Chapter 443: My Father's Battles Were Noble
I silently watched my father descending the stairs.
‘Father. Do you know when I thought of you the most in my life before the regression? Was it when you passed away? When I roamed about gathering materials, dreaming of revenge? When I was physically and mentally exhausted? Or when I felt lonely? No. None of those. It was when I reached the age you were.’
Since I had never had a proper heart-to-heart conversation with Father, I thought I would never miss him. I assumed it would be just a vague sense of longing.
But strangely, as I grew older, I found myself thinking of Father from time to time.
I felt like, if it were now, I could finally have a deep and sincere conversation with him.
I felt like, if it were now, I might be able to understand him a little better. If it were now.
Father came to a halt a few steps ahead of me.
Our gazes tangled in the air. I had faced him many times before, but never in such a tense moment as today.
Eventually, Father spoke.
"Did you say you were jealous because my Demon Supremes looked impressive?"
His first words were for me. He said it so they would know I had said they were impressive.
I looked around at the Demon Supremes standing on either side.
Even if only briefly, my eyes met with each of theirs. The emotions in their gazes as they watched us varied.
As always, the Fist Demon King's eyes were heavy. Next to the composed One-Slash Sword Supreme stood the Drunken Demon, with his half-closed eyes hiding his complex thoughts. Demonic Buddha’s gaze was full of intrigue, Poison King remained indifferent, and Blood Heaven Blade Demon burned intensely. Soul Reaper Demon Supreme stood proudly, and Evil Smiling Demon was grinning.
"Yes. I’m jealous enough to want to make them all my Demon Supremes."
The first to respond was Blood Heaven Blade Demon.
"Young Cult Leader, even as a joke, do not say such things."
Today, Blood Heaven Blade Demon had clearly taken on the role of scolding me. He understood. That someone had to take on that role today. I was grateful to him.
"What can I do if they look impressive?"
Blood Heaven Blade Demon shot me a stern look. Is this how you want to act? I resisted the urge to joke further and bowed respectfully.
"I’m sorry. I’ll be more mindful of my words and actions from now on."
As I apologized, I glanced over to see Demonic Buddha smiling at me. Among the audience, he seemed to be enjoying this the most today.
You’ve been keeping quiet lately, carving statues and staying away, so something like this must excite you, right?
As if in response to my thoughts, Demonic Buddha’s radiance deepened.
Still, I couldn’t be careless. Joking around with a Demon Supreme one-on-one, or among themselves, was one thing. But poorly made jokes in front of Father could be a grave insult to them.
It’s more important to hold back a joke when you want to make one than to actually make it.
I looked at Father again.
“Father, there’s something I’d like to ask.”
All eyes turned to me. Tension filled the air as I finally asked him the question.
“I want to ask what your dream is, Father.”
I could feel everyone flinch. “Surely, he didn’t just ask the Cult Leader that?”—that must have been what they were thinking.
Naturally, all attention shifted to Father. It wasn’t because they were waiting for an answer. There was no one here who didn’t already know what Father’s dream was. They were just curious how he would respond—whether he’d answer calmly or get angry.
Father gave no reply.
His silence only heightened the tension. He didn’t release demonic energy, nor did his expression stiffen, yet the atmosphere grew taut.
The one who finally dispelled this swelling, explosive tension was Drunken Demon. He stepped in with his slurred voice. In moments like this, only a drunk could cut through.
“Before asking the Cult Leader about his dream, the Young Cult Leader should first share his own.”
“That’s only right. It was thoughtless of me. My dream changes so often, if you ask again later, I might give a different answer.”
I said it loud enough for Father to hear. So he’d know—not to hold on to just one dream. That dreams could change.
Then, Drunken Demon helpfully asked this question.
“Does our Young Cult Leader’s dream really change that often?”
He had caught on. He knew exactly why I had said what I said.
“Does a dream have to be just one thing? It’s a life we only get to live once—why not dream this and that? And even if there is no dream, what of it?”
I looked at Drunken Demon as I spoke, but the words were meant for Father. I was sure he understood.
And I couldn’t let a drunken guest who interrupted the stage just walk off.
“Do you happen to have a dream, Drunken Demon-nim?”
Normally, he would have just laughed and said something like “Drinking for the rest of my life,” but today—
“To serve the Cult Leader and unite the martial world.”
Drunken Demon was the one to say “unite the martial world.” He knew that Father would never speak those words himself.
He was saying, “I’ll step up instead—use me to say what the Cult Leader cannot.”
This was how he was repaying the guilt he felt toward Father.
“Do you believe uniting the martial world would make the world a better place?”
Yes, that was something I couldn’t bring myself to ask Father directly.
“At the very least, it’d be better than it is now.”
“No. I believe it would only get worse.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Imagine a world where demonic cultivators, the righteous sects, and the unorthodox ones are all unified as one. The demonic cultivators, believing they now rule, will try to oppress the righteous and unorthodox factions. The unorthodox factions, drowned in defeat, will commit even more heinous crimes. The righteous factions will resort to any means necessary to reclaim what they call the proper martial world. Countless lives will be lost in the process. In the end, it’ll become a world where no one is satisfied.”
Father and the Demon Supremes listened to my words in silence.
“Can’t we simply maintain strict control over that chaos?”
Drunken Demon spoke up, presenting a solution on their behalf.
“A martial world ruled through oppression and control—is that the world we wish to create through uniting the martial world?”
Though I answered Drunken Demon, these words were truly meant for Father.
I had seen it myself—the martial world where the balance of the Three Factions collapsed. I had learned firsthand that the nature of power never leaves a void unfilled.
The Twelve Zodiac Kings, a new form of power, had seized that empty seat, and martial artists found life even harsher than before.
We would be no different. The position of the Twelve Zodiac Kings would simply be replaced by the Eight Demon Supremes.
“I believe it’s a world that should never have been merged in the first place.”
Thanks to Drunken Demon stepping forward, I was able to say all I wanted to say.
Now, I let Drunken Demon step off the stage and turned to face Father. I had no way of knowing what my earlier words meant to him.
He was still looking at me with the same expression he had from the start.
“Father, setting everything else aside—I don’t want to lose a single person here.”
“There’s no one here who fears death.”
“Yes, I know. I know that every one of them is a brave soul. I know that they would give their lives for your command without hesitation. But this… this is just my personal feeling. It’s my selfish desire not to lose them.”
I looked around at the Demon Supremes with a solemn gaze.
“I don’t want to lose a single one of you. You might say, if one dies, seven remain—but no. I would spend the rest of my life longing for the one who’s gone.”
Perhaps Father wouldn’t be able to understand. Why I was so desperate to keep them alive. He wouldn’t know the lengths I had gone through in my life before the regression just to save one life.
My gaze, which had been directed at the Demon Supremes, turned back to Father.
“To be honest, this is an effort for my own life. Yes, that’s right. It’s my struggle not to live a life filled with mourning for the dead.”
“That’s your dream?”
“No. This is just my personal wish. Nothing more than my selfishness.”
“Then what is your dream?”
Father was allowing me to say everything I wanted on this stage. As if… he were making me the main character here.
Go on—say all you want before me and the Demon Supremes.
And perhaps, that was why this was becoming an even more difficult battle.
“My dream is to sit on the Throne Mat and ponder.”
Everyone, including Father, showed signs of confusion. Just that line alone wouldn’t have been enough to understand what I meant.
“I want to sit on the Throne Mat and think. Who should I visit today? What dish should I ask the Heavenly Demon Pavilion head cook to prepare?”
“You think that seat is such a leisurely one?”
“I know it’s not. I know very well how much work Father handles from that position.”
As if to ask, then why would you say such a thing, Father’s expression questioned me silently. I calmly responded.
“Isn’t that exactly why I should think harder about it? Because we can’t live a life of nothing but work.”
“!”
Depending on how it was taken, it was a direct provocation toward Father, and the atmosphere sank again. Father himself remained unchanged, but the reactions of the Demon Supremes shaped the tension.
“How can I handle matters more efficiently? How can I secure as much personal time as possible? I’ll think about it every day. And when I get bored, I’ll drop by the Alliance Leader and mess with that uptight man. And when I get tired of teasing him, I’ll visit the Unorthodox Alliance Leader and ask if his dancing skills are still as good. That’s the life I dream of.”
My true dream was not to be trapped on that Throne Mat. It was to live freely, traveling the world—that was my real dream.
But I couldn’t say that in front of Father. Not to a man who had lived his whole life on that Throne Mat for the sake of the cult. Not when I had an older brother who had been pushed away from that seat.
So the words I spoke now were a compromise. Father, isn’t it possible for dreams to be like this? Isn’t it possible that dreams become unattainable precisely because we treat them too delicately?
“What about you, Father? Haven’t you ever wanted to live like that?”
My answer and question danced on a razor’s edge. But unless I pushed this far, I couldn’t face Father on this stage. I couldn’t persuade him.
But the reality Father saw was cold.
“That uptight Alliance Leader you speak of will, one day, drive a sword into your back and tell you he had no choice. That he did it because he was the Alliance Leader. And as he watches the light fade from your dying eyes, he’ll speak his hollow justifications.”
Fist Demon King, One-Slash Sword Supreme, and Demonic Buddha all nodded. Blood Heaven Blade Demon and Drunken Demon didn’t react outwardly, but their expressions weren’t far from Father’s own.
Regardless of their relationship with me, they didn’t trust the righteous sects. And that mistrust wasn’t limited to the righteous ones alone.
“How long do you think the Unorthodox Alliance Leader will keep dancing? When will a sneak attack slip out from that dance of his? Do you really believe humans won’t change? That they’ll stay true even when faced with advantage or shifting circumstances?”
I gave no reply. I could have refuted him if I wanted, but I didn’t. At least on this point, I knew it was a conclusion drawn from Father’s long life and experience.
I let out a small sigh and quietly spoke.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Then I looked around at the Demon Supremes.
“Isn’t there anyone who could step up and help me here? Someone to say, ‘Cult Leader, it won’t be like that!’ Anyone?”
Blood Heaven Blade Demon shot me a glare. You brat, quit fooling around—be serious!
Demonic Buddha was absolutely delighted, smiling ear to ear.
One-Slash Sword Supreme’s gaze seemed to say, Sorry. And Drunken Demon pretended to be drunk.
Then, someone stepped forward—someone I never expected.
“The Young Cult Leader won’t be easily deceived.”
It wasn’t Evil Smiling Demon. The one who spoke up was the last person I ever thought would—Fist Demon King.
“He may appear that way outwardly, but the Young Cult Leader doesn’t trust others easily.”
“As expected! Master knows his disciple well. But… is that supposed to be praise or criticism?”
I turned back to Father and continued.
“Even if they betray me, it’s fine. That’s why I’ve been training like mad. The blade aimed at my back won’t pierce my skin, and the dance will remain just a dance.”
“You’re saying you’ll waste all that hard-earned martial strength?”
“I’m saying I’ll use that strength to enjoy life.”
“To spend your days worrying about where to eat and where to play?”
“Yes. That’s exactly it.”
As he looked at me, Father slowly began to move.
The place he walked to was right in front of Evil Smiling Demon.
Though Evil Smiling Demon’s gaze remained calm, I was the one who tensed.
“Even after hearing this, will you still support the Young Cult Leader?”
It was a burdensome question. The phrasing itself was laced with pressure to say “No.”
But just like the pure white mask he wore, Evil Smiling Demon’s heart was resolute.
“Yes. I support the Young Cult Leader’s will.”
Father asked him again.
“Even if you can never wear your Undying Demon Mask again?”
The Undying Demon Mask was the one Evil Smiling Demon wore when heading into battle. Back when the Demon Supremes had stood before Father on my behalf, Evil Smiling Demon had worn that mask and made a request.
It was the item he cherished most, so this question struck right at the heart.
Yet Evil Smiling Demon replied to Father more respectfully than ever before.
“Fortunately, I have several masks.”
Evil Smiling Demon shifted his gaze from Father to me.
“I will wear the Festive Ghost Mask and serve the Young Cult Leader for the rest of my life.”
The Festive Ghost Mask was the one worn during major ceremonies or banquets within the cult.
Even though he had just given up his most beloved Undying Demon Mask, his eyes inside the mask were clear and deep—those eyes that revealed his sincerity.
And before none other than Father, he had shown that sincerity. There was only one thing I could do to repay it.
I will make that banquet the grandest of all.
Every Demon Supreme turned their gaze to Evil Smiling Demon. Each pair of eyes held a different emotion.
Father said nothing more to Evil Smiling Demon. But could it be that Father asked that question without knowing how he would respond?
This time, Father moved to stand before Soul Reaper Demon Supreme.
She stood proud, even before Father. Everyone knew that Father didn’t particularly like Poison King or Soul Reaper Demon Supreme. And perhaps that was why she tried even harder to be confident.
It seemed like he was going to ask her why she sided with me—but then Father asked something unexpected.
“How is your training coming along?”
It was a gentle question, and though a bit taken aback, Soul Reaper Demon Supreme answered respectfully.
“I’ve been training diligently.”
It looked like he would leave it at that—a bit of encouragement and then move on.
“Don’t forget. You are my Demon Supreme.”
This time, it was Soul Reaper Demon Supreme who was surprised—and moved. She had believed herself to be cast out of Father’s favor.
“Still, you intend to stand over there?”
She was caught off guard. She looked at me.
There are many times I don’t understand Father’s thoughts. But at least this much I do know:
He is not the type to pressure a young Demon Supreme into siding with him during moments like this.
So what did this mean? It wasn’t about pressuring me. He was looking out for her.
Telling her that now is not the time to stand out. That she should grow quietly among the other Demon Supremes—this was Father’s way of caring for her.
With my eyes, I conveyed my feelings to her.
You may go.
Realizing my intention, Soul Reaper Demon Supreme respectfully clasped her fist toward me.
“I will serve you well in the future.”
She walked across the red carpet and stood on the opposite side.
Of course, I said something completely different from the look I gave her.
“How could you! Did you decide after thinking about who you’d rather spend more years with as a Demon Supreme? Is there another ghost this shameless in the world!”
Demonic Buddha, who stood beside her, broke into a bright smile.
‘Not easy, is it?’
On this stage, Father was strong.
With me, Evil Smiling Demon, and now even Soul Reaper Demon Supreme—he was caring for and guiding us all, while still leading this moment.
Father never lost his composure. His battles were always filled with dignity and grace.
All the Demon Supremes turned their eyes to me. The question in their gazes was the same.
Young Cult Leader, what will you do now?