Chapter 440: The Throne of the Poison King Chosen by My Father
Could there be a question more provocative and disrespectful than asking the Poison King why he creates poison?
Had our relationship not been on relatively good terms, those very words might have come out immediately.
How dare you ask the Poison King such a thing?
Or perhaps he would have asked back,
Then why do you practice swordsmanship?
Fortunately, the Poison King understood that my question wasn't thrown out thoughtlessly.
Instead of answering, he simply stared at me in silence.
I slowly walked forward, stepping between the display shelves.
“There’s so much poison here.”
Even just in this corridor I was looking at, the amount of poison was enormous.
These were likely poisons passed down for generations in the Heavenly Poison Forest, but there must also be many that the Poison King had collected himself. There would also be plenty newly crafted, like the one from earlier.
“Why do you put your whole heart into making poison, like you did just now?”
It was a fundamental question, yet at the same time deeply personal. He could respond as the Demon Supreme, or he could answer with a reason uniquely his own. The reply would vary depending on how one interpreted the question.
I turned back to look at the Poison King and added,
“You’ve dedicated your entire life to poison, haven’t you? What does poison mean to you?”
For a moment, I caught a flicker of something I’d never seen before in the Poison King’s eyes—a brief surge of emotion.
He must have heard countless times how strong he was, how terrifying he was.
But had anyone ever said he had *devoted* himself to poison?
Was that sentiment too burdensome? The Poison King’s gaze turned toward the poisons on the opposite side from where I was looking.
A brief silence followed.
Still, he didn’t answer the question of why he created poison.
So I posed a new one. One I had never asked since meeting him.
“Or is it that, someday, you want to drown the world in blood with your poison?”
That was, in fact, his life before my regression.
This time, his reply came quickly. Without turning to face me, he answered,
“If that’s what it takes.”
Oddly enough, I felt relieved. Compared to the kind of response that says, *Absolutely not,* this felt much farther from a blood-drenched world. After all, the ones who take their own lives aren’t the ones who cried yesterday, but the ones who smiled.
Am I not worried he’ll commit such an act again? Not at all. I know better than anyone how even the same person can change depending on their situation, environment, and the people around them.
The Poison King before the regression and the one now are entirely different people. No—they are the same person, but living a different life.
Just like me.
“I suppose I asked something I shouldn’t have. Please forgive my rudeness.”
Then, the Poison King, who had been staring blankly at the poison bottles, slowly shook his head.
“I’ve never been asked a question like that before.”
Well, who would dare ask the Poison King why he makes poison?
And it wasn’t that he couldn’t answer because of my question.
“I’ve never thought about it seriously.”
Had I been my younger self, I wouldn't have believed him. I would’ve brushed it off as him trying to sound cool.
But now I understood. The higher one climbs, the less they question.
“You must have thought about it at some point. You just can’t recall it now.”
“Yeah, maybe I did at some point. But I don’t remember when that was.”
“Seems even the Poison King isn’t exempt from being swept along by life.”
I spoke in a teasing tone, but the Poison King remained serious.
He moved over to the display stand and picked up the bottle containing today’s concoction—**Absolute Death Poison**. The look in his eyes seemed to ask,
—Why did I make this? Even after so many failures, why didn’t I give up?
Before he sank too deep into his own thoughts, I answered on his behalf.
“To protect our cult.”
To the Poison King, that was clearly the wrong answer.
“With the Cult Leader around, why would I need to protect it?”
It was time for me to properly explain the reason I had come to him.
“The people of the orthodox and unorthodox factions likely fear you more than they fear my father.”
At the root of that fear was a particular dread:
The fear of dying without even putting up a proper fight.
If someone dies while fighting, regardless of the opponent, it’s not as unjust. But with the Poison King, a single misstep in breath or a mistaken sip of water could be the end.
Perhaps the reason he was the greatest deterrent to war wasn’t due to the fear of mass slaughter, but the fear of a meaningless death.
“There’s a reason I asked those questions earlier.”
I told the Poison King everything that had happened after I returned. Even my concern that my father might be dreaming of unifying the martial world.
Even after hearing it all, the Poison King’s expression didn’t change. He must have already known there was another reason I came to the Heavenly Poison Forest today.
“Even if everyone opposes the Cult Leader’s dream, shouldn’t *you* be the one to support it?”
“Looks like I didn’t just inherit his good looks… but his stubbornness too.”
“You plan to stand in the Cult Leader’s way?”
It broke my heart to say it, but I nodded quietly and began trying to persuade the Poison King.
“I want these poisons to remain here forever.”
“You’re trying to make me useless?”
“It’s the opposite.”
“The opposite?”
I slowly touched the poison bottle in front of me. The paper attached to the bottle read *Absolute Death Flame Poison*. Just a few drops of it would cause the poison to spread like fire, devouring all life around it.
"When these poisons remain here, your fear and authority will continue to endure. The moment you release poison upon the martial world, fear will turn into anger. Authority will be buried beneath resentment."
The Poison King said nothing.
"The true essence of poison arts lies not in poisoning, but in detoxification."
These were words I had once said to him before. He had taught the same to his own successor, so he must have held this belief himself.
"When you neutralized the Poison King’s toxin last time and saved everyone, you looked truly admirable."
I couldn't know what he was thinking at this moment, but I conveyed my honest feelings as they were.
"Please, live not as the Poison King who poisons following my father’s demonic path, but as the Poison King who cures in my demonic path."
Knowing that my father, who silently helped make poison today, had already won, I said everything I wanted to say.
"I apologize for the rude request."
I bowed respectfully. It was a demand made without fully understanding his heart.
Then, the Poison King, who had said nothing until now, suddenly spoke.
"You're mistaken about one thing."
That one thing was something I hadn’t considered at all.
"Do you think the Cult Leader is trying to unify the martial world with me at the forefront?"
"Is that not the case?"
"Four years and seven months ago, when the Cult Leader and I went to gather poison herbs, he said this to me."
And then, an astonishing truth was revealed.
The Poison King repeated the exact words my father had said to him that day.
'I will not unify the martial world through poison. My martial world does not need poison arts.'
I was stunned. I never imagined my father had said such a thing. I knew he disliked poison arts, but to have said it so directly to the Poison King himself...
"Were you not hurt by that?"
"I was. But I wasn’t offended. It was far better than pretending not to dislike poison arts while secretly holding disdain."
This was how my father treated the Demon Supreme.
The two of them had just spent the day making poison together without exchanging a single word.
Perhaps there really was a connection between them that only the two could understand.
The Poison King then conveyed the final words my father had said to him that day.
'To me, you are not someone who strikes the martial world, but someone who protects our cult. Even if my martial unification fails, thanks to you, our cult will not fall.'
That was the role my father had given the Poison King—the final bastion.
"I vowed that day to follow the Cult Leader’s will."
Only now could I finally understand the Poison King’s end in my life before regression.
When the Cult Leader’s Hall was overrun and my father passed away, the Eight Demon Supremes gave up on revenge.
Until now, I had believed it was because they were suppressed by the overwhelming martial prowess of Hwa Moogi. I thought they chose life over death. So I called it betrayal, though I understood it was a lost battle either way.
But today, for the first time, I had this thought: maybe something else happened that day—something I didn’t know about. A situation where everyone *had* to give up on revenge.
Because it didn’t seem like the Poison King would have simply stayed silent. And yet, he didn’t seek revenge. Instead, he caused a catastrophe later and met a miserable end.
We were probably thinking of the same person, but it was the Poison King who broke that thought.
“Because I like poison.”
It was an answer to the question I had asked earlier. A simple reply that he hadn’t given for so long. It wasn’t because he couldn’t think of it.
Does he still really like poison? Or has he simply forgotten that feeling and is now making poison out of habit?
He must have been unable to answer because he was searching for the answers to those many other questions.
“Of course, because you love poison.”
I said it as if I already knew. The Poison King looked at me.
“Someone who doesn’t like poison wouldn’t be able to squat for hours watching poisonous insects crawl around, would they? That kind of person wouldn’t name venomous snakes either. You truly love poison. Please, show me where that love and devotion lead. Let me know, no matter what.”
Because he was the Poison King, it was something he had never heard from anyone. I believe there are words that must be said, and must be heard, by everyone—whether it’s the Poison King, my father, the me who has regressed, or even the old man who caused that regression. Words that matter in any life—I said those words to him now.
The Poison King smiled as he looked at me. His eyes held joy and gratitude.
“We can’t let this nice atmosphere slip away. So, are you on my father’s side or mine, Poison King?”
The answer came quickly. The Poison King walked out of the storage room and said calmly,
“I am on no one’s side.”
The person who gave a clear answer was the One-Slash Sword Supreme.
“I will follow the Cult Leader’s will.”
She made the decision without even pretending to hesitate.
She was practicing swordsmanship in the training grounds when she heard the situation explained. And as she delivered her final sword move, she spoke those words.
After finishing a round of training, she gulped down the water she had left at the edge of the training grounds.
There had been a change since I last saw her. Once, she had stopped wearing makeup, and now her hair was white.
“This is my original, unadorned hair.”
The red camellia carved on the sheath of the One-Slash Sword and her white hair contrasted beautifully.
“You’re becoming more and more stylish, Sword Supreme!”
“As expected! I knew you’d say that.”
Would it only be her appearance that had changed? I could feel that the martial level she had ascended to was now moving toward yet another higher realm.
“Thank you for the compliment, but still, I will follow the Cult Leader’s will.”
It was as expected. Her respect for my father was second to none.
What if I failed to persuade her?
The remaining Demon Supremes were the Soul Reaper Demon Supreme and the Demonic Buddha. Even if the younger Soul Reaper Demon Supreme sided with me, if the Demonic Buddha followed my father, then half would already be on his side. With the Poison King having declared himself neutral, even if the Blood Heaven Blade Demon stood with me, it would still be four to three.
“That’s too much! Have you forgotten? I’m your sparring friend, Sword Supreme.”
The One-Slash Sword Supreme gave a regretful smile.
“You and I have grown quite close, haven’t we?”
“Yes.”
“And you know how grateful I am to you?”
“I do.”
“No, I don’t think you really know. Just how grateful I truly am. But even so, there’s something I must say.”
The One-Slash Sword Supreme spoke frankly about her true feelings regarding this matter. What she said was something I hadn’t expected at all.
“I’m worried the Cult Leader might not start a war.”
That we had become close was one thing—her convictions were another.
“I believe the Cult Leader could accomplish the great task of unifying the martial world. As you know, he’s truly an exceptional man. This is a chance for our cult to achieve its long-held wish. If we let this opportunity slip by, our successors will forever regret this moment.”
It occurred to me that the very reason she trained so fiercely might be, more than anything, to one day realize the dream of martial world unification alongside my father.
“Perhaps having a son like you is a trial for the Cult Leader. Great deeds always come with great trials. That destiny has simply fallen upon him.”
Though it could have been a hurtful thing to say, she continued calmly, looking right at me. By being honest and not hiding anything, she was expressing her remorse in her own way.
“I truly hope the Cult Leader overcomes the trial that is you. And that he accomplishes his great task.”
With a gentle gaze, the One-Slash Sword Supreme asked,
“If I hurt your feelings, I apologize.”
I responded with a smile.
“Not at all. I actually appreciate your honesty.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“The next time I visit, I’ll come as your sparring friend.”
I bowed respectfully to her and turned to leave.
Then, unexpectedly, the One-Slash Sword Supreme called out behind me.
“Don’t be too disappointed. From what I see, you’re winning this match.”
I turned back, puzzled by her cryptic words.
But she had already drawn her sword and resumed training.
“That’s why I will always be on the Cult Leader’s side.”