Chapter 3: What Is Your Wish?
Chapter 3: What Is Your Wish?
I opened my eyes.
I had opened and closed them countless times throughout my life, but never with such desperate intensity as now.
Please, let me have returned to a time when I can undo it all.
Please!
The scene that unfolded before me was enough to compensate for every hardship I had endured before my regression. I was standing on a sparring stage as vast as a public square.
Beyond the thousands of martial masters filling the stands, colossal demonic statues loomed. Red, blue, and yellow giants were positioned as if clashing in eternal combat around the training ground, their massive swords, blades, and fists interlocking to form the very roof of the arena.
Far beyond them stood an even more gargantuan sculpture. A black demonic statue looked down upon the world, its arms crossed in a display of supreme arrogance. It was the ultimate symbol of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
I’ve really returned to the past!
My heart began to pound as if it would burst from my chest.
“Waaaaaah!”
As if to celebrate my return, thunderous cheers erupted from all sides. The cultists of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult packed the perimeter of the training ground, their fervor reaching a fever pitch.
Wait, if today is…!
Just then, a man climbed onto the stage from the opposite side.
The day of the New Demon Competition.
It was around this time that my father had made a shocking announcement: the position of the next Cult Leader would not be limited to his own bloodline. The cult had been thrown into an uproar. Suddenly, anyone with sufficient talent and strength could become the Heavenly Demon.
To give weight to his declaration, my father held a martial arts tournament for the rising stars of the cult. That was the New Demon Competition. He promised the winner a chance to challenge one of his two sons. Regardless of who won that final duel—the champion or the son—the Heavenly Demon promised to grant the victor a single wish.
One can only imagine the intensity of the competition. The cult’s young geniuses had flocked to the arena, desperate to prove their worth. After ten days of fierce duels, a champion had emerged.
And the opponent he chose to challenge was me.
“Geom Mu-geuk! Geom Mu-geuk!”
The crowd chanted my name—the very name Gwi Ryeongja had been so desperate to know. I am Geom Mu-geuk, the youngest of the Heavenly Demon’s two sons.
As the crowd cheered for me, my opponent, the tournament champion, scowled deeply.
“Hmph! The name they shout will change once this match is over. I won’t go easy on you, even if you are the Young Master.”
At the time, I had been insulted that he chose me. It meant he saw me as an easier target than my older brother. But in hindsight, there was a far more calculated reason for his choice.
“How about you forfeit now?” he sneered.
He was already certain of his victory. And he was right to be—in my past life, I lost this duel.
It wasn't because I lacked skill. It was because of a petty, underhanded scheme. He had bribed my personal cook to lace my food with an Energy-Scattering Poison that temporarily rendered me unable to use my internal energy.
It wasn’t a common poison, either. It was a specialized toxin called "Black Concubine," developed by the Unorthodox Path Alliance and sold secretly on the black market. It showed no symptoms under normal circumstances but would cause one’s internal energy to dissipate the moment it was exerted in a high-stress situation like a duel.
After my humiliating defeat that day, I had reported the poisoning to my father, but he said nothing. I vividly remember the look he gave me—a look of pure rebuke, as if asking how I could have been foolish enough to fall for such a paltry trick.
Driven by shame, I made a series of reckless moves to reclaim my honor. My enemy back then wasn't my brother or the other candidates; it was my own impatience and wounded pride. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s disappointed gaze.
Mistake followed failure. I tripped over my own feet and fell further and further behind in the race for succession. It all started with the defeat on this very day.
Standing at this fateful crossroads once again, my first words were:
“What was your name again?”
Laughter instantly rippled through the crowd. My opponent’s expression hardened into a mask of rage. He clearly thought I was mocking him, but the truth was, I genuinely couldn't remember his name.
“To disrespect me, Gu Pyeong-ho, is to insult my master!”
“Ah, right. Gu Pyeong-ho.”
Gu Pyeong-ho. He was the fifth of the seven disciples of Gu Cheon-pa, the Blood Heaven Blade Demon—one of the Eight Demon Lords. He had likely used every dirty trick in the book to win the New Demon Competition as well.
“Hey, let’s get this straight,” I said, tilting my head. “I’m disrespecting you. Why are you dragging your master into this?”
Laughter broke out again, louder this time. It came from the cultists aligned with the One Flower Sword Venerable, who was famously on bad terms with the Blood Heaven Blade Demon.
“Second Young Master! Since you’re so intent on getting under my skin, you must be quite confident in your skills.”
I ignored him and looked toward the high dais in the distance where the Heavenly Demon sat. Even in a sea of thousands, his presence was absolute. If you brought a stranger here and told them to find the leader, they would pick him instantly. My father’s presence was like a splash of blood-red ink on a black-and-white painting.
Flanking him were the Eight Demon Lords. They only appeared humble because they stood beside him; individually, each possessed a terrifying aura.
My eyes met my father’s. In his gaze, I read a thought I had been too blind to see before.
So, how will you overcome this predicament?
My heart skipped a beat. Ah. Father already knew I was poisoned.
To think he had been aware of everything while feigning indifference to the succession battle. The same event was unfolding, but I was seeing it through entirely different eyes.
He knew, did he? In that case…
Tattling after being defeated was the worst possible strategy. Postponing the match because of the poison was a mediocre one. Winning without using internal energy? That was the best strategy.
Naturally, I chose the best. I was no longer the green, hot-headed brat of the past. I had lived a life far longer than even my father’s. Truthfully, an opponent like Gu Pyeong-ho was someone I could fell in a single strike, even without a drop of qi.
But with so many eyes watching, I couldn't reveal the full extent of my future techniques. I raised my hand high, drawing the attention of the entire arena. Then, I spoke in the loudest voice I could muster.
“I declare before the heroes of our cult gathered here today! I will face Gu Pyeong-ho without using my internal energy! I am confident I can win even without it!”
A brief, stunned silence followed my declaration. Then, a thunderous roar erupted.
“Waaaaaaaaaah!”
In contrast, Gu Pyeong-ho’s face twisted. This was the last thing he expected. He was likely dying to ask: How did he know about the poison? It’s not supposed to activate until the fight starts!
If he used his internal energy now, he would be branded a coward in front of the entire cult. Flustered and beet-red, Gu Pyeong-ho shouted back.
“If the Second Young Master insists, then I, too, shall refrain from using internal energy!”
He reacted exactly as I predicted. A few of his followers clapped, but there were no cheers. His choice had turned what could have been a thrilling underdog fight into a dull bout between two men fighting like commoners. I could even hear the disappointed sighs from the stands.
Gu Pyeong-ho’s embarrassment quickly curdled into murderous intent.
“Second Young Master! Though I will not use internal energy, my blade has no eyes. You had best be careful!”
I let his warning slide past me as I examined my body. A strange sense of unfamiliarity—the sensation of being in a young body—dominated my senses. The sword I had used back then felt as light as a toy.
Will this body move the way I want it to?
While Gu Pyeong-ho drew his blade with a flourish, I did the opposite. I unbuckled my sword and placed it on the ground. Using a weapon would only increase the chances of my true skill level being exposed.
Another roar erupted. It was the nature of the Demonic Cult to cheer when someone thoroughly ridiculed their opponent.
Gu Pyeong-ho’s temper finally snapped. “You are the Cult Leader’s flesh and blood, so I won’t kill you—but I will take one of your arms!”
The moment he finished speaking, he lunged. He closed the distance in a single bound, bringing his blade down toward my shoulder.
Swoosh!
I watched the descending steel until the very last microsecond before twisting my body.
Good. Very good!
My worries were unfounded. My body responded instantly—faster and more vigorous than I had dared to hope. It was as if my muscles were screaming: Have you forgotten? This is you in your prime!
This was the age when I could run all day without tiring, when I felt my fists could shatter mountains.
So this is how powerfully a heart beats at this age!
A smile spread across my face. I was so exhilarated I felt like shouting for joy. Seeing my smile, Gu Pyeong-ho went completely berserk.
“Is this crazy bastard laughing?!”
His eyes bloodshot, he swung his blade in a frantic blur, aiming for my vitals. He was the type who might "accidentally" use internal energy to emit blade qi if pushed, so I decided not to drag it out.
Dodging the blade that sought my arm, I surged into his guard. Gu Pyeong-ho let out a desperate gasp and tried to pull back, but my elbow was already slamming into his solar plexus.
Thwack!
As he was sent reeling, I stuck to him like a shadow. My fists landed in a rapid-fire succession. The first blow shattered his nose; the second broke his ribs. Even without internal energy, we were martial artists who had trained since childhood. A bare fist could kill a bull; there was no way his frame could withstand the impact.
But I didn't stop there. As he collapsed with a scream, I snatched his wrist.
“Which hand did you use to handle the poison? This one?”
Gripping his arm, I leaped into the air and stomped down with everything I had.
CRACK.
Using my knee as a lever, I channeled the force from the sole of my foot and snapped his arm.
CRUUUUUNCH!
The shockwave shattered his wrist, elbow, and shoulder simultaneously.
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
Even without the gruesome scream, everyone knew. With his sword arm and shoulder completely pulverized, his career as a martial artist was over.
Cheers erupted from all sides. “Waaaaaah!”
It wasn't a clumsy brawl; it was a decisive, brutal victory that gave the crowd the spectacle they craved. The cultists on the Blood Heaven Blade Demon’s side jeered, but their voices were drowned out by the unending roar. The Blood Heaven Blade Demon himself sat motionless, watching his disciple’s destruction without a flicker of emotion.
As the heat of the moment subsided, my father finally rose from his seat. The red dragon embroidered on his pristine white robe looked as if it might ascend to the heavens at any moment. The Eight Demon Lords rose in unison behind him.
Shwaaaaaa.
Like a ripple spreading through water, every cultist in the arena stood up, paying their respects to the absolute master.
Heavenly Demon Geom Wu-jin. The strongest man of this era.
…For now.
My father looked at me. His gaze was so heavy it felt like it could pierce through my soul. In my past life, I had been terrified of him. I don't think I ever once met that intense, condescending gaze properly. How could I have ever had a real conversation with him? My entire perception of my father had been built on assumptions, prejudices, and rumors.
I wanted to tell my past self: When it comes to people, don’t just imagine things. Look properly, and listen carefully. The answer isn’t inside you. The person is right there in front of you.
I did not look away.
What was so scary about that expression? He was just a man, trying not to lose his authority over the Ten Thousand Demons amidst a sea of schemes. The coldness was merely a byproduct of his position. I could see that now.
“What is your wish?”
My father’s deep, low voice reached every corner of the arena. It held a natural power that made the listener instinctively shrink. Everyone leaned in. The Eight Demon Lords, in particular, were on edge, wondering what political move I would make.
“My wish is…”
I hadn’t planned for this, so I simply followed my heart.
“I wish to go hunting with you, Father.”
My father flinched, his composure breaking for a fraction of a second. The watching cultists began to murmur in confusion. They likely expected me to ask for a legendary sword, a secret manual, or a declaration of succession.
“Hunting? With me?”
“Yes. Just the two of us. I heard you enjoyed hunting in your youth, Father. I would like the opportunity to learn from you.”
After staring at me in silence for a long moment, my father spoke curtly.
“We leave at dawn tomorrow.”
With that, he turned and walked away. The lone red figure of the Heavenly Demon moved through the crowd, and every cultist bowed their head. In that massive arena, not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
Only after the Heavenly Demon and the Eight Demon Lords had vanished did a venomous voice break the silence.
“That idiot… to waste a wish on something so pathetic…”
I turned to see Gu Pyeong-ho being carried away by his martial brothers, his arm hanging like a wet rag. I scratched my head and looked at him.
“Sorry. What was your name again?”
Disrespected to the very end, Gu Pyeong-ho shrieked in fury. “Aaaaaaaargh! Kill him! Senior Brother! Please, I’m begging you, kill him!”
But with the duel officially over, no one dared to move. They merely glared at me with icy eyes before carrying their broken comrade away.
Now that I’m back, your freewheeling lives won’t be so fun anymore.
I was grateful to the heavens for sending me back to this turning point. And though he had tried to betray me, I was even grateful to Gwi Ryeongja for completing the Great Regression Art.
Thank you. Truly.
I looked up at the sky, as brilliantly blue as my own reclaimed youth, and smiled.