Chapter 420: Chapter 420

The old hinge groaned ominously as if threatening to break off at any moment. After ten years of neglect, it was completely covered in rust.

"I should replace it before it falls off."

Strange. Why did I say that?

Number 27 stared at the rusty hinge for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and stepping inside. He'd never paid any mind to a rusty hinge during his time here. Why, of all days, couldn't he just walk past it? Why did his gaze stray there?

The door opened with a ear-piercing screech, revealing the bleak interior of the lodging. Inside were a few shabby buildings and a training ground with old, dirty equipment.

"Welcome back, Instructor."

The trainees sparring in the middle of the courtyard nodded briefly before resuming their bouts.

The youthful innocence on the trainees' faces was long gone. Only weathered young warriors remained, hardened by years of trials and tribulations. The scars etched into their flesh appeared as natural as birthmarks.

"Halt. That's enough training for today."

The vicious matches stopped instantly at the instructor's soft command , the result of a decade of harsh discipline. The trainees turned to look at Number 27, their eyes devoid of any hint of curiosity. They simply waited for the next command.

"Today, let's just talk."

Number 27 walked toward the only pavilion, and the trainees followed him without complaint.

He scanned each trainee as they sat in a row. Ten years was a long time, long enough that, despite his efforts not to become emotionally attached to their forced master-disciple relationship, the bond had formed anyway.

Anger. Hatred. Resentment. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Expectation. Worry. Joy. Ecstasy. Accomplishment. Though he never showed it outwardly, he had experienced a variety of emotions while teaching them.

Although he was known as the Demon Instructor, he was still human. He had only suppressed unnecessary emotions in order to survive. Most importantly, the time he spent with his masters in the prison had softened him.

"If you have something to say before you leave, then say it! Don't hold back and regret it later!"

...What should I say?

Words didn't come easily to Number 27. In a few days, he planned to escape the Blood Cult with his masters. If he was lucky, he wouldn't run into the trainees here. If he was unlucky, he would have to fight and kill them.

It's okay, I'm prepared for that.

He began, "Ten years have already passed since you guys first came here." Thɪs chapter is updated by novel_fіre.net

""Yes,"" they answered in unison, their voices flat and their expressions like inanimate objects.

Just like their shitty teacher.

"You were unlucky to have met me out of all the instructors."

It was an odd thing to say, but the trainees didn't express any confusion or question it. Their instructor hadn't allowed it.

"That's actually the case for most children who end up in our Cult. If they're lucky, they catch an elder's eye and are taught martial arts. If they're unlucky, they drift from one low-level warrior position to another before dying in some filthy ditch. In my opinion, though, the worst fate is..."

Number 27 paused and looked at the main gate of the lodging. Perhaps he hadn't closed it properly when he came in, as it let out a strained creak every time the wind blew.

He returned his gaze to the trainees. "...Yours. If I were to name the unluckiest children in our Cult, I would pick you kids without hesitation."

"""......""" Numbers Two to Four said nothing.

Only Number One furrowed his brow and asked, "I don't understand what you're saying, Instructor. Why are you suddenly bringing up this subject?"

Number 27 exhaled slowly, letting the strong scent of alcohol spread through the air. "I had a drink on the way here."

Number 27 chuckled to himself. Before leaving the underground prison and coming to the lodging, he had gotten his hands on some strong liquor and drained the entire bottle. Sadly, he wasn't the least bit drunk. If he were, he might have been able to speak more honestly.

Taking a flask from his robes, he slowly sipped it in front of the trainees. "Is it weird? Then again, I've never drunk in front of you before, haha."

Number 27 snickered. He often smiled in front of his masters, but in front of these trainees, he could only curl his lips into a scornful sneer.

"Are you testing us?" Number One asked warily. He was the most outstanding trainee Number 27 had taught, with talent so great that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was born to wield a sword. Had he been born in the orthodox sects, he would have been hailed as the Sword King before he turned thirty.

He was also the most prideful trainee, the one who had defied his instructor the most. As a result of his rebellion, his once kind eyes had sharpened, and his firmly set lips and the numerous scars on his face spoke of the additional suffering he had endured.

Number 27 laughed, "A test?"

Is Number One what we would get if we mixed the personalities of Wiji Cheon and Hyonwon Kang? ...Huh? Who are Wiji Cheon and Hyonwon Kang?

He tilted his head at the sudden burst of curiosity, but quickly dismissed the stray thought. It probably wasn't important.

"It's just a simple question. I didn't mean anything more than that. From now on, just answer my questions honestly."

"Yes, Instructor," Number One murmured, averting his gaze.

The other trainees did the same.

Secretly, though, they quickly exchanged glances. Their loyalty had been tested frequently over the past ten years. Number 27 said it was a trivial question, but none of them believed him.

"Do you resent me?" Number 27 asked.

Silence settled in instantly. This was an entirely different kind of question than the loyalty tests the trainees had received until now.

"Answer me. I asked if you resent me."

"I do not," Number One finally answered.

"N-No," the other trainees answered a beat later.

Number 27 chuckled at their clumsy responses. "It's fine to speak honestly. I swear, by the grace of the Cult Leader, that there will be no repercussions for you regardless of what you say today."

The trainees continued to stare blankly at their master. Resent him? What he had done to them over the past ten years couldn't be expressed with such a simple word. Each of them had nearly died dozens, even hundreds, of times. The horrific memories of their childhood would never be erased.

"I do not resent you," Number One declared, clenching his teeth and staring his master in the eye.

"Really?? Number 27 stared intently into his eyes. For a moment, he saw anger flicker in the young man's eyes, which he thought had been purged of all emotion. However, it soon subsided. The child had calmed his emotions with well-practiced speed.

"Thanks to you, Instructor, we've become strong enough to serve the Cult Leader. When he emerges from his seclusion training, we'll stand before him and fight for the glory of our Cult. Therefore, we have no room for petty emotions like resentment."

Upon hearing this, the other trainees gradually regained their composure.

Number 27 snorted in self-reproach. The Demonic Strategist's ten-year brainwashing campaign was vicious. No words could ever shake these kids' loyalty to the Blood Demon.

What am I hoping for? Persuading them is impossible.

He realized that fact again, painfully. If they had shown even the slightest sign of wavering, there was something he had wanted to say. Since they didn't, though, he swallowed his words and lied, "Is that so? Good."

"......" The trainees didn't answer.

Still, Number 27 knew. Considering the countless insults and abuse they had suffered at their instructor's hands, this was already enough to be considered an act of defiance.

"You bastards will soon start serving the Cult Leader. You've learned the ultimate martial arts since you were young, and he's had his eye on you for ten years. You'll rise to a position so high that a cripple like me can't even dream of it."

Number 27 chuckled to himself again. His appearance, chattering drunkenly while reeking of alcohol, screamed of failure and self-pity.

"If you have any gratitude at all, then praise me in front of the Cult Leader. You said you don't resent me, right? Don't forget who raised you for ten years."

"......" A faint contempt flickered in the trainees' eyes.

Number 27 was satisfied with that.

It's better this way.

In a few days, he would escape the Blood Cult with his masters. Until then, it was better to remain the worst kind of person. That way, if they met again, no one would hesitate to point their blades at each other.

Throwing his flask to the ground, Number 27 roared, "Now you won't even answer properly! I can't stand the sight of you! Go back to your quarters!"

"......" The trainees obediently bowed their heads and returned to their quarters.

Left alone, Number 27 stared at the sky in a daze.

CREAK... CREEEAAAK...

Because of the blowing wind, the rusty hinge on the main gate groaned and creaked with effort.

"It's far too late to change things now..."

He rubbed his dry face with both hands. Even now, he wasn't the least bit drunk. He wished he could get drunk, but his body, which had lived every moment of its life in tension, wouldn't allow it.

"Fuck," he spat, scowling.

"Do you regret it?" someone asked.

Suddenly, time stood still, and the world was bathed in blood red.

Number 27 glanced around, startled. "W-What...?"

Everything had ground to a halt. The backs of the trainees heading to their rooms were frozen in place, and even the dust motes hanging in the air had stopped swirling around. He was the only one who could speak and move.

The voice from before echoed once more. "Do you regret it? This miserable fate of yours?"

Number 27 kneeled down without realizing it. He wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but the Blood Demon now stood before him, as impossibly beautiful as ever. "C-Cult Leader," he stammered, his body trembling like an animal that had met its natural predator.

The Blood Demon approached and extended a hand to him. "Your life is truly pitiful."

Number 27 stared at the hand as if possessed.

"What if you could change it? What if you could choose again?"

"What are you talking about...?"

"You already know the method. Do not refuse it. The power to defy heaven will free you from your destiny."

"Ah..." Number 27's lips parted in a daze. The allure of that velvety voice and ruby-like eyes held a spellbinding power, making resistance all but impossible.

How could I have harbored such disdain for the Supreme One, who is offering me such mercy? Why did I think of running away?

Number 27 slowly stretched out his hand. Just as the Blood Demon's fingers and his own were about to touch, however, he muttered, "Cult Leader, may I say just one thing?"

The Blood Demon nodded. "I permit it."

"Don't give me that fucked up bullshit." Number 27 forcefully slapped the Blood Demon's hand away and leaped to his feet.

His eyes were dyed the same crimson as the Blood Demon's... or rather, he was no longer Number 27.

Baek Suryong glared at the Blood Demon with blazing hatred. "I don't remember this crap happening in my past life."

Translator's Note: This might be the last chapter today. My medication is making me very drowsy... zzz...

19/9/25: Working overtime, the will be uploaded tomorrow.