The carriage was speeding toward its destination.
With his eyes gently closed, my father spoke to me.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Even with his eyes closed, he was so good at sensing a person's gaze.
"Because I like it."
My father opened his eyes slightly and looked at me.
"I'm not joking. Nor am I teasing. I just really like you, Father."
"Because I sent a gift to that person?"
"No, because you wrote him a letter."
To my father, a single root of Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng was nothing more than pocket change.
But a letter written by my father himself was something that couldn't be valued with money.
What truly moved me about my father was that he had sent the gift without me even asking.
After Im Gye left, I had been wondering how I could persuade my father to help him.
But before I could even bring it up, my father had written the letter and, handing it to Hwi, said this.
'Have the Division Lord deliver this personally, along with one root of Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng.'
How could I not be moved?
"You're the best, Father."
My father silently closed his eyes and said nothing.
And he doesn't even take credit for it, which makes it even better!
And I could feel it.
In this moment, hearing his son call him the best, my father was clearly pleased.
There was a certain angle to the corner of his mouth that only I could recognize now.
That subtle upturn was proof that he was genuinely happy right now.
Then, my father spoke abruptly.
"It is because of people like them that the Main Sect has endured."
Yes, my father had his own Demonic Path.
I hope my father's feelings were conveyed well to them.
I hope that Im Gye's father, too, becomes the best kind of father, just like mine is now.
I stuck my head out the window.
Was it because of the refreshing breeze?
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 one you saw at the Heavenly Demon Hall?
As the carriage, which had been traveling along the river, moved completely away from it, my father spoke unexpectedly.
"Let's have another fishing competition at that river on our way back. This time, we'll both use the fishing rods you made."
I laughed out loud.
It seemed he really wanted to beat me at fishing, no matter what.
But I couldn't just let him win.
Knowing my father, how could I possibly lose on purpose? If I did, he would get truly angry.
"Alright. A competition is always three rounds."
A certain resolve formed on my father's lips.
A resolve to win at all costs.
"Uncle Hwi, please stop here for a moment."
When the moving carriage came to a halt, I spoke to my father.
"Would you like to go for a short walk?"
Without a word, my father got out of the carriage.
"There's a wonderful waterfall just through that forest. Since we're passing by anyway, we should go see it."
Hwi waited to guard the carriage, and 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 remember that time, walking down this path.
I had walked alone on a snow-covered road...
Now, I was walking that same path, lush with green, with my father, listening to the chirping of birds.
My father walked without a word, but the expression on his face as he looked around seemed relaxed.
I too walked alongside him, quietly lost in thought.
The more time I spent with my father, the less awkward the moments of silence became.
At the end of that beautiful forest path was a waterfall.
Cascading down like silver threads, the waterfall cooled the hearts of those who watched.
Shwaaaaa.
My father watched the waterfall in silence.
When was the last time he had left the sect 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.
My father was truly content.
"Father."
"What is it?"
"How was it with Grandfather?"
Perhaps because it was a sudden question, my father looked at me.
"I was just curious about what kind of person you were as a son."
My father's gaze returned to the waterfall.
"I feel like there's a lot to learn from the father who was once a son."
I didn't know much about how my father got along with his father.
After a long silence, my father unexpectedly spoke.
"There are times when I look at you and feel regret."
I looked at my father.
He didn't explain what he meant, but I could tell he was saying that I was doing well.
We watched the waterfall in silence for a while before walking back the way we came.
So, I had stopped the carriage once, and after traveling for about half a day, it was my father's turn to stop it.
"Find a quiet place and 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 hoping for on this trip came from my father's lips.
"How far have you mastered the Nine Calamities Demon Art?"
It meant he was going to give me a lesson on the Nine Calamities Demon Art.
I was so happy I could fly.
A single word from my father would be more helpful than a hundred days of training.
Quick-witted Hwi vanished into stealth as soon as the Nine Calamities Demon Art was mentioned.
He had to be away when the art was being taught, so he moved a good distance away to stand guard.
"I've learned up to the Fifth Form, but it's still unstable."
"Perform up to the Fourth Form."
In front of my father, I consecutively performed the Nine Calamities Demon Art from the First Form to the Fourth Form.
A strange light flickered in the eyes of my father as he watched.
He probably hadn't expected my training through the Heavenly Time Secret Art to have deepened this much.
At times like these, I'm so glad I have a Heavenly Martial Body.
The Heavenly Martial Body would explain my inexplicably rapid progress for me.
However, the depth of my achievement probably wasn't the only thing my father noticed.
The bigger point of focus must have been how different it was.
My father's Nine Calamities Demon Art and mine are different.
Just look at the evil spirits.
They were completely different from my father's.
Not just their appearance, but also the feeling and form they took when they appeared and vanished.
Of course, that didn't mean I could guarantee my evil spirits were stronger than my father's.
This difference maintained the tension between my father and me.
It was probably the driving force that was leading my already perfected father back to the Training Grounds.
"There are times when you must use the Fifth Form, despite its extreme inner energy consumption. Do you know when that is?"
"I believe it's when allies and enemies are mixed together."
My father nodded.
"Yes, that's right. It's for when you must precisely pick out and kill only the enemies. That is why accuracy is life for the Fifth Form."
A Fifth Form with low accuracy would be like a disaster falling from the sky.
"Now, perform it once."
I drew my Black Demon Sword and stepped forward.
"Assume there are enemies lined up every five paces, centered thirty paces directly in front of you."
Just as my father said, I imagined the enemies.
Ten masters were lined up in a row before me.
'Kill them all in a single move!'
After composing myself for a moment, I executed the Fifth Form, Soul-Severing Demon Strike.
Shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip!
Pak-pak-pak-pak-pak-pak-pak-pak-pak!
It landed roughly in the spots I had imagined, but it wasn't precise.
Even from a good distance away, my father knew the result exactly.
"Your accuracy is still lacking, and the depth is inconsistent. The sixth and eighth are shallow, while the second and third are too deep."
Even up close, all I could see were black holes in the ground, yet my father had correctly identified it from afar.
Though ten streams of Sword Qi had fallen simultaneously in an instant, he had noticed every single difference.
My father gave a lecture on the Fifth Form.
When it came to the Nine Calamities Demon Art, my father's lectures gave me absolute enlightenment and learning.
My father's teachings were specific.
I know better than anyone how difficult the Nine Calamities Demon Art is to learn.
But my father's explanations were simple.
A specific and simple explanation that only someone who has reached a high level of mastery can give.
Only a true master can explain things simply.
My father proved this timeless truth to me.
Of course, within that simplicity lay the deep principles of martial arts.
Someone who didn't know those principles would instead be suspicious.
Is this all there is to it? It's this easy? In the end, for them, it would become a fleeting cloud called simplicity.
My father explained simply and specifically, and I asked specifically.
Whenever I had a question, I asked it right away.
Asking and answering.
That was our level of mastery.
"Now, perform it again!"
Once again, my father designated the spots where it should fall.
Again, ten streams of Sword Qi fell vertically.
"Better than before, but still a long way to go."
My father explained again.
It wasn't the kind of training where he would throw something at me to ponder and realize on my own.
That kind of deep thought you do by yourself; what I teach is, to the very end, the specific details!
It was as if this training session was like an instructor at a martial hall teaching a student.
It was also different from when he had taught me before.
Easier and more specific.
That's how I knew.
'In that time, Father has grown as well.'
Perhaps I felt it because I had grown.
It was clear that the father of now was stronger than the father from when I first regressed.
"Now, perform it again."
This time, my father walked right to where the Sword Qi was supposed to fall.
From there, he looked at me and asked.
"There is a hostage here. There are five enemies in total."
My father shot out his finger techniques to mark their positions.
The hostage and the enemies were almost touching.
"Now, save them."
"I expected you to be standing in the hostage's spot, Father."
"Why would I?"
"Isn't that how it usually goes? 'I trust you. Therefore, I will stand in the hostage's place. If you make a mistake, I will die.'"
My father said firmly.
"Why would I trust you?"
With that, he actually took a few more steps away.
Laughter escaped me because I knew he wasn't joking, he was serious.
I composed myself and pictured the scene.
The ones surrounding the hostage weren't just any martial artists.
I pictured true masters surrounding the hostage.
Swords aimed at the throat.
There was only one chance.
Shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip-shwip!
And then, my father announced the results.
"All the enemies are 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.
Indeed, just as my father had said, a stream of Sword Qi had fallen there as well.
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.
I looked down at the hole where the hostage had been and mourned.
"Daeryong, I'm sorry."
I smiled, picturing Seo Daeryong arguing, "Why me?" I couldn't possibly kill Lee Ahn, could I? What about the Lord of the left arm? I'm the right-hand man! Seo Daeryong's voice naturally came to mind.
"Still, it's better than before."
Just as I felt, my father also clearly felt that this was different from when he had learned the Nine Calamities Demon Art long ago.
We were growing together.
"Of course. Look who's teaching me."
We got back into the carriage.
"In the village we'll be arriving at later, there's an inn with a skilled chef. It's a place I've always wanted to take you, Father. Since I couldn't save the hostage, my treat!"
*
Ju Hyang-wol had been having nightmares for the past few days.
For someone who rarely dreamed, the pressure that weighed on her so heavily was because of today's appointment.
"Miss, it is time to get ready."
The maids came in with clothes.
The clothes were ornate and beautiful, but Ju Hyang-wol took out a clean martial robe from the closet.
"I'm going to wear this."
"The Clan Leader insisted that you wear this."
When Ju Hyang-wol gave the maids a cold stare, they lowered their heads.
She had to, because they wouldn't back down otherwise.
"My mother probably knows I'll be going out in my martial robe. So you don't have to worry about getting scolded."
Just then, a woman's voice was heard from outside.
"That is why I came myself."
The woman who opened the door and entered was Ju Hyang-wol's mother and the Clan Leader of the Ju Clan Sword Family, Im So-hwa.
"Wear those clothes and go."
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
Ju Hyang-wol stared intently at her mother.
Was she asking because she didn't know? Or was she pretending not to know?
"Do you not know how important today's meeting with Young Master Hwang is?"
You're the one who doesn't know what she's talking about, aren't you, Mother? What does that fancy palace gown have to do with today's meeting? If you think it does have something to do with it...
The words rose up to Ju Hyang-wol's throat.
-Do you really want to sell your daughter to them?
But she couldn't bring herself to say it.
Because they were words she would regret after speaking them.
Five years ago, after her father passed away, the Ju Clan Sword Family's fortunes rapidly declined.
Her mother became the Clan Leader, but she couldn't fill her father's shoes.
This choice had been a mistake.
She should have handed over the position of Clan Leader to someone more capable and stepped down.
In the end, for one reason or another, the martial artists of the sword clan left one by one.
Now, only those who had respected her father remained, struggling to carry on the clan's legacy.
Then, the recently successful Hwangdo Merchant Group proposed joining hands with the Ju Clan Sword Family.
Today was the day of that negotiation.
And her mother knew.
She knew that Young Master Hwang, who was coming to negotiate today, had taken a liking to her daughter.
He had chosen her daughter as the negotiation partner.
Her mother's choice was that fancy palace gown, and...
'This is when you should be telling me to wear the martial robe, then I would wear that palace gown.
You don't even know that, so why do you hurt me so clumsily! I'm prepared to hurt my mother.
But even though it's a wound you brought upon yourself, you'll be surprised, hurt, jump up and down in anger, and call out for my dead father.'
The thought of such a scene kept coming to mind, and she couldn't bring herself to speak.
With such complicated feelings, when she arrived at the inn, the appointed place, a dispute was breaking out at the entrance between the martial artists of the Hwangdo Merchant Group and a young man.
"Why on earth won't you let me in? I absolutely have to go in today!"