Chapter 19
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Chapter 19: Requiem
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The two giants cut through the crowd of busy people.
The streets remained noisy and chaotic, yet no one dared to meet their eyes, and no one dared to block their path.
As they walked, they would snatch wine jars from the hands of those drinking at roadside taverns and gulp them down, or devour skewers right off the street vendors' grills.
Yet, no one stopped them.
Even the patrolling guards merely pretended not to see them.
Standing a head taller than even the well-nourished guards, their massive frames made them look less like men and more like bulls.
Ignoring the cold, they wore their upper garments loosely, revealing hundreds of black skull tattoos and countless scars of all sizes across their skin.
They were of the Black Bone Faction.
They were martial artists.
They were superhumans, born with the talent to manipulate the mysterious power of Qi in the form of Internal Energy.
No one stood in their way.
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A short while later, they arrived at the street where the mask artisan’s workshop was located.
"Ah, is that the place?"
The mask artisan’s workshop was tucked away in a quiet alley, removed from the main road.
They stood at the entrance of the alley and stared at the workshop.
"…That doesn't look like the mask artisan to me."
"Agreed."
At the entrance of the workshop, sitting at the stall, was a young man dressed in white, unbleached hemp clothing.
Though people passed by occasionally, the boy’s posture—silently carving a piece of wood—seemed infinitely bored, yet at the same time, infinitely relaxed.
"Did he… have an apprentice?"
"We can just ask him ourselves."
Passersby who spotted the giants turned around and scattered.
The boy, perhaps unaware of the two giants approaching, remained focused solely on bowing his head and carving the wood.
"Hey."
"Where did the mask artisan go?"
The carving knife stopped.
The boy, who had been hunched over his work, lifted his head.
"…?! "
The giants’ eyebrows twitched.
The boy’s face was covered by a mask with no patterns and no eye holes.
The white luster flowing over the crudely finished mask shimmered with an ominous, greasy sheen.
"Hmm."
To be startled by a mere mask, however briefly—it was something that should never happen to men like them.
"Hey, brat. Are your elders not asking you a question?"
He subtly released his killing intent.
Like a wild ginseng seeker encountering a tiger, any ordinary person would have had their knees buckle and their skin crawl.
But the masked boy showed no sign of fear.
Instead, he even displayed the composure to grin.
The boy’s neat, white teeth were revealed.
"Do you happen to know the face of the Bodhisattva of Compassion?"
The giants were offended by the completely nonsensical question.
Under normal circumstances, either one of them would have thrown a punch.
Their fists were clearly larger than this ominous boy’s head, and they would have shattered his skull more easily than crushing a dry leaf.
However, neither of them did so.
No, they could not.
Something felt wrong.
It was uncomfortable.
"Well, I suppose there is no point in discussing the Buddhist path with the likes of you."
With a giggle, the boy stood up from his seat.
Then, before they could even react, he stepped inside the shop.
There were no footsteps.
Only the boy’s low laughter echoed emptily.
When they regained their senses, only wood shavings remained where the boy had been sitting.
"…Damn it."
Even when he spat out a curse to bolster his spirit, it merely scattered uselessly into the air.
Was this not the equivalent of being possessed by a ghost in broad daylight?
Pride prevented them from retreating, yet they could not bring themselves to follow him inside immediately.
"…What was that?"
"I don't know."
Deep shadows hung inside the shop where the boy had vanished.
Since it was around noon, it was natural for the shadows to be deep where the light was bright, but for some reason, it did not feel like mere darkness to them.
"Shouldn't we go in and finish him off anyway?"
As they forced their Internal Energy to rise, a sliver of confidence returned.
"…We should."
They were men who considered the act of twisting a person’s neck to be trivial.
They were men whose fists always moved before their words, and they had already beaten several well-known martial artists to death.
The behavior they were currently exhibiting was clearly abnormal, yet they failed to realize it.
They followed the boy who had already disappeared into the darkness and headed inside the shop.
The walls of the shop were filled with masks.
According to the reports from their subordinates who had come here yesterday, they had supposedly turned the place from the outside in into a ruin.
They had also heard that they had taken everything of value.
Why, then, was this shop, shrouded in deep darkness, filled to the brim with such magnificent masks?
Colorful, varied in form, some laughing and some weeping, the masks seemed to be watching them.
"Is this some kind of evil sorcery?"
The answer came a moment later.
"…I don't know."
The sorcery they had seen and heard of was nothing more than cheap tricks—sleight of hand meant to deceive the senses.
Such tricks could never work on superhumans who possessed Internal Energy, the power to break the limits of humanity.
"…Is it this way?"
"…It seems so."
When the corridor of masks, which had felt inexplicably long, finally ended, a small side door came into view.
Since it was a straight corridor, the boy must have passed through that door.
If they went inside, there would be a courtyard, a space used as a workshop, and living quarters.
Light was leaking through the slightly ajar door, and for some reason, that sunlight felt incredibly welcoming.
The two men, whose minds were pushed to their limits, walked quickly toward the side door.
It was closer to running than walking.
The moment the giant who reached the door first pushed it open,
"…Huh?!"
A white hand reached out from within and grabbed his throat.
"Gah?!"
He had been in a state of full readiness, having already raised his Internal Energy.
The giant protected his throat with his energy while simultaneously grabbing the arm with both hands.
With his innate, massive strength and Internal Energy, he should have been able to crush that thin arm more easily than a dry twig.
However,
"…!"
The white hand dug into his throat, tearing through the energy he had used to protect it with terrifying ease.
His own hands, pouring out all his strength, could not even leave a scratch on that cold skin, let alone crush the arm.
Then, without even a scream, he was sucked into the side door and vanished.
"B-Brother?!"
The remaining giant was shocked and fell backward.
He scrambled to his feet and ran in the opposite direction.
He wasn't even sure if he was using a movement technique or a footwork technique, but he threw his body forward, risking his life.
Yet, for some reason, the alleyway scene bathed in sunlight—right there—felt infinitely far away.
It felt as if it were drifting further and further away.
"Argh!"
Had his mind been too eager?
His legs tangled, and he fell.
It was a pathetic sight.
There had never been a more pathetic display.
Even when he had submitted to the strong or bowed to power, had he ever looked this disgraceful?
But he did not even realize that.
He tried to jump up, but one leg would not move.
Something was gripping his ankle.
It was that very same snow-white hand.
"U-Uwaaaah!!"
His ankle felt as if it were freezing, and simultaneously, as if it were burning.
Would it feel like this if dozens of oxen and horses pulled at him all at once?
The hand dragged his body inward with strength that defied imagination.
The giant dug his fingers into the ground to avoid being dragged.
His fingers, infused with Internal Energy, sank into the paving stones.
But the speed did not slow down in the slightest.
Sparks flew, and his fingernails broke.
His fingers snapped.
Still, he could not stop.
"S-Save me! Save…!"
He tried to hold onto the doorframe with his last bit of Internal Energy, but it was futile.
The doorframe he grabbed shattered, and his figure vanished into the side door.
*Clatter— Clatter—*
In the empty shop, only the side door that had devoured the two men swung idly.
It felt as if the sound of the masks laughing was echoing through the room.
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Yeon So-hyeon knew that if he showed himself at the mask artisan’s workshop, the Black Bone Faction would send men.
He had idly carved wood, letting the small fry who lurked from afar go, and those small fry had brought him the big fish.
Martial artists, whether from the Black Path or the White Path, were precious individuals; naturally, they held high positions within their organizations and possessed high-quality information.
The same was true for these big fish.
However, Yeon So-hyeon wore a dissatisfied expression.
"No, no. Was it this?"
He squatted on the dirt floor, fiddling with his hands.
Then he stepped back a little to look closely, only to shake his head.
"This expression doesn't seem right either…."
He approached again to stare at the two heads.
The giants, whose bodies were nowhere to be found, were left with only their heads, wearing the most painful expressions in the world.
Their tongues were lolling out, and their wide-open eyes were bloodshot, with the capillaries having burst, leaving dried trails of blood.
The head rolling next to them was much the same; the expressions were nearly identical.
"Tsk…."
Yeon So-hyeon, who smacked his lips for no reason, sat down on the dirt floor and picked up the carving he had been working on so diligently.
It was a statue of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, with the face yet to be carved.
"I just can't seem to figure it out."
It was not a problem of memory.
He remembered every single one of the countless Buddhist paintings he had seen, down to the most trivial detail.
However….
"Simply imitating the form is not enough."
What kind of face does the Buddha, who symbolizes infinite compassion and mercy, have?
What kind of face does the Buddha have in his own heart?
Lost in thought for a moment, Yeon So-hyeon’s carving knife moved like a dance.
The skills he had not touched were too numerous to count, and carving was also one of his domains.
His hands, moving without hesitation, vividly brought the form to life.
"…It is complete."
Yeon So-hyeon turned around and placed the finished carving atop the burial mound.
He left the carving knife there as well.
It was the joint grave of the mask artisan’s family, which Yeon So-hyeon had fashioned for them.
The new mound, covered only in raw, crimson earth, was bathed in the warm light of midday.
Yeon So-hyeon’s carving of the Bodhisattva lay atop it, glowing with a pale, white light.
Instead of a compassionate expression, the face of the Bodhisattva was obscured by a carved mask.
It was the same shape as the mask Yeon So-hyeon had received.
Its crooked expression mocked the world, and its unpierced eye sockets turned away from it.
“...Black Bone Faction, and Geum-ju.”
Yeon So-hyeon, who had been gazing up at the sky for a moment, murmured in a low voice.
“Mock and sneer. Ridicule and insult. That shall be the only resistance you are capable of...”
And by now, surely.
The needlessly diligent ‘gatekeeper’ would be frantically searching for him, as if he intended to scour every inch of Luoyang.
With a soft chuckle, Yeon So-hyeon’s figure vanished from the graveside.
A cold winter wind swept over the two skulls rolling aimlessly in the dirt.
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