Chapter 205: Please Grant Me Permission

TL: FoodieMonster007

Go Wol worked in his room.

He drew up a budget, deciding how to use the funds from the Miracle Deity Loan. He calculated, organized, and planned. The work was endless.

Just then, the person who made this hardship easier rushed in.

"The Second Young Lord and the Fist Demon are returning to the cult," the Heavenly Wind Cult Leader announced.

Go Wol's brush paused for a moment, then started moving again.

"When?"

"It seems they're planning to leave right now."

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader watched Go Wol focus only on his work. "The Second Young Lord is leaving. Aren't you sad?" he asked.

"Sad? He's a busy man. When it's time to go, he has to go."

"I'm going with them."

Go Wol remained engrossed in his work.

"I'm really going! I'm not kidding!"

"If the Cult Leader goes, I'll return with you."

He had only said it mischievously because Go Wol was only working, but Go Wol's reaction was unexpected. He really meant it.

"Really?"

"Yes. If the Cult Leader goes, I go too. I won't do this alone."

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader smiled.

"Even if you don't mean it, it feels good to hear. Alright, where would we go? We have to finish the work."

"I'm telling you, let's go."

"It's fine. I've already been there and back."

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader was the type of man who would fly to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult and back at a single word from Go Wol.

"Besides, it'll be chaotic if we go back now."

"……"

"The Second Young Lord says he's going to kill the second-in-command of the Evil Alliance."

Go Wol flinched. Of all the news the Heavenly Wind Cult Leader had delivered, this was the most shocking.

"Yayul Han?"

"Yes, that bastard!"

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader knew about Yayul Han. He had even met him in the past.

"Even for the Second Young Lord, that guy won't be easy."

Go Wol had never met Yayul Han personally. He knew from rumors that Yayul Han was not a foe to be taken lightly, but that was not the problem.

"The Cult Leader will never allow it anyway."

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader recalled what Geom Mugeuk had said earlier about his demonic path and his attitude toward evil.

"When the Second Young Lord becomes the Heavenly Demon… he's going to change a lot."

Go Wol paused his brushstrokes for a moment. "Hasn't he already changed a lot?"

And they themselves stood at the center of that change.

Just then, Geom Mugeuk entered.

"It seems you've already delivered the news that our Cult Leader is leaving. I think we should be on our way."

"Please travel safely," Go Wol said.

"I'm leaving you behind to suffer again."

"There isn't much work left. I'll finish it up well and return."

"What about the funds?"

"I think I can finish up with the money collected from the Miracle Deity Loan."

"That's good. Let's keep in touch via messenger pigeon."

"Yes. Please take care, Young Lord. Ah, and you can use the completed regional information network anytime."

Geom Mugeuk felt reassured just hearing those words. If the information networks of the All-Knowing Hall and Go Wol were combined, he would become the person who could get the most information the fastest in the murim.

"Have you thought of a name for this intelligence organization?" Geom Mugeuk asked.

"Please decide, Young Lord."

"I'd like to name it the Hidden Moon, after your name. What do you think?"

Go Wol's eyes wavered. He was grateful for Geom Mugeuk's consideration.

"I like it very much. Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you. I'm sorry for entrusting you with such a difficult task from the very beginning."

"On the contrary, I'm grateful that you entrusted me with such a heavy responsibility from the start."

While Geom Mugeuk and Go Wol said their goodbyes, the Heavenly Wind Cult Leader and the Fist Demon also shared a brief farewell.

The Heavenly Wind Cult Leader greeted the Fist Demon first.

"It was good to see you this time."

"I didn't know you were so dedicated to my disciple, Cult Leader. I thank you."

In truth, the Heavenly Wind Cult Leader was not close to any of the Demon Supremes. He had been somewhat close to the Demonic Buddha, but their relationship had soured. He had a chance to get closer to the Fist Demon this time but had been too reserved to have any deep conversations.

"Let's have a drink next time we get the chance," the Heavenly Wind Cult Leader said sincerely.

"Hey, Second Young Lord. You absolutely have to get that permission."

This, too, was sincere.

The Fist Demon and I ran using movement arts.

We had taken our time on the way here, enjoying ourselves, but on the way back, we dashed forward at a frightening speed. We ran without rest until it grew dark, covering a distance that had taken several days in just half a day.

"Let's camp here for tonight. Please sit down for a moment."

I skillfully cleared the area. I spread out leaves to make a comfortable place for the Fist Demon to rest.

I was grateful to him. I had never imagined he would permit this. Considering his relationship with Father, he should have been the most opposed, but he had prioritized his relationship with me instead.

While the Fist Demon circulated his qi with his eyes closed, I built a campfire in front of him.

I caught some game and cooked it. I had stopped by an inn before we left and bought seasonings, so I was able to serve him a rather delicious meal.

"You brought seasonings too?"

"Of course. This is the most important thing when traveling a long way. How does it taste?"

"It's delicious."

"Do you know whose recipe this seasoning is?"

"It tastes like what the Cult Leader used to make."

I was startled by his words.

"You've had Father's cooking?"

"I had it once or twice a long time ago. There was a time when the Cult Leader and I traveled around a lot. We fought a great deal back then."

For a moment, I imagined Father and the Fist Demon.

Two men, the Heavenly Demon and the Fist Demon.

An image of Father in his youth comes to mind. Next to him, I can see a young Fist Demon. The boy who fought in the fighting pits became the Fist Demon, and the young man who chose that boy became the Heavenly Demon.

I pictured the two most blunt, manly, and belligerent men in the murim roaming the jianghu. They would have feared no one and been intimidated by no one. Just as I fought back-to-back with the Extremely Evil Smiling Demon, those two must have also fought while relying on each other.

At night, they would have built a campfire like this, eaten meat, and drunk alcohol. They probably would have spoken very little.

Perhaps the Fist Demon was now reminiscing about his younger days during this camp with me.

"I have alcohol here, too."

I took out the alcohol I had brought and poured him a cup. Sharing a cup with the Fist Demon across the campfire had a certain charm.

"The return journey is always the more important part of a trip," the Fist Demon said.

"Why is that?"

"Do you know when a journey is finally complete? It's when you open the door to your room, think, 'Ah! I'm finally back!' and throw yourself onto your bed. So right now, we're running toward that final moment. This is even more important than the excitement of setting out."

The Fist Demon looked at me with a strange expression.

"How do you know that so well?"

Because my past life was a series of long journeys, and I had no room of my own to return to.

My room back then was the yard of the Ghostly Sage's house. I remember seeing his surprised face when I brought back the materials for the grand technique. I felt a brief moment of relief, thinking, Ah! I did it!

"This journey with you, Master, was wonderful."

I get along well with this straightforward and quiet man. I may be talkative, playful, cheerful, and loud now, but my original self was very similar to the Fist Demon.

"By the way, when you get back, you should start by reducing the time you spend participating in the Iron Fists' training."

The Fist Demon, perhaps intending to do just that, asked for specifics.

"Should I participate in just one each day? The White Fists today, the Green Fists tomorrow. Like that."

"No. Then you'd have to see them every day, wouldn't you, Master? Don't do that. Supervise all four groups in a day as you usually do, but only participate once every five days."

"Five days?"

"For the other four days, do whatever you want, Master. Make that time entirely your own."

"What about the late-night training sessions?"

"Do as you please with those. Come if you want to come, rest if you want to rest."

The Fist Demon nodded. This slacker's journey had changed the Fist Demon's life. I looked forward to the results of that change.

When day broke, we ran and ran again. When our inner arts ran low, we would sit together and circulate our qi to recover. We ran without pause and returned to the cult.

When I returned to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, Father was in the smithy.

Our Cult's smithy boasts the largest scale in the murim. Inside the massive smithy, hundreds of bare-chested men melted iron and hammered steel. The sweltering heat, the smell of sweat, and the scent of iron filled the air.

CLANG! KANG! CLAANG!

I had always found the sound of hammering steel pleasant. The perilous intensity of clashing swords was contained in that sound. That was why it always sounded so fiery.

The men who met my gaze bowed their heads. I gave them a light nod and walked through the place.

I could see Father in the distance. His presence was distinct even here, with so many people coming and going. He stood out like a single red dot in a picture where everyone else seemed to be in black and white.

Father stood with Chief Gwak, the head of the smithy, also called the Divine Hand. Chief Gwak showed Father a newly forged sword. Whenever he created a new weapon, he always sought Father's opinion before mass-producing it.

The two of them were so seriously examining the sword that I waited at a slight distance.

The man who wields a sword best in the world and the man who forges a sword best in the world shared their opinions. Could there be a more moving scene in this smithy?

If a newly forged sword like this was approved, it would be mass-produced to replace the swords of our Cult's martial artists. The smithy usually improves its swords about once every five to ten years. These improved swords are distributed to all our martial artists. Though they can use other swords, most use the ones from our smithy. The quality is just that good.

Just then, Father turned this way. Our eyes met. A short, simple, yet welcome greeting passed between our gazes, a silent exchange of 'You're here?' and 'Yes, I've returned.'

I greeted Father in a loud, resonant voice.

"Have you been well in my absence? Your son has completed his important mission in the Central Plains and has returned."

Father replied, "Important mission? I heard you went to slack off with the Fist Demon."

"I have no idea who could be spreading such disgraceful rumors."

Of course, it was me. Whenever I left for the Central Plains, I sent news of myself through the All-Knowing Hall. I had to cooperate with them to ensure their active help later.

Chief Gwak looked at us with a slightly surprised expression. The sight of Father and me conversing so comfortably must have been unexpected.

"Come here and look at the new sword."

I examined the sword Father handed me. After inspecting it closely, I shared my thoughts.

"It's a bit lighter than the previous sword, and the length is just a little longer."

A look of admiration flickered in Gwak's eyes. "It's a subtle difference, but you noticed."

"Of course. I've trained so much with the swords you've made, Elder."

"What do you think of it?"

"Lately, I've been doing more fist-fighting than swordsmanship, so I honestly don't know."

I laughed it off. I could have made a suggestion if I wanted to, but with Father present, there was no need.

Father conveyed his thoughts to Chief Gwak.

"I think it would be good if it were just a little lighter. The current length is perfect."

"I understand, Cult Leader."

Father's thoughts were the same as mine. He then pointed out something I had not even considered.

"Make the grain on the sword's hilt a little finer. It seems more slippery than before."

"I understand, Cult Leader."

"You've worked hard."

"I will contact you again when it's complete."

Father left the smithy. I bid farewell to Chief Gwak and followed him out. The men standing along Father's path all stopped their work and bowed. Their respect and fear for Father were like the scorching fire they handled.

"When did you arrive?" Father asked.

"I just got here."

"Where is the Fist Demon?"

"He'll arrive in about seven and a half minutes."

"Didn't you come together?"

"He suggested we have a movement arts race at the last minute."

After a brief pause, I spoke to Father.

"Um, I've become the Fist Demon's disciple."

Father's steps paused for a moment. I had told him about this in advance and even received his permission, but I felt tense for some reason.

I wonder what Father is truly feeling.

Is he displeased? Or indifferent? Or does he think it's a good thing?

No matter how hard I tried, it was truly difficult to know Father's heart. This matter certainly held some meaning for him, but he showed no emotion about it whatsoever.

"What about the fist techniques?"

"I've been taught the Thunder Arhat Fist up to the sixth fist."

"It seems that man still doesn't know how mischievous you are. He should have taught you the last two fists only after seeing how you progressed."

"Father. Martial arts are lost to history because Masters get needlessly petty like that."

We walked across the Grand Training Ground toward the Heavenly Demon Hall. Passing cult members bowed to Father.

"Father. I have a favor to ask. It's very important."

We stopped in the middle of the Grand Training Ground. I wanted to speak to him here in this open space, not in the Heavenly Demon Hall. This was a matter of the Central Plains, something outside our Cult.

"I want to kill Yayul Han of the Evil Alliance. Please grant me your permission."

He could have roared at me.

Instead, his signature sneer formed on his lips.

"Absolutely not!"

He even added 'absolutely' before 'not'. With that firm refusal, Father turned and walked away.

"I'm going to start working to get your permission now. That's what I wanted to tell you."

Father just walked away without a word. His back seemed to say it for him. That no matter what I did, he would not give his permission.

I had declared war on Father. From now on, I had to find a way to persuade him. Getting his permission would perhaps be even more difficult than killing Yayul Han.

In any case, watching Father's back as he walked toward the Heavenly Demon Hall, I felt like I had truly returned to the cult.

"Ah! It's good to be home!"

I had returned to my delightful home, where giant demon statues brandished swords and daos from all directions.