Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Chapter 1: Beyond Human (5)
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“It’ll be okay.”
He whispered the words softly.
The girl buried her face in his shoulder as if embarrassed, then asked once more.
“Really?”
“Of course. You’ll feel much better. Way better than yesterday.”
Truth be told, anyone who knew her would have found it surprising.
With her such a lively and bright personality, always quick with drinks and songs, she seemed like the type who’d cast aside her virginity long ago. And considering the sect she belonged to, Yangwon Clan, it was even more so. Its leader had a reputation as a decent hero, and on the surface it looked like a proper righteous sect. But behind the scenes, it had its hands in taverns, gambling dens, and even brothels.
“Much better? Pfft, liar…”
She chided him for lying, but her voice carried a strong undercurrent of curiosity.
What a cute one. In Cheonwi’s mind, everything from last night flashed by like a lantern show.
‘Ow…!’
‘Ah! It hurts!’
The pert tip of her nose wrinkling in pain at the moment they became one.
The fresh blood trickling down to wet even his body.
Her reactions, so intense it was hard to believe it was her first time.
‘Yeah. This is it, after all…’
He thought to himself.
The best way to push away those recurring dreams was, as expected, a woman’s body.
Recalling her ragged breaths and excited moans, he could finally shove aside the vividly haunting dream, consigning the memories to a corner of his mind.
He gently stroked her waist.
“Again? Already?”
His hand slid past her dizzying curves to grip her firm, resilient buttocks. The girl jolted in surprise, her face flushing bright red.
“I-It’s morning! It’s too bright!”
He grinned.
No matter how dark and pitch-black the room, he could see as clear as day. Ignoring her protests, he yanked the covers aside in one swift motion.
“Kyaa!”
She twisted away with a scream. Her fresh, youthful body was laid bare under the soft dawn light. A flower blooming at sunrise. An intoxicating sensuality poured from her writhing form, enough to stop one’s breath.
“N-No, don’t!”
He sealed her lips with his, swallowing her cries.
He pinned her body beneath his.
Her resistance didn’t last long. Rather, as if she’d been waiting for it, her slender arms wrapped around his back. The room filled with moans of ecstasy. Her heated voice flowed on without end.
* * *
The child dreamed.
The dreams weren’t sequential.
They were always chaotic and murky.
Memories he didn’t need to remember, memories he should remember—they all came as dreams.
The child had grown up without a mother.
The child in the dream was bright.
Perhaps because there was no mother, he shone all the brighter.
The child grew slowly.
Smaller in height and build than the other children.
The child had many friends. His friends’ mothers were like his own mother, so he ended up with more mothers than anyone else.
The children became boys.
The boy who had been a child suddenly began to grow one day.
Maybe because the others were growing, and he wanted to catch up—the boy who’d been the smallest among his peers soon shot up to tower over them, vying for first or second place.
His once-small body grew tougher than anyone’s, more agile and sturdy.
Thus, the boys who had become young men naturally had to leave their mothers’ embraces.
For boys leaving their mothers’ arms, there were fathers. Fathers were great walls to lean on, mountains to climb for growing boys.
But the child had no father either.
A father was different from a mother.
You couldn’t call your friends’ fathers your own.
Instead, the boy gained masters. Several of them.
And yet, there was still something the child lacked.
A family.
The boy had a great big family, but no true mother or father to call his own.
Even so, the boy never felt the lack.
Where the boys lived, there were many servants. When the boys called, servants came running to tend to their needs.
The boy rarely called for them.
He had an old man who looked after only him.
The boy didn’t know when the old man had started staying by his side.
As far back as he could remember, the old man had always been near.
The old man wasn’t quick or particularly capable.
He was just your average slow-moving elder.
Tripping and getting hurt was commonplace for him, and he’d often come home covered in blood from who-knows-what escapades outside. The old man grew thin and frail. Yet he served the boy with all his meager ability.
The boy asked why.
The old man answered: it was the merit the boy’s mother had left in this world. Even as a child, the boy heard the loneliness in the old man’s voice.
The only way the boy could feel his mother’s presence in the world was through that pitiful old man. No one else spoke of her. He didn’t know why.
One day, when the sunlight blazed dazzlingly.
The boy left the palace-like mansion through the southern gate, the Taedomun, alongside the martial artists.
The people bowed their heads before the grand procession of warriors, and the crowded streets cleared into a straight, empty path just for them.
The boy wasn’t the only one walking that path. All the boys his age marched in the procession.
The path, lined with bowed heads, told the boy.
What kind of house he had been born and raised in.
The envious gazes of the people taught him the qualifications of living in that house.
Those qualifications were none other than this:
To grow into a young man who would not shame the name they bore.
That was the purpose of the procession.
But on that path, instead of qualifications for the name he bore, the boy gained another memory he would never forget.
A memory far removed from what the adults meant to teach the children.
One might call it an accident of sorts.
On the curving road back to the clan, at dusk.
The boy, squinting against the too-bright sky, spotted an old woman crouched by the roadside, draped in black clothes.
For some reason, the boy couldn’t tear his eyes from her.
He remembers the next moment vividly: the instant she lifted her head to look up at him. Two gleams flashed from beneath the black sackcloth covering her even to her head.
An old woman. Or perhaps she wasn’t.
The old woman sprang up and reached toward the distant boy.
She cried out.
“Lucero! Lucero!”
It was a hoarse voice. As if her throat were clogged, rotten and ruined.
The boy didn’t know what it meant. Nor did anyone else there.
Because it wasn’t in the Central Plains tongue.
The old woman staggered toward them. The clan’s warriors reacted first. In the blink of an eye, they blocked her, and even faster, they dragged her out of sight.
“Lucero!”
It was a name.
Somehow, he knew that instinctively.
That strange-sounding name, screamed like a wail, seared deep into his mind.
But that wasn’t his name.
His name was Cheonwi.
Cheonwi could not forget that old woman.
And from then on, one more dream was added to the long, long nights of the boy Cheonwi.
The dream of meeting the old woman.
Alternating with the dark, terrifying dream of the snowy field carriage.
Not long after that.
Along with the new dream, the boy realized he lacked something that everyone else had.
The boy, once faster and stronger than any other, began to lag behind the others who were stacking up their new learnings. He grew slower, weaker. He started falling behind.
In a reality hard to accept.
The boy’s life veered away from the adults’ expectations.
As he aged into a youth, temptations abounded.
From wine and women to gambling, violence, pleasure, indulgence. Everything that ruins a man appeared before the boy—no, the youth.
Before the child who couldn’t grow as strong as the adults wished, who could never be that strong.
The straight path he’d seen that day was gone.
For a long time after.
Perhaps for centuries.
Cheonwi’s path twisted and turned, never straight.
* * *
On an autumn day when the boy became a youth, the youth a man.
The master of the grand house where the man—who had once been a boy—lived received a report laced with concern from his capable subordinate and blood kin on the current situation.
“The movements in Shanxi are far from ordinary.”
“Why Shanxi?”
“The balance of the Five Rivers is precarious.”
“The One Mountain Five Rivers are well-established sects. Their balance won’t shatter overnight.”
“They say Taehaeng Clan and Daedong Merchant House have started clashing.”
“Petty power struggles like that happen every day. If it’s reached your desk, it must be pretty serious, right?”
“There’s a high chance it’ll escalate into large-scale battle. Each of the One Mountain Five Rivers commands forces that can’t be ignored. If mishandled, it could spark slaughter across all of Shanxi.”
“That can’t happen.”
“There’s the Paehwi Operation too, and if mishandled, we could suffer external backlash…”
“Is this the time to calculate our gains and losses?”
“Given the gravity of the matter…”
“When warriors kill and get killed, the real victims are the innocent commoners. How many times must I say it? Put the greater good first.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Stop it.”
“Pardon?”
“Stop that fight.”
“O-Of course it must be stopped. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Got anyone capable?”
“There are some already out there for quite a while. Experienced, resourceful bunch.”
“Send reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements… We’re short on manpower…”
“Short?”
“With the Ihubang flood relief pulling in so many from Heaven-Destroying Squad, as you mentioned last time…”
“What’s that got to do with anything.”
“The floodwaters still haven’t receded. We’ll figure something out for reinforcements. It’s tricky, but we can spare one platoon.”
“One platoon? Shadow Squad’s short on combat personnel as it is—will that do?”
“We’ll make it work. You know that kid, right? The one Heaven-Destroying Squad Leader always says he’ll poach from Shadow Squad. The one you personally issued the Black-White Token to… He’s out as Shadow Squad’s Shanxi Branch Chief.”
“Is that so? Well, that’s something…”
“Plus, with those two troublemakers along, their combat power’s already beyond Shadow Squad norms.”
“Troublemakers, huh…”
“Paehwi Operation’s core—the prodigal son. He’s in Shanxi too, analyzing the Five Rivers.”
“Oh? Really? But didn’t you say that kid has issues with his condition?”
“I hear his constitution makes it hard to build inner energy. The real problem’s his temperament, though. Chasing skirts, haunting gambling dens—hard to handle, they say. No wonder he’s called a prodigal; even Shadow Intelligence Chief’s washed his hands of him lately.”
“Bad habits can be fixed… What about his martial prowess?”
“His raw power’s rated a bit low, but he surpassed average Shadow Squad members ages ago.”
“Two troublemakers, you said?”
“Ah, yes. Remember Danmun? The one you issued the Red Token to.”
“…That kid’s in Shanxi too?”
“They’ve been stuck together for ages. Unpredictable bunch—cause a lot of incidents, but in clutch moments, they pull results out of thin air somehow. So Shadow Squad keeps them bundled up as a useful unit. Shadow Intelligence Chief’s a renowned strategist, so I figure he foresaw this Shanxi mess and planted them there early.”
“Good to have talent, but they’re all still young pups. Can’t help worrying. No one else to send?”
“Heaven-Destroying Squad’s the limit. If a Division Commander or higher gets involved, it could put us in an awkward spot ultimately.”
“How many times must I say it? This isn’t the time to cling to face or position. If one fights one, it quickly becomes two against three. If the Five Rivers clash, Shanxi falls into total chaos. We must stop it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The master of the grand house turned away.
Worry settled over his steadfast face.
It was the usual report, the usual conversation—yet he clearly felt it.
His subordinates, his family, were walking paths different from the one in his heart.
Such were the times.
They would always carry out his orders faithfully. That wouldn’t change. But only on the surface. Even if he made a call against the greater good, no one would speak up: it’s wrong. When he proposed solutions prioritizing righteousness, the household calculated execution costs first.
This time was no different.
The goal of stopping the fight was the same either way, but the hidden motives in their hearts differed. Resentments lingered. It was disheartening.
He let out a deep breath and opened the window.
Far off, beyond the sprawling halls, stood the tall southern gate.
A house grand as a palace, yet it felt hollow despite its size.
When had it become this way?
Perhaps from the pointless warrior processions meant to show off the house’s might to the children.
It was never meant to be allowed.
True power wasn’t something boasted in outward shows.
Even the cool night breeze failed to wash away the stuffiness in his chest.
Shouldn’t he tighten discipline at home before worrying over distant Shanxi unrest?
He missed his young days, when he’d cut through all matters with a single stroke.
Worry, regret, darkness…
The night only deepened.