Hah…
I miss the dumplings So-yeong used to make.
What?
Is a man not allowed to reminisce about his fiancée's dumplings while he's dying?
…Yeah, I know.
This is a battlefield.
And I'm bleeding out.
So what?
It's not like there's anything else I can do now.
I was supposed to be the heir to the strongest sword of the Jongnam Sect—one of the Nine Great Sects of the Central Plains.
And yeah… I was cocky.
But it wasn't like it wasn't justified.
Jongnam's Sword Dragon.
That was my title.
I defeated the Namgung Clan's heir.
At twenty-two, I tore through an elder's Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Arts with my Thirty-Six Directional Sword.
I reached the peak realm at eighteen—young enough to leave my name carved into history.
Transcendence at twenty-four.
A monster. A genius. A once-in-a-century prodigy.
…And none of it meant a damn thing.
Not against that thing.
That monster that crawled out of hell.
That son of a bitch killed one of the Ten Great Masters like he was nothing more than an insect.
And then—
He declared he would paint the world in blood.
So the entire martial world rose against him.
Or what was left of it, after he'd already torn through half of the demonic factions like they were fodder.
Irony, right?
The righteous and the remnants of the evil path, standing on the same side.
And even then…
We were losing.
He and his followers rampaged like beasts let loose in a pen—no, worse.
They slaughtered martial artists and civilians alike, in ways too grotesque to even recall properly.
The Ten Great Masters became six.
The Kings gathered.
Even the remaining two of the Three Saints stepped in.
The war that began when I was twenty-seven…
…didn't end until I turned thirty-three.
Six years.
Six years of blood, screams, and corpses.
I lost everything in those six years.
My master.
My senior brothers.
My junior brothers.
…And her.
My So-yeong.
All of it—because of one man.
His name?
Cheon Ji-wan.
…No.
That's not the name people remember.
What they remember is—
The Blood Demon.
The bastard who appeared from nowhere and revived the Blood Cult that had been wiped out two hundred years ago after the Righteous-Blood War.
And that insane son of a bitch…
He died laughing.
He died laughing.
After everything he did—after everything he took—
He laughed.
If my body wasn't already falling apart, I would've mutilated his corpse myself.
Righteous path?
…Fuck that.
That war burned all of that out of me.
By the end, I wasn't righteous. I wasn't evil.
I was just a man who would throw dirt in your eyes and stab you in the throat if you were part of the Blood Cult.
In the end…
It took everything.
The two Saints.
The six remaining Kings.
And me.
We killed him.
We wiped them out.
The Blood Cult is gone.
…So why does it feel like we lost?
All I see around me…
Is a mountain of corpses.
Taoists from Wudang, Qingcheng, Mount Hua, Kongtong…
Monks from Shaolin, Emei…
Warriors from the great clans…
Even their leaders.
All dead.
No one survived.
We won—
And the Central Plains is left broken, wide open for foreign invasion.
…What a joke.
I was supposed to marry So-yeong.
I was supposed to become the Sword of Jongnam.
Maybe… I could've even become one of the Three Saints.
Or something beyond that.
I was supposed to have children with her.
Grow old.
Watch the sunset together.
…Simple things.
I can't even speak now.
One of my legs is gone.
One eye… burst.
There's a sword wound in my chest.
And a hole the size of a fist through my abdomen—
A farewell gift from that bastard's final strike.
My blood pools beneath me.
Warm.
Sticky.
Fading.
…Is this it?
Is this how I die?
Without achieving anything I truly wanted?
Without protecting anyone?
…Hah.
I knew it.
I should've worked harder.
Shouldn't have relied so much on talent.
If I trained just a little more—
An extra hour a day—
Maybe I could've taken his head before his attack reached her.
Maybe I could've killed him the first time we met on the battlefield three years ago.
Maybe…
…Maybe.
But what's the point now?
My body feels light.
Like I'm floating.
I can see her.
So-yeong.
Smiling.
Holding her swords beside me.
Her dumplings… still looking terrible.
Still tasting perfect.
…Wait.
Why is that old geezer here?
My master…
Training me.
Handing me tanghulu like I was still a child.
Giving me my first sword.
My junior brothers—
Clumsy idiots.
My senior brothers—
Strict, but always watching my back.
The elders…
All of them.
…Everyone.
They're all here.
And I…
I couldn't protect a single one of them.
If only…
If only I could live again—
—
Just like that—
The greatest prodigy in the history of the Jongnam Sect…
The one known as Jongnam's Sword Dragon…
The Unpromised One—
Jin Jae-kyung—
Breathed his last…
Atop a mountain of corpses,
Within the ruined heart of the Blood Cult.