Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: A Father's Devotion
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ha Cheol-hyeok couldn't resist the old man's insistent urging and roughly emptied a bowl of porridge.
It was nothing special—just plain porridge with a few cheap scraps of meat—but boiled down thick and hearty, it was surprisingly tasty.
'Definitely not the food I ate in the Central Plains.'
Even a humble bowl of stew like this made Ha Cheol-hyeok keenly aware that this was a new world.
The old man watched him eat with a pleased smile, only leaving once the bowl was scraped clean.
'So he's this body's father.'
The word felt utterly foreign to Ha Cheol-hyeok.
Father.
Just thinking it sent a strange tickle through his heart.
Calmly sifting through Ruyan's memories, Ha Cheol-hyeok pieced together the scattered fragments in order.
His name was Ruyan. No family name.
On the Sobles Continent, lacking a family name meant he was a commoner.
'Nobles... What a ridiculous world.'
Ha Cheol-hyeok had spent his entire life in a realm ruled by the logic of strength, where the mighty reigned supreme.
Power was justice, power was legitimacy.
Even though the Moyong Family had picked the fight first, he could wipe out an ancient orthodox sect and walk away unscathed solely because he was the stronger one.
But the Sobles Continent was utterly unlike anything in Ha Cheol-hyeok's common sense.
'Unbelievable. People who believe bloodline grants power.'
Untalented nobodies hogged noble titles and treated commoners like cattle.
A world that valued birth and lineage over personal strength and talent.
To Ha Cheol-hyeok, it was downright absurd.
'This body's mother has already passed away? What a tragic life.'
Ruyan's mother had died of illness when he was five.
She had been kind, wise, and beautiful, but her frail constitution confined her to bed for half her life.
And Ruyan had inherited that same weakness, lying bedridden just like her.
'I don't know how I ended up in this body...'
One thing was certain.
The child named Ruyan, tormented by illness, was gone now.
Dead.
The fact that Ha Cheol-hyeok was moving this body proved it.
Ha Cheol-hyeok calmly gathered the swirling fragments of memory.
'The life of the weak is always pitiful, but this one is truly heartbreaking.'
Dying so young and pointlessly was regrettable enough.
But the most pitiable figure was the old man from moments ago—Blanc.
'Life must have been utter torment for him.'
Blanc had watched his beloved wife fade away and leave him far too soon.
His hard-won son had been frail from birth, bedridden for fifteen years.
And the real Ruyan had just died. How could anyone not feel pity?
'How has he endured such a life until now?'
Ha Cheol-hyeok thought of Blanc as an old man, but he was barely in his early forties.
His hair had turned completely white from hardship, and severe balding left his forehead gleaming.
With his slightly hunched back and small stature, it was no wonder he seemed like a sickly elder.
'A mage, no less...'
Blanc was a mage.
Beings who wielded sorcery by harnessing energy in ways unlike martial artists.
Unique and astonishing.
Among them, Blanc had been a promising prodigy with a bright future.
'Such a waste of talent.'
At twenty, he became a royal guard mage. At twenty-five, the youngest 4th Circle Mage in history.
But around then, his wife's condition worsened, so he abandoned everything for a secluded mountain life.
He dove into developing new magical theories to cure his wife and son's frail bodies.
Meanwhile, as the sole breadwinner, he took odd jobs in nearby villages.
'A 4th Circle Mage is probably peak master level, yet doing menial labor? He must have been desperate.'
The reason the promising Blanc gave up mage work for odd jobs?
To conserve mana. He poured every drop into his new theories.
A desperate bid to save his family.
'My own parents abandoned me...'
Yet here was a father overflowing with the warmth Ha Cheol-hyeok had always craved.
As Ha Cheol-hyeok swallowed his bitterness, Blanc returned from washing dishes outside.
"Ruyan, you haven't fallen asleep already, have you?"
Ha Cheol-hyeok didn't know how to respond to this unfamiliar affection and just nodded.
Blanc smiled softly and approached.
"We don't have much time today, so I'll have to hurry. Bear with it even if it's a bit tough, alright?"
As he spoke, Blanc placed a hand on Ha Cheol-hyeok's stiff shoulders and began massaging his entire body with utmost care.
This was his daily ritual to keep Ruyan's bedridden muscles from atrophying.
What a devoted man.
About ten minutes in, Blanc's arms began to tremble, sweat pouring down his forehead.
His body was far from healthy.
'His back is injured.'
His posture was unstable, movements awkward. Ha Cheol-hyeok saw it all clearly.
And deducing the cause wasn't hard.
'A mage doing grueling labor without mana— of course he'd break down.'
A drop of sweat fell on his back, sending a sharp chill down his spine.
'He's freezing.'
p>Feeling uneasy, Ha Cheol-hyeok was about to stop him.
But before he could speak, a quavering voice pierced through.
"Ruyan, does it hurt a lot? I'm sorry, son."
It was strange. This was a stranger, yet Ha Cheol-hyeok felt a sudden lump in his throat.
His body reacted to that trembling voice, sobbing inwardly.
'Is this... heartache?'
An emotion utterly alien to him.
It made sense—it stemmed from Ruyan's memories, not his own.
Facing parental warmth he'd never known, Ha Cheol-hyeok was bewildered.
'So this is it! This petty thing!'
The sweet temptation that ensnared him in Heart Demon Deviation without realizing. The unconditional love he'd craved just once.
All that grandeur boiled down to mere sobs like this!
Until now, he'd thought his emotions dulled.
He'd put arrows through countless warriors' skulls, staked his life on fights without clear cause.
He'd shed needless heaviness, numbed feelings one by one.
But perhaps he hadn't discarded them—just hidden them away.
Ruyan's memories blended in, and the fused emotions seeped into Ha Cheol-hyeok.
Blanc finally finished the massage, stepping back with ragged breaths.
"Now Dad has to go to work. Don't wait up—sleep well."
Ha Cheol-hyeok didn't know what "work" meant, but it was clearly grueling.
Ruyan's memories showed no hearty meat stew until yesterday.
After Blanc left, Ha Cheol-hyeok composed his emotions and closed his eyes.
'I've been feeling it all along—this body's off.'
Frail by nature, but no specific disease.
Just too weak for daily life.
Why?
Ha Cheol-hyeok introspected to find the cause.
'Damn, what a mess.'
How could a fifteen-year-old body be so clogged with impurities? Internally, it was like solid rock.
Meridians weren't just blocked—they were twisted.
And that wasn't all.
'How is this possible? No internal energy in a human body?'
Internal energy was simply the vital force composing all things.
Even a blade of grass swaying in the wind held it.
How much more so in the crown of creation—a human body? Vital force flowed naturally in and out.
Yet Ruyan's body had none. Vital force bypassed it entirely.
'How is he even alive?'
Wrong question—Ruyan had died.
But surviving fifteen years like this stunned Ha Cheol-hyeok.
Perhaps Blanc's devotion had forcibly sustained this fragile life.
'Tch. Breathing doesn't mean truly living.'
Even Ha Cheol-hyeok couldn't guarantee how long this body would last.
'Can't even practice the Return Heart Technique like this. Need to force in some internal energy first.'
For a mere human to meddle with vast external forces.
The Thunderclap Sword Emperor or Sky-Shattering Blade Master of the Central Plains would gape at this.
But drawing vital force was child's play for Ha Cheol-hyeok.
Even falling to Heart Demon Deviation, he was an absolute being with 180 years of cultivation.
No one reached peerless arts casually.
Over thirty years of relentless training, unprecedented talent.
Effort and genius made it possible for him.
Sss...
With intent alone, the surrounding vital force surged vividly.
Ha Cheol-hyeok coaxed it gently inside without haste.
Whooo...
Success.
Heavier than Central Plains force, but it obeyed his will bit by bit.
'Wait—no! This is...'
Then, an unforeseen crisis. A dire one.
'No dantian!'
No internal energy, blocked meridians—he hadn't checked the dantian.
But nonexistent?
Panicking, Ha Cheol-hyeok lost control of the gathered force.
Bang!
The released tension rocked the house.
'Do people in this world have different anatomy?'
He hypothesized cautiously, but dismissed it quickly.
Other meridians matched; only dantian absent was anomalous.
'That explains the frail constitution.'
Body rejecting vital force, meridians clogged and twisted.
All made sense—no space for internal energy to flow.
'Tch, his mother probably too.'
Things clicked.
Why healing magic and divine power failed on the Sobles Continent.
Why genius mage Blanc researched new theories.
Rare constitution without dantian. No root fix, no cure.
'What a bind.'
Situation clear, but frustrating.
Ha Cheol-hyeok, veteran of the martial world, faced a dantianless body for the first time.
'If I find a way, I can manage...'
The path arduous, but not impossible.
Other Central Plains warriors might bite their tongues in suicide, but not him.
In ten seconds, he devised a cure.
For the man called the sole god under heaven, impossible was nothing.
'Using the Return Heart Technique's profound secrets could forge a dantian. But too time-consuming.'
Time was the issue.
Virtual dantian creation immensely hard. Minimum one month.
For Ha Cheol-hyeok's open meridians.
In Ruyan's impurity-choked body? Incalculable.
'Won't last that long.'
Life hanging by a thread—no luxury for dantian forging.
'Stabilize first.'
Expel impurities, open meridians enough for basic vital force flow.
Decision made, Ha Cheol-hyeok assumed the full lotus position.
What came next wouldn't be easy, even for him.