Chapter 822: This War Is Mine (2)

 

An outstretched hand, tightly clenched lips.

All eyes were fixed on Heo Do-jin.

Not just the Five Swords but also the disciples of the Nine Great Sects, and even those from the unorthodox factions stared at him in shock.

The only person whose expression remained unchanged was Jang Il-so.

"Huff... Huff... Huff..."

Harsh breaths escaped Heo Do-jin's mouth. Retracting his outstretched hand, he clenched it tightly, wiping his sweat-covered face.

"You… you insane bastard!"

Baek Cheon gritted his teeth, looking as if he would lunge at Heo Do-jin at any moment, his face radiating murderous intent.

"What the hell did you just do?! What do you think you’re doing?! You…!"

Baek Cheon was so consumed by anger that he spat curses at the head of Wudang, a sight no one would have ever thought possible.

Yet, Heo Do-jin didn’t respond to his rage. He merely gave him a sidelong glance and then slowly walked toward Jang Il-so.

He didn’t harbor any personal grudge against Chung Myung.

Even if he did, this was not the time to settle it. The reason Heo Do-jin had attacked Chung Myung was simple: he could not allow anyone to provoke Jang Il-so and turn the cliff into a battlefield once more.

Heo Do-jin stood before Jang Il-so, exhaling deeply.

Below the cliff, others were still climbing up. Their faces were a mess, their eyes clouded with despair.

Watching them, Heo Do-jin clenched his lips tightly before finally turning to meet Jang Il-so's gaze. His bloodshot eyes shone with hatred, but Jang Il-so met his look with nothing but a mocking smile.

The attention of all present was drawn to the two men.

"Tyrant… or rather, Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance."

Finally, Heo Do-jin broke the silence.

"As the head of the Grand Wudang Sect..."

His voice was strained, as if he were holding something back with all his might.

"As the leader of Wudang… and representing the orthodox world…"

Jang Il-so’s smirk grew more pronounced.

Seeing the wicked grin spread across his face, Heo Do-jin spat out the words as though he were choking on them.

"I… request a truce with the Unorthodox Alliance."

A silence as deep as the abyss fell upon the cliff.

Everyone stood in stunned silence, unable to even breathe as they stared at Heo Do-jin.

‘What did I just hear?’

A truce?

Did he say a truce? Did Wudang just propose a truce with the Unorthodox Alliance?

They couldn’t comprehend it. The words "Wudang," "Unorthodox Alliance," and "truce" simply didn’t go together. Faces turned ashen as those present struggled to process what they were witnessing.

The silence was broken by Jang Il-so.

"Hmm…"

He let out a low hum, his tone light and amused, as if he were thoroughly enjoying the situation.

"A truce, is it…"

Studying Heo Do-jin, he spoke with a trace of laughter in his voice.

"Who would’ve thought those words would come from the esteemed head of Wudang? How humbling."

"…"

Despite Jang Il-so’s taunt, Heo Do-jin remained silent, as though he were willing to endure any humiliation.

"So then… what are the terms?"

"One year!"

Heo Do-jin spat out the words.

"For the next year, the Nine Great Sects and the Five Families will not cross the Yangtze River. No, we won’t even approach it. Grant us a truce here, and allow us to leave!"

"Heo Do-jin!"

Just then, Namgung Hwang, who had climbed to the top of the cliff, let out a furious shout.

"Are you out of your mind? What nonsense are you spewing?"

His eyes blazed with anger, on the verge of exploding.

How could a person in their right mind say such a thing? The Nine Great Sects and Five Families declaring a truce with the Unorthodox Alliance was akin to overturning the foundation of the orthodox sects.

"Have you lost your mind from fear? You’re proposing submission to these filthy unorthodox scum? And you call yourself the head of Wudang? Have you no shame?"

Namgung Hwang's voice was filled with raw despair, but Heo Do-jin, expression unchanged, responded calmly.

"Shut up."

"What…?"

"I said, shut your mouth."

Heo Do-jin looked at Namgung Hwang, eyes radiating a deadly aura.

Namgung Hwang fell silent, visibly shaken. Even facing a mortal enemy wouldn’t warrant such a glare.

"You… fool."

Heo Do-jin muttered through clenched teeth.

Yet, he wasn’t the only one who failed to grasp Heo Do-jin’s actions. Beopgye, who had finally reached the cliff, was equally bewildered.

"Headmaster! What are you trying to do? Shaolin cannot condone this."

His face was stricken with dismay.

But Heo Do-jin, his voice filled with cold contempt, responded to Beopgye.

"Condone it?"

"…"

"And if you don’t condone it?"

"Amitabha."

At Heo Do-jin’s fierce demeanor, Beopgye instinctively closed his mouth, muttering a prayer.

"Can you bear the responsibility?"

"What… responsibility…"

"Can you return to Shaolin and report to the abbot that you’ve lost every disciple here? Or would you bear the responsibility if there’s no one left alive to report back?"

"…"

Beopgye fell silent.

Who in the world could take responsibility for such an outcome? Moreover, he was but an elder of Shaolin, not the abbot. He couldn’t possibly handle the ramifications.

Seeing Beopgye’s hesitation, Heo Do-jin continued, his tone icy.

"Then stand back."

"But… Headmaster…"

"Did you not understand me?"

"…"

"I said, stand down."

Heo Do-jin growled.

"If you lack the resolve to bear the responsibility or the power to resolve this situation, then at least learn to keep your mouth shut. Barking like a dog solves nothing."

Blood trickled from his split lips, staining his chin as it dripped down.

Humiliation?

Pride?

What did any of that matter?

Right here, his precious disciples were dying. Having exhausted themselves climbing the cliff, they were defenseless against the Unorthodox Alliance, who lay in wait like wolves at the top.

Even if they survived this ordeal, what would remain of them?

A handful at best, which would mean the downfall of Wudang.

To vanquish the unorthodox forces here would require Wudang’s destruction as well.

‘What nonsense.’

If Wudang were to be destroyed in ridding the unorthodox, the remaining Nine Great Sects and Five Families would claim the victory. But Wudang, Shaolin, Namgung, and Qingcheng would never recover their former strength.

Just like Mount Hua, once upon a time.

Though Mount Hua had miraculously regained its strength, Wudang had no such guarantee. As the head of Wudang, he could not allow his sect to be put in a position where they needed a miracle.

"A truce, Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance!"

Heo Do-jin's bloodshot eyes narrowed as he continued.

"In exchange for a truce, we propose a one-year non-aggression pact. Those who uphold righteousness will not set foot in the lands of Jiangnan for a year."

"Hmm."

Jang Il-so tilted his head, looking uninterested.

“Jiangnan, huh… I fail to see the significance of that. Jiangnan already belongs to us.”

“You know full well that’s not the case.”

“Oh?”

Jang Il-so chuckled.

But Heo Do-jin’s expression remained grim. He bit his lip, his voice desperate.

“The Unorthodox Alliance is a hastily-formed organization. If you suffer more losses here, you’ll crumble. I’m certain that’s not what you want.”

"…"

"With a year, you can stabilize the alliance and fully dominate Jiangnan. Isn’t that what you want?"

As Jang Il-so’s expression shifted, Heo Do-jin pressed further.

"If you refuse, then we’ll fight to mutual destruction. If both the Unorthodox Alliance and the Five Sects perish, is that truly the end you desire?"

Jang Il-so grinned, baring his white teeth.

“You overestimate yourself.”

“But you wouldn’t want to hand the remaining factions an easy victory, would you?”

“Hahaha!”

Jang Il-so burst into laughter.

An easy victory.

Heo Do-jin was right. If they exhausted themselves in this battle, the remaining Nine Great Sects and Five Families would seize the opportunity and advance south.

Even if they achieved a decisive victory over the Five Sects here, they would be too weakened to withstand further attacks. A cornered rat bites the cat, and the sects that lost power would fight back desperately.

“Clever, Heo Do-jin.”

"…"

"But… it’s pathetic, deceitful… and cunning. Like…"

With a mocking smile, Jang Il-so’s slow words reached Heo Do-jin.

“…an unorthodox faction.”

The humiliation weighed heavily on Heo Do-jin’s shoulders, causing his body to tremble. But he couldn’t protest. The one holding the reins was not him, but Jang Il-so.

"I do enjoy people like you. Hahaha! The sight of the esteemed head of Wudang begging for mercy! Ahahaha!"

Jang Il-so’s laughter echoed across the cliff.

The disciples of the Nine Great Sects clenched their teeth in silent rage.

The humiliation was unbearable. Never in their wildest dreams did they think they’d find themselves begging the unorthodox for mercy.

They ought to die fighting.

That was the creed they’d been taught. But no one could volunteer to die.

One death would change nothing. A battle here meant everyone would perish. Who could bear that weight?

"But… first, I need to know."

Jang Il-so’s laughter ceased as he stared at Heo Do-jin.

"Do you even have the authority to make this decision? To represent the orthodox world and ensure the agreement is upheld?"

"If Wudang cannot, then no one can."

"…"

"We live and die by our convictions. An agreement made in the names of Wudang and Shaolin cannot be ignored. And… if Wudang, Shaolin, and Namgung withdraw…"

Heo Do-jin hesitated briefly before forcing himself to continue.

"Then no sect would dare set foot in Jiangnan, the land ruled by the Unorthodox Alliance."

Jang Il-so nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“But that alone is not enough.”

"…I am willing to stake my life."

“Hmm.”

Jang Il-so let out a snicker.

"Pathetic."

Heo Do-jin’s fists clenched so tightly that blood trickled down as his nails dug into his palm.

“Your life holds no real value to me, but the sight of the mighty head of Wudang begging for his life… how can I refuse? It’s so pitiful, after all.”

"…"

"But mark my words. This isn’t a non-aggression pact; it’s a truce on my terms. The only ones forbidden from crossing the Yangtze are you. The Unorthodox Alliance is free to advance north. And the term will be three years, not one."

Heo Do-jin’s eyes widened, his entire body quivering with fury.

Who could possibly understand the depths of his emotions at that moment? But Jang Il-so merely laughed, as if he could see right through him.

"If you accept these terms…"

With a sly smile, Jang Il-so added, almost in a whisper.

“I’ll let you scurry away with your pathetic lives.”

"…"

Heo Do-jin turned his gaze away.

He saw the faces of his disciples, each one pleading silently, as though they’d rather die than endure this humiliation.

But that was precisely why he knew what he had to do.

Heo Do-jin’s hand rose slowly.

The tremor in his fingers revealed his inner turmoil for all to see. His shaking hand met in the gesture of respectful surrender.

Bowing his head, Heo Do-jin, unable to bear looking up, spoke in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“I… accept.”

“Hmmm.”

Jang Il-so nodded, casting his gaze over everyone gathered on the cliff. His voice, both deep and mocking, resounded.

"I, Jang Il-so, as the Lord of the Unorthodox Alliance, hereby declare a truce between the Nine Great Sects, Five Families, and the Unorthodox Alliance over Jiangnan. For the next three years! The Nine Great Sects and the Five Families are forbidden from setting foot in Jiangnan! And in return…”

Jang Il-so slowly ran his finger along his lips, smiling softly.

“Survive. Hold on to your pitiful lives.”

"…"

The words struck like daggers into the hearts of everyone on the cliff.

“Haha…”

Jang Il-so glanced at them all before turning away.

“Let’s go. Looking at the faces of losers is unbearably unpleasant. Hahaha… Ahahaha!”

He strode off, laughing wildly, as though those behind him weren’t even worth a second glance.

The disciples of the Nine Great Sects lowered their heads, unable to look up, his laughter ringing in their ears.

They wanted to curse, to shout in rage.

But the shame gnawed at them, making them fully aware of their own disgrace.

No one had stepped forward.

Even as an unthinkable event unfolded before their eyes, no one dared to raise their voice or stop Heo Do-jin.

And so, they could only hang their heads in shame.

"Hahahahahaha! Ahahaha!"

Blood-red tears trickled down Heo Do-jin’s face.

It was a defeat that needed no justification.

A defeat that drove a blade into the marrow of his very bones.