to retain his rank as the Bi-gak lord.

Reflecting upon this contradictory conduct, Baek So-cheon weighed two possible explanations.

The first possibility was that the Alliance Lord had fallen prey to the Seop-hon-sul.

Were he truly ensnared by such a foul technique, Baek So-cheon bore the responsibility to liberate him.

However, the probability seemed faint.

Aside from their personal rapport, Ak So-gun managed all official matters precisely as he always had.

Furthermore, the timeline did not align. The moment the Black Heaven Alliance Lord tore away his dantian and bolted, the Alliance Lord had immediately arrived on the scene.

Consequently, it was the alternate possibility that gnawed at his heart.

The Alliance Lord had simply cast him aside now that his usefulness was spent.

If that held true, preserving his title as Bi-gak lord was nothing more than an empty gesture for public appearance.

The thought of being discarded dealt an agonizing blow to his self-worth, stoking a fierce, suffocating fury within. It was utterly humiliating. Where had he erred? Had he not bled and struggled relentlessly on behalf of the Murim Alliance, on behalf of the entire martial world…?

Rejecting the reality of abandonment, he gloomily questioned whether his subconscious had invented delusions about mental enslavement simply to endure the pain.

On top of the confusion wrought by these competing theories came another ruthless affliction.

The sheer torment of losing his inner power.

Of all martial artists, the former pinnacle of the world had been stripped of his internal strength.

Thus, Baek So-cheon’s earliest drunken strolls through the haze were aimless, desperate thrashing.

Through that despair, an epiphany struck him.

He had been hailed as an invincible legend because of his martial prowess… yet stripped of it, he was merely an ordinary man.

His later wanderings, however, were guided by clear intent.

What if?

If the Alliance Lord truly languished under spiritual subjugation, then only he possessed the capacity to deliver him. He could not turn a blind eye out of petty pride.

If that proved true, he needed to step down from his elevated post. If a conspiracy lurked, holding high rank would only paint a target upon him. Therefore, his subsequent missteps and eventual demotions were partly orchestrated by his own design.

Even while lost in a profound stupor, Baek So-cheon endlessly replayed the memories tied to that period.

A heavy splash echoed.

After being immersed in six distinct medicinal decoctions, Baek So-cheon was hoisted out of the final vessel.

Ban Yun-saeng wiped his flesh spotless, laid him down upon the cot, and plastered his form with medicinal earth.

Fixing a slender reed into his mouth to allow him breath, he encrusted him from head to toe.

Nothing remained now but the agonizing wait.

Ban Yun-saeng had wagered every ounce of his skill. This grand method was the ultimate gamble of his existence, a decisive verdict on whether his lifelong path held truth or folly. Not merely Baek So-cheon’s life, but his own legacy hung in the balance.

“The maneuver has broken down!”

The painstaking stratagem of the Iron Sword Unit had collapsed, stranding their First Squad directly within the Black Heaven Alliance’s suffocating dragnet. Like enraged insects pouring from a ruined mound, Black Heaven combatants flooded them from every angle.

When eighteen supreme fighters of the Black Heaven emerged, they realized an airtight trap had been sprung.

“Squad Leader, you must break out alone!”

Yet Baek So-cheon, who had sliced through the cordon to recover his companions, refused to abandon a single man.

He unleashed every shred of his strength.

A dull thud sounded.

Thrusting through a foe’s chest, Baek So-cheon ripped his blood-drenched blade free and bellowed toward the clearing.

“Who steps up next? Step forward!”

Thirteen masters remained poised before him.

Five frozen corpses were already strewn across the dirt.

It seemed a familiar martial boast, the sort tossed around during drunken tavern banter—one man facing eighteen.

Yet no boaster would dare claim this particular group of eighteen.

These were the most feared wraiths of the Black Heaven Alliance.

The Eighteen Ghost Swords.

The very company that had just been reduced to thirteen.

“Advance! Come test me, you dogs!”

A trickle of crimson slid past Baek So-cheon’s lips as he waved his steel and roared. He had absorbed brutal harm while bringing down those five ghost swords. His drained complexion laid bare that his inner power was nearing its absolute bottom. This was not from his era as the sovereign of the world, but from his days steering the Iron Sword Unit. Not yet the supreme under heaven, but at the zenith of his youthful vitality.

Though his face was pale as death, Baek So-cheon burned with unyielding fury.

The remaining thirteen did not budge. They instinctively realized that whoever stepped forward next was doomed. Once three or four more perished, the remainder might finally manage to finish him.

Even launching a synchronized onslaught, two or three would inevitably fall—Baek So-cheon had just demonstrated that reality.

The surviving ghost swords exchanged cautious glances. It was an unparalleled opportunity to execute the Iron Sword leader of the Murim Alliance.

“I have enough left to drag at least five more into hell with me.”

“In your condition? You are bluffing.”

“Then step up and find out.”

Yet not a single man dared move. He had butchered five of their peers before their very eyes.

Baek So-cheon took a heavy stride forward.

“Flee or strike.”

Right then—

Crack! Boom!

Signal flares detonated overhead.

A thunderous omen announced that the Iron Sword reinforcements had shattered the outer net and were charging in.

Faced with this, the thirteen ghost swords finally pulled back into the shadows.

The second their silhouettes faded, Baek So-cheon heaved up a mouthful of blood.

His startled men were on the verge of shouting in panic, but he immediately signaled them to silence with a soft whisper.

“Quiet.”

Should the enemy realize the extremity of his wounds, they would double back without hesitation.

Swallowing the metallic tang down his throat, he forced himself forward.

“We move.”

Within a few strides, his balance failed. Two soldiers flanked him, bracing his weight against their shoulders. One among them was Hwang Il-bi. When he had entered the Iron Sword Unit as a raw novice, Baek So-cheon stood at its helm.

“…I must close my eyes.”

Baek So-cheon’s vision steadily dimmed.

“I am well… this will not kill me…”

Slumber claimed his consciousness.

“Hold on, please!”

“Do not slip away!”

The retreating detachment quickened their stride through the night. This engagement would serve as the pivotal achievement paving Baek So-cheon’s rise to the mantle of Bi-gak lord.

Hwang Il-bi pleaded into the darkness with desperate tears.

“Please, leader, open your eyes!”

Baek So-cheon’s eyes flashed open.

An unexpected vision. A memory from his proudest epoch.

Why had he envisioned that specific hour?

In recent times, his slumber had offered nothing save the clash with the Black Heaven Alliance Lord, or the aftermath that followed. Nightmares featuring the Murim Alliance Lord and the Black Heaven sovereign…

Pushing himself upward provoked an ache as if his entire body had been pummeled without mercy. It felt just like waking within the Alliance infirmary when the war had ceased. Dried medicinal earth fell from his skin, littering the cot and scattering across the ground.

Sitting up fully, he saw Ban Yun-saeng seated ahead in a state of utter desolation.

Noticing his patient was conscious, Ban Yun-saeng choked out through tears.

“Forgive me. I have failed you.”

He had exhausted his ultimate knowledge, yet nothing had changed. A lifetime of arduous research, scholarly pursuit, and sacred knowledge—all rendered meaningless. Baek So-cheon remained utterly crippled. That the man had merely regained consciousness was an unearned blessing.

“At least you survived.”

Yet his life’s monumental pursuit was shattered. A failure, even when utilizing the most flawless vessel imaginable. The grand design had been inherently flawed from the very start.

What purpose has my entire journey served?

The bitter realization of a hollow existence seized him. Weeping openly, he felt as exposed as a madman stripped naked in the middle of a crowded square. It was the very reason peers had dismissed his theories as insanity, the exact reason the martial realm had cast him aside.

After spending a long, silent moment examining his own hands and frame, Baek So-cheon offered a gentle murmur.

“Wipe your tears.”

His steady tone echoed across the stone walls of the cavern.

Ban Yun-saeng slowly elevated his bowed head.

Meeting the old scholar’s weeping gaze, Baek So-cheon spoke as a subtle tremor touched his words.

“Your Hwan-gol Tal-tae Great Law did not succeed in its intended form… yet the Hwan-gol Tal-tae I prayed for has triumphed.”

“What do you mean?”

It was not a miraculous recreation of his physical bones and meridian pathways.

Yet a profound shift was stirring within Baek So-cheon. Directly behind the void left by his obliterated dantian, a fresh core was coalescing. As though answering his desperate longing across the years, a brand-new foundation had taken root.

Moreover, as if inviting him to gather internal force into this newborn vessel, a microscopic wisp of energy materialized—resembling a solitary tear falling from Ban Yun-saeng’s cheek. Now he grasped the origin of that proud recollection: this solitary droplet of revived energy had summoned it forth. His long-dormant fighting spirit had awakened to mirror the glory of those bygone days.

Stirred by intense emotion, Baek So-cheon declared through a wavering voice.

“Elder, internal energy is flowing within my vessels once more.”

It was scarcely more than a speck, yet it was the very first breath of power he had known in three long years.