The Nameless Hero Returns
In the midst of a torrential downpour, countless martial artists unleashed their razor-sharp killing intent, locked in a brutal cycle of slaughter.
Having lost all track of time in their mutual slaughter, their movements ground to a sudden halt at the sound of a deafening roar.
In the brief silence that followed, the oppressive demonic energy that had threatened to swallow the entire world lost its strength and slowly dissipated.
At that moment—
"Waaaaah!"
Countless martial artists looked at one another and erupted into cheers.
For the long, grueling war had finally come to an end.
The Great Martial War, fought with the very fate of the Central Plains on the line, had raged on for a staggering hundred years.
It was a span of time so vast that its catalyst had long been forgotten.
Throughout those decades, the outer realms—led by the Demonic Cult of Cheon-san—had relentlessly assaulted the Central Plains.
To repel them, the defenders of the Central Plains rose up, forcing the Orthodox Path and the Unorthodox Path to forge an unprecedented alliance.
Yet, even their combined strength struggled to suppress the invaders.
Matian.
The moment this absolute demonic organization—whose name meant the "Demonic Sky"—united the disparate factions of the demonic path under a single banner, a brutal, uphill battle was guaranteed.
The overwhelming martial prowess of the Lord of Matian easily crushed the finest masters of both the Orthodox Path and the Unorthodox Path.
Even an elite assassination squad formed for the sole purpose of taking his life failed to subdue him. And yet...
Thuck.
A single sword now protruded from the chest of the Lord of Matian.
The worn, unremarkable blade had effortlessly shattered his heart.
"So, I too was nothing but a mere mortal in the end."
Even as his life ebbed away, the Lord of Matian remained remarkably calm.
He accepted his demise, departing the world without a shred of lingering regret.
"Congratulations. However, the rest of your days will be plagued by misfortune. The hypocrites of the Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic factions never willingly let go of what they hold. They will hunt you to the ends of the earth for slaying me."
With those final words of warning,
Crumble.
His body dissolved into ash, scattering into the wind.
It was the definitive end of the century-long war.
Though the cheers of those witnessing the Lord of Matian's demise grew deafening, the young man who had delivered the blow looked on with indifferent eyes.
It was as if the conclusion of this grand war had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Step.
"Are you unharmed?"
An elderly Taoist approached the young man from behind.
The old priest was the strongest master of the Kunlun Sect.
Under normal circumstances, it should have been him fighting the Lord of Matian and claiming his head.
But the old Taoist had never even received the chance to step forward.
For the young man standing before him had slain the Lord of Matian first.
"He was weaker than I thought. I should head back now."
The old Taoist looked at him in sheer bewilderment.
"You have slain the Lord of Matian. Unfathomable wealth, fame, and glory await you. Do you truly wish to walk away from all that?"
The young man's exact age was unknown, but judging by his appearance, he could not be older than his mid-twenties.
At a mere twenty-five, he had put an end to the master of Matian.
Already, the martial world was in an uproar, whispering that his very existence would become a living nightmare for any surviving remnants of the demonic path.
"Wealth and glory, my foot. Can you really say that after seeing what became of the Lord of Matian?"
Clicking his tongue, the young man scoffed at the old priest.
From the very beginning, his only desire had been to return to the warm embrace of his family.
Besides...
"If I stay out in the open, the vultures of the Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic factions will pester me day in and day out, trying to take my head. I don't fear them, but it's a massive hassle, and I have better things to do with my time."
The old Taoist's confusion only deepened.
If he wished to avoid their petty schemes and jealousy, shouldn't he simply ascend to the very peak of the world and rule over them all?
Just as the Lord of Matian had done.
"No, that's a fool's errand. Look at the Lord of Matian. In the end, the entire world banded together just to tear him down. I'd much rather vanish into the shadows and let them spend the rest of their lives doubting, scheming, and trembling in fear of my return. That fear will keep them in line and force them to clean up this mess instead of starting another war. Besides, only when I disappear can the rest of you actually live in peace."
"...I see. You are wiser than you look."
The old Taoist clicked his tongue in admiration and bowed his head in gratitude.
Just as the young man said, if he stayed, the martial world would eventually turn their blades toward him. No faction would tolerate a supreme being who could effortlessly slay the Lord of Matian.
But with the young man vanishing after the deed, the martial world would spend decades chasing a ghost.
They would waste their strength warily watching one another, searching for the nameless hero who had slain the Lord of Matian.
"Thank you once again. Had it not been for you, the martial world would have fallen."
"Don't mention it. I was just trying to clear the path back home."
Leaving those words behind, the young man vanished like a gust of wind.
The century-long war had finally drawn to a close with the death of the Lord of Matian.
Though martial artists from every faction secretly scoured the land to find the mysterious hero who had slain him, the truth remained buried in the shadows.
Whoosh.
Accompanied by a chilly breeze, a man clad in black robes materialized in the bustling marketplace.
He gazed at the lively streets, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.
"It's changed quite a bit."
In his memories, this town had been a quiet, rustic place.
But the streets before him now were remarkably vibrant and bustling.
Of course, compared to the truly prosperous cities of the Central Plains, it was still humble, but the difference was night and day.
Many things had clearly changed during his absence.
Drunks stumbled down the streets, humming merry tunes.
Local thugs loitered on the street corners, huffing and puffing with self-importance.
It was a lively, chaotic sight that he had sorely missed.
"Now, shall we head home?"
His family's estate was a martial academy situated in the quietest corner of the town.
Despite its grand name, the Heavenly Sword Academy was a modest institution, barely considered a First-rate influence at its peak.
Yet, the ideals of those who ran it were grander than any mountain.
"The Heavenly Sword is the sword of the heavens! We do not pursue selfish gain; we pursue the true path of martial arts. To uphold justice and eradicate evil—that is the sacred will of our founder, the Heavenly Sword."
His father, his grandfather, his older brother, and his older sister...
From the moment of his birth, this family creed had been drilled into his ears until he could recite it in his sleep.
Suffocated by their rigid righteousness and exhausting passion, he had eventually left home to seek the wider world.
He had never imagined that his departure would lead to such a long, arduous journey.
Step.
Arriving in front of his childhood home, the young man froze in his tracks.
He stared at the grand, imposing main gate of the academy—a stark contrast to the modest entrance of his memories—and tilted his head in confusion.
"Wait, did we go bankrupt?"
When he had first left, the academy had been perpetually strapped for cash.
His overly righteous and passionate family members had absolutely no head for business.
They wielded their martial arts to help anyone in need, never asking for a single copper in return.
They were so notoriously charitable that the locals openly referred to the Heavenly Sword Academy as a haven of pushovers.
Unlike his family of soft-hearted fools, Yoo Sung had always been highly practical. With such fundamentally different outlooks on life, it was only natural that he had eventually packed his bags and left.
"Well, even if they did go bankrupt, I brought back more than enough gold and treasure to rebuild it from scratch."
Besides, wouldn't that make for a rather entertaining life?
It was a classic trope straight out of the popular hero novels.
A peerless warrior achieves legendary feats on the battlefield, vanishes from the martial world to become a forgotten myth, and finally returns to his family.
Upon his return, he finds his clan in ruins, and he sets out to restore it to its former glory.
"Hmm, not a bad plot at all."
He had hoped to enjoy a quiet, lazy retirement, but playing the savior of a fallen clan sounded like a fun way to pass the time.
"First, I suppose I should ask where everyone went."
Despite the late hour, Yoo Sung stepped forward and knocked on the massive wooden gate.
"Who goes there?"
The gate swung open, and a young man swaggered out with a relaxed, confident stride.
Though his demeanor seemed casual, there was an underlying weight to his movements that spoke of immense confidence.
Yoo Sung assessed the man's strength in an instant.
At the very peak of the Peak Realm, bordering on the Transcendental Realm.
It was an absurdly high level of cultivation for a mere guard of a remote provincial academy.
Had his family truly gone bankrupt during his absence, allowing some other sect to seize their estate?
But that suspicion vanished the moment Yoo Sung got a clear look at the guard's face.
"...Wait. Are you Ho-sung?"
"Huh?"
Ho-sung blinked, squinting as he scanned the black-robed stranger from head to toe.
Then, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"Holy crap! Are you... the youngest young master?!"
"Yeah. It looks like you've actually put in some work while I was gone."
Yoo Sung looked at Ho-sung with genuine admiration.
Ho-sung had always possessed decent talent, but his naturally lazy disposition meant he had detested training.
Yoo Sung had found his wasted potential a pity, but there was no point in forcing someone who lacked the drive to improve.
Yet, some miracle must have occurred during his absence.
Ho-sung had transformed into a master of such caliber that he was far too overqualified to be guarding a provincial academy.
"Congratulations. You've become quite formidable."
"Oh my god, it really is you! Young Master Yoo Sung, right?!"
"That's right. I'm a bit late, but I've finally returned."
"Oh, man... This is a disaster."
Yoo Sung nodded, misinterpreting Ho-sung's deep sigh.
"It is a disaster. Where did the rest of the family go? I assume they had to sell the academy and move away?"
"What kind of nonsense is that?"
"...?"
Yoo Sung blinked at Ho-sung's blunt, baffled response.
"Are you saying they're still here? My father? My brother? My sister?"
"The eldest young lady married into another family five years ago, and the eldest young master got married seven years ago."
"Oh, they both got married? To think I missed such joyous occasions."
"You sure did. You better prepare yourself to be skinned alive when they see you."
"I'll gladly take whatever punishment they throw at me. Just tell me where they are."
"What do you mean, 'where are they'? Where on earth do you think you're going?"
"..."
Only then did Yoo Sung realize something was seriously off.
"Wait... Is this actually our academy?"
"Of course it is. A lot has happened over the last ten years."
Hearing the nostalgic tone in Ho-sung's voice, Yoo Sung stared at the grand estate in genuine disbelief.
"I can believe a lot of things, but you're telling me my stubborn father and brother managed to pull this off?"
"Oh, they haven't changed a bit. Those two are exactly the same as they've always been."
"Then how?"
"Well, they say a good wife brings fortune to a household, don't they? Ever since the eldest young master got married, the academy has undergone a complete transformation."
"...Oho."
This was an incredibly intriguing piece of news.
"You should hear the details from them directly. They've been waiting for your return day in and day out."
Clicking his tongue, Ho-sung stepped aside to let him through.
"Hey, you! Go tell the Master that the youngest young master has returned!"
At Ho-sung's shout, one of the nearby guards quickly leaped over the inner wall to deliver the message.
Watching the guard's exceptionally swift and agile footwork, Yoo Sung's eyes gleamed with interest.
Just what on earth happened to this place while I was gone?
Even before his departure, the academy had enjoyed a decent local reputation, but its current scale and quality far exceeded his wildest expectations.
"Please follow me, Young Master."
"Lead the way."
Guided by Ho-sung, Yoo Sung looked around the vastly transformed academy.
Yet, despite the sweeping changes, traces of the familiar past still caught his eye.
The training grounds where he used to tumble and spar with his brother and sister remained in the exact same spot.
Amidst the grand new buildings, these pockets of cherished memories still held their ground.
To undergo such rapid expansion while still preserving and honoring the past... Not bad at all.
Whoever had spearheaded this transformation was undoubtedly a person of remarkable capability.
"Who did you say is back?!"
A thunderous roar that could make a tiger weep echoed through the estate, startling everyone in the academy.
Yoo Sung, too, looked toward the source of the voice, his eyes widening in surprise.
Of course, his surprise stemmed from a completely different reason than the others.
Incredible... Has he actually reached the Transformation Realm?
Even if the rise of Matian had forced the martial world to evolve, making breakthroughs to the Transformation Realm slightly more common than in the past...
...it was still mind-boggling that the master of a small academy in the remote Baekmyo County of Sichuan had achieved such a legendary boundary.
Hmm. A lot of interesting things must have happened while I was gone.
He felt a twinge of regret for missing out on those years, but he decided to treat uncovering these mysteries as a pleasant pastime for his retirement.
"Is it true? Has Yoo Sung really returned?!"
The younger voice that followed was instantly recognizable.
It was his older brother, Yoo Chan, who had always been his steadfast supporter.
Hearing those two familiar voices, the reality of finally being home washed over Yoo Sung, and a warm smile spread across his face.
Dash!
Gazing at the middle-aged man and the young man who came rushing out to meet him, Yoo Sung offered them a bright, boyish grin.
"Father, Brother. I have returned."