Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 94
>Chapter Title: Master (3)
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“I said I was hungry?”
The old man, stroking his belly with a puzzled look on his face, nodded.
“Now that I think about it, my stomach does feel empty. Heh heh heh. A meal prepared by my disciple. How I've missed it.”
Il-mok hurriedly headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, fearing the old man might suddenly ask again, ‘Who are you?’ like a broken record.
He found a space set aside in one corner of the pavilion, lit a fire, and used the available ingredients to set the table.
‘Is this the food left behind by those martial artists who come periodically?’
It made him wonder if staying here might actually be the better option. After all, the martial artists who came to drop off food might discover him.
Thanks to the prepared supplies, Il-mok quickly finished setting the table and carried it over to the old man.
“Who are you to prepare a meal for me? You bastard! You must have poisoned the food!”
As expected, the old man flew into a fit. Il-mok barely suppressed a sigh and repeated the same words.
“Your disciple Yeong-jin, Master. If you're worried, I'll eat some first. Please join me.”
In the end, Il-mok took a bite with his chopsticks first. Then he scooped up more food with another pair and fed it to the old man.
But finishing the meal didn't mean everything was over.
‘This is going to bug me to no end.’
He had just practiced the follow-up forms of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, leaving his body drenched in sweat again.
“Hmm. It looks like you need to wash up.”
The old man, suffering from the same obsession with cleanliness, frowned at Il-mok's state and stood up.
Then, astonishingly, he fetched a bar of soap and returned.
‘Did those martial artists leave it? Or did he make it himself because of his hygiene compulsion?’
Even if the martial artists had provided it, most people with dementia wouldn't think to wash themselves.
Yet this old man kept his clothes and home impeccably neat and tidy, nothing like a dementia patient.
It seemed even amid his dementia, he was acting on his compulsions.
‘Tch….’
Il-mok clicked his tongue inwardly, feeling a pang of sympathy for their shared plight.
“Then, as your disciple, I'll prepare the bathwater.”
There was a jar of water in the kitchen corner, so Il-mok carried it out, scooped handfuls with a ladle, poured it over himself, and scrubbed with the soap.
After washing himself completely, Il-mok approached the old man.
“Master. Let me wash you.”
“Heh heh heh. It's been so long.”
Il-mok splashed water on the visibly delighted old man and soaped him up, turning his head away to hide his pitiful expression.
* * *
The next dawn.
Il-mok, who had bathed and fallen into a refreshed sleep, woke up in a panic.
“Who are you!! Who are you to sleep beside this old man!”
It was because of the sudden shout from right next to him.
Il-mok, his memories jumbled in his half-asleep daze, finally snapped to attention and yelled.
“Master! Your disciple Yeong-jin!”
“Yeong-jin?”
The old man, lost in thought as if recalling a memory, spoke.
“Come to think of it, you came to learn the sword! Haha. Good. Let's go outside then.”
“…Haa.”
Il-mok turned his head to hide his grimace and sighed, then sluggishly got up.
How long had it been since he started dancing with his sword at the crack of dawn, receiving the follow-up forms from his new master?
“You look hungry, so it must be mealtime.”
At the old man's words, Il-mok let out a sigh of relief and said.
“I'll prepare breakfast, Master.”
“Heh heh heh. Get it together, disciple. It's dinner.”
“Yes?”
“The sky is turning sunset colors. Isn't it dinnertime?”
“…….”
Knowing it was pointless to argue, Il-mok just shrugged it off and headed to the kitchen.
The kitchen was stocked with easy-to-store, simple foods like jerky, hardtacks, dried vegetables, and rice.
Like yesterday, Il-mok lit the fire, drew water from the jar, simmered jerky and vegetables into a broth, added a bit of rice, and made something like porridge.
Right after finishing breakfast with the old man.
To avoid more training, Il-mok came up with an excuse.
“Master, now that training's done, I'd like to wash up, but we're out of water.”
“Heh heh heh. Water. No need to worry. There's a stream nearby. Hmm? Was there a stream?”
The old man led the way with an ominous mutter, and Il-mok followed, carrying the water jar and soap.
‘Even if he gets lost, it should just waste some time, so no big deal.’
The jar was heavy, but with internal energy, lifting it wasn't hard.
About half an hour into their trek to the stream.
An unfamiliar old woman emerged from the bushes, tilting her head.
“Where am I, and who am I?”
The disoriented old woman stared at Il-mok and the old man with trembling, anxious eyes for a moment.
“Wh-where is this!!!?”
She flew into a frenzy, swinging her arms wildly, and sharp bursts of hand qi shot out from her fingernails, slashing everywhere.
‘Fuck!?’
As Il-mok was about to curse at the sharp energies flying toward him.
Clang!
The old man had drawn his sword and casually deflected them all.
They endured the rampaging old woman's fit for a while.
“Hmm? Oh! I was on my way home.”
Suddenly calm, she walked past Il-mok and the old man as if nothing had happened, heading somewhere.
‘…This place is a fucking Demon Subduing Hall all on its own.’
Il-mok felt cold sweat trickling down his back.
But the old man, who had blocked the old woman's rampage right in front of him, said calmly as if it were nothing.
“Oh! Right, we were heading to the stream. Let's go.”
“…I'll take the lead, Master.”
Il-mok, who had planned to kill time by pretending to search for the stream, changed his mind.
He realized this Dementia Ridge was a bizarre place where wandering around aimlessly led to clashes with deranged old monsters.
‘No. If you run into strangers because you've lost your memory, shouldn't you talk it out first? Even with dementia.’
Goddamn Demonic Cult.
These old monsters still relied on brute force out of habit, even in their dementia.
Remembering the path from yesterday, Il-mok easily led the old man to the stream.
“Hyup.”
Using internal energy, Il-mok filled the jar to the brim and said to the old man.
“Since we're here, let's bathe first, Master.”
While Il-mok was bathing with the old man using the soap he brought.
“Who are you lot!”
Another wild old monster appeared.
The new old monster and Il-mok's master exchanged blows for a while.
“Hmm? Y-you're Brother Kang, aren't you?”
The old monster swinging his saber repeatedly at Il-mok's master suddenly widened his eyes and greeted him like an old acquaintance.
“Heh heh heh. It's been ages.”
Only then did Il-mok's master recognize him and exchange greetings.
Watching the whole scene, Il-mok was convinced.
‘…Getting picked up by that old Kang guy was sheer luck.’
If he had kept wandering Dementia Ridge alone, he probably would've been dead by last night or this morning at the latest.
It wasn't just because the old man mistook him for a disciple.
From observing the fights between these old monsters, this old man seemed among the strongest in Dementia Ridge.
Perhaps because trust in the old man had grown.
Il-mok finally had the leisure to look around calmly, and that's when he understood why this place was truly called Peach Blossom Ridge.
‘Beautiful.’
Despite the constant chaos from the old monsters' fights, the trees and flowers blended stunningly, with peach trees and other fruit-bearing ones everywhere.
‘…Maybe they confined the old monsters here because of those fruit trees.’
Hoping that the lost wanderers would at least survive by picking and eating the fruit.
As Il-mok walked home with the old man, admiring the scenery.
“How dare you invade the Divine Cult's territory!”
A wild old monster appeared.
* * *
Similar incidents kept repeating after that.
Il-mok barely made it back to the old man's dwelling with him.
“Oh! Right, you came to train in the sword?”
Strangely, the old man perfectly remembered that he had to train Il-mok.
‘Damn it! Why that!?’
Il-mok inevitably suffered through the follow-up forms of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword.
When the old man got hungry, he'd prepare meals, and after sweating, they'd fetch water in the jar and bathe together.
“Who are you!?”
Of course, reintroductions happened constantly as routine.
That's how Il-mok spent his ordinary second day, and into the next dawn.
A new figure appeared at the entrance to Dementia Ridge.
It was the Heavenly Demon and the Lord of the Silver Wing Pavilion, come to find Il-mok.
The mountain's beauty, worthy of its true name Peach Blossom Ridge, left them unmoved as they swiftly ascended.
“Who are you!”
An old man who had completely lost his memory blocked the Heavenly Demon's path, but no fight broke out.
The moment they encountered him, a terrifying demonic qi began emanating from the Heavenly Demon's body.
No matter the dementia, or rather because of it, the most primal memories and deeply ingrained habits remained.
Just as these old monsters could still unleash the martial arts they'd trained their whole lives.
In the same vein, every old monster here had devoted decades to the Divine Cult as faithful believers.
“I pay respects to the Lord of Ten Thousand Demons!!”
Feeling the sticky demonic qi unique to the Heavenly Demon Divine Art pouring from his body, the old man prostrated himself and shouted.
The Heavenly Demon gazed pityingly at the poor devotee bowing to him for a moment, then continued on. Finding his youngest disciple came first.
He wandered the mountain, unleashing the terrifying demonic qi of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art every time he ran into the locals.
Following traces of human passage, the Heavenly Demon detected a familiar presence from afar.
‘You're alive after all, my disciple!’
Given Il-mok's level, surviving in Dementia Ridge seemed impossible.
Even coming here, the Heavenly Demon had assumed it would just be retrieving his young disciple's body.
But he had a hunch.
Though still young and unskilled, that child somehow seemed like he could survive this forbidden zone.
Perhaps from watching him over the past year. The boy had not only talent in martial arts but maturity beyond his years.
And the Heavenly Demon's hunch was spot on. He sensed his living disciple's presence.
However, upon detecting Il-mok's presence, the Heavenly Demon's expression wasn't purely joyful.
‘He's executing the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword!’
At his lofty realm, the Heavenly Demon discerned from the distant presence alone that Il-mok was practicing a technique.
Thus, he unleashed his lightness skill, tearing through the underbrush at tremendous speed toward the presence.
‘Just hold on a little longer, disciple!’
Closing the distance in an instant like the Shrinking Earth Technique, the Heavenly Demon reached the spot and spotted the pavilion, his eyes widening.
“!!!”
Il-mok wasn't fighting an elder. He was simply swinging his sword, practicing the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword.
But it wasn't Il-mok's diligent training in such a dangerous place that moved him to widen his eyes.
“Hey! Twist your waist more! That'll hinder the next move! Don't force it to stop—use the momentum!”
For some reason, a certain old man familiar to the Heavenly Demon was barking orders at Il-mok.
“Yes, Master!”
His own disciple Il-mok was calling that old man ‘Master.’
‘What in the…?’
The Heavenly Demon, who had rushed here out of worry for his youngest disciple, felt like his cognition was shattering.