As I struggled to comprehend what had just happened, a powerful gust of wind swept in from nowhere. It dispelled the surrounding darkness, along with what I had mistaken for a mere black wall.
"Ah..."
At that moment, I realized I was standing in a place all too familiar. It was a rocky mountain, barren of any grass, shrouded in fog that distorted the surroundings, under a cloudy sky. This was Spirit Mountain, where I had spent ten years and which had become my second home.
And there, atop the rocky peak, stood a dilapidated pavilion. My master was seated there.
"Master?" I blurted out.
***
It was an unreal sight. I felt like I was dreaming, so I stared blankly before speaking again. "Master—"
"Why are you calling me?" he interrupted, his voice tinged with boredom.
I hesitated at his tone, and doubt crept in. "Are you really Master—"
Ttaak!
" Ack! " I yelped, sitting down and clutching my head.
My master now held a withered old tree branch in his hands—a familiar sight. It was the same wooden stick that had struck my head countless times on Spirit Mountain.
"Youngest Disciple," he called.
"Yes...?"
"You've grown stupider since I last saw you." Before I could respond, he continued in his usual leisurely tone. "Am I really your master? Of course, it's me. After all, no one in the entire world can imitate Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven."
His arrogance confirmed it was him. I had realized it the moment I felt the pain on my head.
Rubbing my head gently, I asked, "What on earth is going on?"
"I was forced to take this approach to advise my foolish disciple," he explained.
"Advise me?" I echoed, confused.
"Let's talk about the Eldest," he said, changing the topic abruptly.
The sudden change rendered me speechless, but my expression turned serious at the mention of Eldest Senior Brother.
Overcome with emotion, I spoke rapidly. "I have so many questions. Why did you send me back to catch Eldest Senior Brother? Do you want me to grow steadily from a young age again? And what is the Forgotten Era? Why does this world's Martial God seem to know you, Master?"
My master gazed at me thoughtfully, a slight smile playing on his lips. Without a word, he rose from the pavilion, hands clasped behind his back, and walked toward the cliff's edge, one step at a time.
I fell silent and followed quietly behind him.
Soon, we stood atop Spirit Mountain, gazing out at the foggy world below.
"So, how are you doing these days?" he asked, his voice calm.
My master's questions often carried deep meaning, and this seemed no exception. I hesitated, unsure how to respond.
"You've already changed a great deal from your past self," he observed, his tone measured. "Less than a month has passed, yet so much has changed."
I remained silent.
"The Supreme Art of All Time has firmly taken root within your body, and you've encountered opportunities along the way. You even managed to overcome a life-threatening crisis."
His tone remained calm, yet for some reason, I couldn't speak. I knew why. When had Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven, ever spoken in such a manner?
"Do you think you are doing well now?" he questioned.
My master's gentleness only surfaced when reprimanding his disciples. The realization weighed heavily on me.
"I—" I began, faltering.
"I know," he interrupted. "You've never been lazy. But I think you know that this isn't what I mean."
I stayed quiet, my thoughts churning.
"Was the time you spent there more valuable than a month on Spirit Mountain? Do you think this time laid a solid foundation for your future?" he asked. "These questions don't have simple answers. There's no fixed response, only your own judgment."
I had no reply. It wasn't that I had no thoughts, but I simply couldn't think of the right words to say.
"Youngest Disciple," he said, his voice firm.
"Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You must have a lot of questions," he noted. "None of the doubts you hold now are trivial."
I nodded, still silent.
"If that was all, I wouldn't have appeared before you in this manner at this moment." His transparent gaze fixed on me. "Don't let your guard down."
I'd never let down my guard. At least, I assumed I hadn't until this moment. I had been meticulous and intense in my efforts.
But was that really true? After returning to the past, had I secretly felt that life had become too easy, too simple?
True, I had been on the verge of death many times. I'd faced near-death experiences many times, and the past month here had been significant. But what my master referred to went beyond that. I had navigated through these challenges, yet somewhere in my heart, a sense of complacency had quietly sprouted.
Before I could process anything, my master looked at me and tapped my shoulder. "I didn't send you back to the past simply to help you grow. Whether you believe it or not, regression is a hassle for me too. I did it so that you could observe the world you belong to more carefully. As a piece of advice, you should already be feeling a sense of dissonance."
The moment his wrinkled hand touched my shoulder, the fatigue in my body inexplicably faded. The muscle pain, which should've lingered for at least two more days, vanished completely.
At this point, the surrounding scenery started to become blurry again. The darkness, dispelled earlier by the strong wind, crept back, swallowing everything.
Without any particular discomfort, my body was plunged into darkness.
In the meantime, my master's voice echoed. "Remember this, Youngest Disciple. Had we not met today, you would've died a month from now."
***
I blinked, realizing I had lost consciousness briefly. When I came to, my mind felt strangely clear.
I was standing on the stage, though I hadn't immediately noticed because the surroundings were plunged into silence.
—Messenger, just now, could it be...
The Martial God's voice echoed in my mind, and a small commotion rippled through the crowd.
I saw the noblemen sitting together, whispering among themselves with bewildered expressions. That's when I realized they weren't looking at me, but at something behind me. I turned to glance at the mirror, specifically the number on it—1.
That's right. I had received a blessing.
By the way, what is my blessing? I didn't feel anything different, as though nothing had changed about me. In any case, some people still needed to receive their blessings, so I left the stage, returned to my seat, and sat down.
I replayed the events in my mind. This wasn't a dream or an illusion. What I had witnessed was real. My master's presence and his advice were lessons that I needed to take to heart.
The reason he sent me to this world... I looked up, unsure who to ask about the question in my mind. I had no choice but to turn to my only "friend."
"Hey, friend. I need to ask you something."
Seren, sitting beside me, frowned.
"Friend?" she asked, her tone incredulous. "What's wrong with your head? Did you get a blessing to the brain?"
"Should I call you 'fiancée' instead?" I shot back.
Seren pressed her lips together, then replied, "What is it?"
"The gods of disaster—no, the demon kings. How much do you know about them?"
"Who do you take me for? If you are from a Great Family, you have heard about them since childhood," she retorted.
I nodded and asked, "I'm not sure if my memory's failing me, but please confirm what I know about them is correct."
"Go ahead," she said.
I named the demon kings one by one: Blood Moon Demon King, Hadenaihar; Green-Tongued Demon King, Tantata; Golden Horned Demon King, Kingarodtus; and Black Swamp Demon King, Ahop.
Finally, I named the greatest threat to the empire, the worst enemy, and the only great demon—Great Disaster Behemoth.
After listing the names, I turned to Seren.
Seren tilted her head. "You are very strange."
"What?"
"You know a minor demon king like Tantata, yet you've never heard of the Colorless Demon King, who appeared most recently?"
Her words reminded me of the unease I'd felt during my conversation with the Council of Elders.
"How can this be?" one of the elders had exclaimed.
"Has a servant of the six demon kings infiltrated the Badniker family?" another had asked, his tone laced with disbelief.
Then I recalled my discomfort at the mention of the "six demon kings," and the thoughts I had had at that time. That was the extent of my knowledge. Truthfully, I didn't know much about the gods of disaster. There had been no contact, no interest. In fact, I had been under the impression there were five demon kings, not six.
"What is the name of the Colorless Demon King?" I asked.
"He Lou," Seren answered.
I stifled a sigh.
He Lou, the First Ultimate Martial Sword ... He was the first disciple of Bai Luguang, the greatest of all time, and my Eldest Senior Brother.