I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple-Chapter 120

I asked, "Is the family head at the main house?"

"Yes," Jane replied.

"And he summoned me?" I muttered.

"That's correct."

I hummed, slightly confused. It was not the summons that troubled me—it was something else.

"Why didn't you visit me after the training camp was completed?" I asked. "I haven't even finished the special trial yet."

"A different collector will contact and talk to the instructors," Jane replied. "There will be no disadvantage for you, Young Master Luan."

"I see." If he insisted so firmly, I had no choice but to accept it.

I nodded. "Why is the family head summoning me?"

"Of course, it is to commend you for your achievements, Young Master Luan."

I remained silent.

"He seemed to be in an unusually good mood," Jane added with a faint smile. "I haven't served under him for long, but I've never seen him like that before. Perhaps you can look forward to it."

***

I followed Jane out of the forest. Truthfully, I wanted to check if Charon and Hector were managing things properly, but it seemed I wouldn't have the time.

I glanced back and remarked, "Sir Assad's barrier has been partially lifted."

"He gave his permission," Jane answered calmly.

And so, after a long time, I returned to the main house. Considering I had spent 100 days training at Spirit Mountain, it truly had been a while. Not that I felt particularly sentimental about it.

I asked, "Are we heading to the fifth floor?"

"No. The family head is currently in the annex."

"The annex?" I echoed. "Where exactly?"

"I will guide you there."

"Alright. Let's head straight over, then."

At that, Jane hesitated, his voice turning slightly awkward. "Perhaps... you should tidy up your appearance first."

"Ah."

Now that he mentioned it, I had been wandering around the Butterfly Forest for three days. I was hardly presentable.

Though the Iron-Blooded Lord was not strict about formalities, it would be inappropriate to meet him looking like this. Thus, I washed up and changed into the formal attire Jane had prepared.

"This is uncomfortable," I grumbled.

"You look very good, Young Master Luan," Jane said.

This ceremonial outfit felt almost suffocating after spending so long in loose training clothes.

"Would you like me to help style your hair as well?" Jane offered.

"I appreciate it, but no thanks."

I barely managed to fend off his attempts to fuss with my hair and apply perfume. Once ready, I followed Jane toward the annex.

Unexpectedly, the place where the Iron-Blooded Lord awaited was beyond the main building's back garden.

So, the Iron-Blooded Lord is in the forbidden area where Seren and I once secretly wandered.

Somehow, the memory of my battle with Hariba felt like something from a distant past. If I counted the time spent at Spirit Mountain, maybe it really had been long ago.

"Young Master Luan?" Jane called.

"I'm coming," I said, quickening my steps.

I followed Jane through the overgrown back garden.

Having just left the Butterfly Forest, I could immediately tell that this place felt even darker and more oppressive. There were no signs of human presence, no clear paths, and barely any evidence that the grounds were maintained.

After a short walk through the woods, a building finally came into view.

"I will wait for you here," Jane said, stopping.

Facing forward, I asked, "Is the family head inside?"

"Yes."

The building seemed a poor fit for the Iron-Blooded Lord. Frankly, it resembled nothing more than an oversized hunting cabin—not a place befitting a noble.

Suppressing an inexplicable feeling of unease, I approached the cabin and opened the door.

"Ugh..." The sharp stench of blood hit me the moment I stepped inside, making me grimace.

For a brief instant, a scene from the forest disaster flashed in my mind—the desolate cabin, the blood-soaked floor, and the lifeless girl lying within it.

"You've arrived."

This time, though, instead of silence and a corpse, I was greeted by a voice—caring, even kind.

Only then did I realize, for the first time, that the Iron-Blooded Lord could speak in such a tone.

"Family head?" I called out cautiously.

The interior was pitch black, and I could barely make out anything.

I debated whether to use Eyes of Fire to light the room, when the lanterns lining the walls flared to life, casting light across the space.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

The first thing that caught my eye was the long metal table at the center of the room, its surface neatly arranged with a variety of cruel-looking instruments. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were professional torture tools, each stained with only a small amount of blood.

Nearby, a figure sat in what appeared to be a restraint chair, a leather hood obscuring face, their limbs bound by chains.

They're still alive, I thought.

Judging by the build, it was a man, but he was completely motionless, as if he had fainted.

"What exactly are you doing?" I asked.

"Didn't you hear from Jane?"

"Nope," I said.

The Iron-Blooded Lord hummed and removed the hood from the man's head.

The man gasped desperately, choking on his own breath.

It was a face I recognized. My voice stiffened slightly as I spoke his name. "Instructor Ainsburn."

"Instructor, hmm? I suppose the title wasn't a total lie," the Iron-Blooded Lord said with a smile, looking down at him. "But his true identity is that of a church member. Weren't you the one who brought me this information?"

The Law Master, Ainsburn, was a man who had once carried himself with the dignity and intelligence of a scholar. Yet, he now looked like a shadow of his former self—decades older, disheveled, utterly broken.

"N-n-no...!" Ainsburn cried, his voice thick with sobs. "I-I'm not a member...! Family head, please believe me! I-I was threatened! I couldn't help—"

"Shh." The Iron-Blooded Lord pressed his finger to Ainsburn's lips. "Excuses. This is always the problem, Instructor Ainsburn. Do you really think anyone joins the church without a reason?"

"F-f-amily head...!"

"Use that brilliant mind of yours," he said, tapping Ainsburn's finger with his own, as if it were a joke. "Weren't you a genius who graduated at the top of your class from the Imperial Academy?"

Each tap made Ainsburn shudder, as though seizing.

"Honestly, I don't particularly care about your reasons. I'm just delighted."

"D-delighted?" Ainsburn stammered.

"For so long, the church slithered just out of my reach, and now I find it rooted deep inside my own house. Tell me, are those filthy rats finally ready to go to war with me?" the Iron-Blooded Lord asked.

"I-I-I... I don't know about the church—"

Ainsburn's scream tore through the room as the Iron-Blooded Lord rammed a skewer-like tool through the top of his foot.

"He still has some voice left. One of my lesser talents is gauging one's strength by the sound of their screams," the Iron-Blooded Lord said, almost conversationally.

Ainsburn wailed and sobbed.

"Relax. You'll live for another three days. Of course, to you, those three days will feel longer than a lifetime."

"F-f-family head..! I-I was wrong...! I was wrong....! I will tell you everything! I was wrong! Please forgive me just once! Spare me—"

The Iron-Blooded Lord placed the hood back over Ainsburn's head. Instantly, the man's wailing stopped, and his body grew still.

He isn't dead. Is it some kind of magic tool that forced him into a state of suspended animation? I wondered.

"You were in the middle of an interrogation," I said.

"You could call it that," he replied.

"Do you always do this yourself? Why not leave it to your subordinates?"

"What a foolish question. No one in this family can conduct an interrogation better than I can."

Oh yeah, the Blessing of Truth and Falsehood.

With that ability, his skill at extracting information would surpass even Junian's.

The Iron-Blooded Lord smiled brightly, an uncharacteristic expression for him. "Do you understand? Though it's a bit dirty."

For the first time, I felt as though I had glimpsed a trace of innocence in him that matched his outward appearance.

What kind of existence was the Dark Church to the Iron-Blooded Lord? What had they done to him?

Suppressing my questions, I sat on the shabby chair he indicated.

The Iron-Blooded Lord paced across the creaking floorboards to a battered mirror, straightening his clothes. He peeled off his bloodied gloves, wiped the blood from his face, and said, "Luan."

"Yes."

"You did exceptionally well."

In all the world, was there any praise heavier than this? Only the Iron-Blooded Lord could wipe blood from his face while praising his son like that.

"Thank you," I answered stiffly.

"Killing a priest alone at fifteen is no small feat. In fact, calling it an achievement hardly does it justice," he remarked.

I had no idea how to respond.

"Once word spreads, there will be no one in the empire who doesn't know your name. Not just the Great Families, but the imperial family, the nobles in the capital, the heroes, the mercenary guilds, the mages' circles, even the religious organizations... Everyone."

"Please block the news," I interjected.

At my words, the Iron-Blooded Lord turned toward me, blood still faintly smudged across his face.

"Block it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Fame is a double-edged sword," I answered. "I'm not ready to deal with that yet."

"Are you worried about those pesky flies? With the Badniker name behind you, you have nothing to fear," he assured me.

"I don't think even the Badniker name will stop the church," I retorted.

The Iron-Blooded Lord fell silent.

"Why has the church become the empire's greatest enemy? Their dangerous ideology? Their overwhelming strength? No, none of that." I paused briefly. "The church always hides in the shadows, only revealing itself at decisive moments. And each time, blood spills across the empire."

"Stealth," the Iron-Blooded Lord murmured. "A hidden dagger is the deadliest kind."

"Of course, I don't want to pretend this achievement never happened. Someday, it will serve a purpose. But until then, I ask that you ensure it doesn't leak," I explained.

"Now is not the right time?" he asked.

"Exactly."

The Iron-Blooded Lord nodded.

"I will respect your wishes. But from this day forward, no one in the Badniker family will be able to ignore your name," he declared, his voice carrying an air of finality.

"What does that mean?"

"From today, you are the deputy head," he replied matter-of-factly.

I stared at him in shock.

He continued, "You may command up to thirty knights from the main house at your discretion. Even the Council of Elders will need a solid reason to challenge you. If you require funds for personal use, inform the treasury. Also, I've arranged for you to use the Small Iron Hall in the east wing of the main building."

"Uh..."

"You will also have the authority to select your own servants—housekeepers, maids, and so on. I'll leave it to your discretion. It's important to develop your judgment in such matters," he mentioned.

The Small Iron Hall had always been empty, which made sense—until now, the deputy head's position had been vacant.

"And if you ever need to discuss anything, you can speak with Assad in the family. I'll get back to you within a week at the latest," he added.

Moreover, there was the privilege of private audiences with the Iron-Blooded Lord.

Even though everything I had once desired was suddenly being handed to me, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "I have no intention of becoming the head of the family."

The Iron-Blooded Lord responded as if he had been expecting it. "Being the deputy head doesn't necessarily mean you will become the family head. I'm simply giving you these rights within the family. It would be a hassle to distribute them one by one."

"Even so, it is too much," I protested.

"Not at all. Rather it is insufficient compared to your merit," he shot back.

Knowing how strict he was about rewards and punishments, I understood his words were likely true.

It hadn't fully sunk in yet, so I just realized that killing a priest of the Dark Church was an enormous achievement.

"So, let me ask you this: is there anything else you desire? I'll grant anything I can," he offered.

That was what I had been hoping for.

I said, "Family head."

"Speak."

"I'm still weak."

The Iron-Blooded Lord narrowed his eyes. "Is that modesty?"

"No," I replied.

"You defeated a priest alone, faced a demon king and survived, and yet you say you're weak?" the Iron-Blooded Lord murmured, then nodded. "This is possible if the scenery you are looking at is very high. I'm curious. What kind of strength are you seeking?"

"At the very least, enough to fight demon kings," I answered. "As you know, I encountered a demon king in Hell. I didn't survive because I was strong. His whims, combined with sheer luck, allowed me to live. I never want to experience that again."

The Iron-Blooded Lord studied me for a long moment before speaking. "Demon kings are called that because of the various religions across the empire, but in truth, they are no different from gods."

I knew that. I realized it the moment I met one in person. It wasn't just Senior Brother He Lou, but even Tantata—those beings were monsters beyond my comprehension.

"In other words, you are now saying that you want to fight against a god," the Iron-Blooded Lords said, his voice a bit flat.

"Is it impossible?"

The Iron-Blooded Lord fell silent. It seemed as if he was sorting through his thoughts, but I sensed a hint of hesitation.

What was he hesitating over?

"Luan," he said, his voice softer now, "your question touches on something I've pondered all my life. I too have struggled with it, searched for answers... and I found one."

Then he revealed something rather shocking. "In order to face a god, you must become a god yourself."

"What?" I blurted out.

"Moreover, I could become a god right now, if I chose."

If anyone else had said this, I would have dismissed it as a joke or madness. But given who was speaking, I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. "What do you mean? I don't quite understand."

"You have killed a priest, so you deserve to know the truth. So I'll tell you. The gods who bestow blessings upon us are not absolute beings. Most of the gods on this continent were once mortals who became gods after death," he explained.

I stared at him in shock yet again. It felt as though I was overhearing a secret about the world that I could never have learned through ordinary means.

He continued, "However, there are ranks even among the gods. And those we call demon kings, or the gods of disaster, are undoubtedly gods of the highest order. In the past, they couldn't roam freely as they do now. There once was an overwhelmingly powerful and benevolent god who kept them in check."

A cold flame flickered in the Iron-Blooded Lord's purple eyes. "This is my goal. It's the only divine name that has remained vacant for thousands of years."

I asked, almost as if possessed, "What is that divine name?"

"It's been known by many names, recorded in ancient texts. At times, they were called the Military God, the War God, or even the Warrior God. But the most representative name is the god of martial arts. In other words—"

I couldn't help but finish his sentence. "The Martial God."

For a moment, a heavy silence settled in the cabin.