Infinite Regressor, Chapter 424 - I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell

There is a man named Hong Bi-cheong. Hong Bi-cheong was an islander born on Ulleungdo Island. His family was quite poor, even by island standards, so Hong Bi-cheong was often hungry from a young age. It seemed almost destined for Bi-cheong (飛靑) to become accustomed to painting his starving stomach with the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea. ‘Is there any meaning to my birth?’ A martial arts novel he stumbled upon set a temporary beacon in young Bi-cheong’s life. ‘Martial arts! Chivalry! Yes! This is the value a man born into this world must pursue!’ It was difficult to see it as the true meaning of life. But to a child, especially one like Bi-cheong who suffered from a hunger for the sky’s blue as if it were a chronic illness, the right or wrong of the meaning was of little importance. ‘A single sword! In these chaotic times, the only thing a man like me can rely on is a sword!’ There were often those who, from the moment they were born, found the world around them to be as vast and overwhelming as the open sea. They had to grab onto whatever they could, whether it was a boat or a piece of driftwood. Otherwise, as humans who didn’t know how to breathe underwater, they would surely drown. “What are you doing with that stick, Cheong-ah?” “I’m practicing martial arts! I’m going to become the greatest master in the land, Mom!” “Has he gone mad?” From the moment of his birth, Bi-cheong held in his hand not a wooden sword but a crude stick hardly worthy of the name. However, young Bi-cheong trained himself daily in the mountains, developing an eye for determining which piece of wood would become the greatest sword in the world. “Cheong-ah. Have you finished your homework, or are you just acting out?” “I’m on the verge of reaching the pinnacle! Mother! I need to overcome this challenge to stand tall as a swordsman in the martial world!” “Aigoo, our household must be cursed...” In truth, Bi-cheong’s mother was mistaken. The family had been poor from the start, and there wasn’t exactly room for an additional curse. “I thought he’d stop after a couple of weeks, but it’s already been six years, six years. That boy is crazy.” “With his obsession for swords, shouldn’t we just send him to a kendo dojo or something?” “Is there even a kendo dojo in the town?” The mother went to great lengths to find someone she could bring. There was no place with signs of Hae-dong Gum-do or Korean Kendo nearby, but there was an old man who claimed he had learned the way (道) under someone in his youth. “What do you think, kid? Shouldn’t you learn the sword professionally from this gentleman?” “Hmm.” Casually. Young Bi-cheong scrutinized the ‘master’ candidate that his mother had brought. His gaze was incredibly arrogant. “Is that all there is to him...?” “?” Bi-cheong was thirteen years old. He was in his second year of middle school. “He barely reached first-rate. He's the one who should be learning the sword from me. Humph, I’m not particularly impressed, but since my mother went to the trouble, I’ll accept him as my disciple.” “??” Complaining about what kind of mother and son they had on Ulleungdo Island, the sword instructor stormed off, cursing up a storm. “You little brat! How do you plan to make a living when you grow up at this rate, huh?” “Mother, living is important.” Bi-cheong spoke solemnly. “But soon, a chaotic era unprecedented in the world will come! Now is the time when each chivalrous man should be gathering strength in preparation.” “What can you build on this tiny island?” “The Heavenly Demon (天魔) fears water. Just like the Mongols of old who were invincible on land but hesitant to cross the sea. Ulleungdo Island is the perfect fortress, the final bastion where even the Heavenly Demon wouldn’t dare encroach, as it houses the Dragon King of the East Sea.” “Oh, my! Damn it! Just let me die! Oh heavens, please don’t let this child starve to death!” Before long, Bi-cheong lost his mother. Scientifically determining how much Hong Bi-cheong’s eccentric existence affected his mother's lifespan was impossible. Neither Bi-cheong nor his mother knew that her scientific cause of death was lymphoma. “Mother!” Tears scattered tragically from Bi-cheong’s eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you! Please watch over me from beyond the heavens! What I couldn’t offer you in filial duty, I will replace with chivalrous deeds and someday offer them to the world!” While it would have driven any mother crazy to marry into an already poor island household, see her husband become fish food, and raise a child alone, the dead have no voice. Bi-cheong devoted himself to training. “Dad, what is that man doing over there?” “Shh. He’s a well-known nutcase in our village. Never acknowledge him.” Training! “Why does that man always play strange Chinese songs on the radio while exercising?” “Don’t you know the song ‘A Man’s Self-Strength’? Haven’t you seen the Wong Fei-hung movies?” “What’s that, you geek?” “Wow. This is honestly not my fault.” Only training! “I really wonder how that man survives without doing any work.” “I observed him closely for a day. You know his yard garden, right? He grows things there, and strangely enough, the vegetables look quite good.” “Maybe he has a talent for gardening...?” “So what? He just grows enough to feed himself.” One day, Bi-cheong dreamed of meeting an old man resembling an immortal. -I am the 260th generation head of the Mount Hua Sect. -I believed there was talent in Hae-dong to inherit the legacy of Mount Hua, and now I see, indeed, it is you. -I shall bestow upon you the authentic lineage of Mount Hua! Gasp. Bi-cheong awoke with a start. His entire body was drenched, and his hair stood on end. After a long moment, he lamented. “Ah! What an extraordinary encounter!” In short, it was a complete fantasy. After completing a ritual purification (which required a walk to the town's public bathhouse), Bi-cheong knelt nine times toward the western Mount Hua. From that day forward, every time he dreamed, he continued his training within the sect of Mount Hua. “Once, I thought it was enough just to wield a sword as an honorable man. But having inherited the sect's lineage, I can only refer to myself as the supreme one!” “Hey, what’s that old man babbling about now?” “I don’t know. Just let it be, idiot. Just keep walking quietly...” Bi-cheong. As time went by, he purchased a title from the Sirand Duchy, allowing him to proclaim himself a nobleman. He had never once been respected by others. Of course, that was the case. Bi-cheong was poor. He was peculiar. In Korea, the very mindset of devoting one's life to the 'sword' was alien, as strange as encountering a being from another planet. “Hmm.” And then emptiness descended upon him. “It has begun.” Ulleungdo Island trembled with fear. Thanks to the barrier that was the Sea of Japan, the chaos on Ulleungdo Island remained somewhat orderly. Surely, the madness on the mainland would not easily cross the sea. Bi-cheong, now the Sword Marquess (劍侯), seemed only a few steps removed from the anxiety that had overtaken the island. “It’s time to set sail.” His eyes glinted. “Huh? Where are you planning to go?” “The martial world.” “You fool. Do you even know what kind of chaos is erupting on the mainland right now? If you go, it’s death, death. People are dying in droves!” “The martial world.” “…….” “Only the martial realm.” “Dammit.” The captain of the shabby boat cursed under his breath. He swore to see the man before him not as a human, but as a living piggy bank who had paid the entire 30 million won fare upfront. “I’m only taking you because I have a relative to pick up from the East Sea. Got it? I’m not docking anywhere else, so get lost once you’re there.” “That will suffice.” “This crazy old man. Misfortune is bound to follow...” The waves surged. Let’s shift briefly to another story. Emerging from the island, the destiny waiting for the Sword Marquess went something like this: -Oh, Lord Sword Marquess! We’ve been expecting you! We’ll guide you, please follow us! At a port on the East Sea, an undertaker would be waiting, and upon recognizing the Sword Marquess, would bow deeply and somehow take him to Busan. -Hmm. A talent for growing crops? After seeing only people slicing things up, this is rather refreshing... -Please, guide us well, sir... A dictator with the power of a national authority might refer to this unimpressive old man as 'sir' and treat him with respect. -Ah. Found you, Grandpa! -Hmm? Do you know me? -Of course, I do! My name's Oh Dok-seo, and there's a flower you need to make bloom! It's called the Udumbara flower, and only you can cultivate it in this world! Come quickly, come on! -Hmm. I have tasks of my own… -Oh, come on! Without you, the world is doomed! A girl with a peculiar hat might warmly link arms with the Sword Marquess, dragging him off somewhere as though kidnapping him. Such bizarre destinies. Stories designated for him were as strange as those surrounding the Sword Marquess, known throughout his life as an eccentric. Yet, today the Sword Marquess veered away from that fate. In truth, no matter what destiny invited him, the ultimate target of the Sword Marquess's blade was a separate affair. When time passed and the world fell into ruin. Whether this ruin was the 100th, the 1,000th, or the 2,000th was irrelevant to the Sword Marquess. “Hmm.” The last defense line, Busan, lay in ruins. Lee Ha-yul’s puppet army had been completely destroyed. The witches of the Three Thousand Worlds could no longer rise, the warriors of Baekhwa High School could no longer advance. The command unit, including the undertaker, was also deceased. Now, all that remained on earth was a vast flower garden created by the Northern Saint of Flowers. This was a world of epilogues. A land of destruction where time no longer flowed. “The time has finally come.” Right there, the Sword Marquess walked. Carrying a fake sword, a blade of aluminum, he crossed the battlefield all alone. -Uwoooo, ooooh. -Heh heh heh heh heh. In the world of epilogues, only the time-frozen beings laughed hysterically and cried out. Strangely, they didn't charge at the Sword Marquess. Although they should have despised and envied living beings more than anything, they seemed not to even perceive the Sword Marquess as they passed by. With the old man's weary weight pressing the ground, the Sword Marquess ultimately reached his intended adversary. From decades before, since he realized the world was in turmoil, there had been only one opponent he consistently targeted with his blade. “The Heavenly Demon (天魔).” “…….” At his voice, the figure turned to face him. Beautiful strands of pink hair fluttered. “I have awaited you.” “…….” Gently. The being called the Heavenly Demon lowered his gaze to the ground beneath the old man. From the Tower of Babel in Busan, each step he took left silvery traces of grass that should never have existed on this earth. "...Eunshinch’o." The pink-haired figure muttered. “A weed invisible to both humans and monstrosities. It’s a poisonous plant that even Jeong Yeji’s clairvoyance couldn’t detect.” “You knew I would come.” “Yes. Because you always do.” “Indeed, cunning being.” In the center of the battlefield. On this land, preordained for extinction, with none to witness, the two beings faced each other. “Normally, I would humor you suitably. But today, I’m somewhat serious myself, so I must seriously ask.” “Very well. I permit the question.” “Why do you call me the Heavenly Demon?” The Sword Marquess chuckled. “This sky. The demon that has marred human hearts is all of your doing; why would I not call you the Heavenly Demon?” “…….” “Buddha refers to one who continues to exist because they have attained enlightenment. Buddha is one who isn’t entangled by the wheel of time but creates time himself. The Heavenly Demon and the Demon King. Mara Papias was once the specter of time that tempted a Buddha trying to transcend time, and it’s only fitting to call you by that name in this world.” “Ahaha...” The Heavenly Demon laughed quietly. “You knew I am reluctant to cross the sea, hence Ulleungdo.” “Precisely.” "Though not as much as a gun, a sword is also a weapon favored by apparitions to dwell in. Hence the use of a fake sword, a makeshift weapon that neither humans nor apparitions would take seriously as his own." "Indeed, it is so." "In the end, aura is also a type of apparition. That's why you never relied on it from the start." "You know well." "To kill me." The Sword Marquess drew his sword. He discarded the scabbard. It had fulfilled its purpose. "Today, in this place, evil shall be eradicated." The eyes of the Heavenly Demon narrowed. "I am human. All of humanity, in fact." "Then, it is humanity I must cut down." "I am the enlightened one. A reincarnate, a Buddha." "Then it is Buddha I shall slay." "I was your daughter once." "Then I will be cutting down my own child." "I am strong. Above all, even if I were to die at your hands, it won't be my end. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, after all." "So it must be." "No one will understand your struggle. They won't see it. They will not remember." "A hero does not seek understanding." The Sword Marquess raised his sword high. "Unique and unmatched in all of heaven and earth." "……." "I am the supreme one beneath the heavens, the greatest throughout antiquity, the Marquess protecting the land of Yuldo, the direct disciple of the 260th-generation head of the Mount Hua Sect." The Sword Marquess took a step forward. "And a simple human born as my mother's child." The clash unfolded. The Heavenly Demon was indeed powerful. No human or demon could match him. Yet the bloody battle continued all day. Every time the Sword Marquess stepped on the ground, every time his blood spilled, flowers bloomed there. The Northern Saint had already turned the world into her flower garden, even tainting it with the garden of Udumbara, but strangely, in every place where the Sword Marquess’s footprints and blood were found, the Udumbara withered and died. In its place, plum blossoms bloomed. The Twenty-Four Forms of Plum Blossom Sword (二十四手梅花劍). The Sword Marquess imbued each of the twenty-four blades with the essence of time. One. In a trench infected by Udumbara, a plum blossom bloomed. Two. The petals of the plum blossom scattered like butterflies, dancing about as they spread. Three. The scent of the plum blossom enveloped the Udumbara. Four. The petals ascended the contaminated world tree, pushing relentlessly from root to branch, severing flesh as if bleeding. Five. The plum blossoms that covered the world tree of Busan gleamed, absorbing the descending sunlight. Six. Now having replaced the world tree, the gigantic plum blossoms shed petals again and again from the branches that cast their shadows upon the earth. Seven. Although the countless falling petals created a dizzying sight, it marked not the peak of the chaotic era but its resolution. Eight. The petals rained down like a shower. 九. Torn into nine streams, the petals flowed into the world. Ten. Because the life of a petal is to die whilst blossoming into life. Eleven. Retain the scent that won't fade away even after winter. Twelve. Whenever the Sword Marquess swung his sword, the plum blossoms unfurled from a single gutter. Thirteen. They spread on the ground, Fourteen. Flourished in the sky, Fifteen. Scattered across the world, Sixteen. Forming an unending monsoon of flowers. Seventeen. The shadows cast by the falling petals created flowing streams below. Eighteen. Beneath these streams, even the deepest roots of the world tree Udumbara withered coldly. Nineteen. The world willingly indulged in the fragrance. Twenty. The Sword Marquess felt the scent he had cultivated seep into his old bones. Twenty one. Eventually, the butterfly dance of the petals that had first formed a gutter quieted. Twenty two. The blue of the wave that had tinted his heart since childhood no longer felt cold. Twenty three. Now the wave carried petals far and wide, to distant horizons. Fly high, in azure glory. Be Bi-cheong. And so. Twenty four. Bi-cheong Flow (飛靑流). The Scent of Ten Thousand Leagues of Plum Blossoms (梅花萬里香). The fragrance of plum blossoms flowed ten thousand leagues. The beginning and end of that battle, no one could ever know. His very name was known to none. At the edge of the apocalypse. In the immaterial flow of time, he continued to fight. A battle that always ended in loss, yet. Within the scent of time dissolving into the fragrance of petals, the old man was ever confident of victory. The waves carrying the red-plumed blossoms were no longer alone. -The one who was once a returner. End.