Cheon Myeonghak's office.
Three people sat around a wide table, quietly focused on their meal:
Cheon Myeonghak, master of the Yongmyeong Merchant Guild, his wife Miryeong, and their son, the young heir Cheon Wuha.
'…I didn't see this coming.'
Wuha picked at the food before him, sneaking glances at Myeonghak.
Jang Uibo had suddenly declared he would join the guild, and right after that, Myeonghak had summoned him.
Naturally, Wuha assumed his father had called to discuss the matter.
But when he arrived, what awaited him was an unexpected family dinner.
"Haven't we been too busy lately to share a meal as a family? I thought it would be good to spend some time together."
…He had expected to hear something about Jang Uibo, but instead, they just ate in silence. That, too, felt oddly stifling.
He couldn't be the one to bring it up, so he simply gnawed away at a chicken leg.
"Wuha, drink some water while you eat. You'll choke."
"Now, wife—he's already ten years old. You don't need to fuss over every little thing."
"And what of it? When I offer you water, you happily accept. Here, husband, have a cup."
"…Ahem. Thank you."
Trying to put on a show of authority, Myeonghak ended up looking sheepish as he drank the water his wife offered, then quietly resumed his meal.
The atmosphere was no different from any other day. Seeing that, Wuha brushed aside his wandering thoughts and focused on eating as well.
By the time about half the dishes on the table were gone, Myeonghak slowed his chopsticks and spoke.
"Wuha."
Hearing his name in that low tone, Wuha looked up from the chicken in his hand.
His father's eyes said he had something to discuss.
So it's finally come, Wuha thought, forcing himself to answer calmly.
"Yes."
"How goes your studies in letters lately?"
"…Letters?"
The question was not what he expected. Wuha tilted his head before replying.
"Not well."
"…What?"
"Who in the world finds studying enjoyable? I only do it because you tell me to."
"..."
"I've said this before, haven't I?"
"…Ahem."
At his blunt response, Myeonghak coughed awkwardly and looked away.
Miryeong, however, smiled gently, her gaze warm on her son.
"Is studying so difficult for you, dear?"
"…Well, it's tolerable."
"If it's too hard, you can take breaks. Go outside, play, run around. You're at the age when you should be playing, after all."
"I'm fine without running around."
That was the truth.
It was already exhausting enough to act like a child inside the guild; he had no intention of carrying that burden outside as well.
"Then how can I help you? Shall I slip you snacks now and then during your studies?"
"Oh, that would be great. Something I can nibble slowly for a long time."
"Alright, I'll do that for you."
Miryeong nodded happily, pleased with his answer.
Meanwhile, Myeonghak cleared his throat again and spoke once more.
"…Wuha, and what about martial arts?"
"…Martial arts?"
So it had come at last.
With Jang Uibo now in the guild, if his father insisted he learn, there would be no avoiding it.
Still, wuha tried to divert him with a weary reply.
"I don't find it very interesting. Balancing it with study just leaves me tired."
"Then… if you had to choose only one, which would it be?"
"…What? One of the two?"
"Yes. Balancing both letters and martial arts would certainly be difficult. So I ask you: which do you truly wish to pursue?"
Wuha blinked blankly, caught off guard by the question.
"…My own thoughts?"
"Yes. I've heard you have remarkable talent in martial arts. As your father, of course I want you to excel in whatever you do. But the most important thing, I believe, is your own will."
"..."
"So tell me. Which path do you want to take?"
For once, Wuha was struck speechless.
…He hadn't expected this.
Even after ten years living this ordinary life, the question shook him.
"You're asking me to choose…?"
In truth, choosing one's own path in life was natural.
But some were denied that right by circumstance or birth.
In his past life as Sa U-myeong, that was exactly his fate.
Gifted with talent that could have elevated the Black Heaven Sect to the strongest in the demonic world—or perhaps even the strongest under heaven—
he had grown not as a person, but as a weapon.
If told to learn, he learned. If told to endure, he endured.
Even if the path was bitter, he never dared to cry out.
A weapon that developed self-awareness was only fit to be discarded.
Having lived such a life, his father's question now felt shockingly fresh.
"Why do you say nothing? Do you need time to think?"
Noticing Wuha's heavy expression, Myeonghak asked with concern.
Wuha, pulling himself back to reality, finally managed to answer.
"Would… the guild be alright with my choice?"
"…Hm?"
"No matter what I choose…?"
"Wuha."
Realizing what his son meant, Myeonghak's expression hardened for once as he leaned forward.
"Before I am the master of the guild, I am your father. What kind of father demands the sacrifice of his child just for the prosperity of his household?"
"..."
"It seems you need time to think. I won't press further today. Don't worry about anything else—just think about what you truly want."
"…Yes."
With that short yet long conversation, Myeonghak returned to casual talk, and the family meal continued.
But even after Wuha returned to his quarters, his face still carried an unshakable complexity.
Several days passed after the talk with his father.
During that time, Myeonghak did not push or rush him for an answer.
Outwardly, Wuha lived as usual, but inside, he struggled with a choice that would not come easily.
One day, when his troubled face had grown noticeably darker, Go Seokjeong suddenly halted their lesson.
"'Among three people walking, there is always something I can learn'…"
"…That's enough."
"Eh? Master?"
"That's enough reading for today."
Normally, lessons lasted until the sun had set. To stop this early was unusual.
Puzzled, Wuha looked at his teacher.
"…Do you need to use the latrine?"
"Ahem, no. Today, let's go outside and get some fresh air."
"…Fresh air?"
Wuha's eyes widened.
Rain or snow, Go Seokjeong always preached that a scholar must read.
For him to abandon study and suggest a stroll?
"…Master."
Wuha studied him seriously.
"…Are you unwell?"
"You brat…!"
Seokjeong's eyes bulged as he looked around for his switch.
But Wuha darted up, slid the door open, and slipped outside before he could grab it.
"Let's go, then. I know the area well—I'll lead."
Already out of reach, Wuha smirked.
Seokjeong grumbled but put down the switch, then followed.
And so, their first outing together led them to…
"Huff… huff… you brat! Slow down!"
"…I am going slow."
"Then slower still!"
Seokjeong wheezed as though on the verge of collapse.
Wuha, walking ahead on the mountain path, stopped with a faint smile.
Though only ten years old, Wuha's body already carried the cultivation of an internal martial artist.
Seokjeong, by contrast, was a man past sixty—a mere scholar.
Of course he couldn't keep up.
But still—
'…And I'm not even using internal energy.'
Clearly, years at a desk had left Seokjeong frail.
Wuha patiently waited until the old man caught up, drenched in sweat.
"Let's see… phew… somewhere to sit…"
"…Wait here."
Step, step.
Guessing his teacher's need, Wuha disappeared into the bushes and returned with a sturdy branch, about waist-high.
"Here. Use this."
"…Ahh. Thank you."
Taking the makeshift staff, Seokjeong leaned on it and pressed onward.
Trailing after him, Wuha grumbled.
"Why did you insist on climbing a mountain in your condition?"
"Phew… boy, I was quite spry in my youth…"
"Yes, yes, of course you were."
"…Huff."
Too breathless to retort, Seokjeong trudged on.
Soon, the mountain opened into a treeless summit.
"…We're here."
Whoooosh.
The peak was a wide clearing with a few large rocks scattered about.
Settling onto one, Seokjeong wiped his brow and gazed down at the city below.
"Tell me—wasn't it worth the climb?"
"…I suppose so."
Though Wuha answered calmly, his eyes sparkled faintly with delight.
It wasn't a grand mountain, just a nameless hill overlooking Se-an.
Yet from this height, gazing down, his tangled thoughts seemed to ease.
Seeing this, a gentle smile crossed Seokjeong's lips.
"So, have you made your decision?"
"…Eh?"
"..."
"…My father told you?"
Realizing his master's meaning, Wuha scratched his head and looked away, embarrassed.
It felt awkward to face his teacher when his dilemma lay between letters and martial arts.
Reading his thoughts, Seokjeong spoke while gazing at the city below.
"What troubles you so? Just follow your heart."
"…So you mean it's fine if I learn martial arts?"
"Of course. Though I would regret it, there is nothing wrong with it. Martial arts, too, can be seen as a kind of study."
"..."
"In the end, what matters is not what you learn, but how you use it. So tell me: if you learned martial arts, what would you do with it?"
"…I'm not sure."
After a pause, Wuha admitted quietly.
"Whether letters or martial arts… honestly, I don't have anything I truly want to do with either. It's just… one path I know I'd excel at, and one path I simply want to try. That's the problem."
"…Mm. That is indeed a difficult choice. There is no single right answer—it depends on the person."
Seokjeong nodded, then after a long silence, spoke again.
"Wuha."
"Yes?"
"What do you think of the view from here?"
"…It's nice."
Baffled, Wuha answered honestly.
"Because it's something I don't normally see."
"Exactly. Then tell me: could those below, who've never climbed here, imagine what this view is like?"
"…I doubt it."
Wuha shook his head. Then he looked back at his master, curious about the point of such questions.
"Do you remember the question you once asked me?"
"…About why a scholar studies?"
"Yes. This view—that is my answer."
"…Eh?"
"Those who live below believe the world they see is all there is. But from higher up, you see how narrow their world truly was."
Realization dawned on Wuha, and he asked quietly:
"So you studied to show people the world is wider?"
"That is one reason. But not all. The opposite is also true."
"…The opposite?"
Smiling faintly, Seokjeong explained:
"Those born in high places believe the view from above is the whole world. They know nothing of the lives below, though that too is part of the world."
'…Those who only live above.'
Surely, Seokjeong wasn't referring to Wuha's past life.
As a former imperial scholar, he likely meant the people of the court.
But Wuha could not help recalling his own past self.
"Then… those above are no different from those below?"
"In that both only know their own narrow world, yes. But there is one crucial difference."
"What's that?"
"Those below are ignorant. Those above… are lonely."
"…!"
That single line struck deep into Wuha's hidden heart.
"I studied so that those below would not remain ignorant, and those above would not remain lonely. Through learning, I wished to change the world."
"…And did you?"
Wuha's quiet question drew a shake of the head.
"No. It was not so simple. But this much I can say: I have no regrets about the path I chose."
"..."
"So, Wuha."
"…Yes."
"The only advice I can give is this: whichever path you choose, choose the one that feels most valuable to you."
"..."
"Whatever that value may be."
When Seokjeong's long speech ended, Wuha silently gazed down at the city.
What he thought, only he knew. His teacher simply waited.
At last, Wuha turned back, a gentle smile on his face.
"…Thank you, Master."
"Ahem. It was only advice from a teacher. No need to thank me."
"But you climbed all the way here just to give it. Your joints must ache…"
"Bah, nonsense! It's only because it's been so long. I can still handle a hill like this!"
Waving the branch he had used as a cane, Seokjeong blustered.
Wuha chuckled faintly.
"Shall we go down, then?"
"Hm?"
"The sun's setting. It'll be hard to descend in the dark. We should hurry."
Already starting down, Wuha called back.
Watching him, Seokjeong's lips curved in a faint smile.
"…Wuha."
"Yes?"
"Come here and help me down, will you?"
"…?"
"…My knees haven't been well lately."
In the end, his knees were more precious than keeping up appearances before his student.
read more on brightnovels.com