Chapter 7

Cho Yoon hesitated for a long time, but the child remained motionless, as if waiting for his response. Finally, he said, “…A vein of luminous pearls was discovered in Mount Woonhan. Luminous pearls are minerals that emit their own light even in the dead of night, and they are worth far more than their weight in gold.”

“…”

“The orthodox factions require a justification to mobilize. The justification they put forth was none other than you, Seomun Cheon-oh.”

The child silently lifted his pitch-black eyes to Cho Yoon. Struggling to keep his voice steady, Cho Yoon continued.

“Do you know who your father is?”

“…No. I do not.”

“Your father is Joo Yeok, the Lesser Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult, known as the Dark Python Sword. Your family was slaughtered under the pretext that, despite belonging to the orthodox factions, they colluded with the Demonic Cult.”

The veins on the boy’s small hands stood out, stark white against his skin. He stared at the floor with wide eyes, chewing on his lip before forcing out a broken, trembling question.

“M-my father… Joo Yeok… what was he doing… instead of saving my mother?”

“…That, I’m afraid I don’t know yet.”

Joo Yeok had only been mentioned in two sentences in a side story of the original novel. It merely stated that the grown Cheon-oh eventually created Dark-Stained Heavens, the largest unified organization among the unorthodox factions. There was no account of what was said when Joo Cheon-oh finally met his father, nor any details of the backstory.

Briefly recalling the original work, Cho Yoon turned his attention back to Cheon-oh. His breath had gone ragged with despair, but after a moment, he seemed to steady it. Then he bowed deeply to Cho Yoon once more. His voice, however, was already painfully hoarse, thick with trembling.

“I thank you once again for taking in a child with nowhere to go and saving my life, Immortal. However, I…”

However…

Choked up, the boy clamped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. Cho Yoon didn’t miss the opening and struck first. From here on out was the truly crucial part.

“It is only natural that you desire revenge.”

At those sudden words, the boy lifted his head to look at Cho Yoon. Meeting his gaze as calmly as possible, Cho Yoon continued.

“Does killing them bring the dead back to life…? The only people who can utter such drivel are those who have never experienced loss. It is utterly useless advice. With no one left beneath the heavens to call your own, it is only natural that you cannot forgive the murderers who continue to live on unscathed.”

“…”

Slowly, the boy lowered his head again.

The sound of him swallowing past his torn throat was painfully clear.

Every time Hayoon watched a drama or a movie, he hated the supporting characters who spouted self-righteous nonsense at the protagonist seeking revenge.

Cho Yoon closed his eyes, then opened them again. “There is nothing wrong with desiring revenge. Even if it brings about more bloodshed, what does it matter? The ties between people are inherently tangled beyond severing. I will not tell you to endure it alone or to forgive them.”

“…”

“But look at your hands and legs.”

The boy reflexively lowered his gaze to his silk-bandaged hands.

“You are young and weak. You have a fragile body and tender skin that tore simply from brushing against charred wood. With a body like that, do you truly believe you can survive alone at the foot of this mountain, with no one to help you? Do you believe you can grow strong on your own and amass enough power to take your revenge?”

In the original novel, Cheon-oh had been taken in by the Demonic Cult as an orphan. Locked in a wretched underground cave, he was subjected to grueling, near-fatal training. Over time, his innate humanity, empathy, and compassion faded away, leaving behind nothing but cruelty and cold-bloodedness.

In truth, Cho Yoon’s influence on the original plot was supposed to be minuscule. Without the Demonic Cult’s meddling, one of the protagonist’s potential heroines wouldn’t have been poisoned in the first place. If he simply kept his mouth shut and turned a blind eye, he could have lived a comfortable life free from troublesome entanglements. Yet the reason he was going to such lengths to win the child’s heart was simple.

“I will raise you. I will protect you and take full responsibility for your education. Until you grow into someone capable of taking responsibility for yourself, I will fulfill my duties.”

It was simply because Jeong Hayoon couldn’t stand by and watch.

Setting aside the impending bloodbath destined for the martial world, Hayoon could not abandon a young child enduring such horrific agony. Even if this boy would one day become the Sovereign of the Underworld Joo Cheon-oh, right now he was nothing more than a child in desperate need of help. He needed a dependable guardian and a wise teacher.

If so, then this is my duty. I couldn’t just ignore him, so I brought him here. Do I have the ability to raise a person…? I can’t guarantee that, but I just have to try my absolute best.

Feeling like a teacher awaiting a performance evaluation, Cho Yoon clamped his mouth shut and waited for the child’s choice. After a moment of silence, the boy scraped his torn fingernails against the floor and clenched his fists tight. The voice that tore from his ruined throat was saturated with gut-wrenching hatred.

“I…”

Yes, tell me you’ll stay with me instead of those ignorant Demonic Cult bastards! I’ll figure it out somehow! I’ll treasure you and raise you so well!

“I want to rip all of their throats out.”

What?

Cho Yoon, who had been cheering internally for the boy’s choice, froze solid.

“I want to make them unable to live or die and force them to feel every ounce of pain in this world. I want to pull out their teeth while they’re still alive and crush them, starting from the tips of their fingers and toes. I want to strip the flesh from their bones and grind their skeletons to dust. And when they finally die, I want to slit their throats, slice open their bellies like livestock, and hang them upside down from meat hooks.”

Wh…

Who the hell taught a kid to talk like that? Who used such atrocious, graphic descriptions in front of a child?

Cho Yoon desperately suppressed the urge to slap a hand over his face. The exact reason you shouldn’t use brutal profanity in front of children—who absorbed everything like sponges—was staring him right in the face.

Oblivious to Cho Yoon’s internal despair, the boy slowly raised his bowed head. A chilling, feral thirst for vengeance gleamed in eyes so black they were indistinguishable from his pupils.

“Can you truly raise someone like me, Immortal?”

Did he mean to ask whether an immortal secluded in the mountains could raise someone harboring such bloodthirsty intentions toward the world? Or was he asking whether Cho Yoon could make him strong enough to achieve that revenge?

It was probably both. Narrowing his eyes, Cho Yoon asked, “Are you testing me?”

“…What I need are martial arts. There would be no greater honor than receiving the Immortal’s teachings, but my meager insight tells me that only overwhelming martial prowess can force those hypocrites to pay the price.”

In short, he had no use for a master who was only proficient in pharmacology. Seeing the boy lower his gaze as if in apology while still stating exactly what he wanted, Cho Yoon smiled inwardly and extended his hand.

Held delicately in his pale, smooth palm was a small scrap of paper that had previously held medicinal herbs.

As the boy stared at it in confusion, a formless flame suddenly erupted from Cho Yoon’s hand.

It’s better to show him than to rattle off a long-winded explanation.

The internal energy coiled within Cho Yoon’s danjeon surged through his meridians, manifesting over his palm. The thin paper instantly shriveled into black ash, rippling in the air before drifting to the floor.

It was the True Fire of Samadhi, a feat said to be achievable only by those who had reached the absolute pinnacle of the Profound Realm.

“…I-Immortal,”

“Let me make this clear. I am not an immortal. I am merely a martial artist with a slight proficiency in pharmacology.”

While the original Cho Yoon had apparently wished to distance himself from the martial world, the moment Jeong Hayoon forged such a massive connection with this boy, his plans were completely overturned. Cho Yoon cut off the child, who looked ready to ask if what he had just seen was an immortal’s magic.

“It is true that the martial arts I have mastered do not aim for absolute hegemony over the world. They strive for the harmony of extremes and moderate unity. Therefore, one could say they are closer to the path of an immortal than the path of a martial artist.”

The boy listened in silence. It was obvious he was preparing to decline. However, Cho Yoon’s next, almost casual remark made him snap his head up in shock.

“But what does that matter? Martial arts are nothing more than a basic framework. Once you reach a certain level of mastery, you can modify them as you see fit.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Even I primarily use the poison arts I learned much later in life. Why would I stop you from doing the same? Do whatever you wish. Whether you create the cruelest martial art in the world or do something else entirely, it matters not to me.”

In a martial world where ancient techniques were revered as absolute perfection, tradition was law, defended with one’s life. To graft independent techniques onto the teachings of one’s ancestors, one had to possess enough skill to be acknowledged by the entire martial world. Otherwise, their arrogance would be said to pierce the heavens, and their crude skills would be seen as defiling their ancestors’ legacy.

In a world steeped in such conservative ideology, Cho Yoon’s words were viciously indifferent, practically blasphemous… yet there was something about them that washed away the stifling weight in the boy’s heart.

Mouth falling open, Cheon-oh stared blankly at Cho Yoon.

“Of course, that is something to consider only after you have reached a realm capable of shedding established forms. But from what I can see, you possess more than enough talent. You might even surpass me quite easily.”

He’s the final boss of a modern martial arts novel. Reaching the Profound Realm should be a piece of cake for him.

Whether the boy was stunned or not, Cho Yoon kept speaking, recalling the Sovereign of the Underworld Joo Cheon-oh from the original novel.

The first supreme leader of Dark-Stained Heavens, the man who united all unorthodox factions—including the Demonic Cult—into a single, colossal organization.

The god of the Demonic Cult who would have easily conquered the martial world had the protagonist not possessed cheat-like abilities.

The undisputed strongest under the heavens, whose mere presence inflicted suffocating pressure even when the empowered protagonist and his allies faced him together.

Taking on the responsibility of raising someone of such terrifying caliber suddenly felt daunting, but there was no turning back now.

The boy’s mind seemed to race as he weighed his options. Cho Yoon waited without pressing him. Finally, just as the boy opened his mouth with a look of firm resolve, bright voices rang out from outside.

“I…”

“Master! We’re done with our bath!”

“M-may we come in?”

Having finished as the water cooled, Sa-yeong and Sa-hyeon asked permission from outside the door. Judging by their lively voices, they seemed to have had a wonderful time.

Gently stroking Cheon-oh’s head—who had instantly clamped his mouth shut—Cho Yoon turned toward the door.

“Come in.”

“Yes, Master. Oh, he’s awake?”

“Master, h-he smells like medicine, just like you! Oh, he… he’s awake!”

Entering with cheerful chatter, the siblings each tossed a comment at Cheon-oh, who was sitting up in bed. Perhaps his posture drew their attention because it contrasted so sharply with his usual state of lying still, dead-eyed, staring blankly into the void.

Sa-yeong, the older sister, respectfully clasped her hands and bowed first.

“We shall take our leave now, Master. Have a peaceful night.”

“Yes. Make sure you and your brother dry your hair thoroughly before sleeping.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll make sure the windows are tightly shut and the quilts are pulled up to our chests.”

After offering their goodnights, the children returned to their own room. Cho Yoon stared at the closed door for a moment before turning back to Cheon-oh. Gently grasping the boy, still sitting rigidly, Cho Yoon guided him to lie back down.

“You should sleep as well. The moon is already high in the sky.”

“But…”

“It will not be too late to give me your answer after you wake. It is time for a child to sleep.”

Leaving no room for argument, Cho Yoon pulled the quilt up to the boy’s neck and extinguished the lamp with a flick of his wrist. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, revealing the boy’s face bathed in pale moonlight spilling through the window by his head.

No matter what he might become in the future, right now he was nothing more than a small, fragile child.

With a swell of pity, Cho Yoon brushed the back of his hand over the boy’s cheek and gently patted his chest, which felt as delicate as a baby bird’s. Visibly flustered, the boy eventually gave in and slowly closed his eyes. Exhaustion must have claimed him, for his breathing soon leveled into a steady rhythm.

Once he was certain the child was asleep, Cho Yoon tucked the boy’s stray hands and arms back under the covers. The boy often suffered nightmares, and it was Cho Yoon’s responsibility to pull him from them. Fortunately, the tempered body of a martial artist suffered no ill effects even if he stayed awake for days on end.

And so, the night passed deep within the secluded mountains.