Chapter 492: Anxiety Must Be Quelled with Skill
Chapter 492: Anxiety Must Be Quelled with Skill
Having said his piece, Hwi drew his sword in a single, fluid motion.
The Murder King collapsed backward, blood spraying from the wound. Even before his body hit the dirt, he had already breathed his last while still standing.
Though he was currently merely the head of the Underworld, this marked the end for the man destined to one day become the King of Assassins and claim a seat among the Twelve Zodiac Kings.
Hwi allowed himself no lingering sentiment—neither for the man’s death nor for the battle in which he had staked his own life.
Sshhhhk.
Hwi flicked the blood from his blade with a sharp motion and returned it to its scabbard.
As if casting away the remnants of the slaughter along with that blood, Hwi didn't spare the Murder King’s corpse another glance. He had finished the work of a killer and returned to his role as a protector.
Geom Mu-geuk walked over and offered a polite bow. He said nothing else, knowing these were the only words a guardian truly needed to hear in such a moment.
“Thank you for protecting me.”
Hwi stared at Geom Mu-geuk in silence for a moment. In truth, he felt he was the one who should be offering thanks. If the Young Cult Leader had not unleashed the Nine Calamities Demonic Art when the Murder King and his assassins lunged in unison, Hwi would have died then and there.
The Young Cult Leader’s assistance hadn't ended with a single technique. Throughout the day’s battle, Hwi had fought with the singular resolve to shield him. He knew he performed at his absolute peak when his heart was set on protecting someone.
Myeong Sin watched the two of them.
The talkative Geom Mu-geuk and the taciturn Hwi.
They were two vastly different people, yet Myeong Sin suddenly felt they were remarkably alike.
Why do I think that?
Then, Myeong Sin recalled the image of Geom Mu-geuk standing before the fallen assassins earlier. He realized that the lonely aura Mu-geuk had exuded then mirrored the atmosphere surrounding Hwi.
Myeong Sin voiced his impression.
“Somehow, the two of you seem alike.”
At Myeong Sin’s words, Geom Mu-geuk began to jest.
“Oh, Uncle and I have plenty in common. We’re both handsome, cool, and men of few words.”
Hwi let out a faint smile, while Myeong Sin looked incredulous at the mention of them being "men of few words."
In the warming atmosphere, the three men exchanged glances. Hwi’s gaze toward Myeong Sin was softer than it had been before the fight. He still detested assassins, but for today at least, they were comrades who had risked their lives together.
Geom Mu-geuk checked on Hwi’s condition.
“Are your injuries alright?”
He knew Hwi had avoided critical wounds, but the man’s body was drenched in blood.
“I am fine. Fortunately, they are mostly superficial cuts,” Hwi replied. He pulled back the collar of his robe. “I was able to fight more aggressively because of what you gave me, Young Cult Leader.”
Though it wasn't solely because of the Supreme Heavenly Silkworm Thread that he had defeated the Murder King, Hwi chose to credit Geom Mu-geuk.
This was the kind of man Hwi was. He deferred glory to others and lived a quiet life in service of another. That very way of life was what had killed the Murder King today.
“You were magnificent today, Uncle.”
Hwi smiled faintly. Geom Mu-geuk wanted to praise him to the heavens, but Hwi found such attention awkward. Thus, Hwi hurried to change the subject.
“I will leave the cleanup here to the local branch.”
“Please do so.”
Myeong Sin then turned to Geom Mu-geuk.
“What should I do now?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Because it depends on you, Myeong Sin thought. He was in a position where he would have to become a subordinate if told to, or die if ordered. Of course, that thought only came because he didn't yet fully know the man named Geom Mu-geuk.
“You should go live your own life now.”
Myeong Sin paused for a moment before asking cautiously, “Is it truly alright for me to just leave like this?”
Geom Mu-geuk nodded. Myeong Sin could feel it—Mu-geuk truly intended to grant him his freedom.
At that, a single sentence escaped Myeong Sin’s lips like a soliloquy.
“What am I supposed to do with my life now?”
It was a question directed at himself, not Mu-geuk. Geom Mu-geuk, however, viewed that uncertainty as a gift.
“Isn't this the best time? Right now, when nothing is decided. Things are best when you’re choosing them, and plans are best when you’re making them. So, savor this moment.”
You really are something.
Myeong Sin lost count of how many times he had thought that about Geom Mu-geuk. He finally spoke his honest feelings.
“You said it would be nice if there were at least one cool assassin in this world who would take a single coin from a child who lost their parents and kill the villain responsible. But you’ve misjudged me. I am not such a broad-minded person who would take a contract for a single coin. Even while I lived by my principles, I was greedy for money.”
Geom Mu-geuk looked at him with clear, deep eyes.
But the 'you' of the future lived exactly that kind of life. Then again, there’s no guarantee you’ll live that way in this life as well.
That was the life before the regression; in this life, he was a different person. They were all living different lives this time around.
“Take your time deciding how to live.”
“I’ve already decided.”
Geom Mu-geuk asked in surprise, “Is it alright to decide something so important so easily?”
“That’s why. It’s so important that I’ll never find the right answer if I overthink it. I’d probably just make a blunder after long deliberation. In times like these, the first thought to cross one's mind is often the right one.”
Myeong Sin had realized something. He had been an assassin his whole life; what other kind of life could he lead? Open a tea house or an inn and live leisurely? He’d probably lose his temper dealing with difficult customers.
“I think I’ll run a small iron workshop.”
Creating various weapons and mechanical devices was the one thing he truly loved.
“That suits you well.”
Geom Mu-geuk imagined him working in a small workshop. Fate wouldn't leave a man who had weathered such storms alone. Perhaps the act of taking a single coin to resolve a grievance would happen within that very workshop.
“If there ever comes a day when you’re hammering iron and suddenly feel like something is missing, go find Master Gwak at the Main Cult’s iron workshop. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll see you. He’ll have the answer for you, whether it’s boredom with your work or weariness with your life.”
Myeong Sin’s eyes shone intensely at Mu-geuk’s consideration.
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
“It’s not just for you. Seeing your skills will surely stimulate Master Gwak. Wouldn't that be a good thing for both of them, and for the Cult as well?”
Mu-geuk framed it that way, but Myeong Sin could feel the sincerity behind it. He didn't say he would never forget the favor. Such things were always matters to be answered through actions.
“If I ever make something good, I’ll send it to you.”
“I’m not the type to turn down a gift. I’ll accept it gladly.”
The two men looked at each other and laughed.
Myeong Sin offered a formal fist salute. His final farewell was deeply respectful.
“I believe the Young Cult Leader will become a Heavenly Demon unlike any other in the history of the Murim. I pray you achieve your great ambition.”
Geom Mu-geuk returned the salute with equal gravity. Myeong Sin had been bound to an organization his entire life.
“I hope you live freely.”
Myeong Sin nodded and then bowed politely to Hwi.
“Meeting you has taught me that a life spent protecting is far more difficult and valuable than a life spent killing.”
Hwi also offered a fist salute as he saw him off.
“Live well, wherever you go.”
And so, Myeong Sin departed. Geom Mu-geuk watched until his figure completely vanished.
“Watching someone start a new life... it feels good just to witness it.”
Hwi could sense a certain yearning in Geom Mu-geuk’s eyes. Perhaps this Young Cult Leader desired such a free life more than anyone else.
Geom Mu-geuk turned back toward Hwi. The yearning that had filled his eyes was gone.
“Uncle, let’s head back as well.”
Geom Mu-geuk and Hwi left the area, walking side by side.
*
His father was busy making something at the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s safe house. He was working so intently with his back turned that Mu-geuk couldn't even greet him immediately.
“No way... are you making a weapon to conquer the Murim?”
The atmosphere certainly felt that way.
His father turned around. When Mu-geuk saw what was in his hands, he burst out laughing.
“Ah, I see. You’re planning to conquer the fish.”
He was making a fishing rod.
On their way to Shaanxi, Mu-geuk had beaten his father twice in fishing duels. His father had suggested a rematch on the way back, and he was already preparing. He had never doubted for a second that they would return safely.
“I’m back, Father.”
“We have returned from our mission, Cult Leader,” Hwi added.
As they gave their formal greetings, his father checked on Hwi before his own son.
“You’re injured.”
Hwi had changed out of his bloodstained robes before entering, but his father saw through it instantly.
“It is merely a scratch.”
Mu-geuk couldn't let that worried gaze toward Hwi slide. He raised his hand high toward his father.
“Your son is right here too! I might have internal injuries you can't see!”
His father ignored him completely, stood up, and walked toward a wall. He began searching through a leather pouch hanging there. Usually, his father would retrieve items using telekinesis; what was so special that he was looking for it manually?
His father pulled a small, pure white bottle from the pouch and handed it to Hwi.
“Apply this.”
It was the Golden Wound Medicine used by the Heavenly Demon himself. Naturally, its efficacy was incomparable to ordinary medicine.
“I cannot. I dare not use the Cult Leader’s personal medicine.”
“Apply it.”
At his father’s firm word, Hwi could no longer refuse.
“Thank you.”
His father’s gaze as he looked at the bowing Hwi was deep. He knew that for Hwi to be injured this much, the battle must have been incredibly fierce.
“Father! I have cuts too!”
At that, his father let out a mocking chuckle and held out his hand. The leather pouch opened on its own, and this time, a different bottle flew out and whizzed toward Mu-geuk.
“That was the most half-hearted use of telekinesis I’ve ever seen.”
That wasn't all. After checking the bottle, Mu-geuk shouted, “This is too much! I already have this grade of Golden Wound Medicine!”
What he gave Hwi was the top-tier stuff reserved for the Heavenly Demon; this was the grade below it.
Hwi, catching Mu-geuk’s eye, bowed his head, looking like he didn't know what to do.
“If you don't want it, give it back.”
When his father reached out his hand to take it back, Mu-geuk quickly tucked it into his robes.
“Still, it’s the first medicine my father has ever given me. I must use it. I’ll cherish it and use it sparingly.”
His father stood up.
“Since you allowed that man to get hurt, you must be punished. Follow me.”
If you’re going to have Hwi lead, you must take responsibility for protecting him. Mu-geuk had technically broken that promise.
“You misunderstand! I fought with everything I had to stay uninjured because I knew it would hurt Uncle’s feelings if I got hurt! Though I suppose I was the only one who fought that hard! Father!”
His father led him to a deserted clearing near the safe house. Drawing his sword, he spoke.
“From now on, make sure you don't create reasons to need medicine.”
Mu-geuk understood. His father was going to grant him a lesson through a duel. It wasn't a punishment; it was a reward. It was a reward for both of them returning safely, and his father’s way of expressing joy.
Thank you, Father.
Mu-geuk stood about ten paces away from his father.
Today’s sparring was different. His father didn't project any aura at all. And yet, there was a presence that dominated the space.
It was the energy of the Heavenly Demon Sword.
It was as if his father was telling him to feel only the energy of the sword.
In that case...
Mu-geuk also withdrew all his aura. He strove to leave not even a shred of energy, trying to hide even his minimal presence as he slowly drew the Black Demonic Sword.
He felt the energy of the Heavenly Demon Sword.
He felt the energy of the Black Demonic Sword.
It had been a long time since he had focused so intently on feeling only the energy of the Black Demonic Sword.
Come to think of it, I’ve been too negligent.
He had been so preoccupied with learning the Nine Calamities Demonic Art, using the Time Heaven Secret Technique, and increasing his internal energy. He had been neglecting the Black Demonic Sword while focusing on other things.
He suddenly remembered when he first met Lee An after his regression. He had felt a similar regret then. He had taken her existence for granted, much like how people live without realizing how grateful they should be for the air they breathe.
It was the same. He had faced his enemies with this Black Demonic Sword until now, but he had treated it as a given rather than with gratitude.
“I have been foolish. Thank you so much for the lesson, Father.”
A faint smile appeared on his father’s lips. It was clearly a smile of satisfaction. In this way, his father provided him with constant teaching and stimulation.
And today’s lesson didn't end there.
“Show me your Nine Calamities Demonic Art.”
Mu-geuk performed the art before his father. He didn't hide his achievements and performed it to the best of his ability. His father needed to know his exact skill level. Mu-geuk hoped that this, in turn, would serve as a driving force to stimulate his father.
Father, how much has my Nine Calamities Demonic Art changed from yours?
After watching his performance, his father lectured him again on the oral formulas of the Nine Calamities Demonic Art. It was the same martial art, and he had heard the lectures many times, but today, certain points felt different.
It was likely because both his and his father’s realms had changed. Even though the words were the same, what he felt was different. Truly, training with his father felt like his skills improved with every single conversation.
Asking and answering, thinking and performing again. By the time the training session ended, it was already deep into the night.
For a moment, he looked up at the bright moon with his father. Then, his father asked abruptly.
“What is it that makes you anxious?”
It was the first time he had been asked that. It seemed his father had read the deep-seated anxiety within his son while watching his changes after the regression.
“You gave birth to a perfect son, but I have exactly one anxiety disorder.”
“What kind of anxiety?”
“The anxiety that a great evil, jealous of you and me, is trying to devour us.”
His father looked puzzled.
“Did you not say that we are the only ones capable of devouring that evil?”
His father remembered exactly what Mu-geuk had said about the Demonic Path.
“I suppose I’m afraid of meeting something so big I can't swallow it.”
How would his father view this anxiety?
After staring at him for a moment, his father stood up and drew his sword.
“Then you must grow your mouth and your stomach.”
This simple and clear answer defined the path Mu-geuk had to take in a single sentence. Yes, anxiety must be quelled with skill.
Mu-geuk stood up abruptly, opening his mouth wide.
“Yes! No matter how big it is, I will swallow it whole.”
And so, the martial arts training with his father continued through the night.
The moon that had been watching them set, and the morning stars took its place. Then, as even the stars retreated, the dawn light took over.
As the bright yet reddish glow awakened the earth, a man’s shadow stretched long.
Throughout the entire training session, one man had remained standing alone with his back turned, watching over them.