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"and how do we forgive ourselves?"
The mirage of the sword saint asks; he reeks of blood, is smeared with blood, is out for blood. And Cheong Myeong stares at him, contemplative, hurting, because he doesn't know.
He's uncertain if he ever will know.
The Ten Great Sects and the Five Great Families - they're all shitty people, aren't they? Yes, to an extent - a very vast extent - they're the ones at fault. For how dare they? How dare they trample upon the sacrifices of Mount Hua? How dare they build glory and fame upon the dead bodies of his sahyung, his sasuk, his elders who cherished him and would've cherished the children more than he ever would.
How dare they?
When Cheong Myeong awoke, when he had learned of what had happened, every cell in his borrowed body begged, craved, the destruction of those shameful bastards. For a moment, he felt as if he understood Cheonma's intentions. To rule the world, to drench it in blood. Cheong Myeong understood.
And of course, the damned Magyo. Those damned vermin who came from who knows where. They rained down hell on earth - weren't they the reason why there was a war in the first place? Cheonma, that bastard, the harbinger of ruin, wasn't he the one who broke all their blades?
He will not forgive them - both of them. He will not.
He could. He won't though.
He could have forgiven them. How? Maybe if he takes all that they had, maybe if they also all died in that damned perilous mountain the same way his family and brothers did. Maybe if he thinks of the fact that good won't exist without the necessary evil. If he thinks about how both the Magyo and his sects fell to each role - good and evil and one had to perish. Maybe he could've accepted it. Maybe. He won't. But there was a maybe . There was a possibility.
The image of the Sword Saint sneers, sickened by Cheong Myeong's thoughts, deeming them foolish. (And yes, Cheong Myeong did look like that before, didn't he?)
The Sword Saint can never be appeased. He, who has come to witness the suffering of his descendants. He who has seen the pitiful back of his sect leader. He who has seen the dreamless eyes of his descendants.
He hates them all. He loves them all. He would've given them the world if they asked. The Sword Saint is all too ready to lay ruin for the sake of his sect, his family. He is all too willing to give up anything , just to make everyone pay for damning his precious sect.
He will never forgive them, Cheong Myeong understands that, feels the same way as him, but -
"...and how would you forgive yourself?"
Cheong Myeong asks the man who, despite dying, carries on with despair.
It was his - their - fault. Both the Sword Saint of the past and the Cheong Myeong of the present. They were also both at fault.
"If I had at least a tad bit better personality-" Cheong Myeong says, spiteful. Maybe then, he would've been able to teach his juniors and they could've carried on.
"If Cheon Mun-sahyung trusted me a little more, if I were even a tad bit more trustworthy-" The Sword Saint mimics, voice crying of despair. Maybe if he wasn't so selfish and he had passed down his own techniques, if he had done better.
"If I listened to him more-"
"If I didn't act the way I did-"
If. If. If .
Cheong Myeong collapses atop Mount Hua's highest peak, back pressed against jagged rocks. It hurts, but will never compare to the pain his descendants experienced. It'll never amount to the pain that scarred the children, the blossoms of Mount Hua.
The Ten Great Sects could have been forgiven. It was unlikely, sure, but the possibility was there.
But, how does one forgive himself?
Cheong Myeong wants to ask Cheon Mun sahyung, he wants to hear his guidance, his voice, he was sure to know the answer.
But no answer came.
"...you don't." The Sword Saint answered for him, woeful, grieving, hurting.
"You don't." Cheong Myeong answers back.
Cheong Myeong, both of the past and of the present, will never forgive those at fault; will give up anything to right the wrongs.
Even if he has to give up even himself in the end.