Not at All Disappointed, Master
I sat cross-legged in the small room. To the people here, and to the old me as well, it probably looked like some strange ritual. But after spending time by my master’s side, I had come to understand that this was an incredibly important practice known as energy circulation and breathing.
I wondered for a brief moment if my sudden visit might be disturbing him. Then—
My master spoke with his eyes still closed, as if he had been waiting for me. I gave a small nod, and only then did he open his eyes.
“Now that I think about it, you’ve lingered around here for quite a long time.”
“It’s the quietest place, and you’re never far away. Isn’t it the perfect spot?”
“Thanks to you, this seat has never had a moment’s peace. Whenever I thought I might finally forget, you would drag one of your disciples over to introduce them. And just when I tried to sink into meditation, you would show up again.”
“Did it bother you that I kept coming?”
It was a casual question I tossed out, but the answer didn’t come right away. When I glanced up, my master was staring straight at me with open eyes. I waited obediently for his next words, and soon he slowly opened his mouth.
“I see. That’s a relief. I was worried I might have been making you uncomfortable.”
“It wasn’t bad. Well… there were times it was a bit annoying, but…”
My master tilted his chin slightly, pointing toward something. There, neatly placed, was the smoking pipe I had given him.
“You always made sure to bring me whatever I needed.”
“That’s true. I ran a lot of errands for you, Master. When I think back on it…”
“I never once thought of it that way.”
My master’s voice suddenly dropped. It sounded almost angry, yet at the same time deeply hurt. I kept my mouth shut, wondering why he was reacting like this, and he continued.
“…”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful, Master.”
Come to think of it, even though my master sometimes seemed a bit rough with me, he had always treated me as his one and only disciple. From the time when I was weak, my mind was trash, and the only thing I knew how to do was run my mouth—until I reached a certain realm and began raising my own disciples. As long as I did not abandon my role as his disciple first, he would continue to treat me that way.
Swish—
As I lowered my head, I sensed movement beside me. My master had risen from his seat and was walking somewhere.
I followed behind him. To the eye, he seemed to be walking very slowly, but in reality his pace was frighteningly fast. An ordinary person would have to sprint at full speed just to keep up.
Shaaaaaaa—!!
After walking for about ten minutes, we arrived at a place with a small waterfall. Wow, this spot held so many memories. It had been a long time since I last returned.
This was where I had built the foundation of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art while standing under the falling water. I had also thrown my exhausted body into the pool after grueling training to cool off. Once, I had even accidentally seen my master soaking in the water here. Thanks to that, I unintentionally caught a glimpse of his bare body… Ahem. Let’s skip that part. The sight had been beautiful, but the rage that followed was far too terrifying.
Ah, don’t misunderstand. I didn’t peek on purpose. It really was unintentional.
Splash—
My master stepped into the water and approached the waterfall. He reached his hand inside and began rummaging around, as if searching for something. What on earth was he doing? Was he trying to catch a fish?
“Huh? Whoa—!”
Thud—
I quickly snatched whatever my master had thrown. His movement had been so fast that I didn’t realize what it was until I caught it.
…What is this?
I never imagined there would be a hidden space behind the waterfall, nor that something like this would be concealed inside it. And I certainly never expected it to be a sword brimming with such pure, refined energy.
When had he hidden it in there? How had he maintained it? And above all, why was he giving me a blade that made my throat go dry just from holding it? There were countless questions, but I waited for my master to speak. After all, the master I knew would already have predicted exactly what I was curious about and what questions I would ask.
“Pardon…? Wait a moment. Doesn’t that mean this is your cherished weapon?”
“Cherished weapon? Hardly. It was simply the one that felt best in my hand, so I carried it around.”
Lie. That was definitely a lie. My master had a habit of slightly raising his left eyebrow whenever he lied. He himself probably had no idea he did it. I had once considered telling him, but since it proved surprisingly useful, I kept it a secret. Thanks to that, I could instantly tell whether his words were true or false.
At his words, I gently infused it with energy. Even though the sword remained sheathed, it resonated with a clear hum. A blade that had already been excellent when wielded by a strong master had been further refined by my master’s power. There was probably only one such sword in the world. Without exaggeration, it was on the same level as the divine sword Largo that I possessed. It truly deserved the title of a supreme blade among supreme blades.
Of course, that bastard Largo has an even noisier mouth than a demonic sword, which is the problem.
As I carefully ran my fingers over the sword, my master stepped back onto dry land.
“Master?”
Although I knew little about the martial world or the rivers and lakes, I at least understood that handing over one’s personal weapon to another was no small matter. This wasn’t even a sword he had only used a few times. If it had swept across the martial world alongside my master, it was practically a comrade-in-arms to him. To hear that he was giving me something he had kept for so long left me utterly bewildered.
“Master. I am grateful for the thought, but this is too much. I cannot accept it.”
“How could I possibly take your sword so casually?”
This wasn’t about raising favorability or showing off. It was a natural refusal born from basic courtesy and respect toward my master. If he had given me anything else, I would have accepted it with gratitude. But accepting the sword that had been with him his entire life was an entirely different matter.
“Hyeon-ah.”
Finally, my master brought out his secret weapon. Calling me by name was his way of warning, ‘I’m getting serious now.’ When he went this far, it meant he had no intention of backing down even if I refused. It would be better for both of us if I just accepted it quickly.
“Understood, Master. Then I shall accept it with boundless honor and gratitude.”
“What kind of disciple in this world would carelessly accept his master’s personal sword?”
My master was no third-rate warrior without a name. He was the Heavenly Demon, whose very existence had once made the vast martial world tremble in fear. Simply receiving his sword was, of course, an immense honor and an equally immense burden.
At those words, I gripped the hilt and pulled the blade from its sheath.
Srrrrng—
The sword’s body reflected the sunlight, radiating a dazzling array of colors. Even just looking at it, I could feel a chilling sharpness that seemed ready to cut anything in an instant. It had clearly been swung countless times, yet it still carried such pure, refined energy.
“That’s typical of the defeated, isn’t it? The only thing they can do is run their mouths.”
Red aura? I hurriedly examined the sword once more. What I saw now was simply a beautifully forged blade. Nothing more.
My master stepped closer and took the sword from my hand.
“That’s…”
Saaaaaaa—
A gentle breeze brushed across my face. Following the flow of that wind, my master drew a soft circle with the sword in his hand. The movement was so gentle that it seemed nothing before him could possibly be cut. The sword path was so light it was hard to tell he was even swinging a blade.
But that lightness soon transformed into an aura heavier than a mountain. The straight, piercing energy shot forward as if to pierce the world itself, then spread in all directions. It cut nothing before his eyes, yet it felt as though the world had been split cleanly in two. If even a trace of killing intent had been mixed into that single strike, what would have happened? Just thinking about it sent chills across my entire body.
My master returned the sword to my hand and gave a very small smile. The person who had once seemed more terrifying than a grim reaper when we first met was now, like my disciples, someone I could rely on without hesitation—my one and only master.
“Master.”
“Are you disappointed that I’m leaving?”
“W-what?”
“I asked if you are disappointed.”
Because you’ve never once said anything like that before. From the moment you offered me the sword, I already sensed a strong feeling of disappointment. Hearing those words only confirmed that it wasn’t just my imagination.
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
“You truly are not disappointed that this disciple of yours is leaving?”
“Hmm.”
If you’re going to say that much, I’ll let it slide, Master. You’re not the type to not feel disappointed, yet your expression hasn’t changed at all, so maybe it really is true. I thought I had you completely figured out, but it seems I was wrong again.
“Are you disappointed?”
You know the answer, yet you still ask? After sending off all the disciples, the one who stayed until the very end now says he is leaving. He is going to leave this master all alone and say it’s time to go. How could I possibly not be disappointed?
You foolish child.
It is a lie, yet it is also not a lie. I cannot say “not at all,” but just as the words say, I am not greatly disappointed. After all, this seat will simply follow behind you.
Quietly. Very quietly.