Habit (1)
"The world won't end just because you're not there."
For Gu Cheon-woo, the regression had lost its clear goal.
From the 10th round onward, he'd set a grand path and charged ahead at breakneck speed. To achieve Mireok Paedo in the shortest time possible, he'd ignored everything else around him.
"As if the world would ever fall apart."
Mu-myeong's advice had a flaw. No one could make the world crumble, no matter what they did. All he'd ever done was strive to change its rampant evil and irrationality.
With the 100th round's labors deserving endless consolation, to be scolded for a misguided direction now—this called for a future reckoning.
To make that happen, he needed to heed Mu-myeong's constraints and demands.
He didn't know their true intent, nor the extent of Mu-myeong's powers. Above all, Mu-myeong was the one who had sent him back.
"Can't read thoughts, then."
For now, he'd probe the limits of Mu-myeong's omniscience through conversation. Their bizarre ability to pierce straight into his mind was impressive, but it meant his unshakeable heart, forged over the 100th round, still held firm. A relief, at least.
Even if the other was truly omnipotent, having his thoughts read was unpleasant. Of course, he wouldn't just submit if they saw through him. Once his internal and external forces, along with his spirit power, reached the Paewang's prime, he could naturally erect an even more perfect barrier than now.
Then.
Woooong!
For the moment, only the shin (spirit) of his jeonggi-shin (essence-energy-spirit) was whole. Balancing an incomplete trinity wasn't simple.
But his spirit power, tempered through the 100th round, had reached Utter Perfection. The flawed jeong (essence) and gi (energy) were drawn by the shin, naturally completing into wholeness.
He could find the vessel of Paewang without even cultivating a heart technique—it followed the natural order.
That said, for speed, he'd relied on the unorthodox inner art Paewang Gong.
Its foundation was the Cheonju Paecheon Singong, the signature unorthodox divine art of Paecheon Muje, once one of Emperor Omu's finest.
Gu Cheon-woo had focused on crafting his own divine art the instant Cheonju Paecheon Singong hit its peak.
He'd fused divine arts, demonic arts, and killer arts gathered from slaying evil, unified via the Mugyeok Mansang-gyeol obtained in the Harmony Realm, as his base.
Even after laying that foundation, perfection was no easy task. He'd melted centuries of enemy arts with a founder's mindset, breaking and remaking them endlessly.
What remained was Paewang Gong—the culmination and essence of Gu Cheon-woo's 100th round.
"Right back to bolting out the door."
Each regression, Gu Cheon-woo had left the clan without a word, returning only years later.
This time, there was no need. Susin Jegah came before Mireok Paedo.
"What a hassle."
Even for Gu Cheon-woo, endless regressions held no appeal. He didn't want the empires he'd built crumbling like sandcastles.
Besides, if the direction had been wrong from the start, correction was essential.
The world called the Paewang dictatorial, but that was a baseless prejudice.
"Few are as awakened as I."
Gu Cheon-woo believed it sincerely. Those who knew the Paewang, though, would never agree with such heresy.
He'd only said he was "open"—to even face the Paewang required at least the Absolute Realm.
Even such supreme masters couldn't breathe freely under that overwhelming pressure.
"They begged for my wise counsel."
Naturally, no one dared offer true admonition. They saw their convictions as steadfast, but in truth, it was a shortcut to severed lifespans.
The Paewang branded outcasts as evil and sent them to utter annihilation. He uprooted every last connection, leaving not even a root pillar— who would dare speak up?
Moreover, the Paewang had his answers preset. Just listen to what his subordinates said most often.
"Truly righteous words, my lord."
The Paewang knew it well. Possessor of the Mireok Cheonri-an that pierced all creation, yet utterly blind to himself. No— he never even tried to see. The pinnacle of contradiction, unchallenged by any.
Curiously, none of his subordinates ever indulged in corruption like greedy officials. The "get caught and die" rule played a part, but they were paragons of integrity.
Tsk, woooong!
The energy drawn in through breathing circulated the Eight Extraordinary Meridians and Twelve Principal Meridians to the dantian, ceaselessly stimulating channels, vessels, and muscles along the way.
With each cycle, the gi grew finer and purer. Even sitting still, his internal and external forces advanced in tandem.
A miraculous sight, unbelievable even to witness. No one would buy it if told.
The Paewang Mugyeok Realm transcended realms like Convergence of Five Qi, Gathering of Three Flowers, Refining Old into Youth, and Return to the Source—untouchable without surpassing the Absolute Realm, an unprecedented pinnacle.
Even so, he wouldn't reach completion right away. This was the foundation-building phase.
Spirit elixirs could hasten it, but he had enough for family needs.
Paewang Gong hit 1st Star.
Slower than past rounds, but astonishing for a mortal.
Hm.
His senses caught a presence.
Swish!
He unfolded from meditation. Circulation was set; he didn't need the seated posture.
Any stance let him accumulate pure internal and external forces ceaselessly.
In prior rounds, he'd see it as an interruption. Now, perhaps a good thing.
He'd charged ahead blindly, after all. Gaps might have formed.
This time, he'd build step by step, like stacking a wall.
'For now, I'll play along.'
The Paewang always reigned supreme. In no round had he looked up from below.
Unpleasant, yes— but it stirred his competitive fire too.
Creak!
The door opened, and the presence entered. A touch frivolous in appearance, but tall and handsome.
Freeze!
Assuming he was asleep, the man had meant to tidy the bedding.
Locking eyes with Gu Cheon-woo's impassive stare, he froze under that unprecedented aura.
Hm.
Twitch!
As Gu Cheon-woo's contemplation deepened, dead silence fell.
The servant, sent by the Inner Manager to attend the young master, unwittingly turned to stone.
Normally, he'd have bantered about no pranks, but his mouth weighed a thousand tons.
What on earth is he pondering so gravely? No clue.
"Ga-bok, right?"
"……?"
Speechless. He'd been holding uncharacteristic gravitas, so he'd assumed some weighty issue.
If it was girl troubles, at least understandable. But forgetting even his two-syllable name after all this time?!
And wrong, to boot!! Born lowly, names mattered all the more to him.
"Ga! Bok! Here!"
"Right, Ga-bok. What brings you?"
Not listening, as usual. Back to the feather-light young master.
Acting like an emperor with all that weight—must be some dire crisis. Face like he bore the world's burdens alone.
There we go.
Ga-bok nearly clutched his neck from rising blood pressure but held to his servant's duty. What a lucky master.
Still, he couldn't shake the thought that his young master was toying with him. The one he'd known would totally do it.
Never let guard down around him. This tardy summons to his room? All calculated, no doubt.
Of course, nonsense. No plan—Gu Cheon-woo genuinely couldn't recall.
As said repeatedly, he'd bolted at dawn for power and martial growth. Past rounds' timelines meant tens of thousands of years before chatting with Ga-bok.
Memories blur with subjectivity into vague recollections over time. Tens of thousands of years prior? Absurd.
Heavenly martial genius, yes—but memory was another realm. Forty thousand years? Dementia wouldn't surprise.
The Paewang lacked the peripheral smarts to recall trivia anyway.
'There was that woman born with perfect recall.'
See a line once, never forget even in death. Walking archive, the Paewang Clan's strategist.
Didn't notice when beside him, but absence already irked.
His opposite was formidable too. Past rounds suffered thanks to him.
'After that, efficiency ruled.'
Obstacles to Mireok Paedo? Slain from the start. No crimes then, but heavenly mandate for the path.
Speed gained justified removal.
Thus, chatting with Ga-bok felt novel.
Forgotten or never there? Irrelevant. Make anew or restore—done.
Not a bad start.
Smirk.
Chill!
Ga-bok shivered at Gu Cheon-woo's dry smile. Unreadable mood today. Toying with him, no reason why.
But man Ga-bok wouldn't be swayed forever. Pushed back by words, not status, from his young master? Unacceptable.
"The Inner Manager summons you urgently."
Ahem— the Inner Manager's behind me now. Your move.
"Wait."
"Acting leisurely? Not like the one who pissed himself at a mere glare! Deny all you want— I collect your laundry."
"Hard to believe."
"Talking like some backroom elder lately, and I'm at least five years your senior… Huh?"
His crotch warmed cozily. Imagination? No.
Ga-bok went speechless. Lifetime teasing fodder. Face burned like his pants.
Escape this crisis— but piss stench crept out. Too much secret meat last night?
"Pathetic."
"……Not pathetic at all! Know how popular I am?! Legions of absolute beauties flock nightly!!!"
"Impressive stamina if true."
"Just a slip-up!!"
For Gu Cheon-woo, a string of fresh experiences. Trivial banter. Rarely drew out talk like today—always curt.
"It's fine."
"Not fine at all."
Heh heh heh.Don't laugh like a villain.
Ga-bok's mishap was inevitable. Unintended, but Paewang Gong at 1st Star filled the room with Paewang Gi.
Facing it directly? Bound to affect. Even a martial artist would fare little better.
Luckily for Ga-bok, not yet 3rd Star—or worse than wetting.
"Everyone slips. No need for hysterics."
"Leak this, and I'll never forgive you!"