Episode 280: A Bloodstained Life and the Blue Sky

A heavy thud resonated through the air.

Watching the most powerful display of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms he’d ever seen, Namgung Myung whispered to Hyun Gong, “You know, I taught him that technique.”

Hyun Gong didn’t respond. It seemed inappropriate for a mere martial artist to comment while a supreme master was demonstrating his skills.

As Hyun Gong watched the body of the Twin Blood Elder collapse, a chill ran down his spine. This was no time to leisurely observe Hong Geolgae’s fight.

“The Ghost King!”

Hyun Gong’s eyes widened as he turned his head, but the Ghost King was nowhere to be seen.

”…?”

Namgung Myung, Jin Hae, and Hyun Gong scanned their surroundings. In the distance, they spotted the Ghost King making his escape.

The group had already witnessed the Ghost King flee three times: once when they encountered Hwa Yeonshin while escaping the Demon Sect, once at Gongdong Mountain, and now.

The Ghost King had an uncanny sense for danger and never hesitated to flee. It was as if his body reacted before his mind could even process the situation.

Jin Hae, who noticed the Ghost King a bit late, shouted, “That coward! Showing his back like that!”

“Let’s go after him!”

Without needing to say more, the group began to chase the Ghost King. They needed to finish him off while they had the upper hand.

Even as he ran, Dang Moojin showcased his incredible skill by throwing three flying discs, each tracing a unique path toward the Ghost King.

But the Ghost King was a master of escape. He possessed three essential qualities: cold-blooded decisiveness, swift feet, and a keen sense of danger even while fleeing.

True to his expertise, the Ghost King anticipated the flying discs from behind, twisting his body and extending his arms to deflect all three.

He had even predicted the attack before he started running, recalling the lesson from when the Twin Blood Elder sacrificed his right arm at Gongdong Mountain, warning him to watch out for flying discs.

The Ghost King didn’t follow the path. That was another expert decision. Sticking to the path could lead to an ambush from the front.

Instead, he began to sprint madly up a steep mountainside.

“What a fool!”

To Dang Moojin’s group, it was a bizarre sight. Why abandon the wide path to climb a mountainside?

Especially since Mount Gireon wasn’t just any hill; it was a steep and rugged mountain. Climbing it would surely lead to a dead end, trapping him like a rat.

“Let’s follow him!”

The group sprinted up the mountainside after the Ghost King.

As they ran until they were out of breath, they encountered what they had expected: a cliff. Or rather, something between a sheer cliff and a steep slope.

The slope was so steep and daunting that jumping off would surely result in injury.

Jin Hae shouted, “Ghost King! Surrender and face justice!”

But the Ghost King made a resolute decision. He leaped off the cliff—or rather, the steep slope.

He tumbled and rolled down the mountainside. Jin Hae felt a sense of futility.

“Is this the end of the chase? We’ve lost the Ghost King, but capturing the Twin Blood Elder is a significant victory.”

But Jin Hae was the only one who thought so.

Dang Moojin and Hong Geolgae were the first to leap after the Ghost King, descending the slope with as much awkwardness as the Ghost King himself.

Hyun Gong followed suit, and finally, Namgung Myung stood beside Jin Hae.

As Jin Hae hesitated, Namgung Myung shouted, “Jin Hae, let’s go!”

“Where to? The afterlife?”

“We have to catch the Ghost King!”

“This is foolish!”

“So, are you not coming?”

Jin Hae hesitated for a moment, recalling the strangely inspiring story Hyun Gong had shared earlier.

Whatever Namgung Myung interpreted from that hesitation, he grabbed Jin Hae’s arm and leaped down the slope.

Jin Hae’s feet left the ground, and every hair on his body stood on end.

“Why are we doing something so reckless?”

But it was too late to turn back.

Jin Hae tried desperately to maintain his balance as he descended the slope, but in reality, he was no different from the others who were half-rolling down.

“Ugh, ugh!”

He tried to grab onto a protruding rock but missed, attempted to leap over a sharp stone but got scratched, and lost his balance again just as he thought he had regained it.

He grabbed a small shrub, but it was dry and brittle, pulling out easily.

Yet, he managed to twist his body to avoid truly dangerous rocks.

It was a far cry from the graceful movement of a martial artist, but there was no need to worry about appearances. Everyone was descending the cliff in the same manner.

Amidst the pain, Jin Hae felt a small thrill. Perhaps they could catch the Ghost King if they made it to the bottom.

But the Ghost King was no ordinary foe.

“Hmph!”

With a deep breath, the Ghost King twisted his body in mid-air, executing a bizarre movement technique.

It was as if his feet were glued to the mountainside, allowing him to run along the steep slope.

The sight of a man running sideways was so strange that Jin Hae and the entire group were left speechless.

Someone shouted, “What kind of movement technique is that?!”

But no one could replicate the Ghost King’s technique.

All they could do was watch as the Ghost King disappeared into the distance, rolling down the slope.

Eventually, the group came to a stop at the bottom of the slope.

Their clothes were tattered and torn from the rough descent, leaving them looking like a band of beggars.

Jin Hae looked up at the cliff they had jumped from and let out a sigh of relief.

It was a miracle they had made it down alive.

”…It’s a relief we’re alive.”

His body ached as if he’d been beaten with a club. He felt something trickling from his nose. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he confirmed it was a nosebleed.

Ignoring the pain, Jin Hae sat up.

But unlike Jin Hae, Dang Moojin and his friends remained lying on the ground.

They weren’t unconscious, nor were they more injured than Jin Hae. They could get up if they wanted to, but they just lay there.

Jin Hae looked at each of their faces in turn: Dang Moojin, Namgung Myung, Hyun Gong, and Hong Geolgae.

Their expressions were filled with regret, but there was no trace of negativity. In fact, they seemed somewhat refreshed, as if this was the natural outcome.

Jin Hae pondered why they wore such expressions, then emptied his mind.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t seem like anyone was in a hurry to get up.

“Well, I don’t care anymore.”

Jin Hae lay back down like the others, gazing up at the sky.

The old leaves cushioned his back, and the warm sunlight bathed his face.

Even though they had plenty of time to catch their breath, no one moved.

Jin Hae considered getting up but decided against it.

There was no reason to rise.

Even if they chased the Ghost King down the cliff, it seemed unlikely they could catch him.

Instead, Jin Hae lay there, watching the blue sky.

The clouds drifted lazily by, and he felt a sense of peace, a comfort so profound it bordered on laziness, and an inexplicable joy. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Heh, heh.”

Reflecting on the past few days, everything had started well.

They had begun their pursuit with determination, fought fiercely, and gained the upper hand. Hong Geolgae had even reached a new level of mastery. Jin Hae had played a part in defeating a supreme master.

A life of determination and intensity—this was the life of a martial artist Jin Hae had imagined while at Cheongseong Sect.

But the ending was so anticlimactic. Not only had they lost the Ghost King, but they were now lying on a steep mountainside, bleeding from the nose.

Jin Hae had never heard of such a story of martial artists. This wasn’t the life of a martial artist or a Taoist from Cheongseong Sect he had envisioned.

Yet, somehow, he didn’t mind this moment.

He liked the aching pain that felt like a thorough beating, and he enjoyed the leisure of lying there, staring at the sky.

Looking to his side, he saw Dang Moojin. Jin Hae, worried about breaking the moment, asked in a small voice, “What happened to the old woman?”

“She had already passed away.”

Dang Moojin’s voice was filled with regret.

He let out a thin sigh, a long breath that seemed to carry his sorrow into the air.

A quiet sigh was more fitting than a loud lament for honoring the unknown old woman and letting go of the countless medical knowledge she might have possessed.

After a moment of mourning for the old woman, Jinhae closed his eyes. Even with his eyes shut, it felt as if clouds were drifting lazily beneath his eyelids.

Gazing at the imaginary clouds, Jinhae drifted into thought.

What is the life of a martial artist truly like? What kind of life lies ahead of me?

Is it the solemn and desperate life I imagined while training in the Cheongseong sect?

Or is it this moment, lying here idly, watching the clouds after losing track of the Demon King?

“The sun’s setting,” Namgung Myung remarked, breaking Jinhae’s reverie.

The western sky was now half-consumed by a crimson sunset.

Jinhae watched the mingling of the red sunset and the blue sky, lost in its beauty. It was a scene so breathtaking it seemed almost otherworldly.

The intense colors of the sunset, and the clouds floating by as if indifferent to it all, prompted Jinhae to speak.

“I’ve seen dozens of dead bodies since entering Mount Giryeon. My whole body aches, and my hands still tremble. Yet lying here, it feels as if the battles were just a dream.”

Namgung Myung replied, “That’s the life of a martial artist, I suppose. People think it’s all blood and violence, but living it, you realize it’s not just that. You can’t walk on a path of blood alone. But you shouldn’t fear it too much either. Sometimes, you have to be drenched in blood to truly see.”

“The life of a martial artist…” Jinhae mused, the words familiar yet elusive.

“If you live swinging your sword in anger, you’ll become nothing more than a butcher. But if you run from a life of blood, you’ll become a cowardly idler. I believe the life of a martial artist lies somewhere between those extremes.”

“What should we call moments like this, lying here looking at the sky?”

“Hmm…” Namgung Myung pondered before answering, “If you need to do something foolish, do it bravely, and embrace the outcome with pure acceptance. That’s what I call romance.”

Jinhae sat up suddenly, struck by the similarity to what his master, Yeonghaja, had once told him before a crucial training session.

“Jinhae, don’t stray too far from the path of the sword, but don’t cling to it too tightly either.”

“The path of the sword is treacherous, but remember, not all of it is harsh. There is meaning and value in the softer parts too.”

Jinhae realized that Yeonghaja’s final teachings might not have been about swordsmanship at all, but about life itself.

A tingling sensation of understanding began to form.

He looked up at the sky, divided between red and blue.

The red sunset reminded him of a life soaked in blood, of the fierce battles and the fallen warriors.

But as Namgung Myung had said, a martial artist’s life isn’t always drenched in blood.

The blue sky, touched by the sunset, symbolized a life cleansed of blood.

Lying there, gazing at the sky, Jinhae thought of the wildflowers he had seen along the roads between Mount Wudang and the Gongdong sect.

He remembered the wary expressions of the sect leaders, and the reckless leap off the cliff by Tang Mujin and his companions.

Yet, Jinhae noticed how the red and blue skies blended softly, not sharply divided.

In that blend, he saw the life of a martial artist that Yeonghaja had spoken of.

Jinhae stood up, grasping his sword.

There was no need to be constantly on edge, thinking only of washing away blood with more blood.

Sometimes, you have to let go, live with less tension. There was no need to be consumed by the blind image of a martial artist. No one lives their entire life swinging a sword. It’s a simple truth.

Jinhae recalled Yeonghaja’s teachings. He finally understood.

There was no need to overthink it.

Yeonghaja’s final lesson wasn’t about the path of the sword, but about life.

It was a collection of old stories and small insights a master shares with his disciple.

Jinhae had been too narrow-minded, mistaking it all for metaphors about swordsmanship.

His sword traced a graceful arc, not just straight but sometimes gently encircling its surroundings.

The path of Jinhae’s sword, once clumsy and stuck in place, began to move forward.

Accepting a slightly imperfect life, Jinhae’s sword flowed smoothly.

The boundary where blue clouds and red sunset met.

The young monk could finally perform the Cheongun Jeokha Sword Technique in its entirety.

Jinhae danced a slow sword dance, mourning his departed master for a long time.

Namgung Myung watched from the side, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Late at night, Jinhae stopped his sword dance and shared his realization with Tang Mujin and his companions.

He felt it was right to share his insight with them, as he had gained it through their actions.

In hindsight, he thought they might have known this truth all along.

After finishing his story, Jinhae smiled with newfound ease.

“Since becoming a master, I’ve been endlessly pressuring myself. It was only natural that I couldn’t fully perform the Cheongun Jeokha Sword Technique taught by my master.”

But at that moment, Hong Geolgae interrupted, raising a hand to stop Jinhae.

“Hold on. There’s a contradiction in your story.”

Curious if there was a new insight to be gained, Jinhae paused and asked Hong Geolgae to elaborate.

“A contradiction? What do you mean?”

Everyone, except Hong Geolgae, listened intently, expecting profound wisdom from someone who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts.

With a voice full of gravitas, Hong Geolgae spoke.

“In my life, I’ve found there are three expressions that can never be true.”

“First, a grown infant.”

“Second, a husband who gives birth.”

“And lastly, a master martial artist.”

Hong Geolgae stood up, his voice echoing with long-held sorrow.

“How can a martial artist at the pinnacle be considered a master?”