Flashback - Faded Memories
He spent one night in Jangan. Around that time, Jang Cheon often fell silent. Stepping on the soil of his hometown felt strangely unfamiliar. The Jangan of his memories was different from the current one, yet somehow the same. The shapes of the buildings, the familiar shops, the famous figures—all were gone, but the lay of the land remained unchanged. The corners from back then were still corners now. The bustling streets were still bustling...
Only the people, the structures, and the flow of time had shifted.
At that moment, Cheon Sohyang asked,
"Ajussi."
"What is it?"
"...What do you think ajussi's family liked?"
It was a heavy question, voiced with care. Jang Cheon realized his disciple was pondering offerings for the spirits of the departed. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness.
"My father... he loved nakhwa-saeng. He wasn't one for extravagance, but he insisted on the finest for that one thing."
He'd never bought a new iron sword in his life. He emphasized repairing over replacing, living frugally to provide for the household. Yet the one indulgence he allowed himself was that nakhwa-saeng he craved so often. As a child, Jang Cheon had run those errands for him frequently.
One memory led to another. His mother collected Buddha statues as a hobby. She'd visit whenever a particularly potent one surfaced. Then his aunt, the foodies among the retainers...
And I-hwa.
Jang Cheon trailed off, lost in thought.
"I-hwa..."
What had she liked?
It was odd. No, this was blatantly wrong. Had he been so callous? No, that couldn't be. He vividly remembered agonizing for two hours on Jangan's streets to pick a birthday gift for her. Yet what he'd chosen—what he'd agonized over—escaped him entirely.
I-hwa had something she loved. He'd sworn to offer it at her grave each year after his vengeance. Once all revenge was complete, he'd place it before her spirit and die. That vow...
Nothing came to mind. Somehow, naturally, he'd forgotten.
"...I-hwa, you see. Sohyang. There was something I-hwa loved."
Even as he spoke, a queer sensation gripped him. What had I-hwa even looked like?
He'd forgotten her face too. Their shared memories felt like yesterday—the bickering over drinks, all so vivid—yet her features alone eluded him.
Jang Cheon clutched his face in his hands. His mind reeled with dizziness.
Have I fallen under some soul-seizing spell? No, perhaps it was just a lapse in memory for now.
He understood he'd lived far too long. Swallowing his bewilderment, he forced out a completion to his answer.
"I'll tell you when it comes to me later. For now, let's buy some flower wine. She liked that plenty."
"Okay..."
"I suppose... my memory's grown a bit dull."
He circulated his inner energy to inspect his body. Astonishingly, nothing seemed amiss. His innate true energy overflowed more vigorously than ever. Every meridian sang of perfect health.
The whole world felt like it was deceiving him. Yet Cheon Sohyang's dejected expression was crystal clear.
Jang Cheon hurriedly gathered his wits.
"It's not your fault. I simply forgot—why look so glum?"
"I thought... maybe I said something wrong."
"It's good to be courteous on the way to offer apologies, but you needn't torment yourself over it."
Jang Cheon drew a shallow breath. He pondered before speaking, then voiced his true heart.
"You... you're the family head bearing your ancestors' sins, but you're also my disciple, aren't you? And I am the master who must look after his disciple."
It was a thorny issue. Balancing it was excruciatingly difficult. Truth be told, Jang Cheon wondered when he might slip himself. But for now, he'd managed so far.
"Let's search the market street by street. Surely something will jog my memory."
It had been ages since their last rites. If there was an afterlife, they'd have forgotten a wretch like him and lived happily by now. But rites were for the living too.
Wondering if even the graves remained, Jang Cheon entered the market district.
Strange rumors began circulating around then. Jangan buzzed with talk of the Life and Death Emperor, so today's gossip centered on him too.
"...At this rate, I'm too scared to even live."
"I hear he transcends life and death, even commanding the dead."
But one rumor caught Jang Cheon's ear unmistakably.
"Right? They say even slicing his heart with a blade won't kill him."
Idle chatter, dropped casually by a woman laden with bolts of cloth passing through the market.
Jang Cheon instinctively called out to her.
"Where did you hear such a tale, madam?"
"Pardon?"
"Forgive me. It's just... too unbelievable to credit."
"Of course it is. But it came straight from someone who barely escaped the Life and Death Emperor's clutches this very morning."
There was a minor clan called the Cheong Clan on Jangan's outskirts. They were merchants who'd traded with the Namgung Clan for ages—known for their generosity and repute.
Tragically, they'd fallen to utter annihilation. The Life and Death Emperor's martial prowess was so overwhelming they couldn't even mount a proper resistance. Even the desperate ambush by the Cheong Clan head failed.
"His chest was pierced clean through, but no mark showed. When he pulled out the sword, the wound vanished like it'd been washed away..."
Jang Cheon knew someone eerily similar. Chest, head, even a severed neck—none could kill him. Wounds regenerated in an instant.
Rumors often bloated with exaggeration. Was this one such? Or...
"...Could it be related to ajussi's sword?"
His disciple watched him warily from the side. Jang Cheon fell silent.
Outer gods played their pranks ceaselessly, especially on the road. And now, at this crucial moment—heading to offer rites at his family's and wife's graves in Simha with his disciple in tow—he couldn't ignore it.
At minimum, he had to confirm if that sword was involved.
"Likely so."
Jang Cheon and Cheon Sohyang soon headed for the ruins of the Cheong Clan manor.
The Life and Death Emperor rummaged through the ashes. Gray soot swirled in the acrid stench. He prodded the debris with his Cheonggang Sword like a poker.
A small scabbard hung at his waist, holding the mysterious half-sword he'd taken from that monk.
A Divine Artifact. Truly bizarre.
He'd tested it again last night. The Cheong Clan head's desperate hidden weapon. He could have dodged it. He was in the Transformation Realm, after all.
But he let the Tang Clan awl fly straight into his chest.
"Impossible...!"
He wanted to see the head's face. First came satisfaction. Relief. Triumph at the miracle. Assurance that he'd at least halted the foe's advance.
Then that expression slowly twisted—as the Life and Death Emperor stepped forward. Turned his head. As his complexion stayed far too serene for a man poisoned.
When he yanked out the awl, the wound healed in a blink.
That was when horror flooded the Cheong head's features. Hard to believe even for him—what of the thrower? He'd savored a touch of pleasure amid his noble quest for vengeance.
"Ah, here it is."
A book unearthed from the ashes. The ledger the Cheong Clan head had kept—his sole stain. Every detail of dealings with the Namgung Clan, meticulously recorded.
This was what he'd sought all along.
"Found it. You're quite useful, far better than my other outer gods."
The Life and Death Emperor spoke with satisfaction. Not to thin air. Amid the ruins lurked a presence only he could see.
A stunning woman in black robes. The manifestation of the half-sword at his waist. Perhaps a ghost, one might call her.
To Heuk-yo, the Life and Death Emperor said,
"With this ledger in hand, all preparations are complete."
"Oh?"
"Watch how I use you going forward, compared to your former master. I'll make far better use of you."
The ledger listed those tied to his family's downfall. His vengeance now hit its stride. Killing the Namgung bitch in Simha would be the opening shot.
Hadn't one Namgung elder, staying at the Cheong Clan, been buried here too? Even a super first-rate master was child's play now.
Heuk-yo offered no reply to his bravado. Just a deep smile.
The Life and Death Emperor took it as approval. Others might read it as suppressed fury.
"Good days lie ahead, so I shan't kill you."
Soon, a very gentle voice echoed. The Life and Death Emperor's eyes glazed over. Unconsciously deeming it part of his vengeance, he surrendered to a fierce impulse and inspiration.
He dragged out the Namgung elder's corpse from the rubble. Swung his sword, severing all its limbs.
Like a prisoner in stocks.
"You lot should stay posed like this..."
He propped the mutilated body in the ruins' center. Hideously butchered.
Then he stood before it, pressing his sword to his own throat. Eyes vacant.
Once more, the soft woman's voice.
"How piggish even your sword swings are. Don't you dare compare yourself to Jang Cheon with that ugly, filthy head of yours."
To him, it rang heavenly, beautiful, crystalline.
Then he began stabbing his own head repeatedly.
"Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Once my task is done, this trash will dispose of itself, my lady."
Regeneration and mutilation cycled. Deep in trance, he muttered words even he scarcely grasped.
Until Heuk-yo's anger ebbed, he continued thus.