Prologue
“Now I’m dead...”
Even a jiangshi dies if its head is severed. How much more so a human?
Thud!
The Wind Thunder Axe slipped from his blood-soaked hands and crashed to the ground. The axe he’d swung as lightly as a switch in daily life now felt as heavy as a thousand tons.
Yeon Hojeong stared down at his hands. They were wrapped in chains, utterly crushed. It was a miracle he’d wielded an axe the size of a man’s torso with such mangled limbs.
Clink!
The shattered chains fell away.
“Knew it’d end like this.”
Bitterness drowned out the pain. With hands like these, he couldn’t even hold chopsticks, let alone an axe. But trading blows with the leader of Saneumgyo—the most vicious of the Three Sects—was worth it. Sure, both he and that bastard were now doomed to starve, but still.
“Is he dead?”
Yeon Hojeong turned his head. An old man leaned against a small boulder. It was Moyong Gun, the Martial Alliance Leader and head of the righteous factions.
“Didn’t you see his head fly off?”
“Can’t see it.”
Yeon Hojeong frowned. Up close, Moyong Gun’s eyes were clouded over. Excessive inner energy drain and severe wounds had blinded him.
He staggered over and collapsed before Moyong Gun.
“It’s over.”
“You’ve done well.”
Yeah, real well. To crush Saneumgyo, the righteous and black paths had joined forces. The sect’s atrocities had even quelled centuries of deep-seated hatred and distrust between them. Today marked the end of that nightmare alliance—and his life too.
“And you? Holding up?”
“...Eh, more or less.”
“Makes sense. A giant once called the black path’s supreme grandmaster shouldn’t go down easy.”
That easy, huh. Yeon Hojeong didn’t mention how the Saneumgyo leader’s final strike had severed his heart meridian. A trickle of inner energy was barely sustaining him, but death loomed soon.
“World’s full of surprises. Never thought you’d praise me.”
“Just stating facts. Without you, we’d have shattered the black alliance a decade ago.”
“And you lot would’ve been dog meat before today.”
“True enough. A blessing in disguise, as they say. Who’d have thought we’d owe you.”
Yeon Hojeong chuckled dryly.
Moyong Gun fell silent for a moment before speaking.
“Why’d you make that choice?”
“What choice?”
“You weren’t born black path. You could’ve risen as a supreme master among us. Why cross over and become their overlord?”
“Why drag that up now?”
“Curiosity before death.”
Moyong Gun’s voice rang hollow.
Yeon Hojeong gazed at him and sighed.
“How long you got?”
“Not even half an incense stick.”
Damn. Normally, he’d sense another’s condition instantly. But his severed meridian and depleted true energy had dulled his senses.
This old man’s done for too.
Bitter, that.
“No last words?”
“My life is my testament.”
“Fitting for an alliance leader.”
“So, the answer?”
“Just happened that way.”
There was a reason, of course. But he had no desire to ramble about the past to a dying man.
Moyong Gun smiled. A blind man’s smile stirred an inexplicable pity.
“Just like you.”
“I’ll see you off properly.”
“Grateful.”
People changed at death’s door, it seemed. Him, this old man—both.
“And...”
“Hm?”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“...”
“Lame as...”
Splat.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes sharpened.
“Kuhuk!”
Blood spewed from his mouth, reeking foully. He glanced at his solar plexus. A needle too fine for the naked eye was embedded there.
Ox Hair Needle?!
He raised his trembling head. The bloodied old man’s face loomed, blackened and gasping.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes blazed red.
“D-Dang Gwan...!”
The patriarch of the Sichuan Tang family and Martial Alliance vice-leader—a heavyweight.
Yeon Hojeong had clearly seen Dang Gwan’s chest pierced by the Saneumgyo leader’s Shadow Wither Finger. Even if it missed the heart, the finger wind should’ve ruptured his meridians. How was he alive? And why attack now?
“Won’t ask for understanding.”
Yeon Hojeong glared at Moyong Gun.
“Who stops you if I die? The righteous world now... can’t stand against Black Emperor Castle.”
“Cough!”
“I’ll atone in the next life. Join me.”
Damn it—he’d have died anyway. The fragile thread of his heart meridian snapped. Tang family’s deadly Gut-Rending Powder vaporized his energy, melting his organs. The agony silenced even screams.
You bastard—even your poison’s vicious.
Thud!
Yeon Hojeong dropped to his knees. Dang Gwan collapsed too, tension released after his final task. He died first.
“Why...”
The words slipped out.
Guilt flickered on Moyong Gun’s face.
“Truly sorry.”
Yeon Hojeong’s vision clouded.
Why’s the end always shit?
Second-best when he aimed for worst, runner-up when victory neared. His fate—lucky yet cursed—raged to the last. Legendary arts couldn’t make him supreme; prominence led to heading the black demonic paths. All the burden, none of the peak.
Still... he’d lived hard.
Alliance Leader. Apologize properly in the afterlife, you.
* * *
“Every day we delve deeply, loyal to the Yeon house, knowing a thousand years, gazing upon the spirits...”
The voice, rhythmic and clear, soothed the mind. Beyond it wafted heavy incense.
Hm? A temple?
But not sutras?
“Look upon us henceforth, grant our house glory for a millennium.”
The resonant voice stirred movement nearby. Yeon Hojeong opened his eyes.
What?
All around, people knelt in prostration at the altar. He blinked.
What’s going on?
Yet this place felt familiar. The clothes, the stately simple altar—he’d seen them before.
Someone tapped his back. He turned instinctively.
His jaw dropped.
“Huh?”
A boy peeked up from his bow, face paling. He gestured frantically—bow now!
But Yeon Hojeong couldn’t.
“Jipyeong?!”
The solemn air plummeted. Tension chilled the room.
But Yeon Hojeong barely noticed. This boy—vibrant face, starlit eyes—was his little brother. Dead twenty-six years ago in the clan’s destruction, now alive before him.
Dream? Illusion?
No. He wasn’t one to confuse reality with fancies.
Even if unreal, a family he’d longed for in dreams amid their broken bonds.
Emotion surged from his depths.
“Ji-Jipyeong!”
He crushed the boy in an embrace. Yeon Jipyeong’s face twisted in shock.
Has he lost it?
The boy whispered urgently.
“B-Brother! Don’t! We’ll get in trouble!”
“You punk!”
This warmth, the subtle tremble—definitely his brother.
Yeon Hojeong’s vision blurred.
“Brother! Brother! What the hell...”
Then—
“Hojeong.”
His body froze. The brother’s face and voice matched memory. This voice too.
He released Yeon Jipyeong and turned slowly.
A middle-aged man stood before the altar, glaring fiercely.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Not a scolding or question—just flat words heavy with unbearable weight.
A voice he’d feared and hated as a child. A father he’d avoided.
“Father?”
Yeon Wi’s brow furrowed. His eldest son staggered up, eyes filled with emptiness, disbelief, shock, joy. Striking. The boy had never met his gaze since childhood, shoulders slumped under oppression.
“F-Father!”
Yeon Hojeong charged, arms wide.
Yeon Wi’s hand flashed, seizing his wrist and yanking.
Thud!
“Guh!”
Yeon Hojeong crumpled to his knees. Qi flowed through the wrist, sapping his legs’ strength.
“Causing a scene during the ancestral rite? Are you insane?”
The chilling voice now warmed him. He lifted his head.
Yeon Wi’s face showed bewilderment. Sadness filled his son’s gaze.
Something’s off with the boy today.
“We’ll address disrupting the rite later. Go to the study and wait.”
Cold as ever. But the reply wasn’t.
“Yes!”
Too eager? Yeon Wi turned awkwardly, flustered. Yeon Hojeong rose, scanning around.
All twenty-odd participants stared, eyes confused.
He smiled back—then froze.
Wait.
Overwhelmed by emotion, he’d just realized how bizarre this was.
He looked down at his chest. No ox hair needle.
I’m not dead?
More than that.
Beyond alive...
Scanning again, shock dawned.
This is my past.
He checked his hands, body, hair, clothes. This was his body—but not. Scarred from countless battles, callused hands—gone. Slender frame, smooth skin: his childhood self.
“Impossible. Can this really...”
“What’re you muttering?!”
Yeon Wi finally snapped. Yeon Hojeong ducked sheepishly and slipped out.
Glancing back once more.
“...My home for real!”
One of the Seven Great Families, dubbed the murim’s pinnacle. Barely fifty years old, yet unyielding as steel, rivaling the other six: the Bi-san Yeon Family Estate.
Eldest young master Yeon Hojeong had returned.