Chương 31: Judgment Cry

The grand gates of the Supreme Judgment Sect stood open. Sunlight poured through the towering frame, flooding the paved road beyond in an unforgiving light. It shone over polished stone, gently reflecting off the tiled roofs and banners that lined the approach. Specks of light drifted lazily through the air, the road itself exhaling a quiet welcome. It was almost noon. Yet the street, normally louder than mortal markets, had gone still.

And there, at the center of the road, just beyond the gate's shadow, stood an old man. A hood hid his face. His clothes hung in stiff, dirt-caked folds; the fabric yellowed as if it hadn't felt water in months. His bare feet were split and bleeding, the dried blood having formed a new layer of its own. His hair, matted as if tarred, fell across his brow as thick curls, veiling his eyes. His head remained lowered.

Hands folded before him, shoulders bent as if under some invisible weight, he stood rooted to the ground. The crowd in front of him just watched, breaths soft, their silence carrying questions. The old man drew in a shuddering breath from the stagnant air as even the wind seemed to pause and watch.

"This humble mortal came for the Eldest of Judgment… in search of his judgment," he said, not in a full-throated roar but in a quiet voice. A whisper nearly spent, it heard. This was the sight that greeted Ren: a river of disciples and merchants, and even some elders watching one lone, dirty man. What kind of mess am I about to walk into now? Ren thought, the frown settling in before he could stop it.

"What's happening?" he asked one of the guards at the edge of the crowd. The man's eyes widened, and he stepped closer at once, until Ren's quick gesture kept him from drawing attention.

"We're terribly sorry to trouble you, young master," the guard whispered back, voice pitched low.

"We tried to send him away, but he just won't listen. Kept asking for you by title, over and over. I can have him removed immediately if you wish—""No need." Ren waved a hand and decided to step in before the commotion grew any further, his boots echoing against the stone in the unnerving quiet. The crowd shifted, but didn't part completely. Not until they realized who was walking through. Then, as though Moses himself had split the Red Sea, they split to either side to let him pass.

Every pair of eyes followed him, carrying countless emotions he frankly had no interest in reading. But he couldn't ignore the absence of surprise. They'd expected him to come. They knew he would come. He always did. I just hope it's not a petty scheme of someone else's. It's really not a good time for annoying me, bastards. The old man didn't move, didn't even lift his head as Ren stopped before him. Up close, the smell of sweat, dirt, and dried blood was stronger, sharp enough to catch in the throat.

And the short, ragged breath with almost no movement in the chest… This… he's dying… he thought and suppressed his frown. His expression turned serene and regal.

"Speak," Ren said, voice soft and calm.

"I'm listening." The old man looked up at last, his bloodshot eyes peeking out through the thick veil of so-called hair. They carried a heaviness not fitting for a human being. Something familiar, a thirst for blood, maybe? Or a deep-seated hatred that might invoke the abyss's interest even.

"Younger than expected," the man said, voice rough and gruff. Confusion flashed past his face.

"You're the one called First Light of Judgment?" A few guards stirred, but stopped as soon as Ren glared at them.

"That's me," Ren nodded slowly, ignoring the disrespect in the man's tone. The eyes told him there was a story buried behind them, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious. Not that he would think such a little thing was disrespect, of course, but the limit was lower for what he could let pass, since there were some manners he had to uphold here in this world. Especially if it came from a mortal.

"I grew up listening to the stories of immortals. The great legends walking among us common men, hehe. Among them stood apart the Judgment Sect with its eternal creed of justice," the old man said, drawing in a long, shuddering breath.

"And my poor daughter… she grew up listening to your deeds, the legend in flesh. She admired you— deeply. Yearned to see you once, even from afar. She believed in you, more than she ever believed in this worthless wretch she had to call 'father.'" A blood tear slid from his eye. Then another. And another.

"That's why… that's why this poor bastard came all the way here," he uttered, voice gaining strength even as his face paled.

"To see if her faith, her pure, unshaken faith, in your judgment was not in vain. Tell me, Eldest of Judgment… do you truly have justice in your heart? Are you the person she believed without a hint of doubt?!" Spittle flew from his lips, but Ren didn't so much as blink. He just stood there in silence, letting the words settle. Waiting for the man to empty himself. However, the old man suddenly lowered the hood. A gray brand of 'LIAR' flickered on his forehead. Light faded when it touched it. Liar's Seal…

Sharp gasps rose as even Ren froze.

"She was preparing to be married," the old man continued, voice turning serene all of a sudden. He didn't care about the reactions, or more exactly, he seemed not to notice.

"Had fallen for the baker's boy— timid as a hare, but with a pure heart. I knew he would have cared for her… better than I ever could." His lips trembled, twisting into something between a wide smile and a grimace, eyes already drifted toward Ren's back. He gazed at the majestic obsidian gates and at the glorious mountains that lay behind them.

"She… she was so excited, brimming with life every moment. And happy. She could finally break free of this life filled with plowing the soil, praying for rain to come so we don't starve, and see the next spring. A good life, for us mortals. Maybe our greatest dream. A life without suffering, or at least less suffering. Then… then…" Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Slowly, he lowered his head, his gaze settling on the grime-covered hands with full focus.

"Then that bastard appeared," his voice trailed off, leaving a creepy stillness. When he spoke again, it was no longer the voice of a grieving father. No— such a deep voice couldn't even be called human.

"Declared he was the young lord of Miracle Sect. Ordered my daughter to prepare herself. She… she refused." Sharp gasps were heard as even Ren held his breath.

"And then…" the old man struggled to continue, words felt as if choking him.

"And then… that bastard took her innocence. In front of these cursed eyes." All of a sudden, he raised his head— eyes stripped of any white, nothing left but a solid, blood-hued glare that bored into Ren's own.

"That sect… lives under your roof, Eldest of Judgment. The very hand that claims to uphold Judgment shielded him when this old fool begged for justice. They branded this on soul, so even when this pitiful bastard dies, he won't find peace! Not even the Yellow Springs can clear a Liar's Seal! So tell me…" the man paused as though holding back the wrath gnawing at him from within. His voice trembled, caught between the tremor of grief and a cry of fury.

"Tell me… do you truly have justice in your heart? Or, beneath all the legend, are you just like the rest of them— a hypocrite?" Ren didn't answer right away. He couldn't. What could he even say? Seeing him like this, the old man fell on his knees.

"Tell me… I beg you… tell me…" The crowd's murmur swelled, then turned doubtful as he shifted his weight. The old man's ragged breaths echoed in his ears like a ringing.

"Is he gonna…"

"Absolutely. He's the First Light." Some whispers settled on his shoulders, their touch cold and heavy. I don't know what to do, Ren thought as his eyes fixed past the old man, toward the road leading out of the sect. No, I know what to do… I'm just not sure if I can do it. The confession hit him like a truck, although its real weight came from the old man's accusation. The reality he had expected since awakening in this cruel world… what right did he have to wallow in self-pity while things like this happened?

The responsibility he accepted when he donned the armor and sat on that throne filled his mind. This wasn't something he could ignore. Doing so would be betrayal— to his legacy, to him. Brother, please lend me your strength. He turned slightly, resolute eyes cutting toward a nearby guard.

"Tell the Judgment Hall to wait for me at the gate," he said. His tone was soft, but it cut through the whispers like a steel drawn from a sheath.

"Now." The guard's back straightened instinctively as if pulled by a string before he sprinted off. Ren faced forward again, staring at the old man biting his lips with tears, this time clear, crystalline ones.

"You'll get your answer tomorrow at the latest, old man," Ren said, voice turned gentle. Grabbing the frail arm, he helped him rise. He hid his frown as it felt less like holding flesh and more like clutching a rotten branch. Ren couldn't help but add, "So don't die on me until then. Justice will be served. For now, just go and rest. Somebody will take care of you." The old man's mouth opened and closed, as if words got stuck in his throat. In the end, he could only nod. Slowly, with desperation.

Ren turned and left, his steps resounding heavily in the silence. He kept his gaze strictly on the front and avoided the piercing gazes on him. He had something to get and a duty to uphold. But it seemed someone didn't like his silence.

"What are you thinking?" As soon as he disappeared from the crowd's gaze, he found Baozhai standing in front of him, her face unreadable.

"Ah, Baozhai," Ren muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Sorry, but it's really not a good time for tea. But I'll definitely find a chance tomorrow—""You're a terrible liar," she cut in without hesitation.

"But you know that, right?"

"I prefer 'selectively honest' to be the truth," he scratched his head.

"Liar is a hard word—""And I prefer when you stop bullshitting," she said, stepping closer.

"Especially when you're obviously not fine but pretending to be fine."

"Look, it's really not a good time. I need to go and—" Ren muttered, trying to pass beside her. But she caught his arm mid-talk, her golden eyes drilling into him intensely.

"You're doing it again," she uttered.

"Shutting me out as soon as something went wrong."

"I'm doing nothing." He answered her glare in kind, smile already erased.

"What do you expect me to say? Ah, Baozhai, a man came to the sect gates, begging for justice, and now I have to go and probably start something that'll tear a whole sect apart? That I desire to kill that fucker who dared to do such an atrocious thing with my own hands? Yeah? Is this what you want to hear?" He ran through a hand, and a sigh escaped his lips.

"Don't test me. My hands are already full of trying to think about nothing, so it doesn't become another fuel to chaos, I'm already struggling to face. Alright?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Baozhai muttered, her gaze softening slightly.

"Not this bottling up bullshit you love to do." Ren stared at her with confusion. She exhaled, her eyes wandered around his face as if searching for anything more.

"I'll take care of your disciples, so go and do what must be done," she said at last.

"But don't forget we'll have our talk after you return." A faint smirk flashed across her lips.

"I haven't forgotten about that tea you promised." Ren watched her leave. What in the actual fuck was that? He then found solace in shrugging when the question marks only multiply. Later. I'll learn eventually. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the manor. He heard kids and Madam Zhang eating and chatting in heated tones. He immediately noticed a strange thing: Wenhai was silent.

"I say that was way exaggerated just for sparring. You know, almost blowing up your disciple's head just for show? That's not teaching. It's madness."

"Don't be like that, Ruolan. Senior Brother must have his reasons, and he even warned Senior Sister," Liuxue defended him, despite her voice nothing but a hesitant murmur.

"After all, he is our Master now…" Ren's face didn't change. He shelved the thoughts for another time. Yet his steps felt heavier, even when he walked on his tiptoes and slipped past quickly. He entered his room and closed the door behind him with a soft click, then leaned onto it, slowly slipping down until he hit the floor. He breathed deep as he sat on his hands, hiding the quake in his fingers. His gaze rose oh-so slowly until he found what he searched: the mask.

That crooked smirk he had ignored countless times greeted him just like the day he first set foot in this room. The only decoration this room contained was. It wasn't a decoration. Ren rose shakily, like he was drunk. He approached the mask and leaned on his hands, putting his hand on the wall for support. The black iron mask shone with faint light streaming in through the window. And just as he touched its cold surface… The trembling went away. Disappeared entirely as if it were only a play of his mind.

He felt his armor humming in satisfaction, like it had reunited with his twin after a long time. His hand shot back as if electrified. The tremble returned. For a split second, he saw blood in his hands. But it was gone the moment he blinked.

"Seems like there's no escape from my past haunting me… not in my last life nor in this one." He began stripping in silence. First, the robe was tossed carelessly onto the bed. Then the undershirt, the pants, even the socks. From a hidden drawer under the bed, he took out the long, dark coat, his fingers lingering on the coarse, dense fabric. Next came a green, skin-tight tunic, followed by black pants of Mad Bull hide, and finally the war boots, socks, and gloves crafted from the same leather.

He donned them one by one, without hurry. Leather croaked. Metal clips gave quiet clicks. His trembling hands stilled when the belt slid into place. His half-armor manifested without him calling, as if it couldn't resist its eagerness. Only one thing remained. His gaze returned to the mask once again. When Ren accepted and wore the armor, he knew he was stepping on the road of no return. But wearing the mask… he had thought he couldn't do it. It was too heavy for him.

Yet looking at it now, there was a reason he had always called it a road of no return. Ren took the mask from the nail it was hanging. This world might have a place for me. At least I'll always try to believe in that. The half-mask, just like his armor, snuggly fit. Covered his chin to cheekbone, leaving out only his eyes. Judgment demanded the truth, and only the eyes held it. But right now, what this world needs is the First Light of Judgment, not the Ren from another world.

It was ice cold, colder than the memories. Yet it wasn't heavy. No, it felt as if it wasn't even there. A sense of peace enveloped his being as his eyes turned crimson. Then I'll give them what they want.