Chapter 3
A wall-mounted mirror stood directly ahead.
And in that mirror, I saw myself lying in bed.
The image of the infamous Shadow Lord—once a name whispered among masters—flickered, then vanished.
What remained was a frail boy with a cloth stuffed under his nose to stop the bleeding, wearing a despondent expression.
For a moment, the disconnect was laughable.
Just as I was trying to process that ridiculous contrast, the physician examining me wrapped up the diagnosis.
“You’ve pushed yourself too hard.”
“Too hard…?”
“Yes, Young Master. But don’t worry too much. With a bit of rest, you’ll be back on your feet soon.”
So now I’m like an overripe fruit—ready to burst from the slightest squeeze?
How pathetic...
It’s starting to feel real. All of it.
I’m back on the continent of Eneris, and thanks to this frail body, reality has hit me hard and clear.
Thanks for that, body.
The physician gave me a respectful nod.
“Then I’ll take my leave. You two—if anything happens, report it immediately. No matter how small the signs.”
“Yes, Doctor!”
After giving instructions to Marianne and Nerlin, who had been waiting nearby, he stepped out of the room.
The moment he left, I dragged a hand down my face.
“Haa…”
Humiliation doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I almost laughed. But this is my reality now.
Marianne and Nerlin sat on either side of me, trying to seriously figure out why I had collapsed.
“Maybe you walked too much?”
“Was it the sun? It was awfully bright today… Must’ve been the heat.”
It was neither.
The weather had been cool, and the hill was just a short stroll away.
Let’s be honest—this body is just that weak.
Maybe I was too dumbfounded by how fragile it is, and that’s why I froze up. Marianne must’ve noticed.
She gently offered words of encouragement.
“Don’t worry, Young Master. The doctor who came today is the most skilled in the area, they say.”
Hmm… I wonder if I’ll ever even see that doctor again.
Back when I used to live in this room, doctors were constantly coming and going.
Each time, they’d examine me, and I’d get my hopes up.
But then, as the seasons changed, so did the doctors.
Each one had a different diagnosis, a different treatment.
But the outcome was always the same.
Failure.
And so, disappointed again, another year would begin.
My family never gave up. They brought in every renowned physician they could find.
But they all shook their heads in the end.
They didn’t know what I had—but they knew it was incurable.
No… more like they believed I was just born this way.
That’s what they’d say.
It always came down to that.
As if God had forgotten a key piece while crafting this body of mine.
Whenever I fell, I broke bones.
If I picked up a sword, I stumbled.
And now the memories were coming back—clearly.
After wiping my face again, I slowly raised my head.
“Marianne.”
“Yes, Young Master?”
“About me collapsing… Has anyone else found out?”
“Uh… The Blue Knights, me and Nerlin, and the servants in this residence?”
“That many, huh. Then… could you make sure none of them tell Mother?”
“Ah…! Yes, of course.”
I didn’t want to face my mother looking like this.
If I had to face her, I wanted it to be properly. Not with this pathetic image that would only break her heart.
If we were going to meet—then I needed to look good.
And for that to happen… I needed to fix this body, even just a little.
Right now, I felt stiff. Weak.
I never imagined I’d find myself back in this room like this.
In a way, this feels exactly like the old me.
I quietly turned my head and saw the bookshelves—stuffed to the brim with books.
Those books…
It’s been a while.
At first glance, anyone might think I loved reading, seeing how packed those shelves are.
But they’d be wrong.
I never really liked books.
I only read them because they were my only window to the world.
Because I needed knowledge—of things people experienced in daily life or travels—even if it was just to pretend to be a normal person.
So they didn’t exactly bring back pleasant memories.
“Hmm…”
Sitting in this bed felt far too natural.
It was as if the bed itself was whispering to me—
You’re not Tang Cheol-woo of Sichuan’s Tang Clan. You’re Deyan now.
“We’ll be leaving now! Please rest well!”
“Wait, what…?”
“Nerlin, let’s go!”
Marianne must’ve picked up on my desire to be alone. She grabbed Nerlin by the wrist and quickly ushered her out.
So typical of Marianne.
Now I was alone in the room.
A place all too familiar to me.
I remember this feeling clearly.
Back then, I withered away in solitude, slowly sinking into despair.
There were countless reasons I could list—laziness, excuses, lack of willpower—
But at the root of it all was just one thing.
A frail body.
This fragile shell had shackled me.
To me, this room had always been a prison…
And now, I’ve returned to that very first life.
If I sit quietly and do nothing? I’ll end up just like before.
And I refuse to let that happen.
So, what’s the first thing I need to change?
If I want to rewrite everything, I have to start by rewriting my body.
Living in this rotting husk until I collapse again? No, thank you.
Now that I’ve made my decision, I need to act quickly—strike while the iron is hot, as they say.
I sat cross-legged and began to examine my body from within.
Before I build anything new, I need a proper diagnosis.
I need to identify the disease. Find out what exactly is wrong with me.
Shhhhhhh…
“…?”
I scanned my internal state, then tilted my head slightly.
Huh…?
Back then, I had no idea.
But this body… it’s oddly fascinating.
“It’s a mess. A complete mess.”
It’s like trying to fill a broken jar with water.
My head was clouded with thick, toxic fog, and underneath that…
The miasma had practically set up a cozy little home.
It felt as if hundreds of poisonous insects were writhing inside me—sickening and vile.
No wonder any efforts in my past life never bore fruit.
How could they, with a body like this?
But why…? Why is it like this?
I’m poisoned.
No—this body is filled with poison, like it’s been submerged in a vat of venom.
I couldn’t identify the exact cause.
I always thought I was just born weak. But this… this isn’t natural.
There’s no way something like this happened on its own.
This is deliberate. Someone did this to me.
…And honestly, I have a few suspects in mind.
But why me?
No, that can wait. But first, I need to think of a solution.
I thought about it for a moment, but in the end, the answer was clear:
I need to rebuild this body from the ground up.
In my past life, I never even figured out what was wrong.
But now? I’ve lived two lives—especially that of the Shadow Lord.
If I can’t fix a body like this, then I might as well throw away the name “Shadow Lord.”
So then… where do I start?
That’s obvious. I need to forge my dantian first.
Even if I had the strength of the great sea itself, if my body’s nothing but a thimble, I can’t hold any of it.
Here, they called the dantian a Mana Heart, right?
The Mana Heart was similar to the dantian, but the methodology was different.
So in my case… I didn’t need to follow their path.
Why would I, when I walk a different road?
Now then, what kind of foundation should I build in this body?
Naturally, I’ll cultivate a martial art capable of bearing the weight of the world.
But which one?
Should I go with Silent Heaven Divine Art, passed down only to the Tang Clan’s head?
Or maybe Great Twelve Elemental Art, known for its rapid progression?
No. Not those.
The problem isn’t the martial art—it’s this body.
It’s filled with poison. Absolutely brimming with it.
But everything in this world exists for a reason, doesn’t it?
This body, too—this discarded vessel—has a purpose I now understand.
The very martial art I clung to before death…
It’s the key to transforming this worthless shell into something more valuable than gold—
—The Myriad Poison Monarch Art.
A martial art that absorbs poison, refining the user’s body and internal energy.
This art will be the foundation of everything I cultivate in this life.
It sounds like the Tang Clan’s ultimate secret technique, doesn’t it?
But… not even close.
It was considered a white elephant. A failure.
They said it was created by the “Poison Madman,” one of the greatest martial geniuses in Tang Clan history…
But honestly, if I had seen it back when I was just a mid-tier practitioner, I would’ve tossed it in the trash.
“To become the King of All Poisons, consume all poisons yourself.”
This martial art, developed by the Poison Madman of Sichuan’s Tang Clan, was exactly that—eating poison.
Consuming it to transform it into inner energy.
Who in their right mind would eat poison to get stronger?
Even if you carefully moderated your dosage, the Myriad Poison Monarch Art was ruthless.
One misstep—and you’d die a horrible death.
It was so complex that only true geniuses—or at least those at the apex of martial arts—could even comprehend it.
And to build the physical foundation required for it? That alone took at least three years.
You’d be lagging behind from the very beginning.
And even if you went through all that trouble… it wasn’t particularly efficient.
So let me ask you this—
If you were starting from scratch, would you choose to cultivate a martial art so absurd it gives you a headache just hearing about it?
Of course not.
There were far better techniques out there. Why choose this?
And so, the Myriad Poison Monarch Art sat buried and forgotten, dismissed by the Tang Clan for centuries.
But do you know what’s funny?
It was the only true path to the very thing the Tang Clan dreamed of—
The Perfect Poison Constitution.
And yet no one ever realized it.
Why?
Because the Myriad Poison Monarch Art… was incomplete.
It was vast, messy—more like a scribbled collection of thoughts than a finished technique.
Of course, the problem was that no one in the Tang Clan had both the spare time and the intellect to decipher the chaotic notes left behind by the Poison Madman.
Fortunately for them—and for me—I had that time once I retired.
If I hadn’t uncovered it, the Tang Clan might’ve spent centuries dreaming of the “Perfect Poison Constitution,” all while missing the answer that was right under their nose.
Granted… I didn’t leave behind the martial art either.
It just seemed far too dangerous back then.
But now, I’m the one cultivating it—so what does it matter?
The experience and mastery from my past life…
Combined with the physical vessel of this life…
There’s no better way to describe this than a blessing in disguise.
Still… I can’t rush things.
Right now, I need to focus on recovery.
Desire, when kept in check, becomes a medicine.
But in excess, it turns to poison.
The saying “the more haste, the less speed” has held true since ancient times.
Of course, there are exceptions—but for this technique, a slow and steady approach is essential.
Just like building a house—you need to level the foundation first.
You need solid ground to build on.
And to do that, I’ll need an even stronger dose of poison.
Just then, sunlight poured through the windows, as if urging me to rise.
“…Hmm?”
Seems like dawn had already passed.
But I wasn’t sleepy.
Contemplating martial arts always thrilled me.
Besides, there were countless ways to acquire poison.
I’d think through that bit later.
More importantly…
Grrrrr…
My stomach growled.
Right. I was hungry.
Now that I thought about it, I was actually looking forward to this.
No matter how much I tried to recreate the flavors of this place, the spices, the ingredients—they just weren’t the same.
And so, I spent a lifetime craving the taste of home.
Now, I finally had a chance to enjoy it again.
I hurriedly got out of bed.
Creak.
Opening the door, I saw the servants bustling about, preparing breakfast.
Marianne, who had been wiping down the table, noticed me and smiled.
“Young Master, perfect timing! Just in time for breakfast.”
“Breakfast, huh… I’m kind of excited. What’s on the menu today?”
Nerlin beamed with confidence.
“We got our hands on some premium meat for you! It’s just what you need to get your strength back.”
Home-cooked food after so long…
A chance to savor the taste of nostalgia.
Ingredients from Murim and the continent of Eneris were worlds apart.
Not better or worse—just fundamentally different. Culturally, and even spiritually.
Back in the Tang Clan, I’d once gone as far as requesting help from the imperial palace’s royal chef just to recreate the flavors of my childhood…
But still, some spices just didn’t exist there.
More importantly, childhood flavor isn’t just about taste—it’s soaked in memory and emotion.
That’s why I found myself truly looking forward to this meal.
On either side of the plate were a fork and a knife.
It had been ages since I used anything other than chopsticks.
And then…
“…Hmm?”
Marianne and Nerlin tilted their heads, confused.
That’s when I realized my mistake and gave a small, awkward chuckle.
In my left hand, I was twirling the knife like a throwing dagger.
Habits really are terrifying.
“Never mind that. Anyway, food should be ready soon, right?”
“Of course!”
Marianne gestured toward the door.
The chefs entered, carrying silver trays topped with polished domes.
And the moment they lifted the lids—
“Hmm…?”
I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.
What… is this?
“What exactly is this…?”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Marianne, startled, gripped the tray tighter as she answered.
“Huh? Is something wrong? We were told this was premium quality…”
“…Really? Hmm.”
The steak lay on the silver platter.
My highly attuned senses picked up something off—something foreign mixed into the aroma of the grilled meat.
Could it be…
The scent of the Tang Clan?
To think I’d be reminded of my past life in this way.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of nostalgia I welcomed.
I stared at the steak on the plate in front of me.
It wasn’t just meat.
There was poison in it.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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