Chapter 450: The Father Who Was a Son
Chapter 450: The Father Who Was a Son
The carriage sped toward its destination.
With his eyes gently closed, Father spoke to me.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
I wondered how he could sense my gaze so clearly even with his eyes shut.
"Because I’m happy."
Father opened his eyes slightly and looked at me.
"I’m not joking, and I’m not being playful, either. I really like you, Father."
"Is it because I sent a gift to that man?"
"No, it's because you wrote him a letter."
To Father, a single root of Hundred-Year Snow Ginseng was little more than pocket change. However, a letter written by his own hand held a value that could not be measured in gold.
What moved me most was the fact that he hadn't sent the gift because I asked him to. After Im Gye left, I had been agonizing over how to persuade Father to help him. But before I could even open my mouth, Father was already writing the letter. He had handed it to Hwi and said:
'Have the Branch Leader deliver this personally, along with a root of Hundred-Year Snow Ginseng.'
How could I not be moved?
"You’re the best, Father."
Father silently closed his eyes again, saying nothing.
It’s even better because you’re acting like it’s no big deal!
But I could feel it. At this moment, hearing his son call him the best, Father was definitely pleased.
There was a slight tilt to the corner of his lips that only I could recognize. That microscopic upward curve was proof that he was genuinely happy.
Then, Father spoke abruptly.
"It is because of people like them that the Main Cult has endured."
Indeed, Father had his own way of walking the Demonic Path.
I hoped Father’s heart reached them. I hoped Im Gye’s father would also become the 'best father,' just like mine was now.
I leaned my head out the window. Perhaps it was because the breeze felt so refreshing, but the sky looked even bluer and clearer than usual.
"The weather is truly wonderful."
Glancing back, I saw Father looking at the sky through the opposite window.
Father, how is it? Does the sky you see here feel different from the one you watched from the Heavenly Demon Hall?
As the carriage, which had been running along the river, finally began to veer away from the water, Father spoke up again.
"On our way back, let’s have another fishing match at that river. This time, we’ll both use the rods you made."
I laughed out loud. It seemed he desperately wanted to beat me at fishing, no matter what. I couldn't exactly let him win, though. With his sharp intuition, he’d know immediately if I threw the match. If I did that, he’d be truly furious.
"Fine. As always, it’s a best-of-three match."
A look of determination settled around Father’s mouth. It was the resolve of a man who absolutely intended to win.
*
"Uncle Hwi, please stop here for a moment."
When the carriage came to a halt, I turned to Father.
"Would you like to take a short walk?"
Father stepped out of the carriage without a word of protest.
"There’s a magnificent waterfall just past those woods. Since we’re passing by anyway, we should see it."
Hwi stayed behind to guard the carriage, and the two of us walked into the forest.
"When did you find this place?"
"I discovered it by chance a long time ago."
It was a place I had visited before my regression. I remembered the time I walked this path. Back then, I had walked alone through a snow-covered trail... but now, I was walking with Father through lush greenery, listening to the chirping of birds.
Father didn't say anything; he just walked. But his expression as he looked around seemed peaceful. I walked beside him in quiet contemplation. As we spent more time together, the silences between us no longer felt awkward.
At the end of that beautiful forest path was the waterfall. The water cascading down like silver threads refreshed the soul of anyone watching.
Sshhhhhhh—!
Father stared at the waterfall in silence. When was the last time he had left the Cult and looked at a waterfall like this? It must have been a very long time ago.
"It is good."
That single phrase was enough. I knew he was truly satisfied.
"Father."
"What is it?"
"How were things between you and Grandfather?"
Perhaps it was an unexpected question, as Father turned to look at me.
"I was curious what kind of person you were when you were the son."
Father’s gaze returned to the waterfall.
"I feel like I could learn a lot from the version of you that was once a son."
I didn't know much about how Father had gotten along with Grandfather.
After a long silence, Father spoke unexpectedly.
"There are times when I look at you and feel regret."
I looked at him. Father didn't explain what he meant by those words, but I could tell it was his way of saying I was doing well.
We stood there for a long time, staring at the waterfall in silence, before retracing our steps.
I had stopped the carriage once, and about half a day later, it was Father who called for a stop.
"Stop the carriage if there is a secluded spot."
Hwi pulled the carriage over in a deserted area.
"Get out."
I followed Father out of the carriage. Then, the words I had been anticipating during this trip flowed from his lips.
"How much of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art have you mastered?"
He was going to give me instruction. I was so happy I felt like I could fly. A single word from Father would be more helpful than a hundred days of solitary training.
Quick-witted as ever, Hwi vanished into hiding the moment the Nine Calamities Demonic Art was mentioned. Since he had to leave the area when the art was being transmitted, he went a good distance away to keep watch.
"I’ve reached the Fifth Form, but it’s still unstable."
"Show me up to the Fourth Form."
Under Father’s watchful eye, I performed the Nine Calamities Demonic Art from the First Form to the Fourth Form in succession.
A glint of surprise flashed in Father’s eyes. He probably hadn't expected my training through the Time Heaven Secret Technique to have reached such depth. In moments like this, I was so glad to have the Heavenly Martial Physique. It provided a convenient explanation for my inexplicably rapid progress.
However, Father’s attention likely wasn't just on the depth of my achievement. He was probably more focused on the fact that it was different.
Father’s Nine Calamities Demonic Art and mine were different. Even the evil ghosts were different; they were completely unlike Father’s. Not just in appearance, but in the feeling and manner in which they appeared and vanished.
Of course, I couldn't guarantee that my ghosts were stronger than Father’s. This difference maintained a certain tension between us. It was likely the driving force that drew the already-perfected Father back to the training grounds.
"There are times when you must use the Fifth Form despite the extreme consumption of internal energy. Do you know when that is?"
"I believe it is when allies and enemies are mixed together."
Father nodded.
"Yes, that is correct. It is for when you must precisely pick out and kill only the enemies. Therefore, precision is the lifeblood of the Fifth Form."
A Fifth Form with low accuracy was nothing short of a disaster falling from the sky.
"Now, try it."
I drew the Black Demonic Sword and stepped forward.
"Imagine a line of enemies every five paces, centered thirty paces ahead."
I visualized the enemies exactly as Father described. Ten experts stood in a row before me.
I’ll kill them all in a single strike!
After steadying my mind for a moment, I unleashed the Fifth Form: Soul-Severing Demonic Strike.
Swish-swish-swish-swish-swish!
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
The strikes landed roughly where I had visualized, but they weren't precise. Even from a distance, Father discerned the results perfectly.
"Your accuracy is still low, and the depth is inconsistent. The sixth and eighth strikes were shallow, while the second and third were too deep."
Even if I went closer, all I would see were black holes in the ground, yet Father had called it correctly from afar. Even though ten sword qi strikes had fallen simultaneously in an instant, he had noticed the individual differences in each one.
Father began his lecture on the Fifth Form.
When it came to the Nine Calamities Demonic Art, Father’s lectures provided me with absolute enlightenment. His teaching was specific. I knew better than anyone how difficult this martial art was to master, yet Father’s explanation was simple—the kind of clear, direct explanation that only someone who has reached the pinnacle can give.
Only a true master can explain things simply. Father proved this eternal truth to me.
Of course, within that simplicity lay deep martial principles. Someone who didn't understand those principles might actually doubt him. Is that all? Is it really this simple? In the end, the simplicity would become nothing more than a fleeting cloud to them.
Father explained simply and specifically, and I asked specific questions. Whenever I had a doubt, I asked right then and there. Question and answer. That was the level of our discourse.
"Now, try again!"
This time, Father designated the spots where the strikes should land. Once again, ten sword qi strikes fell vertically.
"Better than before, but still a long way off."
Father explained again. It wasn't the kind of training where he threw out a riddle for me to chew on and realize myself. Do that kind of deep thinking on your own; what I am teaching you are the concrete details!
It was as if a master at a martial arts hall was teaching a student. It was different from when he had taught me before. It was simpler and more specific.
Because of that, I could tell.
In the meantime, Father has grown as well.
Perhaps I felt it because I had grown myself. Father was definitely stronger now than he had been when I first regressed.
"Now, try once more."
This time, Father actually walked over to where the sword qi was supposed to land. He looked at me from that spot and asked:
"There is a hostage here. There are five enemies."
Father fired off finger winds to designate their positions. The hostage and the enemies were almost touching.
"Now, save the hostage."
"I thought you were going to stand in the hostage's spot, Father."
"Why would I?"
"Isn't that how it usually goes? 'I believe in you, so I will stand where the hostage is. If you make a mistake, I die.'"
Father spoke flatly.
"Why would I trust you?"
With that, he actually stepped a few more paces away.
I burst out laughing because I knew he wasn't joking; he was being sincere. I steadied my mind and visualized the situation. The ones surrounding the hostage weren't just ordinary warriors. I imagined true experts encircling the victim.
Swords held to the throat. Only one chance.
Swish-swish-swish-swish-swish!
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
Then, Father announced the result.
"The enemies are all dead."
Just as I was about to let out a cheer—!
"The hostage is also dead."
I ran over to where the hostage had been standing. Sure enough, just as Father said, a strike had landed there too. Six streaks of sword qi had fallen instead of five. It was a mistake born from not yet being used to controlling the number of strikes.
I looked down at the hole where the hostage would have been and offered my condolences.
"Dae-ryong, I'm sorry."
I smiled, imagining Seo Dae-ryong complaining, 'Why me?' I couldn't exactly kill Lee An, could I? 'You have Commander Jang as your left arm, don't you? I'm your right arm!' Seo Dae-ryong's voice naturally echoed in my mind.
"Still, it is better than before."
Just as I had felt it, Father also clearly felt that I was different from when I first learned the Nine Calamities Demonic Art. We were growing together.
"Of course it is. Look who's teaching me."
We climbed back into the carriage.
"There’s an inn in the town we’ll reach soon with a very skilled cook. It’s a place I’ve really wanted to take you. Since I failed to save the hostage, I’ll treat you!"
*
Ju Hyang-wol had been plagued by nightmares for the past few days. The reason she was being pressured like this—she who rarely dreamed—was because of today’s appointment.
"My lady, it is time to prepare."
Maidservants entered with clothes. Though the garments were ornate and beautiful, Ju Hyang-wol pulled a clean set of martial robes from the wardrobe.
"I will wear this."
"The Family Head insisted that you wear these clothes."
When Ju Hyang-wol glared coldly at the maids, they bowed their heads. She knew they wouldn't back down unless she acted this way.
"Mother knows I will be going out in martial robes. So you don't have to worry about being scolded."
Just then, a woman’s voice was heard from outside.
"That is why I came myself."
The woman who pushed open the door and entered was Ju Hyang-wol’s mother and the current head of the Ju Clan Sword House, Im So-hwa.
"Wear those clothes."
"I don't want to."
"Why do you refuse?"
Ju Hyang-wol stared intently at her mother. Did she really not know why, or was she just pretending?
"Do you not realize how important today’s meeting with Young Master Hwang is?"
Mother, you’re the one who doesn't know what you’re saying. What does that ornate palace dress have to do with today’s meeting? If you truly think there’s a connection...
The words rose to the back of Ju Hyang-wol’s throat.
—Are you really trying to sell your daughter to them?
But she couldn't bring herself to say it. It was a remark she would regret the moment it left her lips.
Five years ago, after her father passed away, the Ju Clan Sword House’s fortunes had declined rapidly. Her mother had become the Family Head, but she couldn't fill the void her father left. This choice had been a mistake. She should have stepped down and entrusted the position to someone more capable.
Eventually, for various reasons, the clan’s warriors left one by one. Now, only those who had respected her father remained, struggling to keep the clan’s name alive.
In the midst of this, the recently successful Imperial Capital Merchant Group had proposed a partnership with the Ju Clan Sword House. Today was the day of that negotiation.
And her mother knew. She knew that Young Master Hwang, who was coming to negotiate, had feelings for her daughter. He had chosen her daughter as the negotiation partner. Her mother’s choice was that ornate palace dress.
You should be telling me to wear martial robes at a time like this; then I might actually wear that dress. Why do you hurt me so clumsily without even knowing that!
She was prepared to hurt her mother. But even though it was a wound her mother had invited, she would be shocked, hurt, fly into a rage, and call out for her dead husband. Ju Hyang-wol couldn't bring herself to speak, haunted by that recurring image.
With such a heavy heart, she arrived at the inn—the meeting place—only to find a scuffle breaking out at the entrance between the warriors of the Imperial Capital Merchant Group and a young man.
"Why on earth are you blocking my way? I must go inside today!"