The somber atmosphere that had enveloped Mount Wudang gradually returned to normal. It was peculiar when you thought about it. So many had perished in the recent battle that there wasn’t a single person who hadn’t lost a master, disciple, or fellow martial artist.

But martial artists live with death as a constant companion, and their attitude towards the deceased differs from that of ordinary people.

They understood the necessity of quickly burying the departed in their hearts. Lingering too long in mourning could easily make one the next subject of grief after the next battle.

This didn’t mean they callously forgot the dead. They remembered those who had passed through their swords, leaving traces of themselves for future generations.

People steeled their hearts, tended to their internal injuries, and focused on training as long as their wounds didn’t worsen. Everyone had brushed against death in the last battle, and nearly all had gained some insight from it. The entire community of Mount Wudang was busy reflecting on these realizations.

The busiest among them was Tang Munjin, who barely had time to train or even sleep while tending to the health of so many.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this busy before…”

Yet, Tang Munjin wasn’t displeased with the situation.

Healing so many was a way of accumulating merit, a virtue highly regarded in the martial world. No one took Tang Munjin’s help lightly, and the merit he earned would eventually return to him and his family.

While Tang Munjin was caught up in his whirlwind of activity, Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong kept a subtle eye on Hong Geolgae. They worried that a recent conversation might have deeply upset him. However, upon observing him, they realized something surprising: Hong Geolgae seemed more at ease than before, unfazed by being left behind.

“Why…?”

This wasn’t something to be taken lightly. People say that when someone starts acting out of character, it might be a sign of impending doom. Eventually, Namgung Myung approached Hong Geolgae to ask.

“Hong Geolgae.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you… okay these days?”

Unexpectedly, Hong Geolgae’s voice was free of any shadow.

“Of course, I’m fine. Why do you ask? Did you eat something bad?”

”…No, it’s just that you’ve been acting a bit subdued lately.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it.”

Namgung Myung glanced at him without replying, prompting Hong Geolgae to wave his hand dismissively.

“At first, it was a bit unsettling. But now, I actually feel more at peace.”

“Why?”

With this, Namgung Myung realized that Hong Geolgae had more mentors than he initially thought—five, to be exact. It was as if he was collecting them.

”…I guess there’s no need to worry about Hong Geolgae.”

Namgung Myung felt a sense of relief.

With the small issue concerning Hong Geolgae resolved, another problem arose. Unlike the previous matter, this was something Tang Munjin had anticipated: the situation with Gwang Yeomra.

The orthodox martial artists were not welcoming towards Gwang Yeomra. The monks of Shaolin, in particular, viewed him as a mortal enemy. Unlike others who had lost their lives indirectly due to Gwang Yeomra, the former abbot of Shaolin had been ambushed and killed by him.

The only reason a fight hadn’t broken out over Gwang Yeomra was that he had appeared alongside Tang Munjin. However, even the goodwill towards Tang Munjin had its limits. Deep-seated grudges couldn’t be easily erased.

Eventually, influential figures from Shaolin approached Tang Munjin.

“Well, Tang Munjin… or should I call you the head of the Tang family now?”

“Please, speak freely. What brings you here?”

“Let’s get straight to the point. What’s the deal with Gwang Yeomra?”

A question that could be interpreted in many ways.

Tang Munjin had no intention of defending Gwang Yeomra. Gwang Yeomra had already expressed his willingness to atone for his past. Tang Munjin answered honestly.

“As you know, he was one of the key figures in the Demonic Cult.”

“Why is he with you?”

“He’s taken a different path from the cult leader. We’ve had some mutual interests in the past. I thought he might be useful in the upcoming battle.”

The expression of the Shaolin monk, Cheongbok, grew serious, tinged with faint disappointment.

“Mutual interests? Have you known him for a long time?”

“Not really. It’s more of a tenuous connection. In the past, Gwang Yeomra leaked some information from the Demonic Cult for my benefit.”

“Still, he’s a demonic figure.”

“Not anymore. He’s completely severed ties with the cult. Recently, he was caught trying to stab the Grand Protector in the back. It seems the Grand Protector had already suspected him.”

Cheongbok’s expression remained unchanged.

If Gwang Yeomra had been an ordinary demonic figure, they might have accepted him. But too many people held grudges against him.

Cheongbok didn’t press further about Gwang Yeomra’s past or his reasons for joining the Demonic Cult. Those details were irrelevant.

In the martial world, people rarely consider the circumstances of others. Being killed by someone with a story doesn’t bring the dead back to life.

Thus, Tang Munjin didn’t try to persuade Cheongbok.

“I don’t intend to defend Gwang Yeomra. He’s determined to atone for his past. I brought him along because he might be useful in the upcoming battle. As you know, the situation is precarious.”

The conversation was lengthy, but Cheongbok only took away one thing: Gwang Yeomra was not one of Tang Munjin’s people.

After that day, no one growled at Gwang Yeomra anymore. It didn’t mean they accepted him warmly. No one spoke to him or even glanced his way.

In Tang Munjin’s view, this wasn’t a good situation for Gwang Yeomra. The Shaolin monks seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to kill him.

Even if it wasn’t the Shaolin monks, many others wanted Gwang Yeomra dead. Most likely, it would be the orthodox martial artists who would eventually take his life. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was the possibility that he might be useful in the upcoming battle. Gwang Yeomra surely knew this.

Tang Munjin finished treating his last patient and stood up. It was another late night.

“At least I’ll have a bit more time from tomorrow.”

On his way back, Tang Munjin sensed a faint presence in the trees. He looked up to see Gwang Yeomra, eyes closed, sitting on a thick branch, trying to sleep.

Unlike others, Gwang Yeomra couldn’t sleep indoors. Instead, he found a suitable spot in the deep forest, like someone avoiding predators, and slept in the trees. Otherwise, he couldn’t be sure when a blade might find him.

“Reaping what he sowed…”

Tang Munjin initially ignored Gwang Yeomra and continued on his way, but then he turned back to look at him again. There wasn’t any particular reason. He just realized how long it had been since Gwang Yeomra had spoken to anyone.

In a way, Gwang Yeomra was similar to Hyun Gong in the past—a more thorough version, perhaps.

Gwang Yeomra had once said he despised the Jeongal clan and didn’t want to give them another chance by taking revenge on the Sama family. But it didn’t seem like that was his true nature. The Gwang Yeomra he had seen so far didn’t fit that description.

“Did you betray the former cult leader and side with the current one to suppress the Sama family for the Jeongal clan? It sounds plausible, but… it doesn’t seem right.”

He had likely joined the side that offered comfort and security, which happened to be the current cult leader. While he might have harbored some desire for revenge against the Sama family, it didn’t seem to be his main motivation.

“Why do you think that?”

“If you truly wanted revenge against the Sama family, you wouldn’t have stayed quietly in the Demonic Cult for over a decade after becoming a top martial artist. You would have left secretly and attacked the Sama family, causing significant damage regardless of the outcome.”

Gwang Yeomra didn’t respond, but Tang Munjin understood his silence.

It was the truth.

And from Gwang Yeomra’s perspective, Tang Munjin could guess his actions.

“Somehow, I ended up on the wrong side of the Demonic Cult, and now I can’t go back. But that doesn’t mean I can just waltz into the Orthodox Sect either. Around that time, I started thinking about the Jegal family and the Sama clan again.”

“Why do you think that?”

“In my experience, when you’re in a tight spot, your mind starts wandering, and you end up feeling all dramatic for no reason.”

Tang Mujin had seen his fair share of people in dire straits.

The truth is, most people have a bit of a pathetic side.

When you look at someone’s actions and can think of both heroic and pathetic reasons for them, in Tang Mujin’s experience, the pathetic reason is usually the right one. He doubted Guang Yeomra was any exception.

“Haha!”

Guang Yeomra burst into laughter. It was almost the first time Tang Mujin had seen him laugh. He chuckled for quite a while, loud enough to be concerning, but the sounds of the forest and the insects mostly drowned it out.

Wiping away tears from his eyes, Guang Yeomra finally spoke.

“You clever devil. You do have some talent.”

“Looks tasty.”

“Yeah, that’s the right answer.”

Guang Yeomra dangled one leg from the branch, swinging it slowly like a child perched in a tree.

“I left the Wungjong because I didn’t want to live a dull life and die a nobody. I told you that before. But while I was living comfortably, I never thought about the Jegal family or the Sama clan. It was only when I had nowhere else to go that I started thinking of them.”

He muttered softly, almost to himself.

“When my ties with the Demonic Cult were severed, and it felt like everything was over, I suddenly got greedy. I’d spent my life only thinking about my own safety, but I didn’t want to die a traitor, caught between the Demonic Cult and the Orthodox Sect, leaving nothing behind. When I couldn’t pursue my own advancement anymore, I finally had the heart to think like that. Yeah, when you’re desperate, you start feeling all noble for no reason.”

Guang Yeomra grinned at Tang Mujin.

“What do you think? Pathetic, right?”

“Of course it’s pathetic. But everyone’s like that.”

People say a hero is someone who dedicates their life to a single goal. Someone who perseveres through hardships and ultimately achieves what they set out to do.

But Tang Mujin thought differently. That’s not a hero; that’s a madman.

You don’t become a hero by waking up, eating, training, and sleeping like one every day.

A hero is someone who, even if they live a mundane life, finds the courage to act when it truly matters. People remember those moments.

That’s why Tang Mujin said, “The ending is the most important part. If the ending is impressive, no one cares about what came before. Life’s like that too.”

It wasn’t advice from a man in his thirties to someone like Guang Yeomra, but Guang Yeomra smiled quietly and repeated, “The ending, the ending…”

Taking a deep breath, Guang Yeomra looked up. The sky was obscured by thick leaves.

“Tang Gangju, I never thought you were particularly smart.”

“Glad you finally see my worth.”

“No, I still don’t. You’re quick-witted, but I wouldn’t call you exceptionally bright.”

As Tang Mujin grumbled, Guang Yeomra continued.

“Still, I think I understand why people gather around you.”

Guang Yeomra leapt down from the tree.

Tang Mujin, not planning to spend the night in the tree, followed suit.

As Tang Mujin dusted off his pants, Guang Yeomra spoke.

“You said the ending is important, right?”

“That’s right.”

“When the moment comes where I can end my life in the most impressive way, give me a heads-up. I’ll muster the courage at least once.”

With that, Guang Yeomra began walking slowly toward a more deserted path. Soon, his figure disappeared from view.