Chapter 661

The short two words that slipped from Baek Sang’s lips pierced through my mind like bullets.

‘Execution in two days? Me?’

I swallowed the question that clawed its way up my throat. At the very least, I couldn’t show any sign of wavering here—especially not in front of Baek Sang.

Instead of despairing, I pounded once more on the escape route that had already been blocked countless times, clinging to even the faintest hope.

‘Logout.’

Beep!

– [Logout] failed!
– [Logout] is not possible under certain circumstances!

I’m screwed. It still doesn’t work.

I forced my voice to sound calm as I spoke.

“Two days, huh. Faster than I thought.”

“My late father always said—once you’ve made up your mind, draw your sword without hesitation.”

“That sword… you won’t be drawing it alone, will you?”

“I may be the first to grip the hilt, but when the time comes to swing it at your neck, I won’t be alone. Not even the Palace Lord could stop it.”

Not alone in swinging the sword…

Silently turning over the meaning of those words, I muttered as if to myself.

“Seems you’ve been quite busy. Seeing how far you’ve stretched your hands already.”

Baek Sang replied in a dry voice.

“Twenty clan chiefs, including myself, have already agreed. And the final agenda for the last day of the conference is…”

“Jin Taekyung of the Taewon Jin Clan. Or rather, the condemned criminal whose death will anger a thousand men—my execution, right?”

“You’re well aware.”

“At this point, only an idiot wouldn’t be. So, you threw me in this prison first to make it easier, huh?”

“Of course. It was the simplest method. Though I didn’t expect you to surrender so easily.”

Baek Sang didn’t deny it. Looking down at me, bound tightly in chains heavy enough to weigh a full ten thousand geun, he spoke in a low voice—like a hunter who had finally trapped his prey.

“To catch a tiger, you must venture into the mountains and risk danger. But if the tiger is caged, isn’t that a different story?”

“True. And if the hunter isn’t alone but twenty strong, even more so.”

Baek Sang had always commanded many under him, but twenty meant that more than half of the remaining thirty after Heukung and Yohee’s disappearance had sided with him. It also meant that some of those who once stood with the Beast Miao King had switched allegiances.

“How much did you promise them to get that kind of loyalty?”

“The revival of their tribes. Greater influence and immense wealth.”

“Figures. I expected that, but damn, it’s simpler than I thought.”

“But all the more effective.”

Perhaps because he was confident we were alone, Baek Sang’s answers today were more honest than ever—undeniable truths wrapped in calm words.

Unfortunately, he was right. The Southern Barbarian Beast Palace was, at its core, an alliance of tribes. Each chieftain would have placed their bets on the side most likely to win—for the future of their clans, and for their own wealth and glory.

And…

“The one who’ll reap the biggest reward is standing right in front of me, huh? You’ll get all of the Southern Barbarians under your control, won’t you?”

Baek Sang didn’t answer. Instead, silence was his reply. I let out a hollow laugh.

“How amusing. Rotten to the core.”

It was then that Baek Sang suddenly asked, his eyes boring into me as if piercing my soul.

“Have you ever experienced war?”

“What?”

“I asked if you’ve ever experienced war.”

Why bring this up all of a sudden?

Whether I understood his intent or not, there wasn’t much choice for a tiger trapped behind bars but to listen.

“I’ve lived through it all myself. Fifty years ago, when I arrived in the Central Plains with the Palace Lord and ten thousand warriors, what I witnessed was hell itself come to the human world.”

Baek Sang continued slowly, his tone calm and heavy.

“The fields were trampled, rivers of blue turned red with blood and corpses. Every day, every moment, people were dying all across the land. Children who’d lost their parents to war gnawed on tree bark, unaware that their teeth were falling out.”

War is always cruel. Even if someone wins in the end, countless screams and deaths pave that road.

It’s a path neither victor nor loser can escape.

“For me—and for the Palace Lord—it was the first time we’d ever witnessed such a hell. But we had our reasons to fight. If the Demonic Cult conquered the Central Plains, the next would be the Southern Barbarians. We fought to protect our homeland, where our families and friends lived.”

Baek Sang’s voice echoed through the cold darkness of the cell.

“Too many lives to count were lost. Men died in battle, others stared blankly at the sky after the fight and ended their own lives. Some of us even pressed the [death points] of our comrades, ending their suffering with our own hands.”

“With each battle, more died, more grew weary—but as the tides turned in our favor, hope began to bloom. We dreamed that maybe we’d finally return home—to our lovers, to our aging parents, to children who must’ve grown so much by now.”

Even without seeing it, I could imagine it.

Crossing jungles, fording the Yangtze, over plains and mountains—arriving in the Central Plains after a long journey, only to face the endless army of a hundred thousand demonic cultists.

“When I finally counted, fewer than a thousand of the ten thousand remained alive. The war that had seemed in our favor slowly stagnated, and both the Palace Lord and I began to question why we were even there.”

No one can stand against the passage of time. Mountains move, rivers dry up—before that absolute law, not even a master of transcendent martial arts can do anything.

‘Their hearts must’ve eroded. Slowly, until they couldn’t bear it anymore.’

As I thought that, Baek Sang’s voice continued.

“And then, one day—after more than ten years—the Martial God struck down the Heavenly Demon.”

A clash of two absolutes.

The heavens and earth must’ve trembled. The Martial God emerged victorious, and with the fall of the Heavenly Demon, the Demonic Cult—once a force that devoured half the world—collapsed like a sandcastle.

“The remnants of the Demonic Cult retreated west. The Murim Alliance, led by the unstoppable Martial God, pursued them to the very end—alongside the Three Stars, the Ten Kings, and countless righteous sect warriors. We were no exception.”

The balance had already tilted toward the righteous sects. With the Heavenly Demon’s death, the Demonic Cult had lost its meaning.

All that remained was to chase down the remnants and wipe them out from the Central Plains.

“The war should’ve ended there. It had to.”

Baek Sang suddenly fell silent, his hollow eyes staring at nothing.

Water dripped from a crack in the ceiling.

Drip. Drip.

A heavy silence filled the cell. When he still didn’t speak, I broke the quiet.

“Baek Hwi, right?”

Thud.

His body froze, eyes trembling. More shaken than I’d ever seen him, Baek Sang stared at me as I slowly nodded.

“Thought so. I wasn’t sure if I had the name right.”

Crack.

Something snapped between his clenched teeth. Baek Sang’s eyes turned cold as frost.

“Where did you hear that name?”

It was Yal Mok who had told me, but there was no need to say that.

“Does it matter? What’s important is that someone still remembers the name Baek Hwi.”

“You dare… utter that name with your filthy mouth?”

Slash!

A killing aura sharper than blades surged from his entire body, slicing through the bars like invisible swords.

Yet strangely, I didn’t feel fear.

Perhaps… it was pity. Pity for a father who had to bury his own child.

At least in this moment, that’s what it felt like.

‘Baek Hwi.’

Baek for white, Hwi for shining.

It was a name—a name belonging to the son Baek Sang had cherished more than anything. Someone who, if still alive, would’ve become the Beast Miao King’s son-in-law.

‘If he were still alive, that is.’

As I whispered in my heart, I ignored Baek Sang’s killing intent and asked,

“Did he die while pursuing the Demonic Cult? Or…”

Boom!

The roar swallowed my words. The entire dungeon shook as Baek Sang shattered the wall with a single punch, glaring at me with eyes like frost.

“Do you wish to die here and now?”

Given my situation, it was a pretty threatening line. Someone like Hyuk Mu-jin would’ve probably wet himself and gone into silent meditation.

But there are always exceptions.

Cheongpung might’ve gotten a little excited, saying it was his first time dying.

Well, after all I’ve been through, maybe I’m the same.

“That wouldn’t be so bad. Not that you could kill me right now anyway.”

“What?”

“There’s a reason you postponed my execution by two days, isn’t there? And it’s not your decision alone. Orders from the Southern Demon Empress, maybe? I heard you exchange letters at the start of every month.”

“So quit bluffing and tell me a story. Being alone in this cell gets boring. At least the Sichuan Tang Clan’s prison had other inmates to talk to.”

“You bastard!”

Baek Sang’s furious roar echoed through the dungeon. His body trembled with rage as he grabbed the steel bars.

Crrrack!

Bars as thick as an adult’s arm bent like melted wax. He stepped inside, his icy eyes gleaming.

“Was my son’s death that amusing to you? That curious?”

His killing intent was suffocating, as if he might draw his sword any moment—but I didn’t flinch.

He couldn’t kill me now, not with the Southern Demon Empress watching. And I had to know the truth.

“I don’t know about amusing. But I am curious.”

“You… insolent—”

“Speak.”

I cut him off flatly, my tone calm.

“Not about how your only son died, but what kind of lunatics turned you into the madman you are today.”

“Tell me that.”

After a silence that stretched long enough to feel like eternity, Baek Sang finally opened his mouth.

“Gansu. Mount Daxueshan.”

Hoo—

His breath trembled, white vapor spilling into the freezing air like the snow that must’ve fallen that day.

“At that time, we were leading the Southern Army alongside the Zhongnan Sect.”

Hearing that name, I instinctively swallowed the curse that almost slipped out.

Ah, shit. Zhongnan Sect.