The Warmest Day of All
Mount Hua was vast, and it was hard to find any trace that people had ever lived there.
Dokgo Ryeon had not expected to find him easily, but she had not realized just how hopeless it would be.
Coming down the mountain path without so much as a harvest to show for it, she finally discovered signs of human presence in a place that could hardly even be called the mountain’s foothills.
Following those traces led her to a modest clearing.
A single plum blossom tree stood there in full, luxuriant bloom, and beneath it sat a low cabin that looked as though it might collapse at any moment.
The scenery, awkward and mismatched at first glance, was somehow all the more natural for it.
Struck by the quiet mystery of it, Dokgo Ryeon let out a soft gasp of admiration.
Almost as if bewitched, she stepped closer and looked at the weathered nameplate hanging from the door.
Song Daehyun.
That handwriting.
The master’s writing, which she had looked upon thousands of times over the past fifteen years.
He had never intended to hide at all.
She had assumed, of course, that a secluded master would live deep in the mountains, but there was an old saying: what lies closest to the lamp is often the darkest.
Indeed, this sort of outcome was exactly the sort of thing one would expect from the master—always surpassing every prediction.
“I have come to pay my respects, Master.”
Dokgo Ryeon greeted him carefully.
But there was no answer.
No one is here?
Ignoring the impropriety, she sent out her qi to check—and found a small girl pressed against the window, peeking at her from the side.
Who was she?
A young, frail-looking girl with only the faintest trace of energy.
She seemed utterly unfit to accompany, much less assist, a master who stood above the Mystic Realm.
Why would such a child be in the master’s house?
Could she be his daughter?
After a moment of thought, one possibility flashed through Dokgo Ryeon’s mind like lightning.
Return to Simplicity and Truth.
The master was a peerless expert so profound that he had only ever taught her through the words written in his books.
What if his cultivation had reached a height so unfathomable that she simply could not perceive him correctly?
Then what, exactly, was that youthful appearance?
No, there was no need to wonder.
Had she not become like this herself?
Clearly the master had undergone some form of rejuvenation, or perhaps something even beyond it.
She had assumed he must be a man, since this was an age in which women had such a difficult time surviving.
And all the while, she had forgotten that the strongest counterexample was herself.
Dokgo Ryeon once again marveled at the master’s greatness.
At the same time, a strange exhilaration heated her blood.
There were so many hidden masters like this out in the wilds.
How, then, could anyone dare speak recklessly of being the strongest in the world, claiming there was no rival left in the martial world?
She could still grow stronger.
She could still advance toward even greater power.
Life returned to Dokgo Ryeon’s face.
He had not even met her properly, and already he was giving her a new purpose in life.
The debt she owed him was beyond measure.
Even if she was the leader of the demonic sect, feared by all as the enemy of the martial world, she was still a martial artist herself.
And after receiving such kindness, she could not simply let it slide as though nothing had happened.
Standing boldly before the cabin, Dokgo Ryeon called out several times, asking to meet him, but no answer came.
Her original plan had been to wait patiently and treat him gently so that she would not put the master in an awkward position, but that plan had now been completely abandoned.
A sharp glint of stubbornness entered Dokgo Ryeon’s eyes.
Once she decided on something, she saw it through.
She could not back down like this.
Even if it meant being rude, she would absolutely see the master’s face.
“Even if you do not come out, I shall stand here and wait without moving a single step.”
She already knew.
The master was a kind person whose goodness could be felt even through the printed page.
He would not ignore someone pleading so desperately for help.
In her heart, she had already reached a conclusion, and she did not doubt it for a moment.
After some time, the cabin door creaked open.
There, at last, a girl with an embarrassed expression appeared.
Her skin was pale and exquisite, as if she had gathered every last ray of the world’s light into it.
Her neck was slender enough to seem fragile at a touch, and her shoulders looked just as delicate.
Even her hands were fine and graceful, hands that looked as though they had never done a single hard day’s labor.
Not even the tiniest pimple or scar blemished her, which was unbelievable for someone living in the mountains.
She looked like a fairy maiden from a storybook.
Just as I thought.
Seeing her, Dokgo Ryeon felt certain of the master’s depth beyond measure.
So she was a fairy.
That made sense.
The girl looked at her.
Caught by the sense that those unfathomable eyes might swallow her whole, Dokgo Ryeon barely managed to steady herself.
“Heavenly Demon…?”
“That’s right. I am the Heavenly Demon. The foremost figure of the demonic sect, the strongest under heaven, and the greatest in all history.”
To the girl’s questioning look, Dokgo Ryeon straightened her chest and introduced herself with confident pride.
But at those words, the girl silently turned around and reached for the door latch again.
Why!
A surge of uncontrollable feeling rose up inside Dokgo Ryeon.
In a hurry, she sent out an invisible burst of qi, aiming for the back of the girl’s neck.
It was the arrogant fury of the Heavenly Demon, angered by a level of disrespect she had never once been forced to endure.
But just before the energy could touch the girl, Dokgo Ryeon hastily twisted its direction and caught the upper part of the door instead.
CRACK.
The sound of wood splitting rang out.
The girl slowly turned her head and looked at Dokgo Ryeon with an unreadable expression.
Though her face remained blank, clear displeasure simmered in those eyes.
She had probably sensed the violence hidden within the qi Dokgo Ryeon had unleashed.
In the brief silence that followed, Dokgo Ryeon reflected on what she had just done.
Her introduction had been far too arrogant.
How could she have spoken of being the strongest under heaven, the greatest in history, right in front of him?
And how foolishly she had lost control and nearly attacked him, too.
For the first time since joining the demonic sect, Dokgo Ryeon felt deeply ashamed of her own behavior.
He must think I’m unbearably insolent.
The master had every right to think so.
But that, too, was the Heavenly Demon.
The Heavenly Demon was, by nature, an arrogant being who dared to aim for the heavens.
Even if there were someone with higher cultivation than herself, she must not lose that arrogance.
That much was written in Cheonmashingong as well.
Dokgo Ryeon once more faced the master squarely and lifted the corner of her mouth in a crooked smile.
That very boldness was the essence of the Heavenly Demon.
Fortunately, the master saw her like that and turned away, leaning against the door.
It looked almost like a silent signal that he would no longer avoid speaking with her.
At last, you will meet me halfway?
Seeing the master finally face her fully, Dokgo Ryeon felt an overwhelming rush of joy.
At last!
She had a mountain of questions she wanted to ask, but she forced them down and waited quietly for his words.
It was only proper for a junior to wait until a superior spoke first.
Dokgo Ryeon recalled the etiquette her parents had taught her long ago.
“Why do you address me as ‘Master,’ Heavenly Demon?”
It was an extremely small voice, as though it had sunk weakly into the ground.
Junior?
What a kind soul.
Someone with such ability, someone who had even mastered Cheonmashingong, lowering himself like that...
Dokgo Ryeon, who had been thinking in silence, could not help but marvel.
I am such an insignificant junior, and yet you are even humbler than I am—just what exactly are you?
Speaking in a way that made oneself seem endlessly inferior while making the other party appear all the more lofty—this was a form of speech only truly arrogant people could play with.
“Because, through the master’s writings, I have taken a more decisive step forward. How could I not call you Master?”
When she had finished speaking, Dokgo Ryeon drew Cheonmashingong from within her robes.
The old manual had been read and reread for fifteen years until its cover was nearly destroyed.
Even that worn appearance should be enough to tell the master, I have learned so much from you.
Then she declared herself his disciple.
This was the first time she had shown herself before her teacher as a disciple should.
As she struggled to hide her pounding heart, the master finally opened his mouth.
“Muchin Ryeon, your mind is—”
The master cut himself off and quickly closed his mouth.
What had he said?
Muchin Ryeon?
At the unfamiliar phrase, Dokgo Ryeon frowned.
There had to be a profound meaning in those words.
Muchin—was he mocking her as an orphan without parents?
No. That couldn’t be it.
The master was a warm person, even through the printed word.
He would not suddenly hurl insults like that.
Dokgo Ryeon desperately tried to unravel the meaning.
Ryeon?
Ryeon was her name.
A precious name given to her by her mother because it was beautiful enough to stand on its own.
How could he know her childhood name, a name she had never even told the guardians who had supported her closest over the past several decades?
A delusion rose in her mind, like a sliver of hope.
No, impossible.
But if so...
Muchin Ryeon?
Ryeon upon whom martial might had been bestowed?
The moment that forced arrangement of characters struck her mind, Dokgo Ryeon stopped breathing.
Chills raced down her body as though her blood had frozen solid.
The master already knew that Cheonmashingong would come into Dokgo Ryeon’s hands and make her even stronger.
And he also knew her name, which no one else had ever been told.
All of it pointed to one thing.
The ultimate realm said to be reached once one perfected Cheonmashingong—a realm she herself had not been able to reach even after fifteen years of closed-door cultivation.
Regression.
The ultimate realm that overturns the natural order, not merely sending one’s body back into the past but turning back everything in the world to an earlier time.
That was it.
The master had already experienced the future and returned to the past!
In the future she had lived through, Dokgo Ryeon must already have lived a full life as his disciple once before.
Muchin Ryeon.
It was a fond nickname he had given to her, the self who had walked beside him as his disciple through that future life.
She understood now.
Her heart that had fluttered at the sight of the master, after passing through Amta.
It was because she had already once spent time at his side as his disciple.
King, teacher, and father are one and the same.
It was said that the grace of sovereign, teacher, and parent were equal.
The bond between master and disciple was the same as that between parent and child.
No matter how greatly one might turn the world upside down and begin anew through an unimaginable realm, one could not simply erase a heavenly bond that had already been formed.
That fate had remained intact.
“How did it come into the Heavenly Demon’s hands?”
Dokgo Ryeon thought she had already understood everything from that one small hint.
But the master seemed unaware of the fact.
No—he was pretending not to know.
She did not know whether it was a side effect of Regression,
or part of some vast plan.
But Dokgo Ryeon decided cheerfully to play along with the master’s performance.
“Why, because I am the Heavenly Demon. Cheonmashingong is mine; it would hardly be strange for it to return to its rightful owner.”
“That was not written by me. I am not qualified to be called a master.”
Dokgo Ryeon felt as if her heart were being torn apart.
And yet her disciple had already realized everything!
And so, having come all this way to request instruction from her teacher once more, how could he be so cold?
“I came all the way here in person, and that is what you say?”
How heartless.
So heartless.
Your disciple is right here.
Please, grant me your teachings.
But the master still did not acknowledge her.
Her act was not over yet.
Her chest ached painfully.
She had finally met the master she had longed for so desperately, and had even learned that she had deep ties to him in a future she had yet to live through.
And yet she still felt an invisible wall standing between them.
Dokgo Ryeon had not yet reached the realm of Regression, so she had no way of knowing why the master seemed to be pushing her away.
All she could do was wait for him to come to her first.
“I am prepared to follow any teaching of the master.”
If she could return to being a disciple again.
If he wanted her to stay by his side first.
She would follow whenever he wished.
That was the feeling she tried to express, by way of indirection.
It was an uncharacteristically roundabout way of speaking for her.
Unable to step forward on her own, tormented by the shame of being unable to do anything as a disciple, her clenched fist trembled.
Her throat tightened, and it became difficult to speak any further.
With effort, she mastered her emotions and waited for the master’s next words. He looked uneasy as he spoke.
“W-well, maybe start by fixing your manner of speech...”
“My manner of speech? You mean my manner of speech?”
“Yes. It just... doesn’t suit you...”
Dokgo Ryeon’s expression twisted.
How could he say something so pointless at a time like this?
There was no way the master had missed the meaning hidden in her words.
And yet, the wall between them still had not come down.
Dokgo Ryeon felt as though she might burst into tears.
Since the day her mother had died.
Tears she had sworn never to shed again burned hotly at the corners of her eyes.
Was she being abandoned by her master?
Her becoming his disciple was something that belonged to a far, distant future she had yet to experience directly.
What had taught her had not been his voice, but only cold type on a page.
So the longing in her heart should surely have belonged not to her, but to the master who had returned after living through the future.
Then why does my chest hurt like this?
Dokgo Ryeon bit her lower lip as she found herself caught in a whirlpool of emotions she had never known before.
Change her manner of speech?
Dokgo Ryeon desperately tried to interpret the meaning.
She did not want to believe that the master was simply trying to push her away.
A person’s speech changes with the life they have lived.
It changes depending on where they lived, who they knew, and what kind of life they led.
Then what did his words truly mean?
Was he telling her to cast aside everything she had been until now?
Would that make him accept her?
But the life of the Heavenly Demon, that place she occupied—
it was not something you could simply throw away.
What she had learned by mastering Cheonmashingong and leading the demonic sect was not something that could be sacrificed for the sake of a single bond.
It was a seat woven from countless wills, not her own alone.
Besides, had the master not already written Cheonmashingong?
He had led her to exist as the Heavenly Demon, so how could he now ask her to abandon the past?
Do not doubt it.
If it was the master’s words, they could never be meaningless.
They had to mean something.
Closing her eyes, Dokgo Ryeon racked her brains, and then recalled the words the master had almost spoken just moments ago.
“Muchin Ryeon, your mind is...”
Mind?
Body and mind?
Dokgo Ryeon suddenly had a fundamental realization.
Why had the body after Amta become weaker instead of stronger?
Why had her body felt as though it no longer belonged to her?
Could it be... because her body and mind were out of alignment?
“Mind...”
That was it.
She had been thinking of it all wrong.
Why had her body become so soft and beautiful?
A proper mind was supposed to reside in a proper body.
Her body and mind had not properly matched one another.
The side effect of rising too quickly in cultivation.
She remembered hearing that those who forced their way to higher realms through fortunate encounters could, at some point, have their body and mind drift apart and fall into deviation.
The master had already given her the answer to that.
“Manner of speech...”
A person’s way of speaking reflects the life and values they have lived.
It is easy to speak lies, but very difficult to lie with one’s manner of speech as well.
If one was not careful even slightly, the truth would be exposed in an instant.
An aged way of speaking that did not suit her rejuvenated body.
Dokgo Ryeon retraced the words she had spoken just moments ago.
My old manner of speech, my ancient mind, was not fitting into my youthful body—instead, it was pulling away from it.
Change your manner of speech.
Thus, harmonize your mind with your rejuvenated body.
The master had tried to push away the past—no, the future bond she had come seeking.
But when he saw her body was in danger, he could not completely ignore it and had been about to offer advice without thinking.
This was proof, clear as day, that the master had not yet forgotten her as his disciple.
The fact that he had not been able to say the rest and had swallowed the words whole must have been due to some restriction that defied even heaven’s order.
At last, having grasped the master’s deep intention, Dokgo Ryeon felt the ache in her chest melt warmly away.
She still did not know what the problem was that made him push her away like this.
But if the master had not yet let go of their thread of fate, then neither would she.
When she raised her head after thinking it through, the master was already gone, having gone back into the cabin.
She had been distracted for a moment, yes—but for her not to notice his movements at all...?
What astonishing divine prowess.
“I will wait. Until the time you find suitable.”
Murmuring softly beyond the wooden wall, Dokgo Ryeon turned around.
The master would certainly have heard even that tiny vow.
A faint smile lingering at her lips, she decided that she would solve the homework the master had given her.
When the time came, she would return and ask for instruction once more.
If she received his help one thing at a time like this, then would that not also count as the relationship between master and disciple?
Dokgo Ryeon felt a gaze settling on her retreating figure.
The master was watching her from the window.
He was looking openly, without even the slightest intention of concealing his presence.
She did not wipe the smile from her face as she threw herself without hesitation toward Ten Thousand Mountains.
It was the warmest day of Dokgo Ryeon’s life.
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