Chapter 443: My Father’s Fight Was Noble
Chapter 443: My Father’s Fight Was Noble
I watched in silence as my father descended the stairs.
‘Father. Do you know when I thought of you most in my life before the regression? Was it when you died? When I wandered in search of materials while dreaming of revenge? When I was exhausted in mind and body, or when I was lonely? It was none of those. It was when I finally reached the age you were back then.’
Since I had never once had a heart-to-heart conversation with him, I hadn't expected to feel such a sense of longing. I thought it would be nothing more than a vague, distant yearning.
Yet, as I grew older, strangely enough, my father would cross my mind from time to time.
If it were now, I feel like I could have a real conversation with him.
If it were now, I feel like I could understand him a little better. If only it were now.
My father stopped a few paces in front of me.
Our gazes locked in midair. I had faced my father many times, but never had a moment felt as tense as today.
Eventually, my father spoke.
"Did you say you were jealous because my Demon Lords are so impressive?"
His first words were for my sake. By mentioning what I had said about the Demon Lords, he was publicly acknowledging my praise for them.
I looked around at the Demon Lords standing on either side.
I made eye contact with each of them, however briefly. The emotions reflected in their eyes were all different.
As always, the Fist Demon’s gaze was heavy. Beside the calm One Flower Sword Venerable, the Drunken Demon’s half-closed eyes hid complex inner thoughts. The Demon Buddha’s eyes were full of intrigue, the Poison King remained indifferent, and the Blood Heaven Blade Demon’s gaze burned with intensity. The Soul-Seizing Demon Lord stood tall and confident, while the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon wore his usual mask.
"Yes. I am so jealous that I want to make them all my own Demon Lords."
The first to react was the Blood Heaven Blade Demon.
"Young Cult Leader, do not say such things, even as a joke."
The Blood Heaven Blade Demon had clearly taken it upon himself to play the role of the one scolding me today. He knew someone had to play that part to balance the room. I was grateful to him.
"What can I do when they are so impressive?"
The Blood Heaven Blade Demon shot me a stern look. Are you really going to be like this? I suppressed the urge to tease him further and bowed my head politely.
"I apologize. I will be more careful with my words and actions in the future."
As I apologized, I saw it—the Demon Buddha was smiling at me. Out of everyone present, he was enjoying himself the most.
Since you’ve been staying in the background lately carving statues, this must be exciting for you, right?
As if responding to my thought, the radiance around the Demon Buddha intensified.
Still, I couldn't be reckless. It was one thing to joke when I was alone with a Demon Lord or when they were amongst themselves, but a clumsy joke in front of my father could be seen as a grave sign of disrespect toward them.
Knowing when to hold back a joke is more important than knowing how to tell one.
I looked back at my father.
"Father, there is one thing I wish to ask you."
Everyone’s attention focused on me. Amidst the mounting tension, I finally asked the question.
"I want to ask: what is your dream, Father?"
I felt everyone flinch. They were likely thinking, He’s actually asking the Cult Leader that directly?
Naturally, all eyes turned to my father. They weren't waiting for an answer because they didn't know it; there was no one here who didn't know what my father’s dream was. They were curious about his reaction—whether he would answer plainly or fly into a rage.
My father said nothing.
His silence heightened the tension. He didn't radiate demonic energy or harden his expression, yet his mere presence made everyone nervous.
The person who finally broke this suffocating, ballooning tension was the Drunken Demon. He stepped forward, his voice slurred. Only a drunkard could intervene at a time like this.
"Before asking for the Cult Leader’s dream, perhaps the Young Cult Leader should reveal his own first."
"That is only right. I was thoughtless. My dreams change so often that if you ask me later, I might give a different answer, but..."
I added those words specifically for my father to hear. Don't dream only one dream. Dreams can change.
Then, the Drunken Demon thankfully asked the follow-up.
"Does our Young Cult Leader’s dream really change as often as he says?"
The quick-witted Drunken Demon knew exactly why I had said that.
"Does a dream have to be just one thing? You only live once; you can have this dream, then that dream. And even if you don't have a dream, what does it matter?"
I was looking at the Drunken Demon, but I was actually speaking to my father. Of course, my father knew that too.
I didn't let the drunkard who had stumbled onto the stage leave just yet.
"By any chance, does Lord Drunken Demon have a dream?"
Normally, he would have laughed and said his dream was to spend his life drinking. But instead...
"It is to serve the Cult Leader and achieve the Unification of the Murim."
The Drunken Demon spoke the words 'Unification of the Murim' on my father's behalf. He knew my father wouldn't say it himself.
I will step forward, so use me to say what you need to say to the Cult Leader.
This was how he was repaying the guilt he felt for standing on my father’s side.
"Do you believe the world will be better once the Murim is unified?"
Indeed, I couldn't ask my father such a thing directly.
"At the very least, it will be better than it is now," the Drunken Demon replied.
"No, I believe it will be worse."
"And why do you think that?"
"Think of a world where demonic practitioners, the Orthodox Faction, and the Unorthodox Faction are all lumped together. The demonic practitioners will try to crush the others because we achieved unification, and the Unorthodox, consumed by defeat, will commit even more heinous atrocities. The Orthodox will seek any means possible to reclaim their world. In that process, there will be countless more sacrifices. In the end, it will be a world where everyone is dissatisfied."
My father and the Demon Lords listened to my words in silence.
"Can we not simply control that chaos with a strong hand?" The Drunken Demon offered the solution on their behalf.
"A Murim ruled by oppression and control—is that the kind of world you hope for through Unification?"
I was looking at the Drunken Demon, but these words were truly meant for my father.
I had actually experienced it—a Murim where the balance of the Demonic-Orthodox conflict had collapsed. I knew that the nature of power never allows for a vacuum.
Another power, the Twelve Zodiac Kings, had taken that place, and the lives of martial artists became even more grueling.
It would be the same for us. The Eight Demon Lords would simply take the place of the Twelve Zodiac Kings.
"I believe it is a world that should never have been joined in the first place."
Thanks to the Drunken Demon stepping in, I was able to say everything I wanted to say.
Now, letting the Drunken Demon exit the stage, I looked at my father. I couldn't tell what my words meant to him.
My father was looking at me with the same unreadable expression he’d had from the start.
"Father, setting everything else aside, I do not want to lose anyone here."
"No one here fears death," my father replied.
"Yes, I know. I know that everyone here is a person of great valor. I know well that they are people who would throw away their lives without hesitation at your command, Father. But this is strictly my personal feeling. It is my greed that does not want to lose them."
I looked around at the Demon Lords with a serious gaze.
"I do not want to lose a single person among you. You might ask, if one dies, do not seven remain? No. For the rest of my life, I would miss that one person."
My father probably wouldn't understand. He wouldn't understand why I wanted to save them so desperately. He didn't know the efforts I had made before my regression to save those who needed to be saved.
My gaze, which had been on the Demon Lords, returned to my father.
"To be honest, this is an effort for the sake of my own life. That’s right. This is my struggle because I do not want to live a life spent pining for the dead."
"Is that your dream?"
"No, that is my personal wish. It is merely my selfishness."
"Then what is your dream?"
My father was allowing me to say everything I wanted on this stage. He was making it as if I were the protagonist of this scene.
Say everything you want to say in front of me and the Demon Lords.
Because of that, this might turn out to be an even more difficult fight.
"My dream is to live while pondering things from that Grand Tutor’s Chair."
Not just my father, but everyone else showed signs of confusion. They couldn't possibly know what I meant by those words alone.
"While sitting in the Grand Tutor’s Chair, I will ponder: Which Demon Lord should I visit today? What dish should I ask the cook of the Heavenly Demon Hall to make?"
"Does that seat look like such a leisurely place to you?"
"I know it isn't. I know very well how much work you handle from that seat, Father."
At his expression, which asked why I would say such a thing if I knew, I calmly asked him back.
"Is that not why I must ponder even more? Because one cannot live a life of nothing but work."
"!"
Depending on how one took it, it was a blatant provocation toward my father, and the atmosphere turned cold again. While my father himself remained still, the reactions of the Demon Lords shaped the mood.
"I will constantly ponder: How can I handle work more efficiently? How can I have as much time for myself as possible? And if I get bored, I’ll go visit the Murim Alliance Leader. When I get tired of teasing that stiff-necked man, I’ll go find the Unorthodox Path Alliance Leader and ask if his dancing skills are still the same. Living like that is my dream."
My true dream was not to be trapped in that Grand Tutor’s Chair. To travel the world and live freely—that was my real dream.
But I couldn't say that in front of my father. I couldn't speak of such a dream to a man who had lived his entire life for the Cult from that chair. Nor could I say it for the sake of my brother, who had been pushed out of that seat.
So, what I was offering now was a compromise for my dream. Father, can a dream not be negotiated like this? Is it not because we treat it as something too precious that we fail to achieve it?
"What about you, Father? Do you not want to live a life like that?"
My answer and my question were walking a very thin line. But if I didn't speak this strongly, I wouldn't be able to face my father on this stage. I wouldn't be able to persuade him.
However, the reality my father envisioned was cold.
"That stiff-necked Murim Alliance Leader you mentioned will one day drive a blade into your back and tell you he had no choice. That because he was the Alliance Leader, he had no choice. And as he looks down into your dying eyes, he will spout some pathetic nonsense about chivalry."
The Fist Demon, the One Flower Sword Venerable, and the Demon Buddha nodded. The Blood Heaven Blade Demon and the Drunken Demon didn't react, but their expressions weren't much different from my father’s.
Regardless of their relationship with me, they did not trust the Orthodox Faction. And would that distrust be limited only to the Orthodox?
"How long will the Unorthodox Path Alliance Leader be able to dance? When will a surprise attack spring forth from those dance moves? Do you truly believe that humans do not change? Do you believe they will remain steadfast in the face of circumstances or profit?"
I didn't answer. I had words to refute him if I chose to, but I didn't. At the very least, this part was a conclusion drawn from my father’s long life and experience.
I let out a soft sigh and spoke quietly.
"Perhaps that may be so."
With that, I looked around at the Demon Lords.
"Is there no one who will step forward and help me at a time like this? Someone to say, 'Cult Leader, it might not necessarily be so!' Anyone?"
The Blood Heaven Blade Demon’s eyes said: You brat, stop fooling around. Be serious!
The Demon Buddha was beaming, finding it all quite entertaining.
The One Flower Sword Venerable gave me a look that said, I’m sorry, and the Drunken Demon pretended to be drunk.
And in that moment, someone truly unexpected stepped forward.
"The Young Cult Leader will not be easily defeated."
It wasn't the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon. The person who stepped forward was the one I thought would never do so: the Fist Demon.
"He only appears that way on the surface; the Young Cult Leader does not trust people easily."
"As expected! Master, you truly know your disciple well. But was that a compliment? Or an insult?"
I spoke to my father again.
"Even if I am deceived by them, it is fine. I am training my martial arts like a madman to prepare for such a time. The blade at my back will not pierce my skin, and in the end, the dance will remain just a dance."
"Are you saying you will let the martial arts you built with such effort go to waste?"
"I’m saying I will use that skill to enjoy my life."
"While worrying about trivial things like what to eat or where to go?"
"Yes, I will."
My father, who had been staring at me, slowly began to move.
He headed toward the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon.
The Extreme Evil Smiling Demon had a calm gaze, but I was the one who grew tense.
"Will you still support the Young Cult Leader even after hearing this?"
It was a burdensome question. The question itself carried the demand to say no.
However, like his pure white mask, the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon’s heart was of one mind.
"Yes, I support the Young Cult Leader’s will."
My father asked him again.
"Even if you can never wear that Immortal Ghost Mask of yours for the rest of your life?"
The Immortal Ghost Mask was the mask the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon wore when he went to war. Previously, when the Demon Lords had stood before my father for my sake, the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon had worn the Immortal Ghost Mask while making his request.
Since it was the mask he cherished most, my father had struck him where it hurt.
But the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon spoke to my father more politely than ever before.
"Fortunately, I have many masks."
The Extreme Evil Smiling Demon’s gaze shifted from my father to me.
"I will live the rest of my life with the Young Cult Leader wearing the Joyful Ghost Mask."
The Joyful Ghost Mask was the one worn during the Cult’s major festivals or banquets.
Even though he had given up his favorite Immortal Ghost Mask, his eyes behind the mask were clear and deep. It was the look he had when he revealed his true heart.
The only way I could repay the sincerity he showed in front of none other than my father was this:
That banquet—I will make it the most grand banquet of all.
All the Demon Lords looked at the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon. Their gazes were filled with various emotions.
My father said nothing more to him. Had he really asked without knowing how the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon would respond?
Next, my father stood before the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord.
She remained dignified even before him. It was a well-known fact that my father did not particularly like the Poison King or the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord. That was why she tried even harder to be confident.
I thought he would ask why she had sided with the Young Cult Leader, but my father asked an unexpected question.
"Is your training going well?"
I was inwardly taken aback by the gentle question, but the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord answered respectfully.
"I am training diligently."
I thought he would just offer encouragement and turn away.
"Do not forget. You are my Demon Lord."
This time, the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord was the one surprised and moved. She was someone who had always felt she was out of favor with my father.
"Will you still stand here?"
The Soul-Seizing Demon Lord was flustered. She looked at me.
There are many times when I don't know what my father is thinking, but I know at least this much for certain.
He is not the kind of person who would pressure a young Demon Lord in this situation to bring them to his side.
Which meant? This wasn't my father pressuring me; it was him looking out for her.
He was saying it wasn't her time to stand out yet. It was my father’s heart and consideration, telling her to just grow quietly among the Demon Lords.
I conveyed my feelings to her with my eyes.
It’s okay to go.
Recognizing my intent, the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord gave me a respectful fist salute.
"I will serve you well later."
She crossed the red carpet and stood on the opposite side.
Of course, I said something completely different from what I’d signaled with my eyes.
"This is too much! Did you really think about who you’ll be a Demon Lord with longer before deciding? Where in the world is there a ghost with so little backbone!"
The Demon Buddha, standing beside her, laughed brightly.
‘It’s not easy, is it?’
On this stage, my father was strong.
Me, the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon, and even the Soul-Seizing Demon Lord—he was leading this stage while looking out for and considering everyone.
My father never lost his temper. My father’s fight was dignified and noble.
The gazes of all the Demon Lords turned toward me. The question in their eyes was the same.
Young Cult Leader, what will you do now?