We didn’t have to travel far to find a suitable hunting ground. The mountain behind our academy was famously rugged, its slopes dotted with defensive emplacements and protective formations that made it all but forbidden territory. The only people in this deserted place were my father and me. Three of us, then, I corrected myself. My father’s bodyguard, Han Kang, was surely following us, hidden somewhere in the trees. I used to call him Uncle Han Kang. I saw him often when I was young, but as I grew older, our paths crossed less frequently. Han Kang was a guard my father trusted implicitly. If I had Lee Ahn, then my father had Han Kang. I scanned our surroundings, but found no trace of him. He truly was a master of concealment. Of course, even a man like Han Kang… had been killed by Jang Tae on that day. The first thing my father said to me was this: “What is all that ridiculous baggage?” I was shouldering a leather pack nearly as large as I was. “It’s what I’ll need for a few days.” “A few days? I plan to be back down in one.” “You never know. You might enjoy hunting with me so much you’ll want to stay for a few more.” My father’s face was an open book, his expression plainly asking if such a thing were even possible. “Wishful thinking.” Though I’d been with him for less than half an hour, I was already realizing something I hadn’t known before. My memories of my father were quite distorted. I remembered him as a man of few words. But the father before me now spoke more than I expected. “You’re much stronger than I thought.” He was referring to my performance in the fight against Koo Pyeong. My movements had been artless, but the underlying skill I’d accumulated in my past life must have shone through. There was no point in trying to fool him. “I was hiding my strength.” “So it seemed.” I added a joke to lighten the mood. “I’m not some hissing cat. I’m a wild beast with its claws hidden.” My father stopped walking and looked back at me. “If you’re a wild beast, why hide your claws?” “Ah. I’d never considered that.” “Then you’re a cat.” He was about to turn away when he suddenly asked, “What level have you reached in the Bicheongeombeop?” The Bicheongeombeop, the Flying Heavenly Sword Technique, was a martial art passed down through the bloodline of the Heuk-cheon. While it couldn't compare to the Guhwa Magong—taught only to the Heuk-cheon himself—it was still a profound martial art, considered on par with those practiced by the Demon Lords. Of course, knowing a high-level art didn't guarantee strength. In the hands of a master, even a simple technique could kill an expert in a more powerful style. I had already decided there was no deceiving my father. I answered honestly. “I’ve achieved Great Success.” In that instant! Zing! A shard of wind launched from my father’s fingertips shot past my cheek. If I hadn’t instinctively twisted my head aside, it would have punched a hole straight through it. My father’s face was a mask of surprise. “Great Success, you say!” Clutching my cheek, which stung from the force of the passing air, I shouted, “My god! You didn't even believe me, and you still unleashed an attack like that? What if I hadn't dodged?” “That’s the price for lying. If you had truly reached Great Success, you would be able to avoid it.” “Scars wouldn’t suit this handsome face I inherited from you!” With a snort, my father turned and walked on. I had good reason to be scared of him back then. What kind of father in the world throws a corrective strike at his own child without a moment’s hesitation? And at his face, no less! It wouldn’t have killed me, but it would have left a serious injury if I hadn't evaded it. My father spoke without turning around, his voice carrying back to me. “To reach Great Success at your age… that's incredible.” In my previous life, I hadn't reached that level until I was well into my thirties, so his surprise was understandable. My father was nothing if not sincere when it came to martial arts, which made his words high praise. “Thank you.” After that, we ascended the mountain in silence for a time. In a closed room, a silence like this would have been suffocating. But climbing a mountain was different. Merely walking together felt like an unspoken conversation. I was the one who finally broke the quiet. “Who taught you how to hunt?” After a moment, my father answered. “My older brother.” “I had an uncle?” “He’s dead. He died by my hand when he was about your age.” A heavy silence fell between us. Instead of offering empty platitudes, I spoke my honest thoughts. “Good.” My father stopped and turned, his eyes harsh. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been born.” He stared at me coldly for a long moment before resuming his stride. What patriarch didn't bear the scars of a war between brothers? I had seen it countless times in my past life. The stronger a man appeared on the outside, the deeper the wounds hidden within. That was why I had said it, like lancing a boil. It was a lesson I had learned the hard way. You can bury a body, but you must not bury the wounds of the heart. And perhaps because of that, my father finally said, “At the time… I could find no other way.” I knew what he meant. He couldn't find a way to win the succession battle without killing his own brother. My reply was resolute. “Then don’t expect anything different from me.” He glanced back again. His eyes were colder than before, but I said what needed to be said. “I can’t accomplish what you could not. Besides, you’d have to give me a brother worth the effort of sparing. You know what he’s like. You know how petty and cruel my older brother is.” “You speak ill of him often.” “And I’ll say it to his face if I have to.” Honestly, that was putting it mildly. Not when I thought about what my brother would do in the future to secure his position as successor. “He is enduring hardship on the frontier, while you bad-mouth him from a place of comfort.” “A Grand Prince of the Heuk-cheon Church suffers no hardship, even if he’s locked in the deepest dungeon, let alone the frontiers.” My brother was currently away on our father’s orders. At this point in time, he had not yet revealed his true nature. His abilities were outstanding, and my father trusted him more than me. Not only that, but many in the academy were already trying to align themselves with him. “My brother will never give up his claim. It would be foolish and conceited of me to try and spare him on my path to becoming the successor.” The look on my father’s face seemed to say, Is this the kind of person you are? My eyes answered him defiantly. Yes. My father started walking again. I was never married in my last life. I don’t know what feelings a child truly inspires in a man. So I wonder. What am I to my father? We climbed another league in silence. “Shh.” I looked up at my father’s signal. He was pointing straight ahead. “Do you see it?” I strained my eyes, but all I could make out was the dense forest. “I can’t see anything.” “I can.” “What is it?” “Dinner.” “Then we should get it.” I started to pull the bow from my leather pack, but my father stopped me. “How can you shoot what you can’t see? First, close your eyes. Feel your surroundings.” “Yes.” When masters read an opponent, they use the subtle waves in the air, what is often called a person’s presence. The only presence I could feel nearby was my father’s. It was calm. And that was what made it so terrifying. I knew better than anyone how ferocious that calm sea could become when roused—a sleeping typhoon capable of turning the world upside down. “Now, release a thread of your energy. Just a single thread.” I did as he instructed, letting out a sliver of my energy. “Slowly. Don’t let it break. Imagine your body is a spool of thread, and you are slowly unwinding it.” In my life before regression, I had never projected my energy so thinly. There was usually a clear reason for releasing one’s aura: to overwhelm an opponent’s will. This was a technique I could never have imagined. “Thinner. It must not snap!” It was the first time I realized that the energy released from one’s body could travel so far. “More. More.” If my father hadn’t been there to encourage me, I never would have been able to sustain it for so long. And then, a moment later, my energy touched something. “Did you reach it?” My father sensed it the same instant I did. “Yes. I can feel it.” “What do you think it is?” “It feels like… a tree.” Surprisingly, I had a distinct impression of what I was touching. It was a feeling I couldn't explain, but I was certain. It was a tree. “Explore the area around it. Slowly.” I felt as though the thread had unwound to its very end and would fall apart at any moment, but I held my focus. I extended my energy further, probing the surroundings. Then, beneath the tree, I discovered a living presence. “A wild boar?” When my father didn’t answer, I slowly opened my eyes. He was staring at me, his expression one of pure astonishment. “Or maybe a bear? It felt like a boar, with coarse fur and an elongated body.” “It’s a wild boar.” I looked toward the spot my energy had reached. It was still too far to see with my own eyes. I had found a boar deep in the distant forest. “To hit it from this distance in one try is no easy feat.” My father seemed to find it hard to believe, even after witnessing it himself. Thinking back, the technique he’d just taught me wasn’t merely for hunting. It was a formidable secret art with clear martial applications. “You were planning to watch me fail and make fun of me, weren’t you?” “You were supposed to fail, of course.” “I am your son.” “Even I didn’t get it on my first try.” “But am I not a Cheonmujiche?” At the mention of the Heavenly Martial Body, my father’s eyes shifted slightly. In the past, I had held a certain resentment toward him regarding my Cheonmujiche. —Why would a man so obsessed with strength, who held martial tournaments to find a worthy successor, who sought talent that could surpass his own children, neglect me so? Why didn’t he push me? I had even thought he might be jealous of me. Yes, I was that petty. But I know better now. The world does not bend to one’s will simply because it should. It wasn't that I deserved special treatment for being a Cheonmujiche; it was my duty to make use of this body and become a special person myself. I now understand that the Heavenly Martial Body only becomes a true blessing from the heavens when it reflects the hopes and expectations of all. “What are you doing? Do you plan to let our dinner get away?” I drew my bow and sent an arrow flying toward the presence I had felt. Fwip. A bonfire crackled in the darkness. Skewered over it, well-butchered boar meat sizzled as it cooked. “When did you learn to dress an animal?” “I read it in a book.” “You’re surprisingly skilled at it for someone who learned from a book.” Father, I’ve probably killed and eaten hundreds of boars. I quickly changed the subject. “The pelt you’re sitting on was my attempt at flattery. Glad to see the effort wasn’t wasted.” My father was seated on the tiger fur I had carried in my pack. His lips curled into a slight smirk. It’s a difficult expression to pull off, but my father managed it with ease. “Is this why you wanted to hunt with me? To get on my good side and be named successor?” “No. I know full well that won’t work on you.” “I’m glad you know.” “I can become the successor without your help.” “Confident, are we?” “Of course, my greedy, cruel, and vicious brother will certainly try to interfere.” “There you go, bad-mouthing him again.” “I have to ask. How often does one get the chance to openly criticize a rival in front of the judge?” Father, if you truly wanted familial peace, you should have named a successor from the start. This foolishness about competition… succession disputes always lead to fighting, killing, and chaos. “Why did you ask to hunt with me, then?” “Two reasons. First, I want to learn from you and become stronger. I believe I’ve already succeeded on that front.” “And why do you want to be stronger?” he asked, a provocative glint in his eyes, as if to ask if I planned to take his seat. I answered quickly. “It’s not because I want to be the Heuk-cheon. You are still in your prime, Father, and I have no desire to waste my youth on that throne. I’ll be satisfied just to become the successor and learn the Guhwa Magong.” Given my age, I knew that in my father’s eyes, neither my brother nor I were ready. In fact, in my past life, he didn’t name my brother as his successor for another ten years. I can’t wait ten years. A small push won’t be enough. It’s time to take the awl from my pocket and start poking around. I have to learn the Guhwa Magong as soon as possible and achieve Great Success. No, I must reach a level even higher than that. Even my father, who had reached the level of Sib-i Seong, was defeated by Jang Tae. I must attain that level as well. “I sometimes imagine it. A day when I meet someone I truly want to kill, but I’m too weak to do so. I don’t want to ever feel that regret. That is why I want to be stronger.” His expression was unreadable; I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “And the second reason?” “I wanted to spend time alone with you. This is a first for us, isn’t it?” The smirk on my father’s lips deepened again. “A sentiment so cheap it’s sickening.” “How could spending time with the greatest man in the world be cheap? If you were to sing, it would be the world’s greatest song. If you were to drink, it would be the world’s finest wine. Even if you were to poop—” “Enough.” “Yes, sir! I will shut my mouth for one hour.” Our eyes met, and I grinned. It might have been the first time I had ever smiled at my father. He coldly turned his head away. When I used to think of you, Father, I had nothing to remember. Fear doesn't make for fond memories, does it? In this life, things won’t be so bleak. But don't get used to it, I thought. This isn't for you. It's for me.

Chapter 5: A hunt with a stranger