Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: 015 Ties (1)
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“So-ya, come here.”
There was always a cat with pure white fur and a sluggish gait lolling around next to Taejin and Mijoo. It followed them everywhere with a sleepy expression on its face. It tagged along but never really moved much.
Swoosh!
Its name was So.
It was sometimes called So-ya because it never made a sound. It looked lazy, but its fur had a mysterious sheen. The soft, fluffy texture felt incredible to the touch. It received not just Taejin and Mijoo's affection but attention from everyone in the sect as well.
Lick, lick!
So basked in Mijoo's arms, sticking out its tongue smugly. It did nothing but eat all day, yet no one blamed it. Its cute appearance more than earned its keep.
Watching So doze off in Mijoo's embrace, Mujin clicked his tongue. It looked like a cat on the outside, but in truth, it was the king of beasts—a White Tiger.
'How is that thing a White Tiger?'
—Are you only now appreciating the greatness of the Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye?
'You and your bragging. It's a sickness.'
—Should I release it, then?
'Easy there.'
He scolded it, but the Demon King's Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye was truly remarkable. It wielded powerful mind-control arts, allowing it to imprint through domination. Of course, Mujin was the one who had broken the White Tiger's will first. No matter how potent the Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye was, the White Tiger was revered as the lord of the mountains. With its immense spiritual power, Mujin had to crush its spirit upfront.
'It was going berserk like crazy just the other day, and now it's a full-on housecat.'
—It's still a White Tiger, though.
Its body had been shrunk down, but its true size was as big as a house. It could reduce its form at will, making it convenient to keep around.
'It got even more extreme in the future, I think.'
—Since it was called a ferocious spirit, yeah.
The current White Tiger hadn't yet earned that infamous title. Later, warriors seeking the legend of the Three Kings invaded its territory, and the White Tiger lost its cub. Enraged, it attacked humans indiscriminately, tearing them apart. Having tasted slaughter, it grew increasingly savage and became known as a ferocious spirit.
—It killed back then, but now you keep it around.
'Humans caused the mess, so the White Tiger paid the price.'
Not even first-rate warriors could handle the White Tiger. Even peak experts struggled in the mountains. Without any special training, a single kick from it could shatter boulders.
And Mujin had slain that White Tiger.
After mastering the War King's arts from one of the Three Kings' legends, he encountered it. They fought a brutal deathmatch. He barely survived the near-death ordeal and severed its lifeline.
Mujin only learned of the White Tiger's notoriety later. Though he hadn't killed its cub himself, he felt a shred of responsibility. If greed hadn't driven those warriors, the White Tiger wouldn't have lost its cub or turned into a ferocious spirit.
—Then you should've set it free. Your logic doesn't hold up.
'I just need to protect my kids like cubs.'
—So only your kids matter, huh.
'That's how parents are. Why would they care about someone else's?'
It wasn't very Demon King-like, but the words rang true. Still, Mujin valued his children more than the White Tiger's freedom. With the showdown against the Demonic Cult of the Demon God looming, he needed safeguards against the worst outcomes. Something that could guard them naturally from close by without raising suspicion—it was perfect.
In front of Mujin stood a two-horse carriage.
Its design was plain, but the horses looked sturdy. Not purebreds, but they carried Mongolian horse bloodlines, granting exceptional strength and endurance. Their glossy chestnut coats showed they were well cared for.
“Come on, hop on.”
“Did you save it, Daddy?”
“Of course.”
“Are you rich, Daddy?”
“I might not be loaded, but I can buy anything my Mijoo wants.”
“Wow, the woodcutter's loaded!”
“And Mijoo's the woodcutter's daughter.”
Horses varied wildly in price by breed, but none were cheap. Even cart horses from a horse market cost at least a hundred silver taels. That's why ordinary folk didn't ride them. Only those with some wealth and leisure could afford one.
“Taejin, you too. Get on.”
“What about Mom?”
“She'll be out soon. Hop on first.”
“Okay.”
Five years had passed, and Taejin had changed from his younger days. His build was sturdier and taller. He towered a head above his peers. And he knew his father's secret.
'What kind of woodcutter is like Dad!'
He was treated like a troublemaker in the sect, but Taejin knew his dad was strong. He'd sparred with kids his age around Cheongyang—not just in the sect—and none could match him.
He dominated the qualifiers in Cheongyang for the Little Dragon Tournament. Yet he couldn't even touch his dad's sleeve.
'Even Uncle couldn't.'
His uncle, chosen as the sect heir, was strong as expected. But even he couldn't last three exchanges against Dad. Just how strong was he? Maybe one of Anhui Province's top ten young experts?
'Am I overselling it?'
Dad was the strongest in Taejin's world, but he'd heard the world was vast and experts numerous as sand. Still, he swelled with pride knowing Dad was the sect's best. An unintentional hidden master.
'And Mom loves it!'
Taejin never told anyone his dad was an expert. No one would believe him anyway.
'Who would?'
But Taejin believed—in the needle in the pouch! Dad wasn't hiding it on purpose, but when the time came, he'd make his name known across the world.
'He sure has a temper.'
When he beat up Uncle, it was no joke.
He claimed no emotions, but those punches looked plenty emotional to anyone watching. Seeing Dad beat him while angry killed any rebellious thoughts.
Grandpa and Dad were bickering.
“Father, enough already! I'm not a kid anymore.”
“A grown man worrying his poor dad about causing trouble! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I haven't caused any trouble since then.”
“That's exactly why I'm worried, you punk! You're due for a big one!”
“Have some faith in your son!”
“No nonsense—just bow and say thanks!”
“Even so, not unconditionally!”
“Do it!”
“Yes, sir!”
The bickering ended with Grandpa's victory, as usual. Taejin hadn't caused trouble in five years, but Grandpa still fretted over him like a child by the water's edge.
'Sheesh, when will he ever trust his kid?'
—Exactly. Should've behaved all along.
'Anyone'd think you're the filial one, you Demon King.'
—I'm an orphan.
'...Always pulling the orphan card! Can't even talk back.'
The kids gathered to become the Demon King—Jang Cheon-gyeong was selected. He had no memories of his early childhood. Naturally, he couldn't remember his parents' faces.
It made Mujin feel needlessly guilty, irritating him.
—So be good to yours!
'Filial Demon King, my ass, you damn orphan!'
—That's insulting all the continent's orphans. Apologize!
'Oh please, since when do you care about the continent? Give it a rest.'
Pity the guy who didn't know his parents' faces, but he was the Demon King. Cold-blooded and tearless. The one who tore warriors apart with a cruel smile wasn't worth sympathy.
'So you're gonna find your parents?'
—Obviously.
'And then what?'
—If they abandoned me, they owe retribution. Isn't it poetic if they live well after ditching their kid?
'You psycho!'
—Yeah, that's the gist, right?
Classic Demon King. Mujin shook his head, regretting the brief moment he'd thought him normal. Pity was a luxury. He should've treated him as usual. Any human side to the Demon King was just hypocrisy and facade.
'You're too young to understand the world. Tsk tsk tsk.'
—Pot calling the kettle black. You lived like scum and ran away from home.
'Why bring that up here? I'm doing fine now.'
—Don't forget it's all thanks to me.
Tsk!
Damn, that was true.
Come to think of it, Mujin wasn't in a position to lecture Cheon-gyeong on parents. If he hadn't returned to the past, these benefits would've been unthinkable. Reflecting on his disoriented days, he had no room for sermons—only self-reflection.
“How long you gonna stand there zoning out?!”
“Ah, I'm off.”
“Tch, what a scatterbrain. Look at Taejin. So composed.”
“Father, come on!”
“Quiet. If you don't do well, don't even think of coming back.”
“What about my wife?”
“Just you.”
Not trusting his son this much was a wake-up call to reflect on past behavior. He vowed to be an exemplary son and never wander outside again.
'I'd just suffer anyway.'
—What about the world?
'Don't know.'
—Exemplary son indeed.
'No sarcasm. You're right.'
—Hit me!
The journey was smooth.
It wasn't far—a few days' walk from the sect. Close enough to touch. Yet ten years had passed without a visit.
'Yujin must've missed her parents too.'
No matter the age, kids were kids to their parents. After marriage and kids, longing for one's own parents only grew. Harsh words from back then had hurt, but ten years changed rivers and mountains.
“Not cold?”
“Not one bit.”
“My daughter's tough.”
“Duh. Whose daughter am I?”
“True, mine.”
Mijoo sat beside Mujin, who drove the carriage. Early winter after autumn's end. It might chill the kids. He'd wanted them inside to avoid colds, but couldn't crush his daughter's wishes. She wanted to soak in this rare new world.
“Getting chilly. Inside?”
“Daddy, I have to see.”
“See what?”
“Come on, Dad. When you pass remote mountain paths, people in peril or bandits always show up.”
Eh?
Wasn't this about seeing a new world?
He suddenly wondered if this was really his daughter. But such adorable imagination—she must read a lot of novels. The world was harsh, but perils and bandits didn't pop up constantly. No one could live in such a world.
'We avoid trouble spots.'
Mujin kept his senses open while driving, scanning surroundings. Unintended incidents? Best not to interfere.
Even in fights, distinguishing good from evil was tricky. Any involvement bred karma, potentially troublesome grudges later.
'Gratitude? Bullshit.'
Some might repay favors, but dodging a backstab was lucky enough. Better to avoid ties altogether.
Flimsy justice could endanger not just himself but everyone around. One absolute powerhouse might sway the world, but perfectly shielding his circle? Tough.
'Best to steer clear.'
—Not very War King-like. You stirred trouble everywhere back then. Don't deny it—I know your past. Want me to recite it?
'Butt out.'
—Avoiding won't work. You're a walking disaster.
'Talk fate again and you're done.'
—You're no mere needle in a pouch—you're a royal greatsword in one.
'Enough slander.'