Chapter 2: Were You the One Who Pushed Me?
Chapter 2: Were You the One Who Pushed Me?
Time flowed on, cruel and relentless.
The world still belonged to Hwa Mu-gi. Rumors claimed he had grown even stronger, reaching the ultimate principles of martial arts through a lifetime of ascetic training.
The Under Heaven Alliance was now governed by twelve of his followers—absolute masters in their own right. The world called them the Twelve Zodiac Kings.
Though an unrivaled master had unified the Murim, life for the common people had not improved. Injustice ran rampant, all of it tracing back to the Twelve Zodiac Kings. To curry favor with them was to gain fame and fortune; to defy them was to forfeit one's life. Existence had become even harsher than in the days when the Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic paths were divided.
Meanwhile, the Murim Alliance, the Unorthodox Path Alliance, and the Demonic Cult remained behind sealed gates. It was common knowledge that as long as Hwa Mu-gi drew breath, those gates would never open.
Just when I had begun to think the man must have died in some nameless valley, he returned.
When we first met, he had been in the prime of his youth. Now, he was a middle-aged man with streaks of silver in his hair. His aura possessed a depth and maturity that was incomparable to his younger self.
He had changed. His skin was tanned dark, as if he had roamed every corner of the earth, and he bore several new, jagged scars. He had become fearsome, yet his eyes—cold yet clear, simple yet profound—were exactly the same as the day he had first sought me out.
“Here. The inner core of a Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Carp.”
Inside the box he held out lay the legendary core.
“It really existed!” Gwi Ryeongja’s voice trembled. “How on earth did you find it?”
“I searched every place it could possibly be. I dare say that when it comes to climbing, swimming, diving, and camping, I am now an absolute master. I could draw a map of the Central Plains with my eyes closed.”
“Truly incredible.”
“What’s incredible isn’t that I found it,” the man replied grimly, “but that I didn’t go mad in the process.”
A strange thought struck Gwi Ryeongja. Perhaps this wasn’t merely the inner core of a Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Carp, but the man’s very will given physical form. As he lost himself in the fantasy of a sky-blue will coalescing into a jewel, the man prodded him.
“Well? What is the next ingredient?”
“Aren’t you going to boast a little?” Gwi Ryeongja asked.
What grand tales of adventure must lie behind the ingredients he’d found so far? If it were him, Gwi Ryeongja wouldn’t have been able to resist bragging to anyone who would listen.
“I’ll do all my boasting later, over that bastard’s corpse. I’ll tell the story again and again. I’ll mummify his body and recount it to him for the rest of eternity—how I did all this just to kill him.”
“It’s strange to hear you make a joke like that.”
Gwi Ryeongja wanted to laugh and chat, to talk about the state of the Murim and the nature of life. But the man, as always, was in a hurry.
“The fourth ingredient. What is it?”
“Money.”
The man blinked, surprised by the mundane answer. “How much?”
“Five million nyang.”
It was an unimaginably vast sum, but the man’s expression didn't even flicker.
“I’ll be back.”
Gwi Ryeongja knew that even if he had demanded a hundred million or a billion nyang, this man would have simply stood up and said the same thing. He might have added a dry joke, like, 'Should I just kill you and be done with it?' but he would have gone and found the money regardless.
He was a man who marched silently toward his goal. Gwi Ryeongja was witnessing the terrifying extreme of what a human will could manifest when pushed past its limits.
“Wait a moment.”
“Why?”
“I’ll provide the money. My family has been saving for generations for the sake of this Great Regression Art. I will use those funds.”
“For what reason?”
“Because seeing the Great Regression Art succeed is a long-held wish for both me and my ancestors.”
“Good. Thank you. Truly,” the man said, his relief palpable. “This will save a great deal of time.”
The man was genuinely pleased.
“In that case,” Gwi Ryeongja suggested, “will you have a drink with me, just for today?”
“I’ll have one drink. Then I must leave.”
“You heartless friend.”
Gwi Ryeongja brought out the liquor, and they sat side by side on a large rock in the yard, pouring the spirits into large cups. They savored the alcohol slowly.
“When we first met, we were both so full of life.”
“My body may be aging, but my heart is the same,” the man replied. “I’m desperately trying to stay young.”
“Why go to such effort?”
“Because I will return to the me of my youth. Whether I go back at fifty, sixty, or a hundred, I am the same person who came to you that day. My time stopped then.”
If Gwi Ryeongja had heard this years ago, he would have thought the man’s effort was commendable but delusional. Now, however, he knew the sheer weight of the man’s resolve.
“If the Great Regression Art truly succeeds and you return to the past… may I ask a favor?”
“Speak.”
Gwi Ryeongja let out a long, weary sigh. “If you go back, you must come and find me.”
“And then?”
“You must stop me from getting married.”
The man burst out laughing at the unexpected request. It was the first time he had laughed since they’d met.
“I’m not joking! Please, you must stop me!”
“Is that more important than five million nyang?”
“To me, it is. Just tell me to live alone my whole life. You must do that.”
“Very well.”
Gwi Ryeongja told him the exact year of his marriage and pleaded again. “Promise me. Promise you’ll stop me.”
“I promise.”
The two men drained the last of their drinks.
“What is the final ingredient?”
“It is something you know well.”
“What is it?”
“The Secret Demon Soul.”
The man’s gaze hardened. He knew exactly what that was. “That was my late father’s sacred relic.”
“I know. Your father never let it leave his side for a single moment.”
“Do you have it?”
The man shook his head.
“Do you know where it is?”
“I do not.”
“What if, by some chance, Hwa Mu-gi has it?”
“Then all these years will have been for nothing. But even if it remains with the Main Cult, obtaining it will not be easy.”
The Demonic Cult was currently under the rule of a new Cult Leader, its gates still sealed. Though they hadn't been able to break Hwa Mu-gi’s dominance, the Cult had spent the past years consolidating its power. They would hardly welcome the return of the former Cult Leader’s son. On the contrary, the new leader would likely try to kill a ghost from the past.
“Let’s hope it is still with the Main Cult.”
“Don’t take too long,” Gwi Ryeongja warned. “I’m an old man now.”
“Do not die before I return. Thank you for the drink.”
Downing the last drop, the man departed.
*
Gwi Ryeongja stood there for a long, long time, watching the man’s figure recede into the distance.
The man who left that day did not return for years. There was no news of any incident at the Demonic Cult, but Gwi Ryeongja kept his ears open. The years flowed by, and Gwi Ryeongja grew frail. Age spots bloomed across his face like flowers of the underworld.
Today, like any other day, he sat blankly on his porch, staring at the spot where the man used to stand. Then, Gwi Ryeongja rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was seeing a ghost.
Someone was staggering toward him.
It was the man.
He had returned with the final ingredient, but he was horribly transformed. His face was so severely mutilated he looked like a different person. He had lost his right eye and his left arm. His clothes were soaked through with fresh blood, hiding a body undoubtedly covered in countless wounds.
Gwi Ryeongja was speechless.
After handing over the Secret Demon Soul, the man collapsed.
“You… how in the world did you get this?”
“…Let’s go,” the man rasped, lacking the strength to answer. “To the place where we perform the ritual.”
Gwi Ryeongja supported him, leading him to the ritual chamber. All the preparations were complete. The final ingredient, awaited for decades, was finally here.
Gwi Ryeongja placed the Secret Demon Soul in the center of the formation. Like a dragon painting brought to life by the final stroke of the brush, the relic began to glow brilliantly. Strange symbols and ancient characters ignited in the air around it.
Gwi Ryeongja began to chant.
Blue and red light enveloped the room. The Sound Thunder Bell rang out, and thick incense smoke rose from the Divine Profound Incense Burner. As the chant reached its peak, the ingredients merged into one, creating a shimmering haze of light—a gateway to another time.
“I did it!” Gwi Ryeongja cried, his face overflowing with emotion. He had fulfilled a wish passed down through his family for centuries.
He approached the man, who was leaning against a pillar. Perhaps due to the blood loss, he had lost consciousness. Instead of waking him, Gwi Ryeongja spoke softly.
“…I’m sorry.”
He had decided to take the regression for himself.
“I’m truly sorry.”
Knowing how hard this man had suffered to gather these materials made the guilt gnaw at him. But these ingredients could never be found again.
“I will find you in the past and warn you of the disasters to come. I promise.”
Gwi Ryeongja turned toward the haze of light. “Returning to the past was my family’s lifelong desire. It was mine, too.”
Just as he was about to step into the light—
“Ugh!”
Gwi Ryeongja flinched, his body freezing in place. His Demonic Acupoint had been sealed. He hadn’t even sensed the attack.
A languid, dangerous voice came from behind him. “How could you do this?”
The man he thought was unconscious was standing.
“My friend…” Gwi Ryeongja’s voice trembled.
The man staggered over and stopped in front of him. “You, of all people… how could you do this to me?!”
The man’s hand shot out, gripping Gwi Ryeongja’s throat. The old man’s neck felt as if it would snap like a dry twig.
“…I must have lost my mind. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Gwi Ryeongja closed his eyes, expecting death. He deserved it. He was the only one who truly knew the hell the man had endured to reach this moment.
Then, the man released his grip.
“I’m a selfish person, too,” the man said, his voice softening. “I was only able to gather those ingredients because I thought only of myself. So it’s alright. If it had been anyone else, I would have killed them instantly. But you… you I can understand.”
The man didn’t rebuke him further. Instead, he spoke with sincerity. “Thank you for waiting for me your entire life.”
At those words, Gwi Ryeongja’s eyes welled with tears. Guilt and regret crashed over him. They could have had a proper farewell.
At the very moment a tear fell from Gwi Ryeongja’s eye, the world stopped.
“What?”
The man looked around, startled. All movement had ceased. A butterfly hung suspended in mid-air; blades of grass remained bent by a wind that no longer blew. Even Gwi Ryeongja’s tear hung frozen in the air.
The man wondered if he was finally hallucinating from the blood loss. Then, an old man appeared in the frozen space.
“You have passed all the tests.”
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
“Someone who can send you to the past.”
The man’s breath hitched.
“How could a mere human’s power defy the Heavenly Principle?” the old man asked. “Did you truly believe that simple spirit creatures and artifacts could make such a thing possible?”
The old man raised his hand, and the five artifacts the man had spent his life gathering reappeared, floating in the air. In that moment, the man realized: this being was beyond human.
“The true ingredients for this Great Regression Art were not these artifacts, but the sheer effort you dedicated to gathering them.”
The old man waved his hand, and the artifacts vanished like smoke.
“You have passed the test. You sacrificed your entire life for a single purpose. And forgiving Gwi Ryeongja was the final trial. In truth, it was the most difficult one, yet you passed it with ease.”
The man’s body trembled. He had spent his life believing the heavens were indifferent, if they existed at all. Now, a being that could be called 'Heaven' stood before him. His shock turned to sudden anger.
“Are you a being that only answers after one suffers this much? Are you that high and mighty?”
“Don’t be so angry. It is easier for others to see me than it was for you. There are those who meet me every day. But a wish like yours is not something granted lightly, is it?”
The man fell silent. His wish wasn't for wealth or love. It was to rewrite time itself.
“Send me back.”
“And then?”
“I will kill the one who must be killed and save those who should not have died.”
Killing Hwa Mu-gi and saving his people was the priority. But there was something else.
“And… I want to live my own life properly. Perhaps the reason I want to go back so desperately is that my regret for my own life is as strong as my hatred for Hwa Mu-gi.”
“What do you regret so much?”
“Everything. From birth until now, my life wasn’t one I led—it was one I was pushed into. Pushed this way and that, drifting until it was over… Was it you? Were you the one who pushed me?”
The old man gave an awkward laugh. “After you have your revenge, what kind of life do you want to live?”
“I don’t know. Whether I’ll succeed my father and become the Heavenly Demon, live quietly in the mountains, become a lecher who pursues every beauty in the land, or spend my life beating up trash… I haven’t decided a single thing.”
“I, too, am curious to see what you choose. I look forward to your new life.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s have a drink the next time we meet.”
With those words, the old man vanished.
Next time?
The man had a premonition that he would see that old man again.
Suddenly, the frozen river of time began to flow. The butterfly flapped its wings, the grass swayed, and Gwi Ryeongja’s tear finally hit the floor.
“I’m sorry. Truly,” Gwi Ryeongja sobbed.
The man gazed at him silently. Gwi Ryeongja would never know that his ritual had been a bridge to the will of Heaven. Though the final decision belonged to the divine, Gwi Ryeongja’s art had been the necessary medium.
Gwi Ryeongja pleaded with a desperate look. “Ah! I know this is shameless, but don’t forget your promise! You have to stop my marriage!”
The man let out a faint, weary smile. Even now, on the verge of death, the old man was worried about that.
“Is it still hell?”
“It’s an even hotter hell now! I have no right to ask, but I’m begging you! If I refuse to listen, just rip my manhood off!”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s worse!”
“Good,” the man said. “That shall be your punishment for trying to betray me. Go through that hell one more time.”
“Aah! My friend! Please!”
The man turned his back on the wailing Gwi Ryeongja and walked into the haze of light. As the radiance embraced him and began to scatter brilliantly, Gwi Ryeongja was overcome with emotion. But in the end, the words he screamed were these:
“I want to go too! Aaaaaaaah! I’m the one who really needs to go!”