The carriage was racing toward the place it needed to go.
Father spoke to me with his eyes firmly closed.
"Why do you look at me so?"
How was it that he sensed people's gazes so keenly even with his eyes closed?
"Because I like you."
Father cracked his eyes open slightly and looked at me.
"I am not joking. I am not teasing, either. I just like you too much, Father."
"Because I sent that person a gift?"
"No, because you wrote him a letter."
To Father, a single root of Hundred-Year Snow Ginseng was merely pocket change.
But the letter written by his own hand was beyond monetary value.
What moved me most was that he had not sent the gift because I told him to.
After Im Gye left, I had worried about how to persuade Father to help him. But before I could say anything, Father wrote a letter and handed it to Hwi, saying:
"Deliver this with one root of Hundred-Year Snow Ginseng, and have Branch Leader Ji hand it over personally."
How could I not have been moved?
"You are the best, Father."
Father remained silent, his eyes closed, saying nothing.
Not even taking credit for it—doesn't that make you even greater!
And I could feel it.
In this very moment, hearing his son call him the best, Father was surely happy.
There was a particular angle of Father's lips that only I could recognize now. That faint upward curve was proof that he was purely delighted.
Then Father suddenly spoke.
"It is because of those people that the main sect has endured."
Yes, Father too had his own demonic path.
I hoped Father's heart reached them well. I also hoped that Im Gye's father had become the best father, just like mine.
I poked my head out the window. Was it because the wind blowing in was refreshing? The sky was even bluer and clearer.
"The weather is truly fine."
When I glanced back, Father was looking at the sky through the opposite window.
Father, how is it? Does the sky here feel different from the one you saw at the Heavenly Demon Hall?
As the carriage, which had been running along the river, completely distanced itself from it, Father suddenly spoke.
"On the way back, let us have another fishing match at that river. This time, we will both use the fishing rod you made."
I laughed heartily. It seemed he wanted to beat me at fishing no matter what. But I could not let him win, either. With Father's perception, how could I lose on purpose? If I did, he would truly be furious.
"Very well. A match is always best of three, after all."
A certain resolve settled on Father's lips. It was the resolve to win at all costs.
* * *
"Uncle Hwi, please stop here for a moment."
When the running carriage stopped, I spoke to Father.
"Would you care to take a short walk?"
Without a second word, Father got down from the carriage.
"If we pass through that forest, there is a magnificent waterfall. Since we are passing by anyway, let us go see it."
Hwi waited to watch the carriage, and 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 the time I walked this path. I had walked that snow-covered road alone... but now I was walking that same road, lush with greenery, listening to the chirping of birds, together with Father.
Father walked without a word, but the expression on his face as he looked around seemed at peace. I, too, walked quietly in contemplation. The more time I spent with Father, the less awkward silence became.
At the end of that beautiful forest path was a waterfall. The waterfall, cascading down like strands of silver thread, refreshed the hearts of those who beheld it.
*Shwaaaaaa—*
Father gazed silently at the waterfall. When had he last left the sect to see a waterfall like this? It must have been truly long ago.
"It is good."
That single word was enough to know that Father was truly satisfied.
"Father."
"What is it?"
"What was it like with Grandfather?"
Perhaps because it was a sudden question, Father looked at me.
"I am curious what kind of person you were as a son."
Father's gaze turned back to the waterfall.
"I feel there is much I could learn from you, who were once a son."
I did not know well how Father had gotten along with Grandfather.
After a long silence, Father unexpectedly spoke.
"There are times I look at you and feel regret."
I looked at Father. Though he did not explain what he meant, I could tell it meant I was doing well.
We silently gazed at the waterfall for a long while, then walked back the way we came.
Thus I had stopped the carriage once, and after traveling for about half a day, this time it was Father who stopped the carriage.
"Stop for a moment if there is a secluded place."
Hwi stopped the carriage in a deserted place.
"Get down."
I got down following Father. On this trip, another thing I had been hoping to hear finally flowed from Father's lips.
"How far have you mastered the Guhwa Demonic Art?"
He meant to bestow teachings upon me regarding the Guhwa Demonic Art. I was so overjoyed I felt I might take flight.
Because a single word from Father would help me more than a hundred days of training.
The perceptive Hwi vanished into hiding the moment the Guhwa Demonic Art was mentioned. Since one had to step aside when the art was being passed on, he went far away to stand guard.
"I have mastered up to the Fifth Form, but the Fifth Form is still unstable."
"Show me up to the Fourth Form."
Before Father's eyes, I performed the Guhwa Demonic Art consecutively from the First Form through the Fourth Form.
A strange light flashed in Father's eyes as he watched.
He must not have expected my training through the Heaven-Piercing Secret Art to have deepened this much. At times like this, it was truly fortunate that I possessed the Heavenly Martial Constitution. Because it could explain the incomprehensibly rapid progress in my stead.
However, what Father was focusing on was surely not merely that my attainments were deep.
What he was paying greater attention to was likely the fact that it was different.
Father's Guhwa Demonic Art and my Guhwa Demonic Art were different.
Even looking at the demonic spirits made that clear. They were completely different from Father's. Not only in appearance, but also in the feeling and form when they manifested and vanished.
Of course, that did not mean I could guarantee my demonic spirits were stronger than Father's.
This difference was what maintained the tension between Father and me. It must have been the driving force that pulled the already-perfected Father back to the training ground.
"There are times when you must use the Fifth Form despite extreme inner power consumption. Do you know when that is?"
"I believe it is when allies and enemies are mixed together."
Father nodded.
"Yes, exactly. It is when you must pick out and kill only the enemies with precision. That is why the Fifth Form's accuracy is its lifeblood."
Because a Fifth Form with low accuracy was truly no different from a calamity falling from the heavens.
"Now, perform it once."
I drew the Black Demon Sword and stepped forward.
"Assume enemies are lined up every five steps, centered thirty paces straight ahead."
I pictured the enemies as Father described.
Ten masters stood lined up before me.
'I kill them all in a single move!'
After briefly composing my mind, I performed the Fifth Form, Soul-Annihilating Demon Strike.
*Swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish!*
*Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!*
They landed roughly around the spots I had pictured in my mind, but they were not precise.
Even from afar, Father accurately perceived the results.
"Your accuracy is still lacking, and the depth is inconsistent as well. The sixth and eighth are shallow, while the second and third are too deep."
Even up close, the ground only had black holes in it, yet Father had accurately discerned the result from a distance. Despite ten sword qi falling simultaneously in an instant, he had noticed each and every difference.
Father delivered a lecture on the Fifth Form.
In regard to the Guhwa Demonic Art, Father's lecture gave me absolute enlightenment and learning.
Father's teachings were concrete.
I knew better than anyone how difficult the Guhwa Demonic Art was to master.
Yet Father's explanation was easy. It was a concrete and easy explanation that only one who had reached a high realm could give.
Only a true expert could explain things simply.
Father had proven this eternal truth to me.
Of course, hidden within that simplicity were profound principles of martial arts. Those who did not know those principles would be inclined to doubt. 'Is this all there is? Is it this easy?' In the end, to them, that ease would become nothing but a mirage named simplicity.
Father explained simply and concretely, and I asked concrete questions.
Whenever I was curious about something, I asked right away. Question and answer.
That was precisely our realm.
"Now, perform it again!"
Once again, Father designated the spots where they should fall.
Ten strands of sword qi fell vertically once more.
"Better than before, but still far."
Father explained again.
It was not training where he threw out riddles to chew on and realize through deep thought. That deep thinking is for you to do on your own; what I teach is only ever the concrete parts!
The current training was just like a martial arts instructor teaching a trainee.
It was even different from when he had taught me before. It was easier and more concrete.
That was how I knew.
'In that time, Father has grown as well.'
Perhaps I felt it only because I had grown. The Father of now was definitely stronger than the Father of when I had first regressed.
"Now, perform it again."
This time, Father walked right into the spot where the sword qi would fall.
From there, he looked at me and asked,
"There is a hostage here. The enemies number five."
Father sent out a finger wind to mark their positions.
The hostage and the enemies were practically pressed together.
"Now, save them."
"I thought you would be standing in the hostage's place, Father."
"Why would I?"
"Is that not how it usually goes? 'I believe in you. Therefore, I will stand in the hostage's place. If you make a mistake, I die.'"
Father spoke decisively.
"How could I trust you?"
And with that, he stepped a few paces further away.
Knowing it was no joke but his true feelings, I burst into laughter.
I composed my mind and envisioned the situation. Those surrounding them were not mere martial artists. I pictured true masters surrounding a hostage.
Swords pointed at necks.
I had only one chance.
*Swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish!*
*Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!*
And Father announced the result.
"The enemies are all dead."
Just as I was about to let out a cheer!
"The hostage is dead too."
I ran to the spot where the hostage had stood. Sure enough, as Father said, a sword qi had fallen there as well. Not five strands, but six had fallen. It was a mistake born of still being unaccustomed to controlling the number of sword qi.
I looked down at the hole in the hostage's spot and mourned.
"Daeryong, I'm sorry."
I smiled, imagining Seo Daeryong arguing, "Why me? It's not like you can kill Ian either, right? Isn't there Left Arm Lord Jang? I'm the right arm!" Seo Daeryong's voice rang out in my mind.
"Still, it's better than before."
Just as I had felt, Father also clearly felt that this was different from when he had learned the Guhwa Demonic Art in the past. We were growing together.
"Of course. Who is teaching me, after all?"
We got back on the carriage.
"There is an inn in the village we are arriving at soon that has a skilled cook. It is a place I have wanted to take you to, Father. Since I failed to save the hostage, I'll treat!"
* * *
Zhou Xiangyue had been having nightmares for the past few days. What pressed down on her so heavily—she who usually did not dream often—was today's appointment.
"Young Lady, it is time to prepare."
Maidservants entered with clothes.
Though they were splendid and beautiful garments, Zhou Xiangyue took out a clean martial uniform from the wardrobe.
"I will wear this."
"The Family Head insisted you wear these clothes."
When Zhou Xiangyue looked at them coldly, the maidservants lowered their heads. It was because they were the sort who would not back down unless she did.
"Mother will know that I am going out in a martial uniform, too. So you need not worry about being scolded."
Then a woman's voice was heard from outside.
"That is why I came myself."
The woman who opened the door and entered was Zhou Xiangyue's mother and the Family Head of the Zhou Clan Sword Family, Lin Suhua.
"Go wearing those clothes."
"I do not want to."
"Why not?"
Zhou Xiangyue stared at her mother.
Did she ask because she did not know? Or was she pretending not to know?
"Do you not know how important today's meeting with Young Master Huang is?"
It is you, Mother, who does not know what you are saying, is it not? What relation does that splendid palace attire have to today's meeting? If you think there is a relation—
Those words had risen to Zhou Xiangyue's throat.
—Do you really want to sell your daughter to them?
But she could not bring herself to say them. They were words she would regret once spoken.
Five years ago, after her father passed away, the Zhou Clan Sword Family had rapidly declined. Though her mother had become the Family Head, she could not fill her father's absence. That choice had been a mistake. The position of Family Head should have been handed to someone more capable, and she should have stepped down.
In the end, for various reasons, the family's martial artists left one by one. Now, only those who had revered her father remained, struggling to carry on the family's legacy.
Amidst this, the recently prosperous Huangdao Merchant Group had proposed joining hands with the Zhou Clan Sword Family. Today was the very day of that negotiation.
And her mother knew.
She knew that Young Master Huang, who was coming to negotiate today, held favorable feelings toward her daughter. He had chosen the daughter as his negotiation counterpart. Her mother's choice had been that splendid palace attire.
'At a time like this, you should tell me to wear a martial uniform. That is how you get me to walk out in those palace clothes. Not even knowing that, why do you hurt me so clumsily!'
She was prepared to hurt her mother. Yet even though her mother would have brought the wound upon herself, she would be shocked, take offense, leap into a rage, and look for her dead father.
Those images kept coming to mind, so she could not open her mouth.
With such complicated feelings, when she arrived at the inn that was the meeting place, a scuffle was taking place at the entrance between the Huangdao Merchant Group's martial artists and a young man.
"Why on earth are you keeping me out? I absolutely must enter today!"
Absolute Regression: Chapter 451