Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Didn't See This Coming (1)
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Fluffy, fluffy.
Cozy, warm, and snug. Even a scent that was both achingly familiar and dearly missed... Huh?
Only then did he realize something was off.
The height of disharmony.
It didn't suit him at all. He had no memory of sleeping in a warm room for twenty years. After grueling training, he had lived on battlefields soaked in blood and death.
'What the hell is going on?'
He was experiencing something incomprehensible. He needed to retrace his steps.
A martial artist must remain calm and self-reflective even in the worst situations, quickly assessing their surroundings.
Memories shrouded in hazy fog sharpened into clarity, and the last moments resurfaced.
'Ha, didn't think he'd go for self-destruction.'
The final battle with the Demon King—he had thought the fight was over.
The Demon King's demonic energy was depleted, his Demon King Body shattered. With his core true energy damaged, self-destruction should have been impossible.
Yet the Demon King had pulled it off.
Mujin had been swept up in the Demonic Cult of the Demon God's leader's spectacular end. He didn't resent it. Even if he survived, greedy humans would be lurking like wild beasts for a chance.
Guys who would normally die to a casual strike, but back then he was defenseless, disarmed with no answers. If he'd gone all out, he could have taken one or two with him.
'Gotta figure out what happened.'
Either way, he was alive.
His heart was beating, blood flowing, and his stomach rumbling with hunger.
Which made it all the more strange.
Even if he'd miraculously survived the mutual destruction, those wild beasts wouldn't have left him alone.
They'd have slaughtered him and packaged him as the hero who saved the continent by taking down the Demon King in mutual ruin. He'd heard they were experts at that sort of thing. A death with fame wouldn't have been bad.
'If I lived like a dog, I should've died like one.'
Mujin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
He scanned meticulously from ceiling to floor. It was a plain, ordinary structure, nothing distinctive to pinpoint his location. Which made it even stranger.
It shouldn't have felt familiar, even if ordinary. A faint, distant memory stabbed at his chest.
'What's with this familiarity?'
A long-known, comfortable sensation.
Not just the room's layout, but the scent stirred nostalgia. Had he been away so long he'd caught homesickness? He wasn't the sentimental type, and certainly not at his age.
Getting emotional now would just look pathetic to anyone watching.
He pushed aside the blanket and sat up.
Rustle!
The bedding slid smoothly away.
A shoulder line as clear and white as white jade emerged. A woman, still drowsy-eyed, turned toward him, drawing him in.
Gasp!
A completely naked woman, not a thread on her—Mujin was too shocked to speak. But something even more shocking caught his eye.
"...You?"
Beyond familiar, etched with longing.
From an era filled with regret and remorse, she was the one who always came to mind. He'd sworn every moment that if they met again, he'd never abandon her like before.
But he had died.
The dead don't return. Even resurrection arts from unorthodox paths could bring them back, but such impure methods always led to ruin.
Noticing his bewildered expression, she asked with concern.
"Darling, are you hurt somewhere?"
In her youthful prime, her unchanged face enveloped him tenderly.
Despite how he'd rotten her heart away, she'd accepted him unwaveringly. Yet he'd shamelessly whined and rebelled. The epitome of a pathetic man with no talent but oversized pride.
His throat tight, Mujin finally managed a voice.
It trembled so much.
Unlike the cold-blooded War King who shed no blood or tears. Who could make the War King of the world quake like this?
"How are you...?"
"Did you have a nightmare? Or did you get into some trouble?"
"...Trouble? What kind of trouble?"
"As long as you didn't, it's fine. I trust you more than anyone. I'll talk to Father for you. You know how he melts at anything I say. Ho ho ho."
"...?"
What trouble did I get into?
More importantly, this situation was a top-class disaster for me! How is the wife I thought was dead staring at me with the same face from back then! Did I die and ascend to paradise?
Dazed and happy, suspicion crept in first. Life was a series of misfortunes and fortunes.
'Is this that demon's sorcery?'
The Demonic Cult of the Demon God's arts were so intense and destructive that they went unrecognized, but countless warriors had fallen to unorthodox sorceries.
'No way!'
The War King Art was the pinnacle heart art, perfecting mind, energy, and body. Beyond strengthening internal and external arts, it tempered the soul. Souls forged in the War King Art possessed unshakeable resolve.
With nine stages, he had reached the seventh. That alone had felled the Demon King of the era.
As long as the War King Art was intact, no sorcery could touch him. It was poison to sorcerers—the key reason he'd overcome the Demon King's spells.
'My seventh-stage heart art... Huh?'
Come to think of it, his body felt different.
He who'd perfectly controlled every part of his physique.
Now it was numb, like a rusty sword. The true energy flow was murky, impure.
What about his cultivation base?
The power honed through brutal training and fierce battles was barely there. Bluntly put, even mouse droppings outclassed it. Useless for anything—not even worth having.
Starting from scratch would be better.
What a pathetic state.
'Wait, why is my body so clean!'
His flesh had endured the hell of blade mountains and sword forests. No matter the peerless arts, real combat inevitably left scars. Until mastery through experience, tough hurdles awaited.
His first battlefield had been countless brushes with death. Training and combat were worlds apart, like all martial arts. Combat honed trained basics to perfection.
Mujin had internalized techniques through battle, refining the War King Art. After defeating the era's top 100 master, Divine Spear, he'd revealed his true might as War King.
And now his body?
Not a scar, pristine and delicate. The calluses embedded everywhere were soft and frail like a bride's.
A filthy memory surfaced.
He'd crushed a greenhouse flower relying on his sect's backing. This body resembled those weaklings—worse, even.
My body, frail?
The flesh that endured asura hells had formed the rugged pinnacle, the War King Battle Body, the epitome of manhood.
A guy who said true men were made of muscle, vowing to serve him as big brother, popped into mind. Annoying habits, but refreshingly straightforward.
Confusion reigned.
Unreal, yet too real to deny. Everything felt vividly authentic.
The scenery, scents, textures—all lifelike.
Swoosh!
The naked woman peeked out suddenly, approaching. Startled, he hesitated. Her hand gently cupped his face.
"You okay?"
Warm.
Even if this reality was false, a demon's sorcery.
'Who cares!'
He'd longed to see her even in dreams, this woman he'd missed so fiercely.
No need for lengthy explanations.
Even if it dragged him to sorcery's hell to be used, so be it.
He said words he'd never uttered in life.
Words he should have back then.
"...I missed you!"
"What's with you this morning, my lord."
Eyes reddening, Mujin crushed her to him.
He'd done her so wrong.
Given nothing but hardship and disappointment, yet she'd embraced him without fail.
Never again would he leave her.
"I'm not leaving anymore!"
"Where were you going?"
"Nowhere. I'm never going! I'll stay by your side. Never separating again!"
"Darling, that tickles."
Mujin clung to her, unleashing twenty years of pent-up purity. Rough from long abstinence, but she accepted softly, harmonizing perfectly.
Infinite bliss!
Mujin wanted for nothing.
'This is heaven!'
Someone nodded in agreement.
Nod, nod!
Thud!
After a hectic morning, half a shichen had passed.
Mujin still wore a dazed, dreamlike expression. He'd thought it a dream, but it was far from it. Her gaze, skin, scent, familiar rhythms—all evoked the past.
Impressive.
Precocious and wise, yet...
'Young.'
Not just her—checking his reflection, his face had reverted to its youthful past, the reckless prodigal days.
'This is me!'
Back then, he was the eldest son of the Pine Tiger Sect, touted as the next heir.
The Pine Tiger Sect was a mid-sized faction in Qingyang, northeast of Anhui Province. Not ancient history, but a longstanding local power with high prestige nearby.
However, with the righteous-demonic Black Dragon Fortress's subordinate Gushan Hall rising, the family was waning.
'Been a while since Evolution Art.'
Evolution Art was the sect's foundational art, building pure true energy and strengthening meridians. But accumulation was slow, advancement tough. Few in history had mastered it.
Mujin had reached about three stars back then.
Slow accumulation aside, it wasn't impressive for the sect's representative young master.
Despite devouring all those elixirs.
Considering the family's investments, "good-for-nothing" was fair. Those resources elsewhere would've yielded far more.
Bluntly, no better than average disciples. Yet temperamental and boastful—the petty archetype with nothing but a foul attitude.
He got it.
No skill, so attitude compensated.
'Just hot air in his lungs.'
Dreaming of one day ruling the continent as a peerless warrior. Positively, grand ambition; realistically, empty bravado and reckless arrogance.
'What a waste.'
He'd recklessly sought the Three Great Secret Manuals shaking the martial world.
Glory to him, but his family saw it as running away. Normally, one suffers and returns.
Bad luck or good?
No plan, yet by heaven's grace, he found them. Legend in sight, eyes rolled back. Fearing loss, greed took over for exclusive claim. Had he known it'd trap him for years, no way.
He gained the manuals and became strongest. But what's the point of strength after losing everything? Useless folly. No one to show it to—mere self-consolation, fleeting at that. Fleeting show-off urge drowned in massive regret.
Regret grew with time, filling his life with remorse.
Until now.
He returned.
"Kuh... hahahahahahahaha!"
Laughter burst forth uncontrollably.
His inexhaustible inner power at seventh stage, diamond-indestructible body—gone. A lifetime of martial arts lost. Yet only laughter came.
'Who needs that crap!'
He could relearn arts, rebuild power—confidence from experience. Even half-assed, progress would dwarf mortals'.
Hahahahahaha!
For the first time in ages, he felt truly good.