“So, would you be willing to tell this old monk?”

“Tell you what?”

“About the hell within you.”

“…”

Gakjeong’s gaze neither urged nor interrogated. He simply looked at me quietly.

But perhaps that made it all the more intense—like he could see straight into my soul, creating a strange tension.

My own personal hell.

I know it well.

Even now, if I push the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art to its peak, the scenes of that day come rushing back.

The scent of burning flesh brushing my nose. The flickering crimson flames of destruction. And blood—redder and thicker than fire.

The words I couldn’t say. The vow I made before that single flower blooming from death.

Each time I fight for real, each time I grasp that sense of Divine Sword Unity, I am reminded of it.

Of course, it no longer torments me as it once did.

When I defeated the Black Sky Sword Emperor, the lingering regrets from before regression found some closure.

The inner demon no longer festers within me. The killing intent from the past doesn’t swell to unbearable levels anymore.

But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything and only bliss remains.

It’s simply something that happened in the past, not something that never happened at all.

The regrets and mistakes of my past still loom large behind me.

And that’s why—even though it’s in the past—for me, it’s still a sensitive and significant subject.

Not something I can easily reveal to someone I’ve only met a handful of times. And yet…

Gakjeong had already revealed his own scars to me—his suffering and shame.

Judging from Jeonghyeon’s reaction, even he, as Gakjeong’s disciple, hadn’t known.

It’s surprisingly difficult to ignore someone who approaches you with sincerity.

Above all, this is all rooted in Gakjeong’s desire to understand the nature of the Heaven-Slaughter Star, and to prevent others from suffering the same tragic fate.

He’s the one who discovered the appearance cycle of the Heaven-Slaughter Star. If he can even develop a method to control its killing intent…

Then a few years from now, when the disaster at Jeomchang Sect strikes, the damage might be minimized.

And if I become that influential among the orthodox Murim sects, the proposal to join hands with the Black Lotus Sect against the Demonic Cult might gain real momentum.

Having thought that far, I finally opened my mouth.

“I—”

Thump!

The moment I tried to speak the first word, a heavy shockwave rippled from around my heart, and my voice was cut off against my will.

What followed was the sensation of something gripping my heart tightly.

Damn it. The mental restriction had activated. And stronger than usual at that.

“Are you alright, Benefactor?”

Gakjeong, sensing something wrong, asked with concern. I forced a nod, and only then did the backlash from the restriction subside.

I paused, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

It’s true I was about to speak about my past from before regression—but why would that trigger the restriction? I wasn’t going to say anything that directly revealed the regression.

It didn’t take long to reach a conclusion.

Even if I hide the fact of regression, if someone like Gakjeong could reach that answer on his own…

Then the stronger-than-usual reaction from the restriction made sense.

After all, even though Gakjeong had lost his internal energy, his insight and wisdom, built up over decades of holding sutras instead of fists, remained intact.

Why that leads directly to uncovering the regression, I don’t understand—but it is what it is.

Now that I understood what was happening, I simply had to adjust accordingly.

I chose my words carefully, describing my “hell” in a way that wouldn’t guide Gakjeong to the truth of regression.

“My hell ultimately stems from loss.”

“Loss?”

“Yes. A loss that occurred beyond my control. And even the one I could have sought vengeance against was lost as well. With nowhere left for my emotions to go, they turned inward—toward myself.”

“A sad tale, but also a common one.”

“In the martial world, it’s even more common.”

He was right. Though it felt like a dagger through my heart, such tangled, murky stories of grudges are not rare in the murim.

Mine was just another case of the martial world’s cruelty finding me.

“However, Benefactor Cheon… you carry killing intent far beyond others with similar stories. Why do you think that is?”

“Because I chose not to forget.”

Even now, countless people are losing their families, friends, and lovers.

Some due to malice, some due to illness, some due to famine or banditry.

But not all of them turn out like me.

Some make a place in their hearts, visiting that grave in their minds from time to time.

Some wander aimlessly for a while but eventually return to daily life.

The reason is simple: time.

Time piles like snow, covering up the pain of the past.

If it were real snow, one could shovel it away. But time cannot be cleared—so the wound gets buried, and we say it has “healed.”

“But I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”

Seo Mun-Hwarin told me to forget, but I couldn’t bear to.

“So I etched it into my heartscape. To remember. To recall it vividly at any moment.”

“I see. So you didn’t fall into hell—you chose to build your own hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Then, having made yourself the master of that hell, you also became the master of the killing intent born from it… So, it’s about control. Rather than simply suppressing it, you acknowledge and accept it, and wield it by your own will… Huh. All things are impermanent, and all dharmas are without self… Still, to accept recklessly is…”

Gakjeong fell into a quiet mutter, endlessly repeating Buddhist phrases.

After a long while, he finally seemed to reach a conclusion, nodding with a deep sigh.

“Hoo…”

“Was that the answer you were looking for?”

“Certainly. Your method is one of self-imposed penance, so I can’t call it a healthy path… but now that I know it’s possible, that alone is enough.”

“I’ve heard Buddhist disciples actually prefer penance.”

“Penance is not the path to enlightenment.”

“But I thought Buddha attained enlightenment after a long penance?”

“Haha. I didn’t know you were so interested in the Buddha’s teachings.”

Gakjeong chuckled warmly, his eyes kind.

“Indeed, the Buddha attained enlightenment after six years of penance. But it was not because of the penance. He awakened to the truth that penance does not lead to enlightenment—and in that realization, attained it.”

“That’s a lot of ‘enlightenment.’ It’s getting hard to follow.”

“In simpler terms: though your hell wasn’t built to control killing intent, it led to that result anyway—so it’s similar in effect.”

“Glad the martial arts explanation was easier to understand.”

I nodded with a faint smile as Gakjeong slowly rose to his feet.

“Since you’ve shared your story, it’s now my turn. Do you have any questions?”

“Many. So many I’m not sure where to start.”

“Take your time. My old eyes can’t see well at night, so I’ll need to head back before sunset—but until then, I’ll answer as best I can.”

What I most wanted to know was his martial arts, especially how he displayed such monstrous strength and flexibility without a drop of internal energy.

But what came out of my mouth was something entirely different.

“Master Gakjeong… do you believe the Heaven-Slaughter Star’s fate can be overturned?”

The Heaven-Slaughter Star is said to be not just a constitution, but a destiny—so bizarre in nature, without explanation or cure, that it’s called a fate rather than an affliction.

From the start, its very name likened it to the stars in the sky—suggesting resignation from the one who first discovered it.

But Gakjeong sought to overturn that.

I know well the desire to challenge the impossible. Someday, I too must face the Heavenly Demon and raise my sword against that incomprehensible power.

To say I’m not afraid would be a lie.

All my training, all my attempts to seek insight, are because I fear that overwhelming strength.

I imagine Gakjeong feels the same. He’s made some progress, yet the Heaven-Slaughter Star remains mysterious.

Still, he keeps moving forward. Is his resolve the same as mine? If not, then what is it?

Perhaps because the mental restriction prevents me from sharing my own burden, I found myself deeply curious about this man who walks a similar path.

Gakjeong blinked at my question, then, after a pause, organized his thoughts and answered.

“I have no certainty. I simply hope… and do my best.”

“Ah…”

Even as disappointment crept into my expression, Gakjeong continued in a calm voice.

“Have you ever heard of Angulimala?”

“No. It’s the first time.”

“He was a murderous specter of his time—yet Buddha took him as a disciple. To attain enlightenment, he sought to kill one hundred people. He had already killed ninety-nine and was about to murder his own mother.”

“A truly heinous man. I don’t see why such a person would be accepted as a disciple.”

“The Buddha stopped him before he could commit matricide, and through teaching, helped him repent. So, making him a disciple was not such a stretch. I believe Angulimala was the Heaven-Slaughter Star of ancient times.”

“What?”

“His teacher deceived him, claiming he could attain enlightenment by making a rosary out of one hundred fingers. But no matter how naïve he was, could anyone truly believe such a method would lead to enlightenment?”

Surely, he must’ve realized he’d been deceived at some point. But he couldn’t stop himself—because the killing intent had overtaken him. That was Gakjeong’s interpretation.

“Well, the full story is long, so let’s skip to the point. Angulimala’s tale perfectly mirrors the blood-soaked history of the Heaven-Slaughter Star. The only difference is…”

“At the end, Angulimala repented and was redeemed. Unlike all other Heaven-Slaughter Star.”

“Exactly. I may not be comparable to the Buddha… but if redemption was possible once, then perhaps the method can be found again.”

Even if he himself fails, another person, and then another, may continue the research and eventually reach heaven with their sincerity.

“Whether you believe it or not, Benefactor Cheon, I’ve already seen some success. Based on Angulimala’s tale and records of past Heaven-Slaughter Star.”

“One: that the timing of a Heaven-Slaughter Star’s emergence can be predicted by observing Heaven’s Palace—in other words, the constellations.”

Heaven’s Palace… predicting a Heaven-Slaughter Star through the stars?

He may not have proven it, but I know he’s right—because one does appear a few years later.

“And the second: that for a Heaven-Slaughter Star to awaken fully, the death of someone close is required. In Jeongshim’s case, it may have been my death. For Angulimala, it was his mother.”

With that, Gakjeong let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ve read the scriptures about Angulimala over and over, trying to find something a mere mortal could do… but alas, my old brain can’t figure it out.”

“So that’s why you said you weren’t certain, but just doing your best.”

“Indeed. Even in a sutra I had brought all the way from Tianzhu, it says: ‘If you seek help, find the one who walks not toward tomorrow, but toward yesterday.’ Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

The offhanded remark hit me like a blow to the back of the head.

The restriction reacting more sharply than usual.

And now, a line about someone who walks toward yesterday instead of tomorrow.

It wasn’t hard to see what it implied—regression.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep