Chapter 1

✿ Volcanic Return [Rain] ✿

Prologue

“Thi...s...”

His teeth clenched so hard they seemed about to break.

His fists were so tightly clenched that his nails dug into his palms, drawing dark red blood.

He couldn't control his convulsing body.

A rage that seemed to turn his hair white engulfed him.

Red.

Everything was red.

Everything he could see was dyed in a dark red blood color.

Just a day ago, this mountain peak was lush and green, but in just one day, it had been covered in human blood, changing its color.

Death.

Now, all that remained here was death.

Why did so much blood have to be shed?

Qingming raised his hand and gripped the sword blade embedded in his shoulder. The broken plum blossom sword blade was pulled out.

His body was far from normal.

His left arm had been torn off, leaving only the sleeve flapping, and one of his legs was half-severed, unable to function. But what was even more serious was the large hole, the size of a child's head, in his abdomen.

But Qingming felt no pain.

Compared to the mental anguish that felt like being torn to shreds, the pain of the flesh was nothing.

“...Senior Brother Zhangwen.”

In his eyes, the tragic corpse of Huashan's leader, Qingwen, appeared.

What was so unjust?

What was so unjust that he couldn't even close his eyes in death?

It wasn't just the leader.

“Junior Brother...”

The image of Qingkong, whose body had been cut in half at the waist, painfully etched itself into his eyes.

“Junior Disciples.”

Everyone was dead.

The senior brothers and junior disciples who had climbed this mountain together, vowing to protect the martial world and make Huashan's name known throughout the land, had all gone to a place from which they would never return.

Including the junior disciples who had followed them up this mountain.

Qingming gritted his teeth.

It was a noble sacrifice. A death that was incomparably great and full of chivalry.

But who could dare to praise this death?

Who could dare to!

Qingming slowly turned his head.

He glared at the mastermind behind all this, filled with an incomparable hatred.

A demon sent by heaven.

The leader of the demonic sect, a group of evil spirits that had dyed the world in blood, known as Tianmo.

Even in this terrifying hell, Tianmo looked incredibly calm. His seated posture in the midst of the blood-soaked scene evoked a strange emotion even in Qingming, who prided himself on hating him the most in the world.

No, the word "calm" didn't fit him now.

Was it appropriate to call someone who had over a dozen swords embedded in his body and two spears piercing his abdomen "calm"?

Everyone had sacrificed their lives to bring this demon to this state.

The final death squad, composed of the elite of the elite from the Nine Great Sects and over twenty other sects. Their clash with Tianmo ultimately led to mutual destruction.

Would they be satisfied?

Would those who died here be satisfied with this outcome and close their eyes in peace?

No, they wouldn't.

Even if they were satisfied and rejoiced, Qingming alone could not. All he could do was try to control the boiling hatred and anger that seemed to consume his entire body.

At that moment,

Tianmo slowly opened his eyes.

His transparent, empty eyes gazed at Qingming.

And his mouth slowly opened.

“...Huashan.”

The first words out of his mouth were the two characters "Huashan."

Huashan.

The two characters that were branded into Qingming's heart like a seal came out of the demon's mouth.

“What a pity. Disciple of Huashan. If you could survive and return from here, you would enjoy the glory of having killed me for the rest of your life.”

“...Shut up.”

“You have every right to be proud. Although you had the help of many, your sword ultimately reached me. I, Tianmo, acknowledge that your sword, the sword of Huashan, is the best in the world.”

“Shut up!”

It was hateful even to hear the name "Huashan" come from those cursed lips.

“What a pity.”

Tianmo was dying.

No matter how great his martial prowess, he could not survive with his dantian pierced and all his internal organs severed.

A last flicker of light before death.

Tianmo's current state was nothing more than his final struggle before his life ended.

But why? Why did the dying man look so composed?

Tianmo was an enigma, a mystery that Qingming could not understand.

“If I had one more day, I would have truly become a being worthy of the name Tianmo. But this, too, is my fate.”

Qingming tightly gripped the sword blade he had pulled from his shoulder. The sharp edge cut into his palm, but he didn't care.

One step.

Another step.

Toward the end of this long and terrible war, toward Tianmo, Qingming limped forward.

Even as Qingming approached, Tianmo's eyes remained colorless and transparent.

“Remember this, disciple of Huashan. This is not the end. The demons will return. And when they do, the true age of demons will begin. A demonic age that no one can stop...”

Whoosh!

The sound of the sword slicing through the air echoed across the quiet mountain peak.

Thud.

Tianmo's severed head rolled to the ground. Qingming stomped on the head, which still looked at him with transparent eyes.

“Thi...s...”

The war was over.

The world would remember this war as a victory for the death squad. But Qingming knew that there was no victory here. No one, not a single person, had won.

Finally, the strength in Qingming's legs gave out, and he collapsed where he stood. The inevitable death was coming for him too.

Qingming raised his head and looked at the sky.

Despite the immense amount of blood that had been shed and the countless lives that had been lost, the sky remained as blue and indifferent as ever.

‘What will become of Huashan now?’

Everyone who had climbed the great mountain to kill Tianmo was dead. Even if there were survivors, they would groan under the near-annihilation.

But no sect had suffered as much as Huashan.

“Senior Brother Zhangwen... I told you.”

I told you not to devote everything to chivalry.

All the green-robed disciples of Huashan had buried their bones here.

And all the white-robed disciples who followed the green-robed ones were dead.

All that remained were children who could not fight.

And...

Regret. Only regret.

Was it meaningful?

Was the blood Huashan shed here meaningful?

“I don't know, Senior Brother Zhangwen...”

Qingming's body slowly fell to the side.

In his falling eyes, the white martial robes stained with red blood and the five-petaled plum blossoms embroidered on them came into view.

Just the death of a martial artist.

A lonely end, closing his eyes in a place where no one would witness it. The death of Huashan, who had thrown away his life like a blade of grass, with only a plum blossom sword as his tombstone.

“...At least I'm better off than them.”

Because there is someone to cry for them.

Because Qingming was crying for them.

Qingming's fading vision followed the form of the leader.

‘I'm sorry, Senior Brother Zhangwen.’

If I had practiced martial arts a little more, could I have saved at least one?

If I hadn't ignored my master and senior brother's words and lived a foolish life outside the sect.

If I had truly obtained the sword of Huashan, not just the meaningless title of Plum Blossom Sword Master, would the outcome have been different?

Futile.

Also futile.

All that remained was regret.

And worry for the sect.

‘Plum blossoms will eventually wither.’

And when the cold winter comes, they will bloom again.

‘Huashan.’

Qingming's consciousness gradually faded.

The 13th generation disciple of the Great Huashan Sect.

One of the three greatest swordsmen in the world.

Plum Blossom Sword Master Qingming.

He beheaded the greatest demon of all time, Tianmo, and rested eternally on the summit of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains.

These were the few lines he left behind in the world.