There was no need to go far for a hunting ground.

The mountain behind the main sect was infamous for its treacherous terrain. Defensive arrays and trap formations were scattered throughout, making it inaccessible to outsiders from the start. In this uninhabited place, the only people present were my father and me.

Well—three, if I counted properly.

Father’s personal bodyguard, Hwi, was surely tailing us from somewhere, hidden.

I used to call him Uncle Hwi. I saw him often when I was young, but the older I got, the fewer chances there were to see him. Hwi, whom Father trusted absolutely—his guardian shadow. If I had Ian, then Father had Hwi.

I raised my qi to scan the surroundings, but couldn’t detect a trace of him. As expected of someone who had reached the pinnacle of stealth arts. Of course, even Hwi… was killed by Hwa Mugi that day.

The first thing Father said to me that day was this:

“What’s all that noisy junk you’re lugging around?”

I was carrying a pack almost as big as I was.

“Things I’ll need for a few days.”

“A few days? I plan to return by tomorrow.”

“You never know. You might enjoy hunting with me and want to stay out longer.”

Father’s face made it plainly clear what he thought of that absurd idea.

“Quite the dreamer.”

We hadn’t even spent half an hour together, yet I’d already realized something I hadn’t known before: my memories of Father were deeply distorted.

I’d remembered him as someone of few words. But he spoke more than I recalled.

“You were better than expected.”

He was referring to how I handled Gu Pyeongho during the duel. Though I hadn’t used inner energy, the skill honed through a lifetime before regression must’ve shown through. I saw no reason to hide it.

“I was holding back my abilities.”

“I could tell.”

Riding the mood, I threw out a playful line.

“I’m not a hissing cat—I’m a beast that hides its claws.”

Father stopped in his tracks and looked back at me.

“If you’re a beast, why hide your claws?”

“Ah, I… hadn’t considered it from that angle.”

“That makes you a cat.”

Just as he turned to walk away again, he abruptly asked:

“How far have you progressed in the Flying Heaven Sword Art?”

The Flying Heaven Sword Art—transmitted only to the bloodline of the Heavenly Demon. It couldn’t compare to the Ninefold Calamity Demon Art taught only to the Heavenly Demon himself, but it was considered a top-tier martial art, on par with what the Demon Lords practiced.

Of course, mastering a superior technique didn’t automatically make one stronger. Depending on who wielded it, even a low-level technique could kill someone who used a stronger one.

Knowing I couldn’t deceive Father, I answered honestly.

“I’ve reached mastery.”

At that moment—

Fwish!

A sharp gust burst from Father’s fingertip, slicing past my cheek. If I hadn’t instinctively turned my head, it would’ve punched a hole straight through.

Father looked at me, surprised.

“You really have mastered it!”

Rubbing my burning cheek, I shouted:

“Seriously?! You sent that blade of wind even though you didn’t believe me? What if I hadn’t dodged?”

“That would’ve been the price of lying. But if you’d truly mastered it, you’d avoid it.”

“This handsome face—your handsome face—isn’t meant to be scarred!”

He snorted and resumed walking.

No wonder I was afraid of him back then.

What kind of father unleashes a gust of energy at his own child’s face without hesitation? Sure, it wouldn’t have killed me, but it would’ve left a nasty scar.

Without looking back, Father said,

“Mastery at your age… Impressive.”

Even in my past life, I’d only reached mastery well into my thirties. So his astonishment was understandable. When it came to martial arts, Father was sincere. That compliment? It was high praise.

“Thank you.”

After that, we climbed in silence for a long time.

Had we been in a room together, the silence would’ve been suffocating. But ascending the mountain was different. Each silent step felt like a kind of wordless conversation.

I was the one to break the silence first.

“Who taught you to hunt?”

After a pause, Father replied.

“My brother.”

“You mean… I had an uncle?”

“He’s dead. Died by my hand when I was about your age.”

A brief silence passed. Instead of offering perfunctory condolences, I spoke my honest thought.

“You did the right thing.”

Father stopped and turned a piercing gaze on me.

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

He stared at me coldly for a moment, then resumed walking.

Even for someone like Father… how could fratricide not leave a scar? I’d seen it before—how the strongest people often carried the deepest wounds.

That’s why he spoke like that. As if squeezing pus from an old wound.

One of the lessons I’d learned in my past life:

Bury the corpse, not the wound.

That might be why he was willing to say something like this to me.

“Back then… I couldn’t find another way.”

I understood what he meant. He couldn’t figure out how to win the succession battle without killing his brother.

My answer was firm.

“Don’t expect me to, either.”

Father glanced sideways at me. Colder than before, but I said what needed saying.

“You couldn’t do it. I can’t either. And if you’re going to bring this up, you should’ve at least given me a brother worth hesitating over. You know exactly how vile and ruthless he is.”

“Quite bold, slandering him behind his back.”

“He deserves worse.”

Honestly, that wasn’t nearly enough. Not when I thought about what my brother would do in the future for the sake of becoming heir.

“He’s suffering out in the provinces, and here you are badmouthing him from a cushy spot.”

“Someone like the heir to the Heavenly Demon Sect wouldn’t suffer even locked in the deepest cell of the underground dungeon.”

At this point in time, my brother was operating under Father’s orders. He hadn’t revealed [N O V E L I G H T] his true colors yet, and with his skills, Father trusted him more than me. Plenty of the cult’s elites were also vying to win his favor.

“He’ll never give up the successor’s seat. Trying to become heir while sparing him is just naïve arrogance.”

Father’s expression said, “Were you always this kind of child?”
My eyes answered plainly: Yes.

He began walking again.

I never married in my past life. I don’t truly understand what kind of emotions a child stirs in a father’s heart.

So I wonder—

What did I mean to him?

How long had we been climbing when—

“Shh.”

At Father’s signal, I looked up. He pointed straight ahead with his finger.

“You see it?”

I opened my eyes wide, but all I could see was a dense forest.

“I don’t.”

“I do.”

“What is it?”

“Dinner.”

“Then we’d better catch it.”

I reached for the bow hanging from my pack, but Father stopped me.

“You can’t catch what you can’t see. Close your eyes. Sense your surroundings first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Masters perceive their opponents through the ripples in the surrounding air.
What people often call “killing intent” is exactly that.

Right now, the only presence I could feel in the air was my father’s.
It was calm. And that was terrifying.
Because I knew better than anyone how ferocious that calm could become when provoked.
Beneath that peaceful ocean surface, a typhoon capable of overturning the world lay dormant.

“Now release a strand of energy. Just one strand.”

I did as my father instructed and let a thread of energy extend from me.

“Slowly, without breaking it. Think of your body as a skein of thread, and release the energy like you’re drawing out a single strand.”

In my life before regression, I had never once extended my energy like thread.
Releasing energy always had a clear purpose—to overpower an opponent’s aura.
But this was entirely different.
I was letting out energy in a way I’d never considered before.

“Finer. Don’t let it snap!”

This was also the first time I realized that energy from my body could stretch out this far.

“More. More. More.”

If Father hadn’t been there, urging me on, I never could’ve extended my energy to such a length.

Then, all at once, I felt it. My energy touched something.

“You felt it?”

Father noticed the moment my energy made contact—just as quickly as I did.

“Yes. I can feel it.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I think… it’s a tree.”

Amazingly, I could feel what it was.
It was just a feeling, hard to describe—but unmistakably a tree.

“Search around it. Slowly.”

The strand of energy felt like it was on the verge of slipping loose, as if the thread in the skein had unraveled too far.
But I held my focus.

I lengthened the thread of energy even further, sweeping around the area.

And beneath the tree, I felt a living presence.

“Is it… a wild boar?”

Father didn’t answer, so I cautiously opened my eyes.
He was staring at me in astonishment.

“Or maybe a bear? The stiff fur and long body felt more like a boar.”

“It’s a wild boar.”

I looked toward where my energy had touched.
I still couldn’t see anything.
But I had identified a wild boar, hidden somewhere deep in the forest.

“Hitting it from this distance in one shot won’t be easy.”

Father had seen it himself, but still looked like he could hardly believe it.

Now that I thought about it, that technique I’d just used wasn’t some simple hunting trick.
It was a formidable secret art—something that could be applied to martial combat.

“So you were hoping I’d mess up so you could laugh at me.”

“Of course. You were supposed to fail.”

“I’m your son, remember?”

“I didn’t hit it on my first try either.”

“But I’m the Heaven's Martial Vessel, aren’t I?”

At that phrase, a subtle change passed over Father’s eyes.

Back then, I’d harbored some resentment toward him regarding the Heaven’s Martial Vessel.

—You, who pursue strength above all else… You, who held a duel to find someone strong enough to beat your own son to choose as your successor… Why did you neglect me, when I possess the Heaven’s Martial Vessel? Why didn’t you support me?

I’d even wondered—was he jealous of me?
Yes, your son was that small-minded.

But now I understand.

The world doesn’t move just because I want it to.

Being born with the Heaven’s Martial Vessel doesn’t mean others owe me special treatment.
I must become special on my own, using that vessel.
Only when that uniqueness earns the expectations and admiration of others does it become a blessing granted by the heavens.

“What's the hold-up? Planning to skip dinner?”

I pulled my bow from the pack and loosed an arrow toward where I’d sensed the energy.

Fwish.

Later, a fire crackled in the darkness, and over it, a wild boar’s meat sizzled as it cooked.

“When did you learn how to clean game?”

“From books.”

“You seem pretty skilled for someone who learned from books.”

Father, I’ve probably skinned and eaten hundreds of boars.

I casually shifted the topic.

“That pelt you’re sitting on—that was a bribe. Worth every drop of sweat carrying it up here.”

Father was sitting atop the tiger pelt I’d packed in my gear.

At my obvious fishing for praise, the corners of his mouth twitched.
It was hard to believe how well scorn suited someone’s face, but Father wore it perfectly.

“You asked to go hunting with me because you want to be the successor, right?”

“No. I know better than anyone that wouldn’t work on you.”

“Good. Knowing that’s a relief.”

“I can become the successor even without your help.”

“Confident, are you.”

“Of course. Though I’m sure my greedy, cruel, foul-tempered brother will get in my way.”

“Still talking behind his back.”

“I have to. When else would I get to criticize him in front of the judge handing out the scores?”

Father—if you truly wanted a peaceful, loving sibling bond, you should’ve declared it from the beginning:
‘This child will be the successor. Don’t even think about it.’
Even then, people would still fight and kill each other over the position.

“So why did you say you wanted to go hunting with me?”

“I have two reasons. First, I wanted to learn something to become stronger. And I think I’ve already succeeded on that front.”

“And once you become stronger?”

Father’s eyes turned sharp, goading me—Are you planning to take my place?

I answered quickly.

“I don’t want strength so I can become the Heavenly Demon. You’re still in your prime, and I’m not looking to waste my youth waiting for your seat to open. I’ll be satisfied if I can become the successor and learn the Heavenly Demon’s martial arts.”

From Father’s perspective, neither my brother nor I looked remotely qualified to be heirs—at least not yet.
In fact, he wouldn’t declare my brother as the successor until about ten years later.

But I can’t afford to wait ten years.

Being a needle poking through the pouch isn’t enough anymore.
Now I need to take that needle out and start jabbing it everywhere.

I have to learn the Ninefold Calamity Demon Art as soon as possible and master it.
No—surpass even that.

Even Father, who reached the pinnacle of tenfold mastery, was defeated by Hwa Mugi.
So I have to attain twelvefold mastery.

“Sometimes I wonder… what if I met someone I truly wanted to kill—and couldn’t kill them?
Just imagining it makes my blood boil. I want to get stronger, if only to avoid that.”

Father’s expression didn’t change, so I had no idea what he was thinking.

“And the second reason?”

“I wanted to spend time alone with you.
This is the first time, isn’t it?”

A smirk curved again at the corner of Father’s lips.

“Sounds like the perfect setup for a cheap, sentimental death.”

“How could anything be cheap when it’s with the greatest under heaven?
If we sing, it’s the greatest song under heaven. If we drink, it’s the finest brew under heaven.
Even if we take a shit—”

“That’s enough.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll shut up for the next hour.”

Our eyes met.
I smiled. Genuinely.

It was probably the first time I’d ever smiled in front of Father.
Of course, he turned away coldly, just like always.

When I thought of Father, I had no fond memories.
Fear doesn’t count as a memory, does it?
In this life, I won’t let my memories be so desolate.
But don’t get the wrong idea.
It’s not for your sake, Father.
It’s for mine.