Chapter 450: The Father Who Was Once a Son

TL: FoodieMonster007

The carriage sped toward its destination.

Father sat with his eyes gently closed. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

Even with his eyes closed, he was so good at sensing a person's gaze.

"Because I like you."

Father's eyes fluttered open and he looked at me.

"I'm not joking. I'm not playing around, either. I really like you, Father."

"Because I sent that person a gift?"

"No, because you wrote that person a letter."

To my father, a single root of hundred-year-old snow ginseng was a trivial expense. A letter written by him, however, could not be valued in money. The crucial reason I was so moved was that he hadn't sent the gift just because I told him to.

After Lim Gye left, I had been pondering how to persuade my father to help. But before I could even say a word, my father wrote a letter, handed it to Hwi, and gave his order.

Have the Branch Manager deliver it personally along with a root of hundred-year-old snow ginseng.

How could I not be moved?

"You're the best, Father."

Father remained silent with his eyes closed, saying nothing.

The fact that he doesn't even take credit for it makes it even better!

And I could feel it. In this moment, hearing his son call him the best, my father was definitely pleased.

There was now an angle to my father's lips that only I could recognize. That subtle upward curve was proof that he was purely happy right now.

Then, my father suddenly remarked, "It's because of those people that our Cult has been sustained."

Yes, my father had his own demonic way.

I hope my father's feelings were conveyed well to them. I hope that Lim Gye's father has also become the best father, just like mine is now.

I stuck my head out the window. The blowing wind was so refreshing, and the sky seemed even bluer and clearer.

"The weather is really nice."

When I glanced back, my father was looking at the sky through the opposite window.

Father, how is it? Does the sky you see here feel different from the sky you saw from the Heavenly Demon Hall?

Just as the carriage moved completely away from the river it had been running alongside, my father spoke unexpectedly.

"On our way back, let's have another fishing competition at that river. This time, we'll both use the fishing rods you made."

I laughed out loud. It seemed he was determined to beat me in fishing, no matter what.

But I couldn't just let him win. How could I intentionally lose when my father is so perceptive? If I did that, he would get genuinely angry.

"Sounds good. A match is always three rounds."

A certain resolve formed on my father's lips. It was the resolve to win at all costs.

"Uncle Hwi, please stop here for a moment."

When the moving carriage came to a halt, I turned to my father. "Would you like to take a short walk?"

Father got out of the carriage without a word.

"There's a magnificent waterfall past that forest. Since we're passing by anyway, let's go see it."

Hwi waited to guard the carriage while my father and I walked into the forest together.

"When did you come here?"

"I discovered it by chance a long time ago."

It was a place I had visited before my regression. I remembered walking this path alone on a snow-covered road.

Now, I was walking that same path with my father, lush with green and filled with the chirping of birds.

Father walked without a word, but the expression on his face seemed relaxed as he looked around. I also walked quietly with him, lost in thought. The more time I spent with my father, the less awkward the silence became.

At the end of the beautiful forest path was a waterfall. The cascade poured down like silver threads, a refreshing sight for anyone who saw it.

SWOOOOOSH.

Father stared at the waterfall in silence.

When was the last time he had left the Cult to see a waterfall like this? It must have been a very long time ago.

"This is nice."

That one phrase was enough for me to know he was truly satisfied.

"Father."

"What is it?"

"What was it like with Grandfather?"

Father looked at me, as if the question was sudden.

"I'm curious about what you were like as a son."

Father's gaze returned to the waterfall.

"I feel like there would be much to learn from the father who was once a son."

I didn't know much about how my father got along with my grandfather.

After a long silence, my father said something unexpected. "There are times I feel regret when I look at you."

I looked at my father. He didn't explain what he meant, but I knew it meant I was doing well.

We stood there silently for a long time, watching the waterfall, before walking back the way we came.

I had stopped the carriage once. After traveling for about half a day, it was my father's turn to stop it.

"If you find a secluded spot, stop for a moment."

Hwi stopped the carriage in a deserted area.

"Get out."

I followed my father out of the carriage. Another thing I had been looking forward to on this trip flowed from my father's lips.

"How far have you mastered the Nine Calamities Demonic Art?"

He was saying he would bestow his teachings on the Nine Calamities Demonic Art. I was so happy I could fly.

A single word from my father would be more helpful than a hundred days of training.

As soon as the Nine Calamities Demonic Art was mentioned, the quick-witted Hwi vanished into hiding. He had to vacate the area during the transmission of the art, so he had gone to a distance to keep watch.

"I have mastered up to the Fifth Technique, but the Fifth Technique is still unstable."

"Perform up to the fourth form."

In front of my father, I consecutively performed the Nine Calamities Demonic Art from the First to the Fourth Technique.

A flicker of interest crossed my father's eyes as he watched.

He likely hadn't expected my training through the Heavenly Space Secret Art to have deepened this much. At times like this, I was so glad I had the Heavenly Martial Body. It would explain away my incomprehensibly fast achievements.

However, what my father focused on was not just the depth of my achievement. The part he paid more attention to was that it was different.

My Nine Calamities Demonic Art and my father's Nine Calamities Demonic Art are different.

Just looking at the demonic spirits proved it. They were completely different from my father's, not just in appearance but also in the feeling and look of them as they appeared and disappeared.

Of course, that didn't mean I could guarantee my demonic spirits were stronger than my father's.

This difference maintained the tension between my father and me. It was likely the driving force that drew my already perfected father back to the training grounds.

"There are times when you must use the Fifth Technique, despite its extreme inner qi consumption. Do you know when that is?"

"I believe it's when allies and enemies are mixed together."

Father nodded. "Yes, that's right. It's for when you must kill only the enemies precisely. That's why accuracy is vital for the fifth form."

An inaccurate Fifth Technique would be like a disaster falling from the sky.

"Now, try performing it."

I drew the Black Demon Sword and stepped forward.

"Assume that enemies are lined up every five paces, centered thirty paces directly in front of you."

I pictured the enemies just as my father described. Ten masters were lined up before me.

Kill them all in a single strike!

After composing myself for a moment, I unleashed the Fifth Technique, the Soul Slicing Demonic Strike.

SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH!

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!

The strikes landed roughly in the spots I had imagined, but they weren't precise. Even from a distance, my father accurately assessed the result.

"Your accuracy is still lacking, and the depth is also inconsistent. The sixth and eighth are shallow, and the second and third are too deep."

Even looking up close, there were only black holes in the ground, yet my father had pinpointed it accurately from afar. He had noticed every single difference even though ten streams of sword qi had fallen simultaneously.

Father gave me a lecture on the Fifth Technique. When it came to this art, his lectures gave me absolute enlightenment and learning.

His teachings were specific. I knew better than anyone how difficult the Nine Calamities Demonic Art was to learn.

But my father's explanation was simple. It was a specific and simple explanation that only someone who has reached a high state can give.

Only a true master can explain things simply. Father proved this immutable truth to me.

Of course, hidden within that simplicity was the profound logic of martial arts. Someone who didn't know that logic would be skeptical, thinking, Is this all there is? It's this easy? In the end, it would become a fleeting cloud for him.

Father explained simply and specifically, and I asked specifically. Whenever I had a question, I asked it then and there. Asking and answering. That was our level.

"Now, perform it again!"

This time too, my father designated the spots where the strikes should land.

Ten streams of sword qi fell vertically once more.

"Better than before, but still a long way to go."

Father explained again. It wasn't a training style where he would throw me something to chew on and realize on my own. That kind of deep thought is for you to do on your own. What I teach is, to the last, the specific parts!

It was as if this training session was like a master at a martial arts academy teaching a trainee. It was also different from when he had taught me before. It was simpler and more specific.

Because of that, I could tell.

Father has also grown in that time.

Perhaps it was something I could feel because I had grown. The current father was definitely stronger than the father from when I first regressed.

"Now, perform it again."

This time, my father walked right over to where the sword qi was supposed to fall. He looked at me from there and asked, "There is a hostage here. There are five enemies in total."

Father shot out finger qi bullets to designate their positions. The hostage and the enemies were practically touching.

"Now, save them."

"I thought you would be standing in the hostage's spot, Father."

"Why would I?"

"Isn't that what usually happens? I trust you. So I'll stand in the hostage's spot. If you make a mistake, I die."

Father stated firmly, "Why would I trust you?"

With that, he actually took a few more steps back.

I knew he wasn't joking but was being serious, so a laugh escaped me.

I composed myself and pictured the situation. The ones surrounding the hostage weren't just any martial artists. I pictured true masters surrounding the hostage, swords held to their throats.

There was only one chance.

SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH SHWISH!

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!

And then my father announced the result. "The enemies are all dead."

Just as I was about to let out a cheer!

"The hostage is also dead."

I ran to where the hostage had been standing. Just as my father had said, a stream of sword qi had fallen there too. Not five streams, but six had fallen. It was a mistake born from my lack of familiarity with controlling the number of sword qi streams.

Looking down at the hole where the hostage had been, I mourned. "Daeryong, I'm sorry."

I smiled, picturing Seo Daeryong protesting, Why me? I can't just kill Lee Ahn, can I? There's the left-arm, General Jang, isn't there? I'm the right arm! His voice naturally came to mind.

"Still, it's better than before."

Just as I had felt it, my father also clearly felt that things were different from when he had learned the Nine Calamities Demonic Art in the past. We were growing together.

"Of course, who's the one teaching me?"

We got back on the carriage.

"There's an inn in the town we'll arrive at later with a skillful cook. It's a place I really wanted to take you, Father. Since I couldn't save the hostage, I'll buy!"

Ju Hyangwol had been having nightmares for the past few days. Today's appointment was what had been pressuring her, a woman who rarely dreamed.

"Young Lady, it is time to prepare."

The maids entered with splendid and beautiful clothes, but Ju Hyangwol took out a clean martial arts uniform from the closet.

"I'm going to wear this."

"The Patriarch insisted that you wear these clothes."

When Ju Hyangwol stared coldly at the maids, they bowed their heads. She had to do this, or they wouldn't back down.

"Mother probably knows I'll be going out in my martial arts uniform. So you don't have to worry about getting scolded."

Just then, a woman's voice came from outside. "That's why I came myself."

The woman who opened the door and entered was Ju Hyangwol's mother and the Patriarch of the Ju Swordsmanship Family, Lim Sohwa.

"Go wearing those clothes."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

Ju Hyangwol stared intently at her mother.

Was she asking because she really didn't know? Or was she pretending not to know?

"Don't you know how important today's meeting with Young Lord Hwang is?"

Don't you know what you're saying right now, Mother? What does that fancy dress have to do with today's meeting?

The words rose to Ju Hyangwol's throat. Do you really want to sell your daughter to them?

But she couldn't bring herself to say it. They were words she would regret after spitting them out.

Five years ago, after her father passed away, the Ju Swordsmanship Family's fortunes rapidly declined. Her mother became the Patriarch, but she couldn't fill her father's shoes. This choice had been a mistake. She should have entrusted the position to someone who could do better.

Eventually, the martial artists of the swordsmanship family left one by one. Now, only those who had respected her father remained, struggling to carry on the family's name.

In the midst of this, the recently successful Yellow Road Trading Company proposed to join hands with the Ju Swordsmanship Family. Today was the day of that negotiation.

And her mother knew. She knew that Young Lord Hwang, who was coming to negotiate today, had a favorable impression of her daughter. He had chosen her as his negotiation partner. Her mother's choice was that splendid dress.

In a situation like this, if you had told me to wear the martial arts uniform, I would have worn this fancy dress. How can you not even know that and hurt me so clumsily!

She was prepared to hurt her mother. But even though her mother had brought this upon herself, she would be surprised, hurt, and call for her dead husband.

The thought of such a scene kept her from speaking.

With such a complicated heart, she arrived at the inn, the meeting place. A dispute was unfolding at the entrance between the martial artists of the Yellow Road Trading Company and a young man.

"Why on earth can't I go in? I absolutely have to go in today!"