Chapter 99: The World and Reality... (2)
Chapter 99: The World and Reality... (2)
Patrick understood why Aaron was saying such things.
How could he not?
The world and reality.
These were words Patrick had heard until he was sick of them in the past.
Others had mocked him when they saw him running himself ragged to make the Twin Dragon Sect the greatest sect in the Martial World.
Do you really think that’s possible?
Do you think you can change anything just by struggling on your own?
A prestigious name is built on layers of history and tradition.
Know the reality of the world and learn your place.
To those who spoke such words, Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero, had proudly proven them wrong.
He built a legend of a hundred battles and a hundred victories, defeating countless leaders of the Unorthodox Faction. Even the Demon Warriors, who had plunged the world into chaos in their blood-madness, fell before Patrick’s twin swords.
In the end, he raised the Twin Dragon Sect to a position where no one could look down on it as a third-rate sect.
No matter what those around him said, Jincheon never once doubted his goal.
How was he able to do that?
“Leader, does Matthew’s effort look meaningless to you?”
“Searching for meaning in effort is the logic of losers. Effort only has value when it produces a result.”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“Phew. You know it well. You know it so well, so why are you talking such nonsense?”
“What do you mean by that?”
As Aaron looked on, unable to understand, Patrick spoke as if he were frustrated.
“Hasn't Matthew produced a result?”
“……”
“He produced the result of proudly winning against his peers in the midterm evaluation. So how can Matthew’s effort be worthless?”
“……”
“Look at Matthew’s hands. Are those the hands of someone meant to hold a pen?”
Aaron’s gaze fell upon his son’s hands.
He let out an involuntary gasp.
They were rough hands, covered in calluses and scars.
How much effort must he have poured in for them to become like that?
The result of enduring the pain of torn palms and crushed bones was vividly visible before his eyes.
It was just as Patrick said.
Those were not the hands of a man who would live his life holding a pen. They were the hands of those who staked their lives and their very existence on the sword.
Patrick spoke again.
“Matthew worked hard and produced a result. So why must he be forced to change his way of life? Even as a parent, you don't have the right to decide the direction of your child's life, do you?”
“Patrick, I…”
Matthew tried to intervene, but Patrick continued, unbothered.
“If a child works hard and achieves something, there are certain words and actions a parent ought to show. Am I wrong?”
“Patrick, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“What do you think you’re doing to my father?”
“I’m doing this because he’s my friend’s father, you idiot!” Patrick barked.
In that moment, Patrick saw familiar faces overlapping with Matthew’s.
Zhuge Hyeon, who was discriminated against by his family because his appearance was deemed unsightly.
Namgung Cheon, who wasn't even treated like a son because he lacked talent.
Peng Mu-jong, whom even the Hebe Peng Family had half-given up on.
Even his wife, Tang Su-yeon, who hadn't been recognized by her family simply because she was a woman…
If only their families had shown them even the slightest bit of consideration back then…
If they had shown even a shred of gratitude for their effort and devotion…
‘Back then, seeing them crawl back once those kids became successful, acting all sweet and calling them "my son" or "my daughter"—it made me want to vomit.’
Furthermore, seeing his friends unable to abandon those families because of blood ties, continuing to take care of them, had driven him mad with frustration.
At that time, Patrick had felt it was a blessing that he was a total orphan.
Meanwhile, Aaron felt a sudden realization at Patrick’s words.
Come to think of it…
He had been displeased that his son entered the Knight Department against his wishes.
He had been displeased that his son didn't fail the midterm evaluation, contrary to his expectations.
It was all because these things had fallen outside of his predictions and control.
‘I have been narrow-minded.’
It was as Patrick said.
A parent does not have the right to decide the direction of a child’s life.
And there were words he should have said to a child who worked hard and produced a result.
He only realized it after this young man pointed it out—a young man who wasn't even half his age.
His face flushing with shame, Aaron spoke.
“Matthew.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I’m sorry. And… well done.”
“……”
The moment he received his father’s recognition, Matthew’s expression shifted into an indescribable mix of complex emotions.
He hadn't even dared to hope for it.
Knowing his father was reluctant about him joining the Knight Department, he hadn't expected such words.
But hearing them now, he realized the truth.
Telling himself not to expect anything was merely a comfort he used to soothe himself so he wouldn't get hurt.
In reality…
“Thank… you.”
At that single word of praise from his father, his voice grew thick with the overwhelming emotion of feeling like all his past hardships had been rewarded.
To his son, Aaron said, “I am proud of you.”
“……”
Matthew couldn't even answer, fearing he would show a pathetic side of himself if he spoke further.
Patrick stood up from his seat and said, “Well then, it seems like the father and son need some private time. I’ll take my leave.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“I have at least some sense of tact.”
That was a lie.
Regardless, Patrick stood up briskly and headed for the door…
“Wait a second.”
Patrick, who was about to leave, scurried back and grabbed the bottle of liquor from the table.
“This is expensive stuff, so I’ll finish it. For real this time, goodbye…”
“……”
“……”
Then he quickly bolted out of the room.
Watching Patrick’s retreating back, Aaron spoke.
“Matthew.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You’ve made a remarkable friend.”
“I think so too.”
Aaron chuckled, pulled a new bottle of liquor from the cabinet, and said, “Let’s drink. I think we have a lot to talk about today.”
“Yes, Father.”
The private time between father and son had just begun.
* * *
On the roof of the Elvador Merchant Group Leader’s mansion.
Patrick sat there with the liquor he’d brought, leaning back halfway as he drank alone under the moonlight.
He used his past memories as a side dish for his drink.
[Well done. Thanks to you, innocent commoners have lived.]
[Excellent. I am proud of you, Cheon.]
[You rascal, aren't you being too reckless? Still… I’m glad. Thanks to you, we were able to prevent greater damage.]
The countless heroic deeds and achievements he had accumulated while active as Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero.
Most of them were nothing more than things he did to earn praise from his Master.
In the process, he helped the powerless and struck down the wicked.
The world praised him as a Great Hero.
A true hero who struggled to show that justice was still alive in the Martial World.
But that was just the result.
What he truly wanted wasn't the title of Great Hero or the world’s evaluation.
It was just that one word of praise from his Master, even if his Master made a worried face while saying it.
“Being a child…”
Patrick took a sip of liquor and spoke again.
“No matter how old you get, you’re still just a kid in front of your parents.”
No answer came.
The Master who would answer him wasn't here.
Still, Patrick continued to speak as if his Master were right in front of him.
“When I think about all the reckless things I did just to hear one word of praise from you, Master… I really was immature, wasn't I?”
But still.
Patrick still thought about it.
If he could go back to those days, if he could just hear that one word of praise again—the one where his Master would look at him with worried eyes and scold his recklessness while still commending him…
“Tsk. How pointless…”
Clicking his tongue and rebuking himself, Patrick lifted his drink again.
Tonight, Patrick was a little envious of Matthew.
* * *
The next day.
Patrick had breakfast with Matthew’s family.
Fresh yogurt with seasonal fruits.
Soft bread and seafood soup.
“You’re eating… a lot.”
“Eating is what stays with you. This fruit is delicious, what is it?”
“It’s called a mango. It’s a fruit that grows on certain islands off the far southwestern coast.”
“It must be expensive, right?”
“It costs about 1 gold each.”
“Give me more.”
Does this brat have any sense of shame in his head?
Just yesterday, Aaron had been very impressed by Patrick.
Using the production method of silk as bait, he had led the negotiations on equal footing.
He had scolded Aaron for being blinded by parental selfishness and failing to recognize his son’s efforts.
When talking to him, Aaron had felt like he was dealing with an adult his own age rather than his son’s peer.
He was sure of it, but…
“Cough, cough! Water…”
“Here it is, Young Master.”
Seeing him like that made Aaron wonder if everything that happened yesterday had been an illusion.
When he looked at his son, Matthew sent him a look that said, ‘He’s always like this, so don't mind him,’ as if he were used to it.
“Ahem, right. Patrick. What do you think about this year’s Arcana?”
“The Arcana?”
“Yes. Many people are debating whether you will go as a representative or not. What do you think? Do you think you can go?”
“Representative?”
“People are talking a lot, but since you’re the one involved, haven't the professors given you any hints?”
Patrick nodded and then asked, “First, can I ask one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“What’s the Arcana?”
“……?”
“……?”
“……?”
“Why? Why are you all suddenly looking at me with faces that say, ‘Is this guy serious?’”
Well, why wouldn't they?
The Arcana.
In other words, it was also called the Sword Dragon Festival.
It was a gladiator tournament created to honor Arcana, known as the Dragon of the Sword and the guardian deity of all knights.
Though it was called the Sword Dragon Festival, one could participate even if their weapon of choice was a spear or a mace.
Representatives were chosen from among the students currently enrolled in academies across the continent or young people of similar age.
Winning this tournament, held once every four years, was the highest honor for a knight. Even if one didn't win, achieving a good result could spread one’s fame across the entire continent.
And currently, the Atronia Kingdom was setting a new record in this Arcana.
The dishonor of having participated three consecutive times without securing a single victory.
As a result, the Atronia Kingdom was evaluated as having the lowest level of knights on the entire continent.
“Ah… come to think of it, I think I heard something like that existed?”
“Even if the Schneider territory is on the eastern edge, to not know about the Arcana…”
“Hey, Leader, you should try being busy making a living. Who has time to worry about stuff like that?”
“……”
“Ahem, anyway, the Arcana… so that’s being held this year.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, is that really so important?”
“It is important!”
“How can you even ask that?!”
“Brother, are you an idiot?”
All three members of Matthew’s family jumped up from their seats and denounced him in unison.
“Whoa, geez… take it easy.”
Despite Patrick’s words, Aaron spoke with a serious expression.
“Our country has already failed to win a single match in the Arcana three times in a row. Do you have any idea how much damage this causes to our national prestige?”
“It must be embarrassing.”
“It’s more than that. The Arcana is a battle where the pride of the nation is at stake. As a result of failing to win once in three consecutive tournaments, the people of our country are suffering from a severe inferiority complex.”
Following Aaron’s words, Matthew continued.
“And from the academy’s perspective, it’s a serious problem. The professors were heavily reprimanded, and the state cut the budget for the Knight Department in half.”
“Hmm… I see.”
To be honest, it didn't really sink in for Patrick.
From what he heard, it sounded like a talent show where kids were gathered to determine the "Number One Rising Star Under Heaven" from his past life…
‘I didn't get to go, did I? Ah… thinking about it again makes me so pissed.’
Back in his past life, when Jincheon was still a fresh and rude youth.
Upon hearing news that the Murim Alliance was holding a tournament to determine the Number One Rising Star Under Heaven, the young Jincheon, before he was called the Radiant Dragon, had gone to participate. But when he arrived, what he heard was…
[You cannot.]
[What? Why not?]
[Only disciples from sects previously invited by the Murim Alliance can participate in the tournament.]
[What? Then how is that the Number One Rising Star Under Heaven? It’s just the Number One Rising Star of your own neighborhood.]
[Tsk, tsk. A young friend who doesn't know the ways of the world is speaking too recklessly. Just give up, watch the show, and go home.]
[Why you… Mmph!]
[Hahaha. I understand. Then we shall take our leave.]
[Mmmph! Mmm-mmmph!]
His Master had hurriedly covered Jincheon’s mouth and stopped him as he was about to charge in.
And he’d had to return home, fuming with rage.
In the end, only disciples from successful and prestigious Orthodox sects could participate in such tournaments.
For Jincheon, a disciple of a small sect like the Twin Dragon Sect, there wasn't even an opportunity.
That was why, after Jincheon made his debut in the Martial World a few years later, he had made a name for himself by challenging others to a hundred duels.
‘Tsk, it’s still a shame when I think about it. If I had just won that tournament back then, I would’ve gained fame faster and made more money. No, just look at how great the prizes were. I could’ve had them for free… Ugh, so annoying.’
Reaching that thought, Patrick asked as if to confirm.
“If you win the Arcana, there’s prize money, right? How much is it? It’s a lot, right? Right?”
“Of course there is no prize money.”
“Huh? There isn't?”
“Isn't that obvious?”
“No, why isn't there any?”
To think there was no prize money that rightfully should be there.
If you win such a tournament, shouldn't they give you a massive amount of prize money, rare spiritual medicines, expensive divine weapons, or at least the daughter of the Alliance Leader?
That was the proper way of the Martial World…
“Tsk, tsk. A tournament without prize money. The morals of the Jianghu have truly fallen to the ground. It wasn't like this in my day. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”