Prologue - Day 30 of Regression
The sky was clear, the breeze refreshingly cool. With a cup of steaming tea to top it off, a man couldn't help but feel utterly at ease. The blood-soaked feuds of the Murim world, the endless Righteous-Demonic War—they all felt like tales from some distant land. Peaceful. Truly, wonderfully peaceful.
It had been thirty-five years since he'd reincarnated into this Murim. His life in the Wudang Sect began when a Taoist priest found him foraging for wild herbs in the mountains—and gifted him the Taoist name Cheongun to boot.
Honestly, martial arts still felt like magic even now. Flying through the skies, shattering cliffs with a flick of the wrist. Even seeing the traces he'd left behind could leave him dazed sometimes. In his youth, he'd gotten drunk on that power and stirred up some trouble, which mercifully got him sidelined early from the sect's power struggles. Now he was comfortably settled as an elder in the back rooms.
Not that he minded. No power meant no responsibilities. Just keep an eye on his three disciples, and it was sweet retirement bliss.
These days, this Murim even seemed like a pretty decent place to live...
Lately, though, a small worry had crept in.
"Um, Master. I brought the tea."
It was his eldest disciple, Seorin. Her hands trembled faintly as she set down the tray.
Hm, still early spring—must be chilly. Yeah, the mountain winds can bite.
He'd reached the Hansubulchim realm, immune to heat and cold, but that was still a distant dream for his disciples. The winds of Wudang Mountain might be too harsh for the kids just yet.
"Thank you, Seorina."
He sipped the tea she'd poured, and a sharp tingle danced on his tongue. A subtle bitterness mingled in, soon warming his dantian.
This girl—must've snuck some precious herbs into it again.
They should be saving that for their own cultivation, not spoiling their master every time.
"The tea's excellent, Seorina."
"Ah..."
She fidgeted at his praise. His eldest was just too soft-hearted.
"Eek! Kyaa!"
Just then, his second disciple Chohee, crossing the courtyard, tripped over a stone.
"Careful now!"
He clicked his tongue—right as her flailing hand on the way down launched a gleaming dagger straight at his brow.
A clean, silent throw, sharp as could be.
He casually raised his free hand—the one not holding the teacup—and caught the flying blade between index and middle finger.
Thud.
Seeing Chohee's face drain of color, he chuckled softly and twisted his fingers.
Clang—!
A hair-thin needle, hidden in the dagger's shadow, ricocheted off his nail and clattered to the ground.
"...!"
Chohee's jaw dropped. He deepened his voice, feigning sternness.
"Chohee-ya. The Eunhyeong Suhyeop—wielding dagger and needles at once—is still too much for you. See how the end wavers?"
"M-Master, that was..."
"But the idea itself was brilliant. Faking a fall to throw the dagger, then flicking the needle at my blind spot. You've been training on your own again, haven't you? Well done."
Overwhelmed by the praise, Chohee collapsed to the ground, trembling.
Her thirst for learning was unmatched in the entire Wudang Sect.
"Master! I'm cold!"
Now his youngest, Hwaran, came toddling from the courtyard corner and burrowed into his arms.
"Haha, you too. All grown up and still acting like a baby."
He scolded her lightly even as he rubbed her back, chilled by the spring breeze, infusing it with his warmth.
Whoosh—.
Hm?
A strange resistance hit him, and more inner energy drained out than usual.
Like someone forcing open the gates of his qi sea.
Getting old—my senses are dulling.
His diligent eldest brewing tea every day with care, his second forever seeking critique on her martial arts, his youngest with her endless cuddles.
Surrounded by his three disciples on the porch, gazing at the cloudless sky, a smile came unbidden.
Yeah, this is a pretty successful retirement.
Not that he was that old.
Of course, his trembling youngest in his arms, his frozen eldest, and his second's ashen face were his one recent worry.
They were all breaking out in cold sweats—clearly, pushing too hard to please their master had left them sick.
Ever since that day a month ago when the kids had changed, they'd been off.
He'd played ignorant since they hadn't complained outright, but as their master, he couldn't ignore it anymore.
"Starting tomorrow, no solo training for a while. Until your qi recovers, I'll personally guide you through special Yangsaengbeop and qi exercises."
At that moment, all three disciples' faces hardened in unison, as if rehearsed.
They'd always thirsted for his teachings, so the shock was understandable.
Tears even welled in Seorin's eyes.
Her face on the verge of bursting into sobs softened his heart...
But there was no helping it. Simma—heart demons—struck when one grew impatient.
Still, what endearing, praiseworthy disciples they were.