Chapter 257: All Who Are Human Must Die
Chapter 257: All Who Are Human Must Die
“You were impressive, Investigator Seo,” Lee An said as we walked toward my quarters.
I was taking her to see the new residence I had moved into after being appointed Young Cult Leader.
“You seem like a completely different person compared to when I first met you.”
“I’ve put in a lot of effort since then.”
Since Lee An was someone whose own dedication was second to none, I added a word of caution. “Don’t go thinking you need to try even harder because of that. You’re already overexerting yourself as it is.”
“I don’t want to just work hard,” she murmured. “I’m not going to let my effort merely overflow; I’m going to make it surge like a flood.”
I could guess what she was thinking. With everyone else surging ahead, she likely felt like she was the only one being left behind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“That I’m only visiting your new place today. If it were before, I would have come the very first day you moved.”
She seemed guilty about the late visit. Her shoulders, already slumped, dropped even further.
“If you’re going to look at it that way, it’s the same for me. I moved into a new house and didn’t even invite you, did I?”
“But you were busy, Young Master.”
“You were busier than I was. Is looking at a room more important, or is our work? The answer is obvious. So, there’s absolutely no need to feel sorry.”
I led her inside. She gasped, startled by the scale of the place, which was far larger than my previous residence.
“Ah! It’s truly massive.”
“I am the Young Cult Leader of the Great Cult, after all!”
Maidservants passing by bowed politely to Lee An and me. Lee An returned their greetings with a smile. Her surprise only grew when she entered my room.
“This is so different from what I expected.”
The walls were lined with bookshelves, a large bed was made with crisp white linens, and a desk and chair were positioned by a window where the sunlight streamed in. It clearly didn't match her mental image of me.
“This isn't really your taste, is it, Young Master?”
“This is my taste.”
“I had no idea. You should have told me.”
Before my regression, I didn't have "tastes."
Whether the bed was large or small, whether there were bookshelves or wardrobes—I hadn't cared. My only interest had been becoming the successor.
That was why I had drifted so far from that goal. Because I saw nothing. I didn't truly look at people, and I didn't care what was in my own room. Back then, I thought I was being passionate. Looking back now, I realize that "passion" might have just been a form of escape.
“There are so many books.” She turned her attention to the bookshelves first.
“I’m the Young Cult Leader now; I have to look knowledgeable.”
“This book is incredibly thick.”
“Don’t pull that one out! It’s just for decoration. It’s a pain to put back in.”
“I couldn't even if I wanted to. It won't budge! To think there’s a book you can only pull out by using internal energy!”
She moved on to examine another shelf. “There are many books here that Elder Blade Demon also has.”
There was a time when she used to borrow and read books from Gu Cheon-pa.
“Yeah. I wrote down a list of every book he had and filled this shelf exactly the same way. The Elder knows his books, after all.”
She pulled a volume from a different shelf and looked at it intently. “You even have books like this.”
The book she held was titled Escaping the Heavenly Net.
“Have you read it?”
I nodded. “I have.”
“Do you think one could actually escape by following this?”
“I didn't read it to learn how to escape. I read it to make sure no one else could escape.”
Lee An burst out laughing at my words.
“You’re someone who can just command, ‘Deploy the Heavenly Net!’ but I might actually get trapped in the Murim Alliance’s net one day. Please lend me this book.”
“Take as many as you want.”
“I’ll take this one and this one too.”
She picked out several volumes. She used to mainly read collections of poems and paintings, but the books she chose now were all manuals on survival secrets in the Murim.
“Do you still read these days?”
“I try to read for at least fifteen minutes before bed. I have to build up indirect experience somehow.”
It seemed she was still worried about becoming a frog in a well.
“Lee An.”
“Yes?” She turned toward me.
“You think having a lot of worldly experience is better, don't you?”
“Of course. Is it not?” Lee An’s eyes widened.
“It is. People with a lot of experience are cool and dependable. They have insight, and they offer new teachings to those around them. But that also means they’ve had to endure and suffer through all sorts of filth to get there. They’ve experienced the dirty and the petty; they’ve seen the absolute rock bottom of humanity. They might even carry a deep distrust and loathing for people. Can we really say those experiences are purely good for a person’s life?”
Before my regression, I experienced many things. Yes, I became stronger because of it, and I survived.
But so what? Could I say my life was better than Lee An’s, who had walked the single, silent path of a bodyguard? I might have a higher chance of survival if thrown into the wild, but that didn't make it a "better" life.
“What I’m saying is, you don't need to feel regretful about your life just because you’ve walked a single path. You don't have to carry all the miscellaneous scars and pains that come packaged under the name of 'experience.' You can fight without them, and you can win without them. I believe the life you’ve lived through your efforts will one day protect you more powerfully than any other experience could.”
I reached out my hand, and a collection of poems and paintings slid out from the shelf. The book drifted through the air via telekinesis and landed in her hands.
“So, read the things you actually want to read, too.”
I had noticed her eyes lingering on that book twice.
Lee An crept closer to me, staring intently into my face. “I suppose there really is something to bloodlines after all,” she whispered.
I stared back at her with a serious expression befitting her comment. Feeling suddenly shy, she avoided my gaze and looked around for a distraction.
“The bed is really wide and nice. Is it soft?”
“Lie down if you’re curious.”
“Did you expect me to say, ‘How could I possibly dare to lie on the Young Cult Leader’s bed?!’”
She threw herself toward the bed. However, her body stopped and hovered just above the mattress.
“Not in the clothes you wore outside! Now I understand why Elder Blade Demon never let anyone lie down.”
I floated her back to her original spot. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she spoke with a serious face.
“I recently selected five people for the Ghost Shadow Squad. I looked at their character as well as their skills. As you said, I’m aiming for an elite organization rather than just numbers.”
“You’re doing well.”
“Oh, and I’ll be leaving the Cult tomorrow with Blue Face and his subordinates. We’re going to find more people to join the Ghost Shadow Squad. I should have left sooner, but I delayed it to see the Huangquan Pavilion Master’s inauguration. While I’m out, I’ll also visit Strategist Go and the Pungcheon Cult Leader.”
She was officially stepping out into the Jianghu. Sensing the worry in my eyes, she smiled. “Don't worry. Don't I have nine tails?”
“Come back stronger.”
She stood up and gave a respectful fist salute. “Yes, Young Cult Leader!”
*
I immersed myself in martial arts training.
Counting both before and after my regression, this was the period I worked the hardest. Perhaps sensing that I was in a trance of cultivation, my father postponed all the various events within the Cult.
The Nine Calamities Demonic Art and the Time Heaven Secret Technique. These were arts that demanded nothing less than total devotion.
First, regarding the Time Heaven Secret Technique, the more I practiced, the more I felt a time discrepancy between the inside and outside of the Space-Time Displacement Technique. However, the difference was still so minute that I wasn't yet at the stage where I could use it for actual training.
Using the Space-Time Displacement Technique, then the Time Heaven Secret Technique, and then training within that space... it required a triple consumption of internal energy. Compared to that, the time difference was not yet significant enough to be meaningful, meaning I spent more time recovering my internal energy than I gained.
Though my heart was impatient, I did not rush. This wasn't a martial art to be mastered overnight; consistency was the lifeblood of training. Repeat and repeat again. Eventually, I would find myself on the next level.
Next was the Nine Calamities Demonic Art.
Once I became familiar with the mental method, I began training in earnest starting from the first form. It was a complex and profound martial art, but I progressed steadily, calmly analyzing the oral formulas.
Today, I intended to unleash the first form for the first time.
Nine Calamities Demonic Art, First Form: Annihilation Form.
The very first form was "Annihilation." Its name carried a simple, chilling truth: all who are human must die.
I steadied my mind, staring at the wooden dummy I had set up in front of me. When I felt my body and mind were ready, the Black Demonic Sword was drawn.
Swaaaak!
In an instant, the dummy’s head was severed. It was a sword strike even faster than the Azure Heaven Form, the speed-oriented technique of the Flying Heaven Sword Technique.
So, was the first form a success? No, it was a failure.
I walked slowly toward the decapitated dummy and examined it. There was a faint trace of a sword line on its back, but no marks on the left or right.
The Annihilation Form was a technique where, the moment the form was unleashed, four sword qis struck the opponent simultaneously from the front, back, left, and right.
In a flash, sword qi flies at you not from one direction, but from four—simultaneously. Moreover, they didn't all target the same spot. They flew from four directions, each aiming for a different point. The frontal qi targets the neck, the rear targets the back, the left targets the waist, and the right targets the legs.
But so far, only the frontal qi was manifesting properly; the sword qis from the other three directions failed to launch.
I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled the oral formula. After refining my understanding, I unleashed the sword qi toward a new wooden dummy.
I checked the dummy again. This time, the back was sliced open, but the neck remained intact. I repeated it over and over, but the first form would not manifest as intended. I was missing something.
My father had said he wanted to see my interpretation of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art. At this rate, how could my version ever surpass his? I was relying on my Heavenly Martial Physique, but I couldn't be certain if I could truly execute a version of the art that exceeded my father's.
As I agonized over it, a realization suddenly struck me.
The greed to learn a stronger version of the art than my father was actually holding me back. That greed, coupled with the desire to be recognized by him, was weighing me down like a shackle.
This isn't my way.
I immediately left the training ground.
*
When I entered the Heavenly Demon Hall, my father was looking out the window with his hands behind his back.
“Come up here.”
“Yes, Father.”
I walked along the path of blood, climbed the stairs, and stood beside him. Standing here with him, looking out at the scenery of the Cult, had always felt good, but now I stood here as the Young Cult Leader.
“The Thousand Poison Forest has decided to double its poison production.”
“Why is that?”
When I asked, feigning ignorance, my father looked at me. Since he knew I had been in contact with the Poison King recently, he likely guessed that I had influenced this decision.
His gaze returned to the window. After a moment of silence, he spoke softly. “Do not provoke the Poison King. He is a man who can be both the beginning and the end of all things.”
I understood what he meant. He was a man who could start a war or end one. Martial artists had no choice but to be sensitive to poison. A lifetime of cultivation could be rendered moot by a single administration of toxin.
“I will keep that in mind.”
My father turned to me. “Why have you come today?”
“I have a favor to ask of you, Father.”
“A favor?”
“Please use the Annihilation Form on me.”
My father flinched, startled by the unexpected request. “Have you finally become the successor only to wish for death?”
“Of course not.” I pulled open my robes. “I am wearing the Supreme Heavenly Silkworm Thread and the Ghost Guard Robe. I am asking you to use just enough power so that I won't die.”
“And the reason?”
“I want to experience it firsthand to get a feel for it.”
Normally, I should have learned more from him. But since he had only given me the barest interpretation because he wanted to see my own version, it was a request he was likely to grant.
“Very well.”
Once his permission was given, I stepped back to create some distance. Words like "Are you ready?" or "Here I come" were omitted.
The Heavenly Demon Sword was drawn instantly from my father’s hand.
Shwek.
A very short, light sound of wind. In that moment, I was stunned.
Four malevolent spirits had attacked me from all sides simultaneously.
My father’s Annihilation Form wasn't just four streaks of sword qi. It was a technique where four terrifying illusions of ghosts—enough to freeze the body just by looking at them—appeared in the north, south, east, and west simultaneously to swing their blades.
Clang! Clang!
I blocked two, one grazed me shallowly, and the last one hit me dead center.
Thud! Bam!
As the sword qi collided with my Body Protection Qi, I was sent flying, tumbling across the floor.
“Ugh...!”
It really hurt. Even with the Supreme Heavenly Silkworm Thread, the Ghost Tiger Armor, and my Body Protection Qi, it felt like my waist was going to snap. It was only because my father had controlled his internal energy that I survived; had he unleashed it to the limit, I would have died from that single move. Even if I hadn't died, I would have been critically wounded.
It was the first time I truly felt the terror of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art.
And in that moment, this was what I was curious about: “If the realm of my Nine Calamities Demonic Art rises, will these ghosts also manifest in my Annihilation Form?”
My father nodded. “Similar, but different ghosts will appear.”
Similar, but different.
Because I would complete the martial art by interpreting it differently, different ghosts would manifest. My heart began to pound. Seeing the Heavenly Demon Soul was still a distant dream, so I wanted to see my own little ghosts, even if only through the Annihilation Form.
“Is this enough?”
“It is plenty.”
I massaged my waist, bowed, and was about to turn away when I asked him one more thing. “By any chance, have you named those ghosts?”
That characteristic smirk played on my father’s lips. “The Poison King likes giving things names. I suppose spending time with him lately has rubbed off on me.”
I bowed respectfully to my father and turned around.
The achievement of my martial arts was not mine alone. If I produced an Annihilation Form different from my father’s, he too would find inspiration in my version. By influencing each other, we would both grow stronger.
At the end of the path of blood, I spoke back to my father.
“The next time I visit, I’ll bring four friends with me.”