Chapter 43
Consuming an elixir must always be followed by breathing meditation.
Because the energy it releases is so massive that it can cause harm if left unchecked—and even if it doesn’t, without proper circulation and breathing, that energy is simply wasted.
This is an unbreakable rule of the Murim, regardless of circumstance.
But…
‘What the hell is going on?’
He began circulating his energy merely in hopes of retaining even a tenth of the elixir’s power.
But as if mocking that modest desire, nearly all of the energy from the elixir had settled into his Dantian—his energy core.
As if it had belonged there all along, like a natural part of his inner strength.
It defied common sense… Huh?
Ah. So that’s what happened.
‘The seed core absorbed all of the spiritual energy.’
It wasn’t that the energy had gathered in the Dantian.
The core seed had absorbed all of the elixir’s spiritual energy.
The fact that it had grown to ten times its original size was proof of that.
‘I probably won’t be able to use that absorbed energy like regular internal energy just yet.’
Unlike before, the core seed now felt as solid and dense as a neidan—the inner core of a spiritual beast.
Unless the sealed energy is deliberately released, he’d only be able to use a small portion of it.
‘Still, my internal energy has increased sixfold, at least.’
This elixir was the legacy left behind by a peerless martial artist who had reached transcendence centuries ago.
And now, the core seed, planted as a seed in defiance of time itself, had taken root in his Dantian.
What in the world was happening?
He recalled the voice that had spoken to him from the heavens when he had returned to the past.
[The defiance of heaven has reversed your fate.]
[Now you must correct the path and let it flow true.]
[Return and fulfill your true will.]
It struck him then.
Perhaps there was a greater current at work—one he hadn’t yet noticed.
Maybe everything—including his return—had all been orchestrated by some unseen force.
‘…I don’t know what any of it really means. But it doesn’t change what I have to do. I’ll keep it in mind, stay aware of it—but the goal remains.’
The dream to raise the Baek Family to become the greatest clan under heaven.
Even if his regression was part of someone else’s grand design, nothing would change that.
Hadn’t the voice from the heavens said so, too?
Return and follow what your heart desires.
“Ssshh… Huuuuh.”
With a long exhale, Yang-hwi finished his breathing meditation and opened his eyes.
“Junior brother, how’s your body holding up? You looked like you were overflowing with energy after taking that elixir. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you suffered some internal injuries.”
“Still haven’t figured it out yet? Exceptional talent always defies conventional logic.”
Yang-hwi grinned slyly, flicking his tongue with smug confidence.
Gu-Ak suddenly felt like a fool for having been worried, even for a moment.
“I don’t care how strong that elixir was, the martial display you showed was utterly incomprehensible. What on earth happened?”
“What do you mean, what happened? A peerless genius stumbled across a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—that’s what happened.”
“…And you think it’s normal for a mere third-rate punk to slaughter over a dozen second-rate masters?”
“Hey! Who are you calling third-rate?!”
Yang-hwi puffed out his chest dramatically.
Only then did Gu-Ak finally realize the truth—and he was stunned.
“Don’t tell me… Now that I look again, your aura…”
“Hehe. The name’s Yang-hwi, a martial prodigy who reached second-rate mastery at the age of eight. Make sure you remember it!”
Gu-Ak was genuinely floored. Even he, hailed as one of the most gifted in Akan-hyeon, hadn’t reached second-rate level until he was eighteen.
But this kid, a whole ten years younger than him, had already surpassed that milestone?!
“How is this possible? You gained enlightenment mid-battle and broke through your limits? No—no, it had to be the elixir. That’s the only explanation!”
“Ah-ah. Don’t try to deny reality. Instead, how about you offer some heartfelt praise for your Junior brother’s talent, eh?”
“….”
Gu-Ak felt genuinely wronged.
“…If only I had an elixir like that.”
“You think any mutt or cow can achieve a breakthrough just by drinking an elixir?”
“….”
It looked like Gu-Ak was about to explode. Time to change the subject.
“Anyway, we should go interrogate that bastard Nameless Killing Valley Lord. There’s a lot we need to learn.”
“…Yeah, let’s do that.”
Yang-hwi pointed his sword at Nameless Killing Valley Lord, who lay paralyzed on the ground, his pressure points sealed.
“Let’s keep it simple. Spill everything, and I’ll let you die with some dignity.”
“…Fine.”
Nameless Killing Valley Lord confessed everything he knew and chose a death free of pain.
It’s moments like this that make training in the Emptiness technique surprisingly convenient—when rational judgment overrides emotion.
During the fight, it had been annoying how well he resisted all deception and provocation.
‘The Nameless Killing Valley is effectively wiped out. No one left with enough loyalty to seek revenge, so there’s nothing to worry about.’
He had also managed to uncover the truth about the elixir—its most important secret.
“So, that elixir was something left behind by the Sword Immortal? You really swallowed something unbelievable, Junior brother.”
“You’re saying I swallowed it? Should I go tattle to Father that you’re mocking the heir of a vassal clan?”
“…I misspoke. The jealousy got the better of me.”
“Be careful next time. But yes—Sword Immortal or not, I did ingest something truly extraordinary.”
“……”
Sword Immortal. In truth, that title was relatively common.
Among the famous Nine Great Martial Sects, most used swords. Those who excelled in swordsmanship and reached a high level of mastery were often granted the title of Sword Immortal.
‘Even among the Ten Sovereigns of the Martial World, there’s someone known as the Clear Sword Immortal, so it’s not exactly rare.’
However, there is only one person in all of history who was known simply as Sword Immortal, without any qualifiers.
Because in the truest sense of the word, there was only one.
‘The founder of the Taoist sect known as Jeonjin, from which nearly all Daoist martial schools descend. One of the Eight Immortals of Taoism, Sunyangja.’
Lü Dongbin—the greatest swordmaster of all time, said to have ascended to immortality by the sword alone—was the one and only rightful bearer of the name Sword Immortal.
“So, you’re telling me that that Sword Immortal left behind a legacy? First I’ve heard of it. Are we really supposed to believe the words of an assassin?”
Gu-Ak looked skeptical, and Yang-hwi nodded along on the surface. But deep inside, his thoughts were different.
‘The seed core… and the spiritual energy. It’s highly likely this is truly the legacy of the Sword Immortal.’
Maybe the legends about Lü Dongbin ascending to immortality weren’t just myths after all.
Still, there was no point in dwelling on it now.
There simply wasn’t enough information.
‘If the Sword Immortal is related to my regression… then that’s as far as I can be sure of for now.’
The situation was sorted.
Time to move on to what needed to be done.
“Gu-Hyung, there’s nothing left here. We should go.”
He gathered up Chudal, who was unconscious beneath a wall.
Yang-hwi also tucked away the Iron Pellet that had expelled the elixir, then climbed onto Gu-Ak’s back with Chudal in his arms.
“…What exactly are you doing, Junior brother?”
“I can’t very well tell an unconscious kid to get up and walk, can I?”
“I wasn’t asking about the kid. I was asking you.”
Yang-hwi let out a groan of exaggerated pain.
“While you were busy getting caught by one guy, I had to face a dozen grown men all by myself in this tiny body… Ugh, I’m dying here! Let me lean on you just a little, will you?”
“….”
Gu-Ak simply sighed.
And just like that, their long journey came to an end.
****
A body swaying gently. From the rhythm, it seemed he was riding on someone’s back.
“Gu-Hyung, I’m starving. Can’t you catch a rabbit or something for me?”
“Catch it yourself.”
“Aww, come on. Your adorable Junior brother is asking for a favor, just this once.”
“You’re not a rabbit, you’re a pain in the ass.”
“I’m telling Sister Rang on you.”
“….”
Voices echoed. The adult’s was unfamiliar, but the child’s voice was instantly recognizable.
The annoying beggar brat who kept chattering and trying to get friendly.
‘What’s going on?’
His last memory was of being behind the Yu Clan Manor, standing atop the mountain, preparing to kill the head of the Yu Clan.
After that, even though he’d regained consciousness, he hadn’t opened his eyes.
He was trying to assess the situation.
“You’re awake, aren’t you? Stop pretending and open your eyes.”
As soon as he opened them, he tried to spring away on instinct.
Thunk!
But a hand caught the back of his neck, leaving him dangling like a sack of grain.
“If you’re awake, the first thing you do is greet people, not run away.”
“Hey! You two brats! Stop wriggling around on my back!”
Ignoring that, he went for a direct attack.
But—
“Yap! Yop! Yap! Yop!”
No matter how accurately he aimed, no matter how precisely he struck at gaps in defense, he couldn’t land a single blow.
Only then did Chudal open his mouth with a deflated sigh.
“You were hiding your martial skills.”
“I wasn’t hiding them. You just couldn’t see through me, Chudal.”
“Chudal? Who’s that supposed to be? I’m not Chudal.”
“Nope. You’re Chudal. I decided. That’s your name now, Chudal.”
“….”
After a long pause, Chudal looked straight at Yang-hwi.
“Would you mind explaining what’s going on?”
Yang-hwi paused in thought for a moment.
Should he be honest and tell the whole story? Or should he feel things out first?
“If I had to summarize it… we just picked you up while you were unconscious.”
“Unconscious? That’s all? No one tried to kill me or anything?”
“There was a corpse lying around.”
Despite his young age, Chudal began piecing together the situation with a sharp and agile mind.
“Someone must have saved me, then. By chance… was it you, great warrior?”
Gu-Ak snorted in response.
“Not me, kid. But does it really matter who saved you?”
“It does. If someone saved my life, I need to repay that debt.”
Looking for the person who saved him the moment he woke up, huh?
This kid… he’s got a good heart, at least.
Yang-hwi decided not to say that he was the one who had rescued Chudal.
‘If I want things to be like they were in my previous life, I’ll need to lay low for a while.’
In their past lives, Chudal and Yang-hwi had called each other brothers, but always stood on equal footing.
At the very least, he didn’t want to hear words like “life saver” or “benefactor” from Chudal.
Their bond had never been one that tallied up debts like that anyway.
‘Even if I can’t recreate exactly what we had before…’
Still, Yang-hwi hoped they could at least become something close to what Chudal had been in his past life.
“There’s no benefactor here, Chudal. We just picked you up, that’s all.”
“Hey, beggar. Why do you keep calling me Chudal?”
“….”
For a brief second, Yang-hwi bristled.
Wait—has this brat been talking down to me this whole time?
Thwack!
“AAAGH!”
A flick to the forehead, charged with a hint of inner energy. Chudal clutched his head, twisting in pain.
Watching him flail while still hanging by the scruff of his neck, he looked just like a fish dangling off a fishing rod.
“Hey. Try saying ‘Hyung-nim’.”
“….”
Thwack!
“AAAGH! AAAAAAGH!”
“You’re gonna keep getting hit until you say it.”
“H-Hyung-nim…”
“There you go. You’re Chudal, and I’m your hyungnim. Got it?”
“…Got it.”
“Your tongue’s a little short, huh, Junior brother?”
As Yang-hwi raised his hand again, Chudal hurriedly shouted,
“Okay! I get it!”
“Good. You gotta listen to your hyungnim, Chudal. Understood?”
“Yes, sir…”
At that moment, Gu-Ak, watching from the side, felt a pang of irritation—having to witness someone else boss around a Junior brother who listened even less than his own did.
Then Chudal spoke again.
“So… where exactly are we headed?”
“To the Baek Clan. That’s my family’s home.”
“I see.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“I don’t mind. I’ve got nothing tying me down in the world anyway. Though… I’d like to find my benefactor, if I could. But right now, I don’t have any way to do that.”
Yang-hwi glanced at Chudal for a moment.
Unlike the past, his expression was flat. His tone was emotionless.
…He didn’t like it.
“Chudal, tell me your story. How’d you end up captured by the Nameless Killing Valley?”
“It’s not really something worth telling others, but… all right.”
And so, Chudal began to speak.
His father had been an assassin. His mother, murdered out of old grudges.
His father, having taken revenge, now lay at death’s door.
And with his dying breath, his father had given him one final request:
‘Don’t live like I did, son. That was his last will.’
And yet, despite all that, he’d ended up kidnapped by an assassin organization.
A cruel fate—far too heavy for a child to carry.
‘And still, he tells it all without blinking an eye.’
As expected. This won’t do.
Chudal as he was now… was no fun at all.
There was no joy in teasing him.
Looked like Yang-hwi would have to intervene a little.
“Hey. Cry for me.”
“What are you even saying? I’m someone who can’t cry.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I said, Cry.”
“…?”
Yang-hwi drew spiritual energy from the seed core in his dantian.
Before killing the Nameless Killing Valley Leader, he had taken time to listen to the incantation formula of the Emptiness technique.
According to the formula, the Emptiness technique was a shallow technique that lightly stimulated the upper dantian—nowhere near the level of the Hyunwon Jeondan Divine Technique of the Jegal family.
Laughably crude by comparison.
Sure, after a few centuries of refinement it might eventually mature into something worthwhile, but—
‘As of now, its limitations are painfully obvious.’
“Cry.”
“I already told you—I can’t cry.”
Thwack!
“GAAAAH!”
Yang-hwi grinned, then lifted his hand again.
This time, with an even greater charge of energy behind it.
Thwack!
“GUH! GAAAH!”
“Come on, cry already. I’ll keep hitting you until you do.”
Thwack!
“IT HURTS! I can’t cry!”
Thwack!
“AaaaAAAHHH!”
And then—it happened. Yang-hwi saw tears welling up at the corners of Chudal’s eyes.
The spiritual energy laced into the flicks had shattered the emotional block imposed by the Emptiness technique.
“Chudal.”
“H-Huh…?”
—Don’t live like I did, son.
It echoed like a bell inside Chudal’s head—his father’s final words.
At the same time, Yang-hwi’s voice reached his ears.
“Cry. Crying is a child’s greatest privilege.”
“H-huh…?”
He had run to survive—only to be captured by the Nameless Killing Valley.
He’d been treated like nothing, raised as a weapon, with no affection and constant threats to his life.
“Auhh… huff… huuuh…”
‘Poor kid. It wasn’t his choice—he was just blocked by the Emptiness technique all this time.’
Watching Chudal’s twisted face break down into tears, Yang-hwi smiled softly.
And said:
“It’s okay now. You can cry, Chudal. It’s okay.”
“Hhuh… ugh… waaaaaaaah!”
Like a dam bursting, the child finally broke down in tears.
---The End Of The Chapter---
Join Patreon to support the translation and to read 20 chapters ahead of the release.
Comments