Patrick understood why Aaron was saying such things. How could he not? The world and reality.
Words Patrick had heard until he was sick of them in the past. Seeing him bustling about to make the Twin Dragon Sect the greatest sect in the martial world, others had sneered. Do you think that will actually work?
Do you think you can make it happen by struggling all by yourself? A prestigious sect is built upon accumulated history and tradition. Know reality and understand your place.
To those who said such things, the Radiant Dragon Grandmaster Jin Cheon had proudly proven them wrong. He built a legend of a hundred victories in a hundred battles, defeated countless giants of the unorthodox alliance, and even the demonic cultivators who, mad with bloodlust, had thrown the world into chaos, fell to Patrick's twin swords.
And in the end, he raised the Twin Dragon Sect to a position where no one could dare dismiss it as a third-rate sect. No matter what anyone around him said, Jin Cheon never once doubted his goal. How could he have done that, you ask?
"In your eyes, Merchant Guildmaster, does Matthew's effort seem meaningless?"
"Finding meaning in effort is the logic of failures. Effort only has value when it produces results."
"That's exactly it."
"Hmm?"
"Ahem. You know well. Since you know so well, why are you only spouting nonsense?"
"What do you mean?"
Patrick spoke to the uncomprehending Aaron in a frustrated tone.
"Didn't Matthew produce results?"
"..."
"He produced the result of defeating his peers and winning honorably in the midterm evaluation. So how can Matthew's effort be worthless?"
"..."
"Look at Matthew's hands. Are those the hands of someone who is meant to hold a pen?"
Aaron's gaze fell upon his son's hands. And without realizing it, he let out a gasp. Rough hands, full of calluses and scars.
How much effort must he have put in for them to become like that? The result of his continuous effort, enduring the pain of torn palms and crushed bones, was clearly visible before his eyes. It was just as Patrick said.
Those were not the hands of a person who would live by holding a pen. They were the hands of those who lived by betting their lives and futures on the sword. Patrick spoke again.
"Matthew worked hard and produced results. So why must he be forced to alter the path of his own life? Even as a parent, you cannot decide the direction of your child's life, can you?"
"Patrick, I..."
Matthew tried to interrupt, but Patrick paid him no mind and continued.
"If a child puts in the effort and achieves something, there must be appropriate words and actions for a parent to take. Am I wrong?"
"Patrick, stop."
"Stop what?"
"What are you doing to my father?"
"Isn't it because he's my friend's father that I'm doing this? You stupid fool!"
Patrick shouted.
In that moment, Patrick saw the faces he missed overlapping with Matthew's. Jegal Hyeon, discriminated against by his clan because of his unsightly appearance. Namgung Cheon, who wasn't even treated as a son because he lacked talent. Peng Moojong, who had been half given up on even within the Peng Clan from Hebei.
And even his wife, Tang Su-ryeon, who was not acknowledged by her clan because she was a woman... If only their clans had shown them even the smallest consideration back then... If only they had shown even a little gratitude for their effort and dedication...
'It made me want to vomit, seeing them come fawning over them, calling them 'oh, my son, my daughter' only after they became successful.' On top of that, it was frustrating to the point of madness to see my friends unable to abandon those clans, taking care of them simply because they were blood relatives.
At that time, Patrick had felt it was a relief that he was an orphan with no family ties. Meanwhile, Aaron had a realization from Patrick's words. Come to think of it...
He had been displeased that his son had entered the Knight Faculty against his wishes. He had also been displeased that his son had not failed the midterm evaluation, contrary to his expectations. It was all because these events were beyond his expectations and control.
'I was so petty.' It was just as Patrick said. A parent does not have the right to decide the direction of their child's life.
And there were certainly things he should have said to his son, who had worked hard to produce results. He only realized it after the young man before him pointed it out. A young man not even half his age.
Aaron, his face flushed with shame, spoke.
"Matthew."
"Yes, Father."
"I'm sorry. And... you did well."
"..."
The moment he received his father's acknowledgment, an indescribably complex emotion showed on Matthew's face. He hadn't expected it. Knowing that his father was reluctant about him entering the Knight Faculty, he hadn't expected such words at all.
But now that he heard them, he knew. Not having expectations was just a comfort he had given himself to avoid getting hurt.
In reality...
"Thank you."
At his father's single word of praise, his voice grew thick with the emotion of feeling as though all his past hardships had been rewarded. To his son, Aaron said.
"I'm proud of you."
"..."
Feeling that he would show an unsightly side of himself if he said more, Matthew couldn't even reply. And Patrick stood up from his seat and said.
"Well then, it seems the two of you, father and son, need some private time. I shall take my leave."
"There's no need for that."
"I know how to take a hint."
A lie.
In any case, Patrick stood up briskly and went outside...
"Just a moment."
Patrick, who was about to leave, scurried right back and grabbed the entire bottle of alcohol on the table.
"It's expensive alcohol, so I'll finish it. Well then, really, I'm off..."
"..."
"..."
And he quickly left the room. Watching Patrick's retreating back, Aaron said.
"Matthew."
"Yes, Father."
"You've made an amazing friend."
"I think so too."
Aaron chuckled, took a new bottle of alcohol from the cabinet, and said.
"Let's drink. It seems we'll have a lot to talk about today."
"Yes, Father."
The father and son's private time had just begun.
The roof of the Elbador Merchant Guildmaster's mansion. There, Patrick had brought the alcohol he took and was drinking alone, half-reclined, looking at the moonlit night. With memories of the past as his side dish.
[Well done. Thanks to you, innocent commoners were saved.]
[Excellent. I'm proud of you, Cheon-ah.]
[You rascal, aren't you too reckless? Still... I'm glad. Thanks to you, we were able to prevent greater damage.]
The countless heroic deeds and achievements he had built up while active as the Radiant Dragon Grandmaster Jin Cheon. Most of them were nothing more than things he did to hear praise from his Master. In the process, he helped the powerless and struck down the wicked.
The world praised him as a Grandmaster. A true hero who struggled to show that justice was still alive in the martial world. But that was just a result.
What he truly wanted was not the title of Grandmaster, nor the world's evaluation. It was just a single word of praise from his Master, who would praise him even while looking upset.
"You know, about being a child."
Patrick took a sip of alcohol and spoke again.
"No matter how old you get, you're no different than a child in front of your parents."
No answer came back. The Master who would answer him was not here. Still, Patrick continued to speak as if his Master were right in front of him.
"Thinking back on all the reckless things I did just to hear a word of praise from you, Master, I was so immature. Wasn't I?"
But still.
Patrick still thinks. If he could go back to those days, if only he could once again hear that single word of praise, delivered while scolding his recklessness with that worried look in his Master's eyes, how wonderful it would be...
"Tsk. How sentimental..."
Patrick, clicking his tongue and scolding himself, raised the bottle again. Today, Patrick was a little envious of Matthew.
The next day. Patrick had breakfast with Matthew's family. Fresh yogurt with seasonal fruits.
Soft bread and seafood soup.
"You're eating... a lot."
"Eating is all that matters. This fruit is delicious, what is it?"
"It's called a mango. It's a fruit that grows on some islands far off the southwest coast."
"It must be expensive, right?"
"About one gold each."
"Give me more."
Does the concept of shame even exist in this punk's head? Just yesterday, Aaron had been very surprised by Patrick. He had led negotiations on equal footing using the silk production method as bait.
He had rebuked him for being blinded by parental selfishness and failing to recognize his son's efforts. While talking with him, he had felt as if he were dealing not with his son's peer, but with an adult of his own age. He was certain of it...
"Cough, cough, water..."
"Here you are, young master."
Seeing that sight, he even began to wonder if everything that happened yesterday was just a fantasy. When he looked at his son, Matthew sent him a look as if he were used to it, a look that said, 'He's always like this, so don't mind him.'
"Ahem, yes, Young Lord Patrick. What are your thoughts on this year's Arcana Tournament?"
"The Arcana?"
"Yes. Many are debating whether or not you will go as a representative. What do you think? Do you think you'll be able to go?"
"A representative?"
"People are talking a lot, but since you're the one in question, haven't the professors given you any hints?"
Patrick nodded, then spoke.
"First, may I ask one thing?"
"Go ahead."
"What is the Arcana?"
"......?"
"...?"
"...?"
"Why? Why are you all looking at me with faces that say, 'Is this punk for real?'"
How could they not?
Arcana.
In other words, it is also called the Sword Dragon Festival. It is a gladiatorial tournament created to honor Arcana, known as the dragon of swords and the patron deity of all knights. Though it's called the Sword Dragon Festival, one can participate even if their weapon of choice is a spear or a blunt weapon.
Representatives are selected from among academy students or young people of a similar age from each country on the continent to compete. Winning this tournament, held once every four years, was the highest honor for a knight, and even if one did not win, achieving a good result could spread one's fame across the entire continent.
And currently, the Atronia Kingdom was in the middle of setting a new record in this Arcana. The dishonor of having participated three consecutive times without achieving a single victory. As a result, the Atronia Kingdom was evaluated as having the lowest level of knights on the entire continent.
"Ah... now that you mention it, I think I've heard of something like that?"
"Even if the Schneider Fief is at the very eastern edge, to not know of the Arcana..."
"Hey, Merchant Guildmaster, try being busy just trying to make a living. Do you think I'd have time to care about something like that?"
"..."
"Ahem, anyway, the Arcana... you're saying it's being held this year."
"That's right."
"Well, is it that important?"
"It is important!"
"How can you even say that!?"
"Brother, are you an idiot?"
All three members of Matthew's family shot up from their seats and denounced him in unison.
"Ugh, jeez... Let's take it easy."
Despite Patrick's words, Aaron said with a serious expression.
"Our country has already failed to achieve a single win in the Arcana for three consecutive tournaments. Do you not know how severely this damages our national dignity?"
"It must be embarrassing."
"It's more than that. The Arcana is a great competition where the nation's pride is at stake. As a result of failing to get a single win three times in a row, the people of our country are mired in a severe inferiority complex."
Following Aaron's words, Matthew continued.
"And from the academy's perspective, it's a serious problem too. The professors were severely reprimanded, and the national budget allocated to the knight faculty was cut in half."
"Hmm... I see."
Matthew, in fact, didn't feel it firsthand. From what he heard, it seemed to be like a talent show from his past life, gathering kids to determine the world's number one rising star... 'I couldn't participate, right?
Ah... thinking about it again really pisses me off.' In his past life, when Jin Cheon was still young, fresh, and had no manners. Upon hearing news that the Martial Alliance was holding a competition to determine the world's number one rising star, the young Jin Cheon, before he was known as the Mad Dragon, had gone to participate.
But the words he heard upon arrival were...
[You cannot.]
[What? Why not?]
[Only the disciples of sects that received a prior invitation from the Martial Alliance may participate in the tournament.]
[What? Then how is that the world's number one rising star? It's their own neighborhood's rising star.]
[Tsk tsk, a young friend who knows nothing of the world speaks so recklessly. Just give up, watch for a bit, and go home.]
[What, this bastard... Mmph!]
[Hahaha. Very well. We shall take our leave now.]
[Mmmph! Mmm-mmm!]
His Master had hastily covered the mouth of Jin Cheon, who was about to charge in right then and there. And furious, he'd had no choice but to simply return. In the end, only the disciples of the successful and prestigious righteous sects could participate in such a tournament.
For Jin Cheon, a disciple of a small sect like the Twin Dragon Sect, there wasn't even an opportunity. That was why, a few years later when Jin Cheon entered the martial world, he challenged a hundred duels on his own to make a name for himself.
"Tsk, it's a pity even thinking back. If only I had won that tournament back then, I would have gained fame faster and earned more money. No, even just the winner's prizes were so amazing. I could have gotten them for free... Argh, I'm so pissed."
His thoughts having reached that point, Patrick asked for confirmation.
"If you win the Arcana, there's prize money, right? How much is it? It's a lot, right? Right?"
"Of course, there's no prize money."
"Huh? There's none?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"No, why isn't there any?"
To think there's no prize money when there obviously should be. If you win a tournament like that, shouldn't they give you enormous prize money, rare spirit medicines, expensive divine weapons, or at the very least, the daughter of the Martial Alliance Leader? That is the proper way of the martial world...
"Tsk tsk, a tournament with no prize money. The ways of the martial world have fallen to the ground. It wasn't like this in my day. Tsk tsk tsk."