194 Chapter 1082: Because That is the Duty of a Taoist (Part 2)

The memorial service was conducted in a modest manner.

There were not enough supplies to carry out a formal memorial service in the Taoist hall. In such a situation, even the most basic offerings and incense couldn't be prepared.

Although the ceremony lacked the proper formality, the disciples of Mount Hua recited blessings, uttered Taoist scriptures, their demeanor extremely reverent.

In the end, the ceremony was merely a form of etiquette observed for the deceased. Regardless of how grand and splendid a ceremony might be, it held no value greater than a single sincere gesture. The disciples of Mount Hua were well aware of this fact, and in every movement, in every word they uttered, they conveyed their sincerity. In this place, where those who had died wished for peace even in death, their genuine wishes were expressed.

Certainly, a fact that should never be forgotten. That they were cultivators of the Tao before martial artists.

However, even the disciples of Mount Hua sometimes forgot who they were. In this place, they were honoring the spirits of the sacrificed while also reclaiming their own duties.

Chung Myung, who stood at the back, looked at the disciples reciting the scripture. From Tang Soso on the far left to Baek Cheon on the far right, he took in the back views of all these people without missing a single one. Chung Myung closed his eyes quietly.

'Sahyung.'

In the past, there were times when he raised objections during ceremonies at Mount Hua. Chung Myung tried hard to avoid boring ceremonies, but every time he did, Cheong Mun did his best to corner him and at least place him in a corner.

- You are a Taoist before you are a swordsman.

- A sword without righteousness is no different than a bandit's blade. You must not forget your duty as a Taoist.

- Follow the Tao, whatever, but the essence of the memorial is sincerity. If you aren't born with it, you must at least watch and learn. That's the first thing you should do as a disciple of Mount Hua.

'...Obvious nagging.'

Yes, that's how he felt. In the past, he thought that way. What was the point of repetitive and boring ceremonies? Once a person dies, they're just gone. What good is the sutra offered to those buried in the dirt, and what value is there in the tears shed for them?

'That's how it was.'

Chung Myung slowly opened his closed eyes.

Back then, he couldn't understand. He knew the value of the Tao and had come to Mount Hua not to learn it but because he was abandoned there. He grew up listening to the scripture like a lullaby and watching the ceremonies like a game. So, to him, all of this naturally existed without having to think of its meaning.

That's why he didn't understand.

Why people commemorate those who can never return, and why they honor the spirits.

Those who never had anything from the beginning couldn't lose anything.

'Sahyung, I...'

What he lost was not something he had held from the beginning but something he had created while living. No... even if he didn't want it, it lingered around him as if it were natural.

That's why he came to know it. Only after losing it.

Even for the deceased who could never return, there was meaning. What kind of feelings the remaining ones had as they sought the Tao.

And here were those who understood that meaning. Those who knew what the past Chung Myung didn't, and those who tried to uphold what he couldn't.

The sound of the young disciples of Mount Hua reciting the scripture with reverence spread across the desolate land.

Leading the way, Un Geom gestured with his remaining hand in front of his chest as a sign of respect. Each of his movements expressed a deep sorrow for those who had died here.

As he began to recite the scripture again, the disciples of Mount Hua followed suit. Chung Myung, who stood at the back watching their every move, slowly closed his eyes. From his lips, the scripture flowed.

It was not a particularly special or grand sight. However, anyone who knew who Chung Myung was could not simply think of this scene in such a way.

Chung Myung had participated in countless memorial services, but he had never recited the scripture in his own voice. Even though he could recite the scripture as if it were carved into his ears and closed his eyes, he never did, not even once.

It felt awkward and out of place. And he thought it didn't suit him.

But at this moment, Chung Myung was sincerely reciting the scripture. Not just mechanically reciting the words he knew, but expressing his wishes with each word.

This was both a blessing for the deceased and a comfort for those left behind. And perhaps, a gesture reaching out to those who couldn't stay anywhere.

As Un Geom finished the scripture, he stepped back. When he did, Hye Yeon, who had been waiting behind, cautiously stepped forward. With solemnity, he began to recite the scripture.

They believed in different things. They pursued different goals. But at this moment, their hearts were undoubtedly the same.

While the clear sound of Hye Yeon's scripture echoed widely, the disciples of Mount Hua kept their postures without loosening. In their eyes, looking at the desolate Hangzhou, an indescribable sadness welled up.

Baek Cheon lightly clenched his fist. To prevent the emotions welling up in his chest from dissipating. To remember.

Jo Gol, Yoon Jong, Yoo Iseol, and Tang Soso also wore similar expressions.

Finally, Hye Yeon's long recitation came to an end. Hye Yeon deeply bowed and lowered his head. With a sorrowful face, he turned back and stood again beside the disciples of Mount Hua.

Baek Cheon naturally looked at Un Geom. Then Un Geom smiled subtly, as if to say that leading them this far was enough.

At that moment, a deep sigh escaped Baek Cheon's lips.

'I...'

His fist tightened.

'I couldn't save anyone.'

When they came here, their goal was to stop the Demonic Sect and rescue those who were still alive. But before they knew it, their every thought was focused solely on survival.

They survived, they were glad, and they felt relieved. However, now they understood. It was not right to be pleased with their mere survival, given the enormity of what they failed to protect here.

Contemplating whether to step forward, he simply halted in his tracks. Now was not the time to mourn for them; it was the time to stand here and speak.

A solemn voice flowed from Baek Cheon's mouth.

"...If Sect Leader was here... he would have shed tears for those who died before anyone else."

The disciples of Mount Hua lowered their heads.

"If the elders were here, they would not have forgotten the sacrifices of the victims throughout the fight."

His voice, though calm, seemed a bit sad.

"The reason we couldn't do it was because we were weak."

Sadness filled the place where pride, relief, and childish feelings had left.

"Not because we lacked strength, but we, as humans, are weak. Despite calling ourselves Taoists, we couldn't pursue the Tao. Despite saying we act for others, we couldn't truly see others."

Everyone nodded slowly at his painful words.

"What Sect Leader wished for us... is not a force that can subdue others. It is a strength to look back at those weaker than us even when our lives are at risk... Yes."

Baekcheon's voice was slow but firm.

"It might be the strength of being human."

He paused for a moment, then closed his eyes silently.

Despite giving their best in the fight and defeating the enemy, the emptiness in their hearts remained. It was because there were things that strength alone could not fill.

"In the future, we will have to go through a lot."

Everyone gazed at the desolate land of Hangzhou.

"Next time... Yes, next time, let's never forget. What we are fighting for. Why we must fight."

Un Geom nodded, and as if it were a signal, the disciples of Mount Hua collectively chanted a martial shout, infusing their spirit into it. Let it spread across the vast land of Hangzhou.

In sync with them, Hye Yeon also raised his voice loudly.

Bulho ["disapproval", 불호란] was something you chose, and Doho ["approval", 도호란] was something you sought for yourself.

It was a cry for salvation. Like a candlelight that illuminated the path for weak humans who, in their journey of life, forget the things they shouldn't forget.

The path of Doho before them was bigger and clearer than ever. And just as the sound reverberated loudly, their heads naturally felt heavier than ever.

A moment of silence passed.

They gained a lot, but in reality, they gained nothing. Only after sinking into despair did they truly see the essence of the tragedy that could hardly be called a war.

Then a faint voice of Chung Myung echoed in their ears.

"Let's go back."

"Yeah..."

Everyone turned their steps slowly. The place they had wanted to escape from just a while ago strangely held onto their feet. Perhaps it was due to lingering regrets about what they couldn't protect.

"Next time..."

He tried to speak calmly, but in the end, even Chung Myung's words were tainted with lingering regrets. As he turned away from the ruins before him, the voice finally faded.

"Next time, we should protect."

"Yeah."

Baek Cheon's voice, filled with emptiness, spread through the desolation.

"That's right."

As he tried to lift the heavy atmosphere by tapping the shoulders of his fellow disciples, a moment of confusion crossed his brow.

"Huh?"

For a moment, his forehead furrowed slightly. Even as everyone turned away, Yoo Iseol, who had been standing and looking ahead until the end, saw her eyes widen for a moment.

"Enemy?"

Startled, Baek Cheon quickly turned his head. But there was nothing to see. What they could see was still just the desolate...

"Huh?"

"Now?"

At that moment, surprised voices erupted from the disciples of Mount Hua. Immediately, they closed their mouths, stifling their breaths with stiff faces.

That moment.

"Ah...!"

Everyone heard it.

A faint voice, almost like a hallucination, but unmistakably someone's feeble voice.

Without even thinking, everyone's feet moved ahead of their thoughts. By the time they came to their senses, they were already running with all their might.

And the desperate figure of someone, seeming not just urgent but earnest, was the first to surge forward, again and again, racing ahead.

Chung Myung kicked the ground with all his might and shot forward. Then, as if possessed, he began overturning the remnants of the building. His hands, covered in wounds, trembled uncontrollably.

The disciples of Mount Hua, who arrived a bit later, also rushed forward without hesitation, tearing apart the wreckage with their bare hands.

Towards the faint sound of breathing within. Towards the weak warmth that, despite being here all along, was only discovered now.

"Uh! Uh...!"

A suppressed groan burst out from the desperate Chung Myung. His hands, which were ruthlessly tearing through the debris, gradually became more cautious.

Finally, Chung Myung's hands came to a halt.

"... Please..."

A sound that was barely audible, now became distinct amid the wind.

"Help... please..."

Suddenly!

The debris held in Chung Myung's hands crumbled into dust. Worried that the person trapped might be injured, he started turning the wreckage into powder with his internal energy.

How many times did he repeat this?

After a series of cautious touches that had never been seen in his life, at the end, a figure emerged from beneath the wreckage.

No, not just one person.

"Here, here!"

"There's a baby... there's a baby! Baby!"

Covered in dust, a half-conscious woman and the small child in her arms were visible.

The woman, completely exhausted to the point of losing consciousness, continuously uttered words as if her voice would never stop.

"... Help..."

"..."

"My... baby..."

No one dared to speak.

In the stillness, Chung Myung reached his trembling hand into the debris. Gently gripping the pulse of the woman, he began to insert his energy. The child was the same.

"He's alive...."

At that moment, everyone witnessed it—the sight of Chung Myung's shoulders crumbling. When the resilient figure discovered the two survivors, he could no longer hold back and shook his head.

"He's... alive...."

Chung Myung bowed his head as the woman lost consciousness. And Baek Cheon, who was staring blankly at her child sleeping in his arms, bit his lips tightly and gazed up at the distant sky.

She must have held her breath. She must have been afraid at the sound of swords clashing. She must have been scared that the sound of them fighting and the loud noise of them clashing would take her child away.

Even in the impenetrable darkness without a single trace of light, she must have covered her lips and endured. Perhaps she feared a scream might escape from those lips.

What allowed the woman to muster up the last of her strength was not the power that defeated the demonic cult, pierced the bishop's throat, or expelled the invading forces of the Evil Sect.

It was simply the resounding call of hope—the chants of the Tao.

Innocent and sorrowful, without the influence of any mighty force, it was a voice that did not carry any great power but simply hoped and hoped.

And that was why... it was delivered to someone who was hurt and afraid.

They couldn't save her with all the strength in the world, so what had saved her in the end... was a small belief that they had momentarily forgotten, but should never have forgotten.

Tears welled up in Baek Cheon's eyes.

The blue sky was strangely hazy, almost painfully bright.