383 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

Chapter 384 of "The Greatest Martial Artist's Childhood Friend" – Northern Rabbit What is this hand? Is it really my father's hand? Then why is it over my head? My mind is malfunctioning, refusing to work properly, as if it were broken. This unexpected situation is bewildering enough, but knowing what I had just done with my own hands makes it worse. The more I think about it, the more my breath becomes uneven and my head starts to spin dizzyingly. As reality sinks in, my heart begins to grow cold and heavy, and then—I remember my father's words. "You are my son," he said. My eyes widened at my father's words. "What exactly are you to me?" That was the question, and the only answer for it. He's giving me an answer to that question now...? "Don't just stand there. First…." "I forgive you." His words made me flinch. Forgive me? For what…? "For making a move to end you with my own hand. I forgive you." I bit my lip, trying to keep silent. How long had my father known my intentions? What made him realize it? My eyes wavered, unable to find steadiness. But my father continued speaking. "I forgive you, but do not forgive me." "Now… is this really the time for that kind of talk?" A rough yet clumsy hand brushed through my hair. It felt awkward, as if he were unaccustomed to such gentleness. I wanted to push it away immediately. But, foolishly, I couldn't. "Well done. It's not all bad." His coarse voice struck my ears like his touch. "Third son." "…Yes…?" "I have a question. Did the first one leave with a smile?" I was struck dumb by his question about Gu Hui-bi. "I… I don't know." I wasn't avoiding the answer; I truly couldn't recall it. Her final expression, that of Gu Hui-bi—what was it? "I see." My father nodded quietly to my response. "If that's the case, remember these words." His crimson eyes began to shift, darkening into black. His hair, instead of turning black, changed to white, as if leaching life. Watching this, I wanted—so desperately—to try something, anything, but I already understood. It was too late. "Live." "…!" His word hammered into my heart, burying itself deep. "Father…." I called frantically, but he— "..." —was already gone, having reached the end of his life. Without bending a single knee, he stood firm on both legs as he had from the beginning. And so he met his death. Despite witnessing this, it was I who fell to my knees. "Ah…." Something was wrong. This wasn’t how it should be. I felt a mad urge to burst my heart and die right there and then. But I couldn't. "Live." The words he left behind shackled me like a curse. Why did he say that? Was it to live and seek redemption? Or was there another reason…? I curled up, burying my face in my hands. I neither shouted nor wept. I simply breathed. How long had I remained there? Tap— Suddenly, I sensed someone approaching from behind. "This is…." Surprise heightened the voice of the person who surveyed the scene. It was Ma Geomhui. She approached me with heavy breaths, as if she had run to this place, and asked— "Are… you alright?" No, I wasn’t alright at all. Not at all. "Why… the leader… told you not to go…." She was right. Cheonma told me specifically not to head to Guga. Yet here I was, all alone. And things had turned out this way. Seeing me remain silent, Ma Geomhui scanned the surroundings and urged me in a panicked voice. "We need to move… people will come soon." She tugged at my shoulder. I didn't want to move; I wanted to remain like this, collapsed. But my spirit was spent, and my body failed to follow my will. "Leave me… just like this…." Despite my weary protest, Ma Geomhui used acupressure to immobilize me. "…!" "I'm sorry… but I can't allow that." Weakened, my body couldn’t resist her touch. Thus, she had to carry me as we retreated from the place. Even as we hastily departed, my gaze lingered on my father's figure. Until he was too distant to see any longer. ****************** I killed my father. The memory of that moment remains vivid even now. 'Damn it.' This is why, in this life, I found it impossible to easily resent my father. Why, whenever I looked into his eyes, forgiveness mingled with fear and guilt. How could I ever forget it? The sensation of my hands back then is still painfully clear. Recalling those memories now, my breath once more becomes ragged. I attempt to steady myself, even drawing upon my internal energy, but even that proves difficult. Seeing me struggling, my father gazes at me with a peculiar expression. It's overlapping. My father’s white hair from then seems to mesh with his crimson, now darkening eyes. “What’s wrong?” “No… it’s nothing.” It feels difficult to meet my father's eyes, memories having just resurfaced. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I understand what you've said, but still, I need to know.” Though bewildering, the sincerity of his sudden apology perplexes me. But that was not the main issue at present. “Please… can’t you just tell me?” “...” My father appears contemplative, weighing how to address this situation. But shortly after, he responds. “Very well. I shall tell you.” "…!" A hint of relief flutters across my face. “But there’s a condition.” “A condition?” My father's mention of a condition makes me halt instinctively. Yet, I was prepared for it. As long as he would tell me, nothing else mattered. “Whatever it is, I’ll….” “Defeat me in a fight.” “…Pardon?” Did I hear him incorrectly…? I scrutinized my father's face carefully, hoping perhaps it was a joke. As always, his eyes were earnest. "You mean... to fight against you, the head of the family, and win?" "Yes." "Me." "Yes." I asked again, but my father's gaze remained unchanged. Recognizing the futility, I could only show a defeated expression. "Why not just say you don't want to tell me?" "I said that from the beginning." "..." Well, that was true. I almost got swept away by his words without realizing it. "Still, it should be a condition I can actually fulfill. What kind of…." "Are you expecting defeat from the start? That's somewhat disappointing…." "Yes. You said so yourself, knowing I can't win. That's pretty underhanded." "..." "..." Feeling the heat rising, I found myself speaking to my father as if I were talking to anyone else. Was this the end? I'd never addressed my father like that before. His eyebrow twitched slightly, clearly displeased. At this rate, any request I had might really be denied. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…." "Since you seem quite displeased, I'll adjust the condition a bit." Just as I hastily began to apologize, surprisingly, my father expressed a willingness to alter his terms. Why...? It was a relief to not get reprimanded, even though I wasn't sure why. "Just once." "...!" "If you manage to strike me even once, I'll tell you." "Just… once, you say." "Yes, a single blow. If you fail to do even that, I will not disclose your mother's location. And if you somehow find out on your own, I will stop you by any means." "Not telling me is one thing, but preventing me from learning it on my own seems a bit much, don't you think?" Frowning at his baffling terms, I spoke, and my father decisively cut off my protest. "If you can't even do this, you'd die there." "…" "There will be no further negotiation. Leave if you're unwilling." I had no idea what place required him to be so protective, but his words were laden with 'concern'. Perhaps due to our previous conversation. For some unknown reason, it felt that way. The sentiment made me cringe slightly, but I didn't detest it enough to falter. With an effort to steady my emotions, I inquired of my father. "So you’re saying we’re to spar here and now?" He nodded at my question, prompting an awkward continuation of my remarks. "I just sparred with the Baekcheon Sword Master, you know? I have little strength left." "I am aware." "And despite knowing, you wish to proceed?" "Do you dislike it?" "…Of course I do." Just as I was about to voice my discontent, his previous statement echoed in my mind. - There will be no further negotiation. Leave if you're unwilling. "…" In other words, if I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to do it—it wasn’t compulsory. Isn't that what he was saying? Wow. This was dumbfounding. ‘Our father… was unexpectedly petty, wasn’t he?’ All his conditions were disagreeable. He knew I wasn’t going to give up easily, so he set conditions, yet even these were exceedingly difficult to achieve. I couldn't gauge how strong my father was right now, and the fact I couldn't perceive his power was telling. It meant that he was so strong that I, now having reached a high level, couldn't grasp his strength. Where exactly did he stand, if not there? ‘And he expects me to land a hit on such a father?’ It was an absurd demand. Utterly ridiculous. As I stood there, my face reflecting disbelief, looking up at him, my father spoke. "Refusing, then? Let’s have you leave." He even threw that challenge at me. At this point, it seemed he simply wanted a spar with me—or so I thought. And besides, though I knew I stood no chance of winning… "No." Seeing him push this far, I didn’t want to back down either. "I'll do it. Right now."