Chapter 83: Like Two Meteors Colliding
Chapter 83: Like Two Meteors Colliding
Two days later, the Pungcheon Cult Leader departed from the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, taking his entire retinue with him.
While he offered a formal farewell to the Heavenly Demon, he didn't spare so much as a nod for the Eight Demon Lords. Observing this, the cultists whispered among themselves that he was returning in a foul mood due to the theft of his sacred relic. Only we knew the true reason for his abrupt departure.
"The Cult Leader is an impatient man," Go Wol remarked. "He will settle matters within the Pungcheon Cult and return as quickly as possible."
The discussions regarding the appointment of the next Pungcheon Cult Leader and the reorganization of their internal structure had already been finalized after a thorough consultation with Go Wol.
"Thank you truly for accepting my first proposal," Go Wol added.
"I should be the one thanking you. Thanks to your efforts, I’ve secured an ally as formidable as the Pungcheon Cult Leader."
"Did you see how much weight he’s put on from idling around and neglecting his training? You’ll have to make sure he sharpens his skills when he returns."
"You should be the one to tell him that," I chuckled. "Who else would dare say such a thing to the Supreme Master of the Outer Regions?"
"Leave it to me."
It felt as though a massive weight had been lifted. I had gained an exceptional strategist in Go Wol, and on top of that, an Absolute Master like the Pungcheon Cult Leader. Although the Pungcheon Cult Leader had been pushed around and harassed quite a bit since arriving at our headquarters, he was still the strongest man in the Outer Regions. While the outcome of a battle between masters is always uncertain due to countless variables, I doubted any of the Demon Lords would be confident in defeating him.
"Strategist Go."
"Yes, Young Master."
"I know a strategist’s job forces them to constantly look into others. Even so, make sure to look after yourself whenever you find a spare moment."
I used the word "look after" instead of "look into." Even without a lecture, the brilliant Go Wol understood the underlying meaning of my words.
"You are a truly warm and kind person, Young Master."
"I hear that often. It’s also proof that my acting is quite convincing."
Go Wol clearly didn't believe my claim that it was an act.
"I will make sure to cover any weaknesses that kindness might create."
"Take your time. There’s no rush."
"Understood."
"I’ll be off for a bit. I’ve been so focused on looking after you that I’ve neglected my own people. It’s time I checked in on them."
"Have a safe trip."
I headed straight for the Heavenly Demon Hall. When it comes to looking after people, one must start from the top and work their way down.
* * *
My father was at the training ground.
Usually, he would test me with a surprise attack the moment I stepped inside, but today, he was standing in the center of the grounds, staring down at a Go board.
"Do you play Go as well?" I asked.
I knew he liked the game, but I had never actually seen him play it myself.
"There are only a handful of people in this Cult who can defeat me."
"At Go?"
"Naturally."
"Don't you just make a throat-cutting gesture when the game goes south? And then Uncle Hwi suddenly appears behind the opponent and—shink."
"Occasionally. One must win a duel, after all."
I laughed at my father's joke and moved to his side. I knew his skill level well. It wasn't as grand as he claimed; he was decent, but nothing more. If he had won many games, it was likely because his opponents had let him win. It was a downward equalization of skill in the presence of the Heavenly Demon.
"Strategist Sama gave me this problem, but I cannot find the answer for the life of me."
It was a rather difficult life-and-death problem. I studied the board quietly for a moment before speaking.
"Wouldn't White live if you played here?"
At the very least, I was a better Go player than my father. Seeing that it was indeed the correct move, my father looked surprised.
"You're quite good."
"Doesn't the spectator always see the board better than the players?"
"Spectator? I was solving this alone."
"But you had company, didn't you?"
"Who?"
"Your pride. Your competitive streak, insisting you must solve this, is sitting right there next to you."
My father snorted and sat down before the board.
"Sit down next to them, then. Let's play a round."
"Fine. But no signaling the throat if things look bad."
I played Go with my father.
First hunting, then a meal, and now Go. I was experiencing things I never could have dreamed of before my regression.
I didn't utter a single frivolous word, focusing entirely on the game. Thump. Thump. The sound of the stones hitting the board was crisp in the silence.
It was nothing special. Just a father and son playing a game of Go. Why had we never been able to do something so simple? Why had I been so terrified just looking at his face?
The beauty of Go is that no words are needed until the end.
Yet, so much happens. I built my territory, and my father built his. Sometimes I invaded his space, and other times I was chased like a weak group of stones. Sometimes I yielded; other times I made bold moves.
Though I enjoyed the game immensely, I didn't hold back. I knew my father was the incarnation of competitiveness, so I played my best. If he even sensed I was taking it easy on him, the result would be worse than if I had beaten him by a landslide.
As the tide turned against him, my father stroked his chin. It was the first time I had seen him look so serious. I doubted he would look this intense even while staring at a war map during a conflict with the Murim Alliance.
I suppressed the urge to tease him. If I did, he might just flip the board in frustration. Perhaps my father also felt like making a throat-cutting gesture at this moment?
Of course, that didn't happen.
The game ended, and I won by six points.
"As expected of the Heavenly Demon, your style is incredibly aggressive. I barely managed to win."
"When did you learn to play?"
"I picked it up here and there over the years. I heard you were learning from Strategist Sama. Oh, and I'm always open for a rematch."
Seeing my triumphant expression, my father reached his hand out over the board.
Rattle!
The Go stones rose into the air, the black and white pieces crossing paths in a rapid blur. In a display as brilliant as a performance, the stones flew back into their respective containers. It looked as if they were alive, finding their way home on their own.
"Ah!"
I was genuinely impressed. This single move seemed to say to me: This is the ultimate realm of Telekinesis. Do you understand?
This display alone was enough to humble me, but it seemed my father wasn't finished.
"I cannot let you leave while I am still the loser. Let us spar."
"That's cold. I was hoping to walk out of the Heavenly Demon Hall with my head held high, savoring the joy of victory."
"If you have neglected your martial arts training, you will not be walking out of here at all."
He meant he was going to be rough. It felt like he was taking his frustration out on me for losing the game, but I knew better. I knew he was displeased about the situation with the Pungcheon Cult. It was a reprimand for interacting with the Pungcheon Cult Leader and even taking in his strategist, despite knowing my father kept them at a distance.
"They say a 'great dragon never dies,' so surely I won't die today?"
"You'd better pray the 'house' you've built isn't a false one."
I already had a sparring friend who was dying to fight me. Of course, a single spar with my father would be more beneficial than ten spars with the One Flower Sword Venerable.
As my father drew the Heavenly Demon Sword, the surrounding air grew heavy, and a formless pressure began to weigh down on me. It wasn't a sharp, piercing energy. It was like a massive boulder pressing down from all sides.
I drew my Black Demonic Sword and naturally activated the Heavenly Demon Body Protection Art.
When I endured the initial pressure without a change in expression, my father's aura grew even more intense. I pushed my Heavenly Demon Body Protection Art to its limit. Having reached a significant level after my recent experience in a trance, my protection held firm.
Then, my father's aura became laced with killing intent.
This was the first time I had felt his killing intent directly. It was terrifying because it wasn't eerie. Death had clearly settled somewhere on my body, but it was as light as a butterfly, leaving me unsure of where it had landed. It was the dread of searching for that killing intent only to realize I had been plunged into an entire ocean of it—the helplessness of having no idea what to do. My father's killing intent was a culmination of all such negative emotions.
I didn't resist his killing intent; I simply felt it and accepted it. Amidst the crushing fear and helplessness, I struggled to maintain one thing: myself. I fought not to be consumed by the fear, but to perceive myself as the one feeling it.
To endure without rebelling.
Sometimes, simply accepting and enduring can be a great pressure on the opponent. Indeed, my father looked surprised. That surprise was transmitted clearly to me.
Has your realm truly reached this height?
The moment I read that emotion in his eyes, he lunged at me.
As he charged with the Underworld King Step, I unleashed the same technique. I didn't dodge; I charged straight at him.
Clang!
We crossed paths, leaving only a cold, metallic ring behind. We turned simultaneously at each other's starting points.
The aftermath of the clash left the Black Demonic Sword in my hand trembling. My father's Heavenly Demon Sword was also vibrating. In the past, I wouldn't have seen it, but with my vision enhanced by the New Eye Technique, every minute tremor was visible.
Did my father's wrist ache as much as mine did right now?
"I thought you were only busy playing politics, but you've actually improved."
"Well, they say one should practice their martial arts and their romances where no one can see. I've been training hard."
In truth, I had been dedicating myself to training, even cutting back on sleep. Actually, even if I had wanted to stop, my body wouldn't have allowed it. The vast and pure internal energy accumulated in my dantian yearned to be unleashed upon the world, and the Wind God Four Steps always craved a powerful opponent. My Flying Heaven Sword Technique was moving beyond Great Achievement toward a new realm, and my eyesight had been sharpened by the New Eye Technique.
"Then let's see if you can block this as well."
The moment he finished speaking, my father vanished from my sight. I vanished at the same time. Like him, I had used the Dark Shadow Step. Today, I had decided to be a copycat.
We reappeared in a corner of the training ground, our swords clashing in mid-air. Our postures were identical, as if performed by twins!
Beyond the crossed blades, a flash of joy crossed my father's face. It was a fleeting emotion, but it was unmistakably the joy of encountering a worthy foe.
I understand the loneliness of the absolute, Father, but I am your son. Not your enemy.
The moment our swords separated, the Heavenly Demon Sword and the Black Demonic Sword wove patterns through the air. We both unleashed the Balanced Heaven Form.
The pure white sword light created by the two blades cleaved the air. Like two meteors meeting in the night sky, two streaks of light collided and vanished. It was only for a split second, but the sight was beautiful.
Next, we simultaneously unleashed the Changing Heaven Form.
Twelve variations unfolded in the air. They came from the Heavenly Demon Sword, and they came from the Black Demonic Sword. Where one was brilliant, the other was equally so. Where one was heavy, the other matched it. Where one was fast, the other was just as quick. Variation met variation and neutralized each other.
Our attacks were identical. Like an ink drawing on one side of a paper being pressed onto the other when folded, we exchanged the exact same strikes. Gratefully, my father accepted my intention to mimic him and did not use any unconventional attacks.
The next strike was the Fourth Form: Blazing Heaven Form.
A powerful sword qi swept through the training ground. As the two energies collided, the entire area vibrated violently. Had even a fraction more internal energy been used, the training ground would have collapsed.
"That's enough!"
My father halted the spar. He likely judged that the subsequent forms would be too dangerous. It was a testament to how strong I had become. My father had thought there was nothing left to be surprised by regarding me, but today's revelation was entirely new.
"Your skills have improved greatly."
He used the word "greatly." Coming from him, that was the highest form of praise.
"That is enough, then."
Forgiveness was contained in those few words. He had intended to punish me today if I had neglected my training while busy with the Pungcheon Cult, but seeing my significant growth, he had forgiven me.
In the end, it wasn't a punishment, but a reward. A "twin spar" like this with my father was something that couldn't be bought for a million taels. By performing the exact same techniques, I had learned a great deal. To an outsider, they might have looked identical, but I had felt the difference clearly. It is only when one can perceive those minute differences that they truly become a master among masters.
Today, I felt as though I had caught a glimpse of the path toward the Twelve-Star Great Achievement of the Flying Heaven Sword Technique.
"Aren't you hungry? Your son is buying today. Let's go eat in Ma Clan Village."
I hadn't heard of my father visiting Ma Clan Village in recent years. I expected him to refuse.
"Let's go."
I was stunned by his unexpected agreement. "You're really going?"
"Did you think I was joking?"
"Of course not. Let's go!"
My father changed into ordinary martial robes and put on a bamboo hat to hide his face. If he went out in an official capacity, Ma Clan Village would be turned upside down.
And so, I left the headquarters with my father. It was our first outing together to Ma Clan Village.