Chapter 02

…What became of my younger sisters?

The scholar asked, his tone dripping with self-mockery, for he could already predict their tragic ends.

[Your first younger sister dedicated herself to purging the world of Demonic Lords[1] in an attempt to restore some small measure of your family’s name. In her quest, she encountered a Demonic Master from a bygone era and was torn limb from limb. As for your second younger sister, after losing her twin in such a manner, she lost her mind. She wandered the streets until one day, during a harsh downpour, she froze to death.]

I see…

Yes. That was how it must have been. With the family splintered and all but exterminated, there was no way those children could have survived unscathed.

[Your youngest sister, however, is fortunately still alive.]

The scholar’s spirit flickered with hope.

Is that so?! Nan-ee is alive? Where is she now?

[Your youngest has become addicted to narcotics. A means of escaping reality, I would imagine. She sells her body as a courtesan in the brothels of Luoyang to fund it.]

The voice soothed him gently.

[Still, it is a good thing that she is alive. A very good thing indeed. I am pleased that I can finally deliver some good news.]

“Khhh…”

A laugh tore from the scholar’s throat, ragged and wet like he was coughing up blood. Or perhaps, it was a sob that sounded like laughter.

With every shudder of his broken body, the chains bound tight to his shoulder blades screamed a dismal protest. The links were as thick as a grown man’s forearm and possessed a deep, inky luster. It was unmistakably Black Iron[2], a metal of unparalleled hardness.

After a long moment of weeping tears of blood, the scholar offered an excuse to the voice.

I… I couldn’t do anything.

It was the path they had chosen, and this was the result.

I resolved long ago to sever all ties[3] with the world.

[I am already aware of your resolve. And of the process that led you to it.]

The scholar sank into a brief reminiscence, dredging up memories that had long settled in the deep darkness of his mind. They were ancient memories, yet they felt as vivid as if they had happened only yesterday.

[The world of mortals is undoubtedly a filthy, despicable place. And it was humanity itself that made it so. The end of the Age of Myths, the dawn of civilization, and the beginning of the Age of History—these were all born from the great corruption of humankind.]

*…I wanted to be like Laozi[4].*

[You wished to remain a figure who simply passes through, leaving little trace. Just like him. He founded the great philosophy of Taoism, yet left behind almost no record of himself before ultimately sprouting wings and ascending to the heavens as an immortal[5].]

I merely wished to live a life of non-action and non-desire[6]. I did not want to involve myself in the affairs of the secular world.

[And is that not why you lived as a man without a sword? Though the eldest son of a Sword Clan, you refused to even hold a blade, finding your pleasure instead by shutting yourself in a room to read. Did your wife not understand this?]

…Come to think of it, my wife? What happened to Woon-jeong?

He and his wife, Murong Woon-jeong, had never truly shared their hearts. But that did not mean she treated him with contempt. Despite the disadvantages she suffered for having a useless live-in husband, she had always shown him great consideration, ensuring he could live in peace. They were a couple in name only, never even sharing a bed, but she was one of the few people for whom he held a deep sense of gratitude.

[She was ultimately defeated in a political struggle. Her faction was completely purged.]

…Did she lose her life?

[It was not long ago. While attending to the Fear King[7] in his bedchambers, she bit off his manhood and tore it to shreds. Even on the execution ground, she laughed with abandon. A truly remarkable woman. Had she been born in a chaotic age, she would surely have become a great monarch.]

The voice chuckled heartily.

…She lived her life without a speck of shame under the heavens, yet in the end, the heavens did not help her.

The voice scoffed.

[Nonsense. What she needed was not the heavens, but you. You were the one who abandoned her.]

…There was a time when I tried to divine my own fate.

The scholar lifted his sightless eyes toward the sky.

I was born under the dominion of the Star of Heavenly Slaughter[8]. If someone like me were to interfere in the affairs of the world, my actions would cause countless people to shed blood.

The voice replied at once.

[Do you still not understand? That fate of yours has already come to pass.]

What…?!

A sudden, terrible realization struck the scholar.

Everyone he had ever cared for had been hurt, had suffered, had been killed.

He had tried to do nothing for their sake, yet it was precisely because he did nothing that they were all dragged into the abyss.

…In the end, was I, a mere mortal, unable to escape the solemn shackles of fate?

The only difference, small and utterly insignificant, was that he had not stained his own hands with their blood.

[Do you see now?]

The scholar bowed his head.

…If that is the case, then I have no choice but to leave all that comes next to the will of the heavens.

[How utterly foolish!]

It was a sound unlike any he had heard before, a deafening roar that threatened to shatter his eardrums.

[Do you still not understand?]

In a stark shift from its previous demeanor, the voice was now clearly agitated, furious.

[“Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad creatures as straw dogs[9]!” The heavens and the earth are not righteous; they do not care for feeble mortals!]

The voice rebuked the scholar without restraint.

[If that is so, then people should at least help one another. But “the Sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs!” Looking at you, does that not fit you perfectly?]

The scholar countered the voice’s tirade.

However, it is also said, “Heaven’s net is vast; though its mesh is coarse, nothing slips through[10].” Even if I do not act, those who have committed evil will surely be judged according to the law of causality[11].

[Causality, you say? Causality?!]

The voice, repeating the word, erupted into a peal of mad laughter. The sound was so immense it felt like it was splitting his skull, and the scholar, forgetting his pain, clamped his fingerless, wrist-less arms over his ears. The vibrations from the laughter resonated through the Black Iron chains, rattling his very bones.

[Since you speak of causality, let me show you an old story.]

The world before the scholar brightened.

Suddenly, a strange and vast landscape unfolded around him. Though he had lost his eyes, he could see everything the voice showed him.

In ancient times, in the Age of Myths, there were those who had lost everything at the hands of humanity. Even in that era, humans were cruel and selfish. In the end, a small number of these beings turned their backs on the horrific human world and dedicated themselves solely to their own cultivation. They believed that a causality transcending time and space must exist, a great cosmic order that would one day make the wicked pay for their deeds.

One day, having attained enlightenment, they became Immortals[12].

And then, they realized the truth of the world.

Causality, the absolute order they had believed in, was nothing but an illusion.

Those whose lives ended simply returned to a handful of dust. Their souls, both the hun and po, merely dissipated back into nature. There was no afterlife, no hell, no inescapable judgment for anyone.

The wicked committed their evil deeds, lived lives of luxury; good clothes and good food[13], and died. Occasionally, their wickedness led them to an early grave, but that was merely a fraction of the story. By any measure, the vast majority of good people lived in extreme suffering and died without ever reaching their natural lifespan[14], while those who squeezed their blood and pus dry enjoyed blessings and pleasures[15] far beyond their share before they, too, died.

It was profoundly, grotesquely unfair.

There were no heavens to right the tilted scales.

There was no great causality.

***

[Do you understand now?]

The voice asked again.

[Have you seen the truth?]

The scholar did not answer. The truth he now faced was too cold, too unforgiving. Heavenly punishment[16], judgment[17]—these were nothing more than fictions created by those living without a shred of hope.

There was no salvation for them.

The day when every last villain would pay the price for their actions would never come.

In the end, if the only thing that can save a person is another person…

…then the only thing that can punish a person is another person as well.

If that’s the case, then… then…!

The voice pressed him.

[Do you want power? Do you want the power to judge them? Do you want to make them pay the true price?]

Yes.

[Do you want a chance? Do you want a chance to change everything? Do you want to save everyone?]

Yes.

[Even if the price is that your soul will suffer for eternity, with nowhere to go?]

Yes!

A guttural scream, mixed with blood, erupted from the scholar’s throat.

I will take that power! I will seize that chance!

He thrashed violently, and the Black Iron chains shrieked and rattled. A raw cry burst from his throat.

I will make those who are swayed by mere desire pay the price! I will bring down the hammer of justice upon those who take pleasure in the suffering of others!

The scholar’s screams grew ever louder, showing no sign of stopping.

I will use every ability given to me, and I will rule over their fates!

And as his cries intensified, the presence of the voice grew, matching him in magnitude.

[Now you understand! Now you can finally face your true self! Then look upon me!]

The voice grew so immense it seemed to shake the scholar’s very soul. Even as he felt his spirit tremble like a leaf in a tempest, the scholar stared into the pitch-black darkness with the empty sockets of his eyes.

[I—We—can give you power. We can give you a chance.]

‘It’ was in the deepest part of the darkness.

From the distant bottom of an abyss that could only be described as bottomless, it was looking at him.

It was a book.

It was a scripture.

A scripture bound in the skin of one who held a grudge against humanity, its text written in the blood of one who held a grudge against the heavens, and its pages stitched with the sinews of one who held a grudge against the earth.

[Though what you and we seek is different, our path is the same. Make a contract with us, and we will grant you a new opportunity!]

I will make the contract!

[You will never again be able to walk proudly in the light, nor will you ever be able to lift your face to the heavens again. Even so, will you make this contract with me!]

The scholar had never considered another answer.

Yes. I entrust my soul to you.

The voice—the scripture—seemed satisfied with his answer and erupted in a heaven-shaking laugh.

[O Fated One[18]! This scripture is named The Scripture that Commands the Dark and Quakes the Heavens[19], a scripture that defies the heavens[20], destined to consume all the darkness of this Saha world[21] in place of the indifferent and lazy heavens themselves!]

Darkness surged forth from the scripture.

In an instant, the scholar’s soul was consumed by it. As his consciousness faded, the mad laughter of the scripture thundered in his ears.

[From this moment on, you shall breathe in darkness, and in darkness, you shall bring down the sword of judgment. You shall become a Venerable One²³ of Darkness, who punishes all the karma[22] of the world!]

***

The next day, the jailers discovered the scholar, dead, having bled from every orifice.

Strangely, however, they said his corpse was unbelievably light, almost as if it were not human at all.

As if…

…something important had been completely drained away.

***

Arc 1.

The Venerable One[23] of Dark Heavens, a Curtain Rises

It is better to be violent if there’s violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence.

—Mahatma Gandhi