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Episode 158
Fanatic, disciple, wipe the blood 3
Except for the leader Yoo Jeong-hong.
No member of the alliance believed that they could survive by competing with the Yetoseosaeng.
Such a scholar was literally brutally treated by a fanatic.
Red blood still flowed from the corpse of the yeto scholar, which was cooling down, and the yeto magic that had covered his entire body was mixed with the blood, like the strange remains of an unknown marine creature.
Gwangsin looked at Yoo Jeonghong.
“Jeonghong-ah.”
“Yes, sir.”
"We need to clean the stage. Mops, buckets, rags, brooms, stretchers, and mats. Bring everything you need to clean up the body."
Yoo Jeong-hong smiled.
“Oh, senior. The members will take care of it.”
The fanatic raised his hand.
“No. The sinner will do the cleaning.”
"hmm."
The fanatic said to the madman.
"You yourself will dispose of the body of your former master and wipe away the blood remaining on the stage. Don't let anyone else help you; just give him the cleaning supplies. You're the one who's surviving, earning a living, so at least clean up and earn some money."
The madman glared at the madman.
'You want me to clean?'
Even Cheol Myeong-ho was flustered, glancing back and forth between Gwangsin and Gwangma. But he dared not interfere with his master's orders. He simply approached quietly, took the iron umbrella Gwangsin offered, and spoke.
“Master.”
Only then did Gwangsin look at Cheolmyeongho and smile faintly.
“Myungho, did you see it well?”
Cheol Myeong-ho replied.
“Yes, I feel a lot. Thank you.”
The fanatic nodded.
“That’s fortunate.”
The fanatic looked around and gestured.
“Juniors, step back.”
As Yoo Jeong-hong left with his followers, he ordered them to bring cleaning supplies. Cheol Myeong-ho and Gwang-ma weren't members of the Murim Alliance in the first place. They were people Gwang-shin should be teaching, so he didn't intend to interfere at all.
Yoo Jeong-hong, who had been walking a few steps, stopped, gestured for his followers to go first, and then looked back at Gwangsin.
After Yoo Jeong-hong stared at Gwang-shin for a while, Gwang-shin finally turned his head and met Yoo Jeong-hong's eyes.
Then, Yoo Jeong-hong smiled and silently took the lottery ticket from Gwangsin.
'Thank you, senior.'
In a way, it was no different from a proxy fight. Even Yoo Jeong-hong thought that if he had stepped forward, the fight would have been even more chaotic.
Gwangsin, who fully understood Yoo Jeonghong's feelings, gestured as if to tell him to go quickly.
The two people understood each other's feelings well even without talking.
After a while, the members of the martial arts alliance placed their cleaning tools on the stage and disappeared.
Gwangsin, who had been blankly observing the entire Murim Alliance from the stage, turned his head and looked at Gwangma.
“Wipe it clean.”
The madman replied, looking at the cleaning tools.
"yes."
Cheol Myeong-ho stood to one side and looked at the mad horse.
Helping with the cleaning felt awkward, and just watching felt odd. Since Master Cultist hadn't given him any orders, he waited quietly, his hands clasped in respect.
The fanatic sat cross-legged and closed his eyes as if he was waiting for the madman to finish cleaning.
The removal of the mad horse's corpse has begun.
.
.
.
Gwangma could only stare at the face of the dead student. A large hole had been ripped through his forehead. It was a gruesome sight, from which blood could only gushed forth. Looking back, Gwangma realized he had never before disposed of a corpse.
Because it would have been enough to kill him and leave.
Because of this, I'd never been able to examine a corpse so closely for so long as I did today. Moreover, it was truly strange that the corpse belonged to the Grand Master of Manmagung Palace.
After placing the stretcher next to the body, he grabbed the Yetoseosaeng by the collar and lifted him up. Blood gushed out again.
A sigh escaped the madman's mouth.
Then, suddenly, I looked at Gwangsin. I sighed without realizing it, and then I saw Gwangsin's expression.
The fanatic sat cross-legged, his eyes closed and his spirit quiet.
Cheol Myeong-ho, who had nothing to do, was kneeling next to him with his eyes closed.
Fortunately, the fanatic said nothing about the sigh.
Gwangma laid a mat on the stretcher and wiped the student's head with a rag. Still, blood flowed out, so he wrapped the rag around his head. He then placed the body on the stretcher and began cleaning the floor. He dipped a mop in a bucket of water, then looked down at the stage.
If we continued mopping like this, it would turn into a sea of blood.
The madman put down the mop again, picked up a dry rag, and began wiping the blood himself. Once the rag was sufficiently soaked, he twisted it over an empty bucket of water to wring out the excess. The smell of blood was unavoidable.
'Why on earth am I doing this?'
After wiping all the blood with a rag, I wiped the stage with a mop.
Cleaning up the bloodstains wasn't easy. The water mixed with the stains, causing blood to splatter everywhere, and the mop made the area feel even dirtier.
This happened because the man named Gwangma had never cleaned before.
In an instant, the madman's hands, knees, and clothes were covered in blood.
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By the time I finished cleaning, I couldn't help but smell the blood, and half an hour had already passed.
After the madman finished organizing the cleaning tools, he spoke to the madman.
“I’ve done it all.”
After opening his eyes, the fanatic looked at the mad horse.
"In the Maeng, masters of the magic arts and prisoners don't need to be buried or cremated. However, because there's no suitable place to dispose of them, most are disposed of in crematoriums. After transporting the bodies to the crematorium with Myeongho, return here. However, Mad Demon, go to the public bathhouse to wash off the blood. Change your clothes."
"All right."
Cheolmyeongho and Gwangma carried a stretcher to the crematorium.
After a while, when Cheol Myeong-ho returned first, Gwang-shin pointed to the stage with his chin and asked.
“Myungho, can you still smell blood?”
Cheol Myeong-ho sniffed around on the stage and then replied.
“Yes, it still comes out.”
“How long will it take for this to disappear?”
“It might take a few days. I think it’ll go away if the wind blows or if it rains a little.”
Suddenly, Cheol Myeong-ho looked at Gwang-shin.
If it's about smell, wouldn't Master be better at it? That's what I thought.
Considering that the master's residence was usually extremely clean, I knew that he always cleaned it himself.
Cheol Myeong-ho asked cautiously.
“Don’t you smell blood?”
The fanatic replied.
"I smell it. But it's not the smell of Yetoseosaeng's blood. It's just that I can't tell because it always seems to come from my own body."
"ah···."
Gwangsin looked at Cheolmyeongho and smiled bitterly.
“But you must live a life of distinction.”
“Yes, Master.”
Cheol Myeong-ho's heart ached anew.
Although I didn't know the details of Gwangsin's story, I could clearly feel that he was always sad.
Cheol Myeong-ho let out a short sigh, then went to the spot where the blood had been and rubbed the floor with his feet.
Then the fanatic said:
“Go in and rest, then do your evening training. I’ll wait for the mad horse.”
“Oh, I understand, Master. Then.”
Cheol Myeong-ho bowed his head to Gwangsin and then quietly stepped down from the stage. Moments later, Gwangma, having washed the blood off his body and changed into the new clothes Maengwon had given him, returned to the stage.
The fanatic was sitting cross-legged alone.
The madman said as he approached.
“I just washed up.”
When the fanatic pointed to the opposite side, the mad horse sat there.
"This is your first time cleaning a corpse. It took half an hour just to clean the floor."
“Yes, this is my first time.”
"With your skills, you could have killed someone with a single punch. But it took this long to clean up that body."
The madman replied.
"yes."
“How long do you think it will take to erase the blood from the hearts and memories of the families who removed the body?”
The fanatic's words were not in a scolding tone.
Because of that, Gwangma also responded in a calm tone.
“I’ll probably go on for the rest of my life.”
"Of course. You'll be gone forever. And the families of those you killed will be too."
Suddenly, the mad horse let out a long sigh, sat down on his knees, and shut his mouth tightly.
It occurred to me that I might be killed by a fanatic in this place.
After judging the meaning of the conversation, I thought that if they decided that rehabilitation was impossible, they would kill me on the spot.
Even the light has already lost its inner strength.
Even though there was a difference in power between the ambassadors, I didn't think that the Toh clan would lose so easily.
So, there was absolutely no chance that he himself would escape the clutches of fanaticism.
If you want to kill me, I have no choice but to die.
The fanatic asked.
“You didn’t have a family.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Not even once?”
“I was born that way.”
“Without family, there would be neither great joy nor great sorrow, so I understand that you are indifferent to the question of life and death.”
"yes."
The fanatic said.
“If I die at the hands of the Grand Master of Manmagung.”
Suddenly, the mad horse raised its head and looked at the mad god.
"You're going to die at the hands of the ambassador? After killing him so brutally?"
As the mad horse looked at him curiously, the mad god asked.
“Do you know who the ambassador I am talking about is?”
The madman thought for a moment and then replied:
“Are you talking about the Master of the Magical Gentleman?”
“You are a magician······.”
The fanatic snorted and then continued speaking.
"Anyway, if I die, do you think you'll be able to spend the rest of your life with Myeongho? I'd like to hear the truth."
“I don’t know.”
"They say Myeongho is an orphan, and you're an orphan too. Are you saying orphans can't get along? When I die, you two and Daesahyeong will be left behind. Shouldn't those who survive live in harmony? Unlike Daesahyeong, you two don't have families. No matter how quickly you recover your martial arts skills, it'll be impossible for you to defeat Daesahyeong in the future.
"If I die and you go back to causing trouble like you used to, you'll eventually be caught by the Ambassador and die, your brains torn to shreds. There's probably no need for anyone to bury you. Your body will be destroyed."
The madman replied.
“If my senior dies.”
“Why am I your senior? I told you that I would not teach you martial arts, but that I would take you as my disciple.”
“If Master dies, I will take revenge.”
"That's not because I feel sorry for my death, but because you mistakenly believe that your fate is to die a heroic death in battle. Do you know what kind of man that magician is?"
“I know roughly.”
“Did he happen to be the leader of the ambassadors?”
“Although he did not act like a leader, there was no ambassador who treated the magician carelessly.”
“I see. But you’re saying you can still get revenge with your skills?”
The madman looked at the madman.
The fanatic said.
"That's impossible. The result will be like that of the Yeto scholar. He'll lie somewhere covered in blood. His corpse's nickname is "Gwangma." He committed only evil deeds in his lifetime, and his relationship with his later brothers was strained. Without anyone to bury him, his body will become food for wild beasts.
“This is the final image of your life that you wish to see.”
“My disciple’s sin is great, so if that is my fate, I will accept it.”
The fanatic got up, approached the kneeling madman, and stroked his head.
“You poor thing, you think you’re fearless.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Is that true?”
"yes."
"In my view, you lack the courage to start a family. You lack the courage to take a wife and have children with her.
In this harsh world, if your child were to suffer an accident, your heart would be torn apart. Having never had a family before, it's something you can't handle. You just kill other people's families and brag about how fearless you are. That's your true nature.
"Gwangma, Hongsu. That's you. You don't know that countless people in the world, though weaker than you, live far more courageously than you."
The fanatic lightly slapped the madman on the cheek and then headed back to the dorm.
As the mad horse turned around while kneeling, the mad god walked away and pointed to the place where the yeti scholar had been.
“He was a fearless guy. Just like you.”
I thought I was going to die like this.
As the fanatic moved away, the madman asked.
“Why are you sparing me?”
After a while, the fanatic, who had been walking away with his back turned, answered in a subdued tone.
“How could a master kill his disciple?”
The madman watched with his mouth shut until the madman disappeared from sight. The disciple remained on the stage until the surroundings became pitch black.