Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Changes (4)
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"What do you plan to do from now on?"
"I'll spend time with my wife and kids, traveling around. Life's too short as it is."
"Is that something you say to your father?"
"I'm happy that you're healthy, Father."
"Sounds like you're telling me to keep working hard."
"You'll live another thirty years easy, right?"
"I said you were doing well, but there's no end to it. You insolent brat, get out."
"Muho will do well."
Leaving those words behind, Mujin left the meeting hall.
When he stepped outside, his wife was waiting. They'd discussed it, but it would be a lie to say there was no resentment. Still, she approached and gently took his hand. There was a quiet strength in her that differed from the ideal woman of this era.
She's my woman, but damn, she's feisty.
"I'll provide for you."
"Leave the cooking and laundry to me. You just focus on the outside work."
"I'm fine."
"I'm not. Let's do it together."
It was a husband's duty to handle the housework when his wife was out earning. He wanted to learn bit by bit from now on. Working outside wasn't always great anyway. Dealing with people was exhausting.
"Pretty upset, huh?"
"Actually, I'm glad. It wasn't your thing anyway. You weren't even good at it. Honestly, you got too cocky because you trusted me."
"Don't say it so bluntly... Nah, you're right."
The more he looked at her, the prettier she seemed, always doing the cutest things. To think he'd wandered outside with a woman like this. Even rethinking it, it was stupid. He must have been possessed or out of his mind back then.
Can't let a good day like this pass without something special.
-The body's certainly tempting.
'Shut up.'
Ruining the mood like that.
Can't read the room, dead or alive.
Should I kill you again?
-That'd be mutual destruction.
The Pine Tiger Sect had made a major decision in changing its successor, yet yesterday, today, and tomorrow felt no different. It didn't disrupt daily life or bring any upheaval. It was truly a peaceful transition of power.
That was how faint Mujin's presence had been.
His absence barely registered—no impact, just a brighter atmosphere. With the seed of discord removed, the sect dreamed of a brighter future.
Everyone returned to their roles, and Mujin found his own tasks.
In Cheongyang, a mountain ridge extended from Jiuhua Mountain, called Songu Mountain. They'd long sourced the sect's timber from there.
Every morning, Mujin headed out, returning with a full load on his back.
There was a cute, disapproving gaze watching him. The more she saw, the more she wanted to bite him.
With that small face and distinct features, she took after him well. People should live according to their looks, but he'd lived too wildly.
"Dad's not a woodcutter."
"Does our Taejin hate that Dad's a woodcutter?"
She acted mature in front of her little brother, but she was still young. She didn't want to accept her dad as a woodcutter. The Pine Tiger Sect was a sect of warriors. She wished he'd show his prowess as one.
"Yeah, I hate it."
"I like Dad."
"What's good about a woodcutter?"
"Better than playing around. Should he just sit idle?"
"That's worse!"
Since his uncle became successor and took over the sect, energy had returned. Everyone was pleased. But Taejin, the only one unhappy in the sect, felt hurt inside.
He didn't hate his uncle, but he'd taken Dad's place. Sure, Dad caused trouble, got scammed out of money, and acted rowdy... but still. Deep down, even if he was sorely lacking and treated like human trash in the sect.
Dad was Dad.
"I was gonna sell the wood and buy something Taejin likes, but maybe I should stop."
"Dad, I want meat!"
"Aigoo, our Mijoo. Dad'll sell lots of wood and get you lots of meat."
I'll spoil her with all kinds of sweets too.
"Yeah, Dad!"
He said he'd raise his son and daughter equally, but he favored Mijoo. No matter how hard Taejin tried to act mature, he was still just a kid. He reached out for a hug, then got embarrassed and pouted.
Hmph!
I hate Dad!
He scampered off, and Mijoo waddled after him. The siblings were inseparably close, like magnets. Wherever Taejin went, Mijoo toddled right behind. It could get annoying, but Taejin played with her well.
After finishing his morning work, Mujin ate with his wife and basked in the lazy afternoon sun. Sitting on the eaves, he savored this peaceful, boring time he'd missed. Leaving home really was hell.
-You really live without a thought.
'Does life need a plan?'
-Aren't you afraid of the Demonic Cult of the Demon God?
'I'm the War King. I can take it slow.'
-Your confidence is unmatched under heaven.
'I was the best of my era.'
Seemingly frustrated, Cheon-gyeong pried open his mouth, only to spout nonsense. Those small fries—how strong could they be?
-You're serious.
'Of course.'
Their duel had raged for three days and nights. Purely in terms of martial prowess, the difference was subtle, about half a step. But if they fought again, Mujin was confident he'd end it in a day. Next time, in six breaths; after that, ten seconds.
How so confident?
Because the opponent wouldn't sit idle.
True enough.
That was the terror of Armed Combat.
The more you fought, the more it evolved. Unlike mere enlightenment raising inner power, it honed hyper-sensory martial arts through brutal combat instincts. Once you'd clashed with a technique, you stripped away its core essence. Even if they improved, without overcoming weaknesses, the outcome stayed the same.
Besides, the War King Art wasn't even complete.
With just the seventh stage, he'd subdued Cheon-gyeong. At eighth or ninth, no one would stand a chance. Demon Cult or their grandpa—it wouldn't matter.
-Twenty years won't feel long.
'Won't be short either.'
Considering when he'd seriously started training, it was ridiculously late—twenty years old, when blockages had built up and stagnated. Yet he'd dominated battlefields. A late bloomer, really.
'And I'm progressing fast.'
-Don't forget it's thanks to me.
'Bragging now?'
-If you get it, open the passage. I want to see too.
'Shut up! What do you wanna see?'
-Don't misunderstand. I want to see the sky.
'Hilarious. As if that bullshit flies.'
This Demon King bastard was downright lecherous. A final boss should act dignified. He made actual lust demons look pure.
-Back in my day, I was quite the catch. You know that.
'Forced them and locked them up—now you say that?'
-Plenty came willingly.
'You took hostages.'
-Misunderstanding.
'What misunderstanding? Straw man like you did it all.'
-Everyone lives like that. Can't just fight all the time.
'You're not human.'
The Demon King probably didn't order it himself. Still, resentment lingered. The Demonic Cult of the Demon God was a fanatic group worshiping blood. Far from humane. In that light, the Demon King's tastes weren't so bad. Bred in harsh conditions, normal life was impossible.
-Those guys truly deserved the name Demon God worshippers.
'I know, how many times you gonna say it?'
-A hundred times isn't enough.
'I'm calculated too. Don't worry.'
Don't think he's idling away time post-regression. The War King Art had already surpassed the third stage. Rapid progress in little time.
But its true terror lay not in inner power, but in tempered mind and body. Senses maximized for offense and defense even in extremes.
Using woodcutting as an excuse, Mujin trained mornings in the mountains. Familiar paths wasted no time.
'You just keep circulating energy.'
-Fine.
Mujin circulated effortlessly even at rest. Cheon-gyeong ran demonic arts to aid the War King Art. With control delegated, no need for direct effort. So he sat, building power.
That explained the accelerating growth.
'By the way, your current self exists now too, right?'
-Probably.
'What happens if we meet?'
-No idea.
'You do.'
-I have plans.
'Ho, no tricks then?'
-Might be tough alone. I repay debts.
Mujin trusted Cheon-gyeong a bit.
Three days of combat revealed his nature. If betrayal was the plan, no need for complications.
He could guess the target, and hoped for success. No pressing need for personal revenge. Holding grudges against unseen foes was odder.
'Things are on track. Time to show a bit.'
-The trick's cost is on you, not me.
'Handling it alone is arrogance.'
-Yet you rampaged solo.
'Old story.'
-By time, now's the past.
Mujin lounged on the eaves till his wife returned, then headed to the kitchen. He skinned and bled the rabbits from the mountain. As War King, he'd lived solo, mastering basic wilderness cooking.
Long alone-time honed his skills. Roasting was optimized.
Seasoned to avoid gaminess, he grilled to golden perfection. Timing it, it'd be ready when she got back.
"We'll do it."
"It's fine. You know I can."
Jeonchil, who'd come with Yujin to the sect, and his wife Gongjin fidgeted watching Mujin cook. Cooking and firewood were their jobs. Less work was nice, but unsettling.
"Not every day. Rest a bit."
"Then just a little."
They worried he'd mess up, but it was unfounded. Rabbit prep and seasoning showed years of practice.
"Made plenty—take some home."
"Thank you, sir."
He'd caught ten mountain rabbits.
Rabbit was tricky; poor handling brought fishiness. But twenty years as a bachelor loner gave him secrets.
"Smells good."
"Right? Cooking's one thing I'm good at."
Jeonchil and Gongjin nodded at their master's skill. Never dirtied his hands, yet knife work like a pro. Martial artists cooked well, apparently.
Especially the cuts on meat—precise along the grain, swift. Like a lifelong chef.
Sizzle!
The meat browned beautifully.
Evening, the family gathered. Yujin couldn't help marveling at her husband's cooking.
But better was being together. She'd hidden her reluctance to leave, but he'd always wandered. Now, he stayed home.
"You worked hard."
"What did I do?"
"Outside work's tough."
"You too."
"Me? Lounging at home."
Cleaning, laundry, cooking.
Piece of cake.
Time dragged instead.
Meanwhile, his wife managed the sect's finances, head in hands. Tougher than it looked. Not just desk-sitting.
Budget strictly enforced. Shortfalls snowballed problems. She bore a major pillar.
His wife was an exceptional treasurer.
Raised in a merchant group, her math was precise and swift. Decisive too—underestimate her, and you'd regret it. Every item in or out needed her approval.