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Chapter Text

“Where… am I?”

Shinsu Tang Jopyeong looked around in wonder.

The weight of the hammer in his hand still lingered. The smell of the furnace. The heat of the Tang family’s workshop, where he had spent all his life, burning down around him.

The cold eyes of Paegun Jang Ilso.

When he closed his eyes and let his heart fill with ease, everything had faded away like a dream.

But then he opened his eyes again, and he was here. 

As a proud craftsman of the Tang Clan, the first thing he noticed about this unfamiliar place were the misty pavilions in a myriad of architectural styles, spanning different families, regions, and eras.

He saw proud figures bearing the weapons of Shaolin, Wudang, Jongnam… Even those of the Namgung and Paeng families. When he finally shifted his eyes away from the swords and to the faces, his eyes widened.

Even though he was no swordsman, he recognized some of these men and women from the history records. 

‘Ah… So this is Heaven.’

The place where the mighty and righteous warriors of Gangho went after the end of their mortal lives. He wondered if it existed. He doubted he, a mere craftsman, would ever reach it.

Yet here he was.

‘Then…’

A few faces and names flitted through his mind, but one stood out in particular.

Yes… If this were Heaven, ‘he’ would surely be here.

The fog clouding his mind was gone. His body felt lighter and stronger than it had in decades. With determination in his step, Tang Jopyeong set out in search of his grandfather.

He braced himself for a long search, but as it turned out, he found the one he was looking for in no time at all.

It was actually hard to miss him — or rather, them. 

Everyone in Heaven seemed to be deliberately avoiding the pavilion where the screams echoed from.

“Damn it, forget Diancang! Save the Tang Clan! The Tang Clan!”

Tang Jopyeong’s beloved grandfather, the unparalleled figure in his heart, the man whose back he had always chased — Amjon Tang Bo was pulling his hair out.

He looked exactly like how Tang Jopyeong remembered him when they last met, when his grandfather set out on his final mission, chasing after Maehwa Geomjon.

“Wait, you’re going to Sichuan? But then you’ll fall right for that bald bastard’s schemes! Save Diancang— No, save the Tang Clan! Gaaah! This is driving me crazy!”

Yes, he was… exactly the same…

Tang Jopyeong laughed bitterly, looking into the pavilion. The people gathered there were those he could only look up to, ones he could watch as they left to save the world, only to never return. Even now, in the afterlife, their presence was overwhelming…

But while everyone else was focused on the scene unfolding on the cloud mirror, one person noticed Tang Jopyeong loitering by the side like a nervous child.

The Great Virtuous Sword, 21st Sect Leader of the Great Hwasan Sect — Chung Mun beckoned him over with a kind smile.

“A-Pyeong, right? Come, join us.”

Tang Jopyeong pointed at himself in disbelief. When Chung Mun nodded, he obeyed without hesitation. 

No matter how anxious he was about joining those legendary figures, when the Great Virtuous Sword summoned him, how could he not follow? After all, he was the man even Geomjon respected — No, Maehwa Geomjon aside, he was a man the whole of Gangho respected and trusted.

Even a hundred years later, in the afterlife, his smile was so kind and wise…

“Nooo! You crazy brat, that’s the head of the Tang Clan! How could you put a sword to his neck like that?! There has to be a limit to your rudeness!”

…Yes, he was exactly the same as well. He only lost his composure when Maehwa Geomjon was involved…

“Give it a rest, Sect Leader Sahyeong. Chung Myung Sahyeong is already being exceptionally patient. If it were the old him, he would have run off on his own without even negotiating with the others by now.”

“That’s because his body is practically a broken rag…”

Chung Mun grumbled, while Chung Jin patted his back. 

Tang Bo bit his lip. “It’s because I told Taoist Hyeong to take care of the Tang Clan… Even my dying wish has become a burden to him. A chain in the hands of that Shaolin bastard.” 

“Don’t blame yourself, Amjon. Do you think that brat would’ve chosen otherwise even if you hadn’t asked that of him?”

All the men who knew and cherished Maehwa Geomjon were watching his every move in the cloud mirror, comforting each other and screaming at him in turns.

Tang Jopyeong’s eyes fell onto Chung Myung’s battered image in the mirror. The young boy, familiar yet different, was running to the Tang Clan’s rescue, finishing what he could not.

He had known all along, even if the boy they called Hwasan Geomhyeop thought he hid it well. His lips curved into a small smile.

“But how long have you been watching him…?”

“Since the very beginning,” Tang Bo replied casually, answering the question Tang Jopyeong did not realize he had asked out loud. “A-Pyeong. Come here.”

Tang Jopyeong flinched. 

It was not that his grandfather had not noticed him until now. Tang Bo had purposely ignored him, probably because he was figuring out what to say.

Approaching his grandfather with uncertain steps, Tang Jopyeong became that awkward little child again.

When he was within reach, Tang Bo placed his hand on Tang Jopyeong’s head… and pressed down painfully. 

“You burned down aaall the poisons?! And the White Furnaaaace?! The entire Sun Pavilion?!!”

Tang Jopyeong stammered, his body swaying back and forth like a weightless leaf in his grandfather’s hand. “G-Grandfather, I-I’m s-sor—”

“Well done!” 

Tang Jopyeong blinked. 

Tang Bo had gone from pushing down his head to patting it forcefully and laughing heartily. “I always said the Tang Clan was better off without those damned poisons! This will be a new beginning!”

It felt like the steely determination that had filled Tang Jopyeong’s heart had melted in an instant. Suddenly, he felt like crying.

It was the last thing he did, and it was the right thing to do. He firmly believed in that.

And yet… Hearing his grandfather’s approval made that heavy burden in his chest burn like a furnace flame. Hot, bright, and strong.

‘Yes… I was not wrong. I did not disappoint my ancestors.’

“Truly. Well done, A-Pyeong.” 

Tang Bo’s eyes were gentle. He looked at Tang Jopyeong and then at the Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword at Chung Myung’s waist. The green tassel, symbol of the Tang Clan, swayed in rhythm with his every step.

“Thanks to you, Taoist Hyeong will never walk without the Tang Clan.”

 Tang Jopyeong gripped his calloused hand.

From now on, he shall join the ancestors…

Watching over Chung Myung and their descendants.

Chapter Text

Even in Heaven, the Beggar's Sect was the Beggar's Sect.

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae stared at the cracked bowl made of cheap porcelain, filled with cloudy alcohol that probably tasted terrible. The corners of his lips rose faintly.

How nostalgic. After so long in that lonely attic, he missed this large and grand but dilapidated hall. Only the Beggar's Sect would have a hall constantly on the verge of collapse even in Heaven, where everything and everyone took on their most ideal form.

“What are you waiting for? Drink.”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae glanced up at the one who spoke. It was his master, Baek Mueum Shin Gae.

Baek Mueum Shin Gae looked like how he remembered him best. Old, grizzled, and grumpy, but not as frail as in his last moments.

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae squinted at his reflection in the liquor. He, too, looked not like he did when he finally closed his eyes on that ancient bed. Instead, judging by what he could see and the callouses on his hands, he probably looked like he had at the end of the Demonic War.

It made sense. His time had stopped then, until…

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae drained the cup and set it down with a loud clang. And then, he bowed deeply.

“Sect Leader. I have sinned.”

In the back of his mind, he always knew. Even if Gwa-ya wasn't fully aware, Hyeon Pung Shin Gae knew. After all, he had seen just how strong the Beggar's Sect had been in its heyday. How resilient and righteous.

Hwasan was not the only sect that had lost its way after that war. And he was partially to blame.

“...Don't.” The gruffness in his master's voice made him look up in surprise. “If you bow your head now and proclaim your mistakes, what does that make me?”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae did not answer. While he apologized first, as the disciple, he could no longer say his master’s decisions had been correct.

They both lost that right a hundred years ago.

The silence lasted for a while longer between the two legendary leaders of the Beggar’s Sect. Eventually, Baek Mueum Shin Gae sighed and grabbed at his messy hair.

“We have time to catch up later. Right now… There are guests waiting to see you.

“Look outside.”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae instinctively obeyed. When he saw the people beyond the empty doorframe, his eyes widened and he jumped to his feet.

Behind him, his master grumbled something that sounded vaguely like…

“We were wrong. We've had a hundred years to reflect on that.”

But Hyeon Pung Shin Gae was no longer listening. He scrambled out of the hall to greet the welcoming party.

“G-Great Virtuous Sword!”

It was not just Chung Mun, the illustrious Sect Leader of Hwasan during the Demonic War. They were all there, the great warriors of Hwasan who had fought and died without once looking back.

The ones who made the decision he could not. He clasped his trembling hands together and bowed his head.

“I… I was late. But I dare to hope that you'll…”

Forgive me? Accept me? He may have mustered the courage to come here and meet them, but he still couldn't be so shameless as to ask for so much.

Before he could find the words, Chung Mun helped him up with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hyeon Pung Shin Gae. Please, raise your head.”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae slowly obeyed, his trembling eyes meeting Chung Mun's kind gaze.

“As your master said. We have been waiting for you.”

When he heard those words, Hyeon Pung Shin Gae's anxiety melted away.

Yes, he had been preparing himself for this moment for a hundred years. He tried and failed and tried again to find the courage, and it was Geomjon — No, Hwasan Geomhyeop who finally granted it to him.

So now, no matter what the great heroes had to say, no matter how they looked at him, he could accept it.

Or so he thought.

“Hyeon Pung Shin Gae… Hwasan thanks you.”

The swordsmen of Hwasan clasped their hands together in a salute and bowed their heads as one, with Chung Mun in the lead.

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae's eyes widened. Of all the scenarios he had envisioned over a hundred years, this was not one of them.

“G-Great Virtuous Sword! What are you doing? Please, dojangs, raise your heads! I'm not worthy…”

“You're worthy of more than just a mere bow, Shin Gae.” Despite saying that, Chung Mun rose and gestured at his sect members to do the same, sensing Hyeon Pung Shin Gae's unease. “After all, you preserved Hwasan.

“You've already done more for our sajils than us useless ancestors.”

Chung Mun's smile was bitter around the edges. “If it weren't for you, there wouldn't have been a Hwasan for that brat to return to.”

Tears glistened in Hyeon Pung Shin Gae's eyes. He repeated the words he had told Maehwa Geomjon. “It wasn't just me. I…”

“It doesn't matter who else was there. The fact is, you fought hard and long. Longer than any of us. And more than that…”

Chung Mun's smile was warm. “You did things for Hwasan — for my useless sajae, that none of us could.”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae quickly realized, as expected of the century-long leader of the Beggar's Sect. “You were watching all along.”

“Until the very end. Then we rushed here to greet you.”

The swordsmen of Hwasan almost never left the observation pavilion. This was probably the first time since Chung Myung returned.

Because while they watched his every move, while he even seemed to hear Chung Mun’s voice when their thoughts aligned, none of them could really reach him.

Chung Mun bowed again. “Thank you. For lending him strength.”

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae wiped away his tears roughly. “It's nothing. The Beggar's Sect is only doing what it should have done all along. In fact, I'm hoping Geomjon will help Gwa-ya revive it.”

“As grateful as we are to have the support of the Beggar's Sect again, that's not all we're thankful for.” Chung Mun's smile turned slightly enigmatic.

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae fell silent. Though historical depictions of them couldn't be more different, he suddenly realized all over again that Chung Mun was Geomjon's sahyeong. In a way, they were quite alike.

Before he could say anything more, Chung Mun cleared his throat.

“Well, Hwasan has taken up enough of your time. I believe there are others who would like to meet you, Sect Leader.

“Anytime you wish to watch those brats’ struggle, please feel free to join us.”

With that, Chung Mun stepped aside to reveal the curious, grimy faces peeking through the gateway.

Hyeon Pung Shin Gae's eyes shook when he saw the small wooden club in one child's hand. “It's you…”

“Master!”

“Vice Sect Leader!”

“What took you so long?”

Chung Mun nodded at the other members of Hwasan to leave quietly. They took one last look at Hyeon Pung Shin Gae.

He had collapsed into a heap, sobbing and surrounded by a group of flustered young beggars.

“Thank goodness… Oh, thank the Heavens…”

Thank goodness you're here too.

Chapter Text

‘As I thought. He lied to me.’

Tang Gunak silently watched Chung Myung exchange bloody blows with Jang Ilso in the cloud mirror.

To be honest, he never really believed Chung Myung’s words, even if they were the last thing he heard. It was more like… Yes, like he wanted to believe.

Unfortunately, Tang Gunak was nothing if not a practical person. Down to his very soul.

Even his son said that Hwasan Geomhyeop Chung Myung was the only one who could make him cast aside his cold hard reason.

That was why the relief he felt in his last moments came not from his belief in Chung Myung’s lie—

But from his belief in Chung Myung himself. His faith that Chung Myung would make that lie a reality.

Even so…

‘You have been hiding too much from me, my friend.’

It was not hard for him to find this pavilion. Their voices echoed throughout Heaven.

And once he was here, once he saw and recognized the people yelling and cheering as they watched Chung Myung, it was not long before he put the pieces together.

The man whose presence eclipsed anyone he had ever known, who wore a Hwasan Sect Leader’s uniform and carried the Purple Mist Divine Sword.

The old beggar whose description matched the children’s from their foray to Kaifeng.

Even his great-uncle, whose eyes shone like a boy’s when he looked at the man in green who shouted the loudest.

In their passionate cries and curses, he figured out the secret Chung Myung had been keeping from him all along.

‘Geomjon, they call him.

‘Maehwa Geomjon.’

Every mystery surrounding that inexplicable young man fell into place. His strength, his fears. His anger, and his sorrow.

Everything made sense. And how it made Tang Gunak’s heart ache.

“Um… He’s been standing there for a while.” During a lull in the battle, Chung Jin approached Chung Mun and whispered in his ear. “Shouldn’t we greet him… or at least, acknowledge his presence?”

“...”

Of course, everyone was engrossed in the war. The fate of Gangho depended on it.

But that was not the only reason all the ancestors in the pavilion had been ignoring Tang Gunak.

The truth was… They simply did not know how to face him.

He was their successor, a leader of the current Gangho a hundred years after them. To Tang Bo, he was his great-great-grandnephew.

But at the same time, they had watched him for years on the cloud mirror, fighting alongside and supporting Chung Myung. They had even overheard some of their conversations on the rooftops. They had witnessed his resolve as a Sect Leader and as a father.

They had fallen silent at his death.

It was hard for them to think of him as just another child of the Tang family.

“...Formal introductions can wait until the end of this war.”

Uncharacteristically, Chung Mun chose to postpone the predicament. It was not like they were in any rush, after all. This was Heaven.

Besides, Tang Gunak was just as invested in Chung Myung’s fight as they were. Perhaps even more so.

The look of intent focus and faith on Tang Gunak’s face as he watched Chung Myung was exactly the same as the one Chung Mun had seen in the mirror countless times before. It was uncanny to see it before him now.

Toward Tang Gunak, Chung Mun felt a mix of admiration, gratitude… and envy.

Yes. Envy.

It sounded absurd, but when did human emotions ever make sense? Even after transcending his mortal form and achieving enlightenment, Chung Mun was not free from those flaws.

After all, to be human is also to be part of nature. He accepted that.

He accepted that he could not reach Chung Myung when the latter needed him most.

When he saw Chung Myung curled up in that room, vomiting black blood and weakly crying out his name…

Chung Mun bit his lip so hard it bled, even though he no longer had a physical body to bleed.

For all those times Chung Myung responded sarcastically to his angry nagging, as though he could hear Chung Mun from Heaven…

There were just as many times his voice failed to reach Chung Myung when his sajae was at his most vulnerable. When he needed him most.

That was why he envied the people of a hundred years later. They could still be Chung Myung’s strength and walk with him.

These feelings were as complicated as anything he had felt in his lifetime. He envied them, Tang Gunak included.

There were times he also resented them. When even they could not help Chung Myung. When he saw a new scar on his beloved sajae’s yet immature body, a new burden on those small shoulders.

He held a great amount of guilt toward them, just as Chung Myung did. For failing to complete their mission and leaving the fight to the children of the future.

And most of all…

He was proud of them.

Chung Mun sighed. How could he begin to speak to Tang Gunak now?

He was not ready. He did not know what to say.

Tang Bo was probably the same. That loudmouth had stayed silent until now, opening his mouth only to curse out Jang Ilso.

Thankfully, whether Tang Gunak was aware of their conflicted feelings or not, it seemed he had no intention of starting a conversation with them either. Not for now.

His eyes were fixed on the screen, which flitted between Chung Myung and his children, and the other children he had watched grow.

Chung Mun followed his gaze.

The sahyeong Maehwa Geomjon relied on the most, and the friend Hwasan Geomhyeop depended on the most.

When Chung Myung smashed Jang Ilso’s head into the ground, both of them clenched their fists in unison.

Chapter Text

At some point, the Hwasan Sect’s uniform started showing up in Jin Seokrim’s cloud mirror.

And not just fleetingly, like during the Hwajong Conference, either. No, that accursed black uniform and the plum blossom that gave him a headache just by looking at it swayed in front of the mirror every. single. day.

‘What the hell is this…?’

Unlike those sorry bachelors — ahem, Taoists of Hwasan, Jin Seokrim had a family. That meant he had a duty and a right to watch over not only the disciples of the Jongnam Sect, but the descendants of the Jin family.

In other words—

A member of the Jin family… had joined the Hwasan Sect.

“Jin. Dong. Ryoooong!” 

Jin Seokrim growled the name through gritted teeth like a curse from Hell, not Heaven.

The Hwasan Sect? Not anywhere else, but Hwasaaaaan?!

He had not paid much attention to his great-great-grandson Jin Chobaek’s third son before this. Not just him, but all the other ancestors of Jongnam had been watching the much more talented Jin Geumryong.

Now, he did not even know how to face his sajaes anymore. Not when a descendant with a face so similar to his is happily wearing Hwasan’s uniform. 

For the first time, he resented the strength of his bloodline.

After that, he had no choice but to notice Jin Dongryong more. He could not completely choose who the mirror showed him. Sometimes it displayed the descendants who prayed to his name, sometimes it was the ones who needed his help—

And sometimes… it felt as though the mirror was reflecting those chosen by fate.

Or maybe it’s just his mind went back to Jin Dongryong whenever he saw those bastards from Hwasan walking past him in the streets of Heaven, so the mirror threw the boy’s image in his face.

Either way, he watched as Jin Dongryong sweet-talked his way into the good graces of Hwasan’s soft-hearted Sect Leader.

Hyun Jong, was it? Jin Seokrim scoffed. With a leader like that, Hwasan was doomed.

He watched as Jin Dongryong became the senior disciple of the Baek generation — the generation that shared the same name as his master’s greatest rival.

Jin Seokrim fell silent at that. Sometimes it was easy to lose track of how long it had been since his time passed.

He still refused to acknowledge his descendant’s Taoist name, though. Not least because it made Jin Dongryong sound like his senior.

He watched and shook his head as Jin Dongryong lost horribly to Jin Geumryong. And for some reason, that particular Hwajong Conference did not give him as much joy as the previous ones.

In his time, Jongnam had never been able to step out of Hwasan’s shadow. After the war…

The Hwasan swordsmen passing by gave him cold looks when their eyes met. He bit his lip.

After the war, knowing what happened after their deaths, Jin Seokrim had found it difficult to meet their gazes.

‘If I were still alive…’

He stopped himself halfway through that thought and went back to the cloud mirror. After that, he started watching Jin Dongryong more closely.

That was why he was the first person among the Jongnam ancestors to see that boy.

—Young man, who could you be? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your face in Hwaeum before. If it isn’t too rude, may I ask your name and what family you belong to?

It wasn’t obvious at first. That face was too young, younger than even the first time Jin Seokrim had met him, and it didn’t fully resemble the one in his memory.

But it didn’t take long.

—It’s only our first meeting, but you seem so familiar to me. I think we’ll see each other in the future quite often. What is your name?

—Chung Myung.

Chung Myung.

“CHUUUUNG MYUUUUNG!” 

Jin Seokrim’s angry roar startled the entire Jongnam Sect’s heavenly headquarters.

He had been wondering why that bastard was nowhere to be seen in Heaven. Everyone had.

Some even whispered that maybe, because of his shitty personality, that bastard’s karma had caught up to him and he had ended up in Hell, after all.

But as much as they sniggered over the possibility in secret, no one actually believed it.

No matter what their feelings toward Maehwa Geomjon were, they all had the same thought.

‘If even I’m here in Heaven, there’s no way that guy didn’t make it.’

And now they knew why.

It seemed that, unlike the rest of them, Chung Myung’s war was not over yet.

Word of Maehwa Geomjon’s reincarnation spread through Heaven like wildfire. He was the most famous warrior of Gangho in a hundred years, the one who took Cheonma’s head, after all.

But after a few months, the furor began to die down. Everyone had their own descendants to watch.

Only Hwasan continued to follow his every move. Hwasan… and Jongnam.

Jin Seokrim had never been able to defeat Maehwa Geomjon Chung Myung in his lifetime. Even though he was quite a bit older, from the moment that insolent brat fought him in the tavern and beat him up in the forest, he had never been able to escape from Chung Myung’s shadow.

Just like Jongnam could never escape Hwasan’s.

And now, even after death, he had to grit his teeth and watch as Chung Myung beat up his descendants. Not just Jin Dongryong, but Jin Geumryong too!

“Useless brats! That bastard is still a kid! He’s miles weaker than he used to be! Just break his head already!! Six— No, seven times!!!”

There were countless days when Jin Seokrim’s sajaes walked past his window and shook their heads sadly. Though they were not happy to see Hwasan overtaking Jongnam again either, at least it wasn’t their direct descendant being bullied by Maehwa Geomjon literally every day and night.

It seemed as though, even in death, Jin Seokrim could not get away from Maehwa Geonjon’s torture. Even in Heaven, he was being woken up by nightmares of Chung Myung.

Slowly, though… Things began to change.

It started with the Wordly Murim Competition, where Dongryong finally defeated his brother.

Jin Seokrim sighed when Dongryong’s plum blossoms melted away Geumryong’s snow blossoms. He knew the technique they created was an exercise in futility, but he could not fault his descendants for wanting to try something new.

After all, he bitterly understood the feeling of never being able to catch up to Hwasan.

Still, he would never have resorted to such desperate measures, or learned such a pitiful technique. 

And so, for a split second, he was glad that Chung Myung showed his descendants the right path — Only for a thousandth of a second, mind you.

And then it was the emergence of the Demonic Cult remnants in the Northern Sea, and the rise of Sapaeryeon.

Jin Seokrim’s frown deepened every time Dongryong followed Chung Myung on a new adventure, only to return beaten and battered. To Sichuan, Yunnan, the Northern Sea, then Hangzhou.

He had to admit, even though the Gangho of a hundred years later was much weaker than their time, Dongryong was growing rapidly under Chung Myung’s tutelage. It was not long before he was stronger than Jin Seokrim had been when he first crossed paths with Chung Myung, and at a younger age too.

Dongryong was growing not just in strength, but also in influence. When he picked up the Purple Mist Divine Sword as the Acting Sect Leader of Hwasan, Jin Seokrim felt a hard lump in his throat.

He himself had never become the Sect Leader of Jongnam. Perhaps he had been on that path once, but his loss to Chung Myung had derailed it.

In that sense, he had to admire Geumryong’s resilience as well. The oldest son was still firmly carrying that burden and leading the disciples of Jongnam… even though Dongryong had clearly surpassed his brother during Jongnam’s years in Bongmun.

But Dongryong’s unnaturally rapid growth came with a cost.

When Dongryong first unwrapped the bandages around his arms, Jin Seokrim’s hands trembled as well.

When Dongryong dropped the spoon for the eighteenth time and resorted to putting his face into the bowl, Jin Seokrim felt sick to his stomach.

And when Geumryong brought up the elixir, Jin Seokrim’s head spun.

Maybe it was because he had been watching Dongryong every day for all these years. All he could think was—

‘If I were still an elder of Jongnam, I would’ve done everything I could to get him that elixir.’

Up here in Heaven where even time made no mark on them, things like the lines between sects were much more blurred. It was no surprise, considering how ancient grudges were often traced back to petty squabbles after a casual chat with an ancestor.

Breaking with tradition was something he never would’ve entertained when he was alive. No… To be more precise, he would probably have agreed with Jongli Gok at any point before the war.

Once the war broke out, he was forced to accept that some people were simply worth saving more than others. Sect lines be damned.

He wanted to tear his hair out with frustration when Hyun Jong expelled his Dongryong. The now-Retired Sect Leader of Hwasan had proven his initial evaluation wrong a hundred times over by now, but it was still such an infuriatingly Hyun Jong thing to do.

More than that, he wanted to shake Chung Myung. Be it as Maehwa Geomjon or Hwasan Geomhyeop, shouldn’t he do something? The Chung Myung he knew would never just stand by and watch a mess like this unfold.

Until that night, when for the first time in two lifetimes, through his descendant’s eyes—

Jin Seokrim saw Chung Myung break down like a helpless child.

He had looked away when Chung Myung sobbed over Chung Jin’s remnants. All of them in Heaven had wept over a fallen sajae or sajil before. Watching had felt impolite.

But this was different.

Jin Seokrim watched as intently as Jin Dongryong did, searing this image into his mind.

Because, even if he would never admit it, he had chased after Chung Myung all his life. Just like Dongryong did.

After that first ill-fated encounter, he had trained his hardest to get revenge. Like Jin Geumryong, he had also been a generational talent, one expected to take over as a future leader of Jongnam.

Just like Jin Geumryong, he had lost humiliatingly to Chung Myung.

Unlike Jin Geumryong, he had given up on becoming Sect Leader after the loss. Instead, he had set everything aside to get stronger, all so he could defeat Chung Myung the next time they met. Or the next time. Or the time after that…

Maybe it was because the Hwasan of his time had not relied on Chung Myung that much. For most of Jin Seokrim’s life, Chung Myung had merely been the sword of Hwasan, a wandering rebel picking fights.

He had only seen Chung Myung’s martial strength, so he had only aimed for that. Constantly. Endlessly.

Even when others hesitated and faltered, including those in Jongnam and his Sect Leader sajae—

He never stopped trying to reach Chung Myung.

In the end, he had chased Chung Myung’s back all the way to the Hundred Thousand Mountain Range.

Just like Dongryong was doing now, he kept pushing himself forward. Even when he was stabbed through the belly, even when he vomited blood.

The difference was, Jin Seokrim never managed to catch up. Chung Myung never really noticed him, much less remembered him.

The only time he turned back to look at Jin Seokrim, for the briefest moment, was when Jin Seokrim fell, two hundred meters away from the peak of the Hundred Thousand Mountain.

Chung Myung’s cold face, red with the Demonic Cult’s blood, was the last thing Jin Seokrim saw. And then… Chung Myung had turned away, to go after the Heavenly Demon.

Jin Seokrim had never even reached Chung Myung’s battlefield, much less his back. Not even till the end.

That was why, when everyone else watched in bafflement as Dongryong recovered his drive and pushed through the most ridiculous odds, Jin Seokrim understood.

When Dongryong got up again and again in the Wudang Sect Leader’s seclusion room, Jin Seokrim clenched his fists.

When Dongryong’s body erupted in a burst of energy, supported by his sajae, Sect Leader, and older brother, Jin Seokrom’s chest also felt like it might explode.

—Chuung Myuuung-aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

—Hwasaaaaaaaaaaaan!

—I am here!

Jin Seokrim jumped to his feet and roared. He did not care now even if the others were looking at him in surprise... though if he turned to look, he would see that they were cheering too.

For the first time since he arrived in Heaven, Jin Seokrim's blood was boiling.

Because that look in Chung Myung’s trembling eyes was the one he had been searching for all this time.

“Goooo! Break through and reach that bastard’s side—

“Vice Leader Baek Cheoooon!!!

Chapter Text

“So this is Hell?”

Jang Ilso took in the blood-red scene around him, rubbing his chin in curiosity and amusement. Something about this place strangely reminded of the Hundred Thousand Mountain…

“Ryeonju!” 

But a voice called out to him, breaking that train of thought, and he did not pursue it any longer. 

His lips curved. They had been stained reddish-brown from his blood upon his death, but they seemed to regain that bright red gleam from his glory days the moment he heard that voice.

“Gamyeong-ah, Saparyeon is no more. You no longer need to refer to me as Ryeonju.”

Ho Gamyeong, who had been hurrying over, came to a stop in front of Jang Ilso. After a pause, he bowed respectfully. “Very well, Paegun.”

“Have you been waiting for me?” Jang Ilso glanced at the towering, ominous gates before them, as well as the scowling guards. 

“Not that long.” Ho Gameyong made it sound easy, but not many could defy the natural laws of the underworld. Jang Ilso had faith in his deputy’s skills, but even he could not immediately figure out how Ho Gamyeong pulled it off.

Not that it mattered. 

“I did not keep you waiting long, did I?” Jang Ilso chuckled. “Gamyeong, Gamyeong. I did not last a day without you. Isn’t that amusing?”

Paegun was in a strangely good mood, considering where they were and how they must have gotten here. Ho Gamyeong could not help but sigh. “Will you tell me what happened, Paegun, or is it my first task in this new realm to find out?”

“There are ways to observe the living world here?” Jang Ilso immediately picked up on the clue in his strategist’s words. 

“As I gathered, yes. There are mirrors beyond there.” Ho Gamyeong pointed beyond the gates. “But there are also…”

“Plenty of people who want me dead. Again.” Jang Ilso cackled at the thought. The Sun Palace Lord would probably be at the front of that line, hmm? Would it be more fun to stay out here and taunt the guards? Or go inside and mock his former allies and enemies?

Jang Ilso paused. He had recovered Ho Gamyeong, but he still felt it. That well of emptiness he had felt during his final fight. 

— Because behind what you’re trying to achieve, there’s nothing. So for you, this is the final destination.

“Nothing, huh…”

As it turned out, that was not the “final” destination, after all. There was still somewhere beyond it. So what… should he try to achieve now?

Ho Gamyeong waited in silence as Jang Ilso thought. There was no telling how much time passed in the underworld, and even less way of knowing how much time had passed in the world of the living.

In any case, he was used to waiting. Paegun also worked at his own pace. And now they had all the time in the world.

But just as he was getting comfortable (or as comfortable as anyone could get before the Gates of Hell), something caused Jang Ilso to stir.

“The smell of… liquor?”

And a voice that was all too familiar… both so distant, so impossible, and yet all too fitting in this place.

— Be grateful and drink it up. A stupid Sapa bastard like you won’t ever get the chance to taste the liquor given to you by a Taoist.

“Aha… Ahahahaha! HAHAHA!” 

Ho Gamyeong held his breath. Only Paegun could laugh like that in Hell, but laugh he did, wildly, with such abandon that his soul seemed to shake.

His laughter echoed through the gates and made the guards frown. It reached beyond the gates and made many a sinner’s soul shudder.

And once he was finally done laughing, he licked the scent of liquor off his blood-red lips and slicked his long hair back.

Ho Gamyeong’s eyes shone. In an instant, Jang Ilso was back to being the infallible Paegun he had entrusted his life and death to.

Jang Ilso’s red lips curved. “Let’s go, Gamyeong-ah. We have no time to waste.”

Logically, time no longer mattered to them, but Ho Gamyeong did not question his master. He merely followed, as he always did… and waited for Jang Ilso to explain, as he always did.

“That Taoist could show up here any day, judging by how he lives.” Jang Ilso smirked as he marched forward confidently. “So we’ll have to make sure we’re ready for him. Wouldn’t it be amusing if he arrived at the Gates of Hell, only to see that we’ve already conquered it?”

Ho Gamyeong nodded. He should have known. “But what are the chances of that man ending up here? Although he may be more Sapa-like than any of us at times, he is still a Taoist.”

“Then we’ll just have to take the new war to him,” Jang Ilso replied breezily. “We’ve done it before. Wouldn’t his expression be just as entertaining if we stormed Heaven with an army of old faces?”

“In other words, you just want to see him surprised…” Ho Gamyeong murmured. It seemed that even Death could not sever the twisted ties of fate between Paegun and Hwasan Geomhyeop.

Oh, well. As long as Paegun was happy.

Having died already, Ho Gamyeong found his shoulders a lot lighter. And besides…

Starting from the bottom again with Paegun did not sound too bad.

As for Jang Ilso, he was still savoring the lingering taste of liquor in his mouth. “Stingy bastard. Couldn’t you have given me more?

“But it matters not.

“Because I will pay you back for every drop. In due time.”

All of a sudden, Jang Ilso really wanted to get his hands on one of those mirrors that provided a view of the mortal realm.

After he replaced his crown, of course.