The Reincarnated Warrior
The pitch-black space was devoid of sight, sound, or scent. For an ordinary person, simply being here would likely fray their nerves and drive them to the brink of madness. It was a void of nothingness where, if one stayed too long, losing one's mind would be the most natural outcome. Yet, the disappearance of that space happened in an instant. Though he could not tell how long he had lingered there, he knew it was time to open his eyes.
As the man opened his eyes, twenty years of life since his reincarnation flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern. It induced a rather severe headache, but having experienced this near a hundred times, Tang Hwi—no, the man who had become 'Tang Hwi'—was able to grasp the situation with practiced ease. "This life, I am a direct descendant of the Sichuan Tang Clan. It's my first time as a direct descendant of the Tangs."
The man was Tang Hwi, a youth in the Sichuan Tang Clan—famed for their poison arts and hidden weapons—who was on the verge of losing his position as the Young Patriarch to his older sister due to his lack of talent in hidden weapon techniques. As always, Tang Hwi offered a bitter smile at this, his umpteenth reincarnation, finding himself once again without talent for martial arts. Having lived through countless reincarnations and accumulated vast experience, he did not feel a lack in terms of combat prowess, but the absence of innate talent still stung him deeply.
"Let's see. Since the Jinju Eon Clan was absorbed into the Sichuan Tang Clan, the age to begin learning poison arts has been pushed to twenty, so I haven't even had my talent for poison arts verified yet."
It had been around his tenth or so life. The Jinju Eon Clan had dreamed of conquering the Murim and attempted to create an army of Jiangshi, only to be discovered by him and subsequently wiped out. Of course, as he had no hobby for slaughter, he had spared the innocent. Those who survived had pledged everything to the Sichuan Tang Clan to ensure their survival. Though they were few, it was akin to the members of one family entering another as sons-in-law. It was a rare event, even in the tumultuous world of the Jianghu.
Ever since then, direct descendants of the Tang Clan, to build resistance to poison, would strengthen their bodies with the Eon Clan's drugs starting at age fifteen while learning basic Internal Cultivation Method (Simbeop), and only at age twenty would they begin the true practice of poison arts to alter the nature of their internal energy. Thus, Tang Hwi, having just opened his eyes, was in a pure state, having not yet learned any proper poison arts.
"Well then, shall I check if I have any talent for poison arts?"
He sat in a cross-legged position and circulated the internal energy resting in his Danjeon. Moving at an unbelievable speed, he completed a Small Heavenly Circulation (Sojucheon) and inspected his entire body thoroughly. He muttered as if he had expected it. "As expected, I have no talent for this either."
When one lacks talent, one has no choice but to evaluate oneself based on others. Moreover, in childhood, unless one is a truly insane genius, the gap isn't that significant, so he hadn't been overly discouraged. However, now that his soul from his past lives had awakened, his elevated standards revealed that his talent wasn't just lacking—it was at the very bottom.
He untangled his legs and lay back down on his bedding, deep in thought. "The family dynamic is typical of the Tangs: they cherish their bloodline, yet they are colder than anyone else. And I am a direct descendant with shallow martial arts. How should I live this life?"
The greatest under heaven, renowned in the Jianghu? That much was possible just by breathing. The status he had accumulated through countless lifetimes meant that this base body was already prepared to be honed to its peak. An emperor who rules over all? That sort of thing could be mimicked easily enough if one simply had enough money. He had been a merchant, a bodyguard, and had even lived the life of a lowly inn waiter.
After much deliberation, he finally reached a decision.
"Perhaps I should turn the Patriarch's Pavilion into my own personal Abanggung (pleasure palace) filled with women."
For some reason, that sounded like a fine idea.