The World's Greatest is Dead

DRIP.

DRIP.

Drops of water hit the floor.

A lot of water, falling like that.

The problem was that all of it was running down from the tip of my chin.

It’s disgustingly hot.

How long had it been? I hadn’t kept track, but it definitely hadn’t been a short time.

“...I’m dying of thirst.”

I’d sweated so much my throat felt completely dry.

The thirst kept rising without end, but even so, I stayed where I was.

I couldn’t move.

How could I, while watching that?

SSSSSS—

Up ahead, Tang Yeran had her hair tightly tied back and repeated her movements inside the heat.

The sweat running down her face seemed pointless; there wasn’t the slightest trace of distraction or fatigue.

Just how focused was she?

It’s kind of amazing.

This was the first time I’d seen someone forging or repairing a sword from this close.

Feeding in charcoal, stoking the fire.

Putting something inside.

An unknown sequence of actions, repeated over and over.

I glanced at the side of the furnace.

I could see a pile of black ore. That had to be the black iron.

...Tang Clan really is loaded, huh.

That supposedly precious black iron was piled up there.

They said it wasn’t that much in total, but just that amount alone would buy several houses in Henan.

And they’re just casually letting us use it.

Even if I’d asked, this was black iron we were talking about.

Poison King had told me I could use whatever materials I wanted, but the more I thought about it, the stranger it felt.

He’s not going to come back later and say something weird about it, is he.

There was always the chance he’d use the black iron as an excuse to cause trouble.

Judging from his personality, Poison King didn’t seem like the type to pull something like that, but you never knew with people.

I already have one idea ready for that part, anyway.

I’d already come up with a plan.

If Poison King tried to make an issue of it, I’d use it then.

If he didn’t...

Then I’ll just bleed him for something else.

I was planning to use it to squeeze some benefits.

What else can I get out of this.

If I was going to strip something off him, what could I rip away?

I’d already gotten more than ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) enough out of Sichuan, so I felt like there wasn’t much left to squeeze, but—

Profit’s profit. You take as much as you can.

As long as it wasn’t the kind of “profit” that came from ghosts, getting what you could when you could was the right move.

I was turning those plans over in my head when—

SSSS.

I heard the sound of something cooking.

I looked up. Tang Yeran was pouring something out onto a hard surface.

...That must be it.

She’d melted the black iron. I was pretty sure that’s what it was.

She poured the flowing black iron onto a plate.

Her movements were so delicate there wasn’t the slightest tremor.

She’s going to use that to do the repair.

After she’d poured the black iron onto the plate, Tang Yeran checked the old sword lying next to her.

She’d already separated the hilt and blade.

What she was watching now was the blade fragment.

What was she studying so closely? I tilted my head as I watched, and—

[She’s checking the blade’s hardness and thickness.]

Poison Sovereign drifted up next to me and explained.

[You can’t just stick a new piece onto a broken blade and “repair” it. In the end, you have to make a new one. And for that, you first have to study the original blade.]

“...So she can make it exactly the same?”

[That’s not it.]

“Then what?”

[There’s no such thing as “exactly the same.” For a repair, what matters is how close it is.]

“Isn’t that basically what I just said?”

[If you understood the difference, you’d be the smith instead of her.]

Poison Sovereign chuckled as he spoke.

“Mm.”

I glanced at him, then looked back at Tang Yeran.

And then I asked him,

“Old man.”

[What is it.]

Tang Yeran seemed so focused she couldn’t hear us at all.

So I asked,

“Is Young Lady Tang your unfinished business?”

[...]

Poison Sovereign was struck speechless by the question.

“You. The reason you stubbornly stayed in the living world. I was wondering if it was that woman. Am I right?”

[...Heh-heh-heh...]

Instead of an answer, he laughed.

That was enough.

“At first, I thought that divine sword might be your unfinished business. But it’s not, is it?”

[...Why would you think that?]

“Why else? You’ve never once stayed by that sword.”

If Heavenly Demon’s sword were his lingering regret, he should have been hovering near it, not Tang Yeran.

Had Poison Sovereign ever done that? No.

“You’ve only been by Young Lady Tang’s side. As if you couldn’t care less about that sword.”

It wasn’t that he had no regrets about it.

If I had to put it a certain way—

It’s second place, at best.

It felt more accurate to say Tang Yeran’s priority was higher than the divine sword’s.

And so I’d thought:

Poison Sovereign’s unfinished business isn’t the sword.

It’s Tang Yeran.

[Let me ask you this: does any of that change anything?]

“No. Not really...”

Whether it was Heavenly Demon’s sword.

Or Tang Yeran.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was—

“In the end, what I want to know is why Young Lady Tang has to be the one to repair that sword. That’s what I find strange.”

Whatever his unfinished business was—

The method he’d chosen to resolve it didn’t make sense to me.

“What do you want?”

I raised my head and looked at Poison Sovereign.

[...You’re already certain, aren’t you.]

He stared into my eyes as he spoke.

[That this is all to resolve my unfinished business.]

“Of course.”

How could I not know that.

“Ghosts, by their very existence, act to resolve their unfinished business. That’s their essence.”

[...Oh?]

“A ghost’s instinct is to move toward deliverance.”

Everything they did to resolve their regrets—

In the end, that was their path toward moving on.

“Whatever they do, it always ties back to their lingering regrets. This is no different.”

[...]

“So that’s why I’m curious. If restoring the divine sword itself were your unfinished business, I’d just let it go.”

But that wasn’t the case.

“Since it isn’t, I want to know why you insist on forcing your granddaughter to do it.”

[You were acting like you’d just do what you were told and keep your distance. Why bother asking that now?]

That was a fair point. I had wanted to just do what I’d been asked and stay uninvolved.

But—

“Just in case.”

[Hm?]

“Just in case your unfinished business ends up hurting Young Lady Tang. The thought crossed my mind for a moment.”

[Hoh? And if it does?]

“If it does, then...”

I tilted my head.

“I’ll exorcise you. Because you’re a fucked-up evil ghost bastard.”

[...]

Poison Sovereign’s eyes narrowed.

I wondered if I’d gone too far and whether he’d explode in anger.

I watched with a touch of curiosity, but—

[Heh-heh-heh...]

What came out of the old man’s mouth was laughter.

[For someone who didn’t want to get involved, you’re awfully worked up. What, are you worried about that child?]

“It’s not ‘worried’ exactly. It’s just... this kind of thing gets under my skin.”

We’d become acquainted.

I knew her name, and we’d spoken.

That was the problem.

This is why I try not to get involved.

Even the smallest connection made it hard not to care.

The damn traces of my previous life were still there.

How many evil ghosts had I erased and burned away?

How much karma had gotten stained in the process?

In this life, I’d hoped to stay as far away from evil ghosts as possible.

But even so...

This was better than feeling that itch.

Thinking that, I looked back at Poison Sovereign.

[...A bad influence, huh.]

The old man watched his granddaughter with conflicted eyes.

KANG-!

Right then, Tang Yeran was hammering the hot black iron she’d taken from the plate.

Poison Sovereign’s gaze slowly softened as he watched.

[I’m not sure. But...]

KANG-!

[All I can do is hope it doesn’t turn out that way.]

“...”

I watched him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh.

“Haa...”

Sighing, I scratched the back of my head.

“...Does your unfinished business depend on whether Young Lady Tang succeeds or fails?”

[Why are you asking that.]

“If it does... I was thinking of sticking my nose in a little.”

[...What?]

Poison Sovereign’s eyes went wide at that.

The expectation in that look was suffocating, so I hurried to add,

“I’ll say this up front: I’m not doing that thing the other old bastard did and letting you borrow my body.”

Could any ghost besides Yoo Cheongil even get into my body? I’d never tried. I had zero intention of trying.

That wasn’t something I could do for Poison Sovereign.

“All I’m thinking of is stirring up some petty trouble. Will you take it?”

[...]

His face twisted with hesitation.

But the answer was already decided.

*****

I left Iron River and returned to my quarters.

Somehow, outside had already turned to night.

Not deep night—more the time when the sun was just starting to sink.

I had thought a lot of time had passed, but I hadn’t expected the sun to already be going down.

Ruffling my hair, I clicked my tongue.

“Damn.”

It wasn’t that I regretted “wasting” the time.

I was pissed because I’d meddled.

“...I swore I wasn’t going to do this.”

In this life—

At the very least, in this life, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pull any dumb heroic crap, even if it killed me.

And I’d gone and blown it.

“I should’ve just stayed out of it.”

Whether Tang Yeran did well or not.

I should’ve stayed out of it and only checked the end result.

Poison Sovereign’s request had only been to push Tang Yeran into repairing the sword.

He’d never said anything about helping her succeed.

“Idiot...”

I’d gone and stuck my nose in anyway.

The curse slipped out on its own.

Why the hell did I do that.

I could’ve just sat still and minded my own business—so why?

The reason, when I thought about it, wasn’t anything grand.

She just looked that desperate.

The way she focused, the way she spoke to the Iron River Master.

The way she struggled, clawing for a result, was something I couldn’t help but like.

The way she kept sweating without showing a single tired expression was something I couldn’t help but find admirable.

That was part of it.

But the biggest reason was probably—

“...That old man Poison Sovereign is the problem.”

Poison Sovereign.

“Why’d he have to look at her like that.”

The way he looked at Tang Yeran was the problem.

Those eyes on her as she focused.

They were just like...

My grandmother’s eyes, looking at me right before she died, in my previous life.

Because I happened to remember that.

That was why I’d gone and done it.

Like an idiot.

I clicked my tongue and bit my lip.

“Ugh.”

Whatever.

I’d done what I could.

I’d love to stay and watch until the end, but there was no telling when that would be over.

And if I stayed there, I’d just be in the way.

Right now, stepping back for a while was the right move.

Besides, I had my own thing to do.

Earlier—no, even just this morning—I hadn’t wanted to do it at all, but...

“...She got me worked up for nothing.”

Watching Tang Yeran fight so desperately made me feel like I had to put in some effort too.

Whatever form that effort took.

“Hoo.”

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

Strength slowly drained from my body.

And when I opened my eyes again—

I was standing in the pure white world.

“...”

The instant I saw it, irritation surged up.

All because I could already see what was coming.

The moment I turned my head, I saw a sword stuck in the ground ahead of me.

“Right.”

I walked up to it and pulled it free.

“...Let’s get this over with.”

The instant I drew the sword, the boulder and the man appeared.

My heart lurched.

It was my heart reacting to the man’s eyes.

Fear surged.

My back and my ass both clenched tight.

I tightened my grip on the sword and asked,

“...Let me ask you something. This time, how o—”

I didn’t finish.

“—ld are you?”

Because I died mid-sentence.

“Son of a bitch.”

A curse burst out of me.

I didn’t even realize when I died.

One moment I blinked and the perspective had changed.

The boulder and the man were in front of me again.

“...You really are in a fucking rush, aren’t you.”

Last time, I’d at least managed to talk to him.

This time, maybe he’d had a truly shitty adolescence, because that didn’t seem possible.

“...Haa.”

Exhaling, I came to a realization.

“This night’s going to drag on.”

Until this spirit-dream broke—

It was going to take much longer than last time.

Thinking that, I raised my sword at the man and said,

“Come on, then.”

As always—

Whether I liked it or not, enduring and memorizing were two things I was good at.

And so—

Inside that white night, I faced down a countless number of deaths.

*****

CHEEP-! CHEEP-!

Birdsong.

Hearing it, I opened my eyes.

“...”

I lay there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“Ah—”

I made a sound and rubbed my throat.

Talking felt strange.

“Aah.”

I said a few more random words, once or twice.

“Ha.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, then spoke.

“It broke. You bastard.”

I’d broken through.

I’d won.