The Tyrant’s Bath and the Road to the Holy Mountain

“I-I am fine, My Lord. I am truly alright.”

The Clan Leader raised a hand, his expression fierce. I thought he was gesturing for the maid to come closer, but instead, her body suddenly levitated into the air.

It was the terrifying Telekinesis of the Void. He wasn’t just lifting a small object; he had moved a human body with ease and positioned her precisely in front of him.

In martial arts, moving a living person is far more difficult than moving inanimate objects, regardless of size. My eyes widened instinctively as I watched him perform a feat that most masters wouldn’t even dare to attempt.

To be honest, I was shocked because I hadn’t realized the Clan Leader’s martial cultivation was this high. The Sichuan Tang Clan is so famous for its poison techniques that many assume their traditional martial foundations are lacking, but this moment shattered that misconception.

In my previous life, this was exactly why Tang Murin’s fame as a “Sword Genius” was so explosive. If a famous sword-sect produces a great swordsman, it’s expected. But the Tang Clan was not such a place; it had produced almost no legendary swordsmen in its long history, which made Murin’s rise all the more shocking.

Initially, people watched the Eldest Son of the Tang Clan with dismissive eyes, wondering how good his swordsmanship could possibly be. Later, they knelt before him, gasping in horror at the bite of his blade.

‘I thought I’d seen everything there was to be surprised about with this man, but…’

Having executed a high-level martial feat as if it were a common chore, he injected inner power into the maid and set her down. Then, he scooped me up and began to walk.

The maid followed us with hurried steps, too terrified to ask what he intended to do. The Clan Leader spoke, looking quite pleased with himself.

“No need to follow. I will bathe Sarin myself. I need to wash up anyway, so I’ll handle him while I’m at it.”

“I will prepare the warm water immediately, My Lord.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll take care of it. Just prepare fresh clothes for Sarin and change his bedding.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The maid, sounding completely different from how she acted with me or Murin, answered with a voice trembling with fear. As she left, I found myself tucked under the Clan Leader’s arm, destined for a bath.

In the bathroom, there was a tub large enough for two and several buckets of cold water nearby, but no warm water in sight. I wondered what he planned to do after turning down the maid’s help, but my curiosity was quickly satisfied.

He stripped off his robes and approached a bucket of cold water. The moment he touched the surface, steam began to rise.

‘He can even do that?’

Thanks to him, I was experiencing some truly rare sights. The Clan Leader looked at me with a boastful expression.

“Come here and touch it, Sarin. Just a fingertip. It shouldn’t be too hot, but let’s check just in case.”

His voice was so tender I found it hard to believe this was the same man who had been scolding the maid so ruthlessly just moments ago. The temperature was perfect, and I nodded to show I was fine.

As I did, I realized that I was probably the only person in the entire world who could get away with answering the Clan Leader with a mere nod. Far from taking offense, he looked delighted as he sat me in the tub and poured water over me.

The sensation of the warm water immediately improved my mood. When he stepped into the tub, the water level rose sharply. I stood up quickly, worried the water might reach my face, but he laughed and sat me on his lap.

This was… incredibly awkward.

He sat me on his thigh and splashed water over me while observing me intently. I didn’t understand why at first, but then it clicked: he was reflecting on the fact that I had remained unharmed by his poison.

Come to think of it, I was curious too. Why was that? Could I be a hidden genius of this family? Am I one of those “once-in-a-century” peerless masters? What should I do? This life is becoming quite overwhelming.

“Is it because of the inner power Great Master Won-hyun gave you, Sarin?” the Clan Leader asked, lost in thought. Since it wasn’t a question I could answer, I stayed silent.

“I knew from the start you were a special child,” he concluded, sounding oddly gleeful. “Now, scrub your father’s back.”

He spoke with great expectation, but that was no small task. This body was still young, my hands were tiny, and my arms lacked strength, while his back was as broad and rugged as a mountain range. I rubbed near his shoulder blades for a bit until I was panting for breath, at which point he laughed and gave me a tight squeeze.

“You must scrub your father’s back next year too, Sarin.”

“Are you not going to wash until then?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He laughed warmly and began rinsing me off. It was a bit pitiful to see him smiling so brightly when he looked at me, only to wear a sorrowful expression when he thought I wasn’t looking. He cherished me so desperately because he viewed me as a flickering candle that could be extinguished at any moment.

“Let’s bathe together again next time, Sarin.”

“Yes, Father. Next time, let’s wash together with Brother—all three of us.”

I doubted he had ever bathed with Murin, but I mentioned it because I thought Murin would enjoy having this kind of time with his father.

“There isn’t a tub big enough for that.”

I kept my mouth shut, realizing he didn’t necessarily lack affection for Murin; he was just uniquely obsessed with me. I figured I’d just bathe with Murin separately. I could probably manage to scrub Murin’s back. Besides, Murin might find bathing with the Clan Leader uncomfortable anyway.

Using his immense martial power, the Clan Leader kept the water from cooling throughout the entire bath. I doubted those techniques were designed to heat bathwater, and it felt somewhat scandalous to use them so trivially, but since he enjoyed it, I simply enjoyed the benefits in silence.

Before leaving for Mount Sung, where the Shaolin Temple is located, the warriors of the Tang Clan engaged in another bloody battle. This was purely due to the Clan Leader.

To solidify the Tang Clan’s power in Sichuan, he frequently invaded territories where other factions had already taken root. While leaders of other sects rarely took the field personally for minor matters, the Clan Leader commanded numerous bloody battles from the front lines.

From what I could tell, it wasn’t for some noble cause; he was simply a bellicose man who seemed intoxicated by blood. And now, there was another reason.

He wanted to distract himself from the hollow feeling of having to send me away. By throwing himself into life-and-death combat, he could briefly set aside his worries for me. Consequently, it was the other gangs of Sichuan that suffered. Because of this, his and the Tang Clan’s reputation grew more fearsome by the day.

“Sarin, look at what your father brought.”

Whenever a battle ended, he returned with wagons full of spoils, spreading out things he thought I might like. Most of them were absurdly heavy or large for a child my age, but he displayed them anyway, telling me that one day, all of this would be mine.

He wasn’t necessarily saying he’d make me the successor; rather, he seemed to be cheering me on, promising that if I survived my illness, I would get to enjoy all this luxury.

No matter how strong a man is, injuries from weapons are common in constant warfare. Occasionally, the Clan Leader returned with major wounds wrapped haphazardly, but as long as I was by his side, he seemed able to endure any amount of pain.

Thus, when winter arrived and it was time for me to return to Mount Sung, his grief was beyond words. Murin was the same.

And finally, that winter came.

Both Murin and the Clan Leader accompanied me on the journey to Mount Sung. Normally, the Clan Leader would have gone alone and told Murin to stay in Sichuan, but this time, he allowed Murin to come along.

Although he made Murin ride a horse to “practice his horsemanship” instead of letting him into the carriage with me, Murin was just happy to be going. It was the first time Murin had joined the trip to Shaolin.

Watching the Clan Leader’s expression whenever he looked at me, I began to wonder if I really looked that unwell. Occasionally I felt weak, and once or twice I had fainted and woken up days later, but I didn’t feel particularly worse than usual, so I couldn’t understand why he was so worried.

Regardless, the Clan Leader and the direct heirs of the Tang Clan were all heading toward Mount Sung.

“When we get back, I’ll teach you how to use toxins, Sarin. I’ll even find some amazing poisonous creatures to show you.”

Whenever Murin dismounted to come to my side, he would hug me, hold my hand, and talk about all the things he wanted to do with me the following spring.

“Brother, do you think I’m going to die?”

“No. That’s exactly why I’m saying this.”

Seriously, why is everyone acting like this? I don’t even feel sick.

After a long journey, we finally arrived at Shaolin.

While the Clan Leader spoke with the Abbot, Murin and I waited outside. I took Murin—who was here for the first time—around to show him the places I knew.

When I greeted the people I had met before, they welcomed me warmly and doted on me. They were all members of the Abbot’s generation.

With the memories of my past life, I knew exactly how high their seniority was and how much the martial artists of the Jianghu admired them. Even meeting one of them would be a lifetime’s boast, yet these legends knew my name and remembered me.