Chapter 202: Inevitability (1)
The world was remarkably peaceful.
The days when the righteous factions and the Demonic Cult constantly aimed their swords at one another's throats had long since become a thing of the distant past.
Of course, grudges built over generations did not disappear overnight.
But at the very least...
people no longer drew their swords first without even asking why, simply because the other side belonged to the righteous faction.
Or because they belonged to the Demonic Cult.
Official envoys now traveled between the Righteous Alliance and the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
When major disasters such as floods or droughts struck, the two sides worked together to save people.
Sometimes, martial artists from both sides even sat at the same drinking table and shared cups.
A sight that would have been unthinkable only a few decades earlier.
And people said there was one man at the center of all those changes.
The current Alliance Leader of the Righteous Alliance.
The strongest under heaven.
And now, as though even that title were insufficient, an absolute master who had begun to be called the greatest of all time.
A once-in-an-era genius said to have reached a realm no one had touched since True Immortal Cheongun.
Among the righteous factions, people debated whether he had surpassed Cheongun's realm.
Within the Demonic Cult, voices grew heated over whether he or the Primordial Heavenly Demon would have been stronger.
The argument had continued for more than ten years.
And still, no conclusion had been reached.
Though the man at the center of it all seemed to have little interest in such talk.
A nameless mountain village on the outskirts of the Central Plains.
Only after crossing several high mountains would one finally reach the tiny slash-and-burn farming settlement.
The man arrived there when the sun had nearly reached the western ridge.
A faded gray martial robe.
An old sword at his waist, worn from long use.
He looked to be a little over forty.
Nothing about his clothes stood out.
But neither did he look like an ordinary traveler who had simply wandered into the mountains by accident.
The man stopped at the entrance to the village and quietly looked around.
Barely more than a dozen thatched cottages.
Small fields carved into the mountainside.
On one side, a bent old man worked the earth with a hoe.
On the other, several women gathered dried mountain greens.
A thoroughly modest scene.
A faint smile appeared on the man's lips.
“Places like this still exist.”
He slowly walked into the village.
That was when—
Crash!
A loud noise came from a nearby slope.
He turned his head.
Bundles of firewood were rolling down the hillside.
Behind them, a child came scrambling down in a panic.
“N-No!”
He looked about ten years old.
A boy wearing worn-out clothes.
A load of firewood nearly as large as the child himself had scattered all over the ground.
The boy hurriedly began gathering the logs.
The man picked up a piece that had rolled to his feet.
“Is this yours too?”
“Huh?”
The child looked up.
And at that moment—
the man froze.
"..."
His previously calm eyes visibly shook.
The boy stared back at him with a confused expression.
“Mister?”
The man didn't answer.
“Hello?”
The boy called again.
Only then did the man blink as though returning to himself.
“...Yes.”
He handed the piece of wood to the child.
But even then, his gaze remained fixed on the boy's face.
The boy touched his own cheek.
“Is there something on my face?”
“No.”
“Then why are you staring at me like that?”
The man quietly looked at him for a moment.
“It's been a long time.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The boy tilted his head.
“You're a strange mister.”
He went back to gathering the firewood.
The man silently watched him.
A very long time ago.
Deep underground, where not even a single ray of light entered.
A small hand burning with fever had tightly grasped one of his fingers.
The memory flashed through his mind.
The corner of the man's eye trembled ever so slightly.
“Mister?”
The boy's voice pulled him back to the present.
The child was struggling to lift the bundle onto his back.
The man stepped forward without a word.
Then picked up the entire bundle.
“Where should I take it?”
“Huh?”
“Your house.”
“N-No, it's fine. I can carry it.”
“I know.”
The man had already slung the load over one shoulder.
The boy's eyes widened.
It had been difficult for him to lift even with both hands.
Yet the man carried it as lightly as a bundle of straw.
“Where?”
“Over there....”
Still looking bewildered, the boy pointed toward an old thatched cottage deeper inside the village.
The boy's house was the most run-down one in the village.
A leaning fence.
A roof patched here and there with fresh straw.
The moment the door opened, the smell of boiling medicinal herbs drifted out.
A dry cough sounded from inside.
“Mother, I'm back.”
“Cough... You're back already?”
A weak woman's voice.
The man's gaze shifted inward.
A gaunt woman lay on an old bed.
She didn't look very old.
But perhaps because of a long illness, almost all color had left her face.
The boy set down the firewood and immediately brought water to his mother.
“Wasn't it too cold today?”
“I'm fine.”
“Did you eat?”
“I ate earlier.”
The boy answered casually.
But the man saw it.
An empty bowl sitting in one corner of the room.
And two small potatoes that looked as though the boy had dug them out of the mountain earlier that day.
Then—
Growl.
A small sound came from the boy's stomach.
"..."
The boy's face turned red.
“That was just....”
The corner of the man's mouth lifted slightly.
“You said you ate.”
“I ate a little.”
“What?”
“Well....”
The boy trailed off.
The man didn't press him.
Instead, he took out a piece of silver and placed it on the table.
The boy's eyes went wide.
“W-Why are you giving me this?”
“Payment for the firewood.”
“But you're the one who carried it for me.”
“Then consider it payment for showing me the way.”
“What payment? You were the one helping me.”
“You talk too much.”
The man turned away.
“Use it to buy medicine for your mother.”
The boy quickly grabbed the silver and chased after him.
“No. I can't just take something like this.”
The man stopped.
“Why not?”
“Mother told me never to accept someone else's things for no reason.”
The man looked down at him.
“Then I'm lending it to you.”
“But I don't have money to pay you back.”
“Pay me later.”
“When?”
“When you earn a lot of money.”
The boy looked at him suspiciously.
“What if I run away without paying you?”
The man chuckled.
“Then I'll come find you.”
“How are you supposed to find me?”
The man's smile deepened slightly.
“I'll find a way.”
For some reason...
it didn't sound like a joke.
The man did not leave the village.
He told the village chief he intended to stay for a few days and handed him a generous amount of silver.
Far more than necessary for a few nights.
The chief didn't ask many questions.
He simply gave the man an empty house on one side of the village.
The man offered no detailed explanation either.
He only said he wanted to rest somewhere quiet for a while.
After that...
the boy visited him once every day.
Some days, he brought a boiled potato.
On others, he held out a handful of berries picked from the mountain.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I borrowed silver from you.”
The man stared at the berries in disbelief.
“You're paying me back with these?”
“If I pay a little at a time, it'll eventually be enough.”
"..."
He looked at the berries for a moment before finally accepting them.
“Do whatever you want.”
A bright smile spread across the boy's face.
Before he knew it...
the man had grown accustomed to the time of day when the child came to visit.
But the peace didn't last long.
On the tenth day of the man's stay—
the sound of hooves came from outside the village.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Six horses entered the village in a cloud of dust.
Every rider carried a weapon.
The middle-aged man at the front looked around and shouted.
“Village chief! Where are you?!”
The villagers' faces immediately stiffened.
People working in the fields hurried back into their homes.
The boy's face also turned pale.
The man noticed.
“You know them?”
The boy gave a small nod.
“They're from the estate below the mountain.”
“Why are they here?”
“To collect grain.”
“What grain?”
The boy couldn't answer.
By then, the village chief had already stepped forward with his back bent.
“Welcome, sir.”
The middle-aged man snorted.
“You've prepared this month's share, haven't you?”
The chief's face darkened.
“Well... this year's harvest was very poor. We couldn't prepare the full amount we promised.”
“So?”
“If you could give us just one more month....”
Smack!
The middle-aged man's hand struck the chief across the face.
The old man fell onto the dirt.
“A promise is a promise.”
“S-Sir....”
“If we've allowed you to farm this mountain, then you need to pay the price.”
“But this mountain originally—”
Before the chief could finish, the man's eyes turned sharp.
“Originally what?”
The chief shut his mouth.
The middle-aged man jerked his chin toward his subordinates.
“Search every house.”
“Yes.”
The warriors scattered.
Soon, crying and shouting erupted from inside the houses.
The man asked the boy quietly,
“Is it always like this?”
“Every year.”
“What about the authorities?”
“They said they even had permission from the Righteous Alliance.”
The man's gaze shifted.
“The Righteous Alliance?”
“They said their names are registered with a Righteous Alliance branch below the mountain. That's why no one can touch them....”
The man fell silent.
Then gave a short laugh.
“I see.”
The boy didn't understand what that laugh meant.
A moment later—
