Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue - Blood History
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Thud-.
In the center of the vast audience hall.
The dull sound of the man's neck falling announced it.
The Blood History that had drenched the martial world in blood for the past five years had finally come to an end.
“Big brother!”
A middle-aged man dressed like a beggar rushed forward.
At the end of his path stood an elderly man whose once pure white robes were now soaked in blood.
The old man's condition was precarious.
The sword in his hand trembled faintly, and his eyes were unfocused.
Blood poured from his abdomen.
He looked like he could drop dead at any moment.
Yet, the old man's complexion remained serene.
“…Yes, it's over.”
“That’s not what matters! Big brother, your bleeding…”
“That’s the only thing that matters.”
The middle-aged beggar looked up in frustration.
The old man smiled brightly in response.
“Didn’t I cut down the Blood Demon?”
The beggar let out a helpless chuckle at the old man’s beaming smile.
“…Hah, true. You did it, big brother. Sword Saint Mok Seon-o has judged the evils of the Blood Heaven Cult and the Blood Demon Dan Cheon-hwa.”
There had been a Blood History.
A history where more blood flowed than the waters of the Yangtze River, etched with the screams of even more people.
Some had said.
The martial world of the Central Plains could never return to how it was.
That an era of evil spirits had dawned, and the common people would suffer.
But look.
The Blood History stirred up by the hideous evil spirits called the Blood Heaven Cult had met its end at the hands of the countless heroes of the orthodox sects and this old swordsman who stood at their forefront.
The middle-aged beggar.
No, Ma Il-seok, one of the Ten Great Masters of the orthodox martial world and the Beggars’ Sect Leader known as the Beggar King, finally felt it sink in.
“You’ve worked hard. It’s all over now! You saved this martial world, big brother! Do you know how worried I was about you? Over there far…”
With the tension finally released, Ma Il-seok poured out his words.
The old man called big brother, Sword Saint Mok Seon-o, responded with a smile and cast his gaze afar.
What lay there was a small side door.
‘I tried to protect that place.’
He knew because he had clashed directly with the Blood Demon.
The Blood Demon could have fled but didn’t.
He had desperately unleashed his demonic qi as if he couldn’t afford to let go of what was behind him.
That was why he had been able to win.
The Sword Saint’s eyes narrowed.
Curiosity welled up about what was there that made the Blood Demon act that way.
Splat-.
As the Sword Saint stepped into the pooled blood on the floor, Ma Il-seok asked.
“Big brother? Where are you going?”
“I’ll take a quick look around.”
“Huh? If it’s that, I’ll go with you. Let your little brother escort you personally.”
“Thanks, but no need.”
Mok Seon-o replied in jest, and Ma Il-seok laughed heartily as he followed behind.
Past the audience hall stained with the Blood Demon’s blood, to the side door.
The Sword Saint raised his sword and slashed the door apart.
Boom-!
Only then could they see inside.
Mok Seon-o’s expression hardened.
“…A child.”
Behind the side door lay a newborn infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, placed atop an altar.
Unbroken even amid the chaos, the child slept soundly.
‘The Blood Demon’s child?’
That was his first thought.
A guess born from wondering if even a fiend like that would cherish his own offspring, but it faded quickly.
‘…No. What parent in the world would place their child on an altar?’
This was clearly an altar.
And what vibrated here was unmistakably the scent of blood rituals.
The Sword Saint easily recalled the purpose of this altar.
‘Evil sorcery.’
They had likely intended to use this child in some profane ritual.
Mok Seon-o felt rage.
He approached the altar to save the child.
As he reached it and lifted the infant into his arms, Mok Seon-o shuddered.
“Big brother?”
Ma Il-seok, who had followed belatedly, called out to him.
He then saw the child and hardened his expression as well.
“The eyes…”
There was one reason for their reaction.
The child had opened its eyes, and its pupils were blood-red.
Ma Il-seok murmured lowly.
“Heavenly Slaughter Star…”
In the Central Plains, blood-red pupils meant only one thing.
Heavenly Slaughter Star.
The star of a slaughter spirit that plunged the world into chaos merely by breathing.
The child bore that fate.
“We should kill it.”
Ma Il-seok said.
It was the word of the man who gathered all information in the Central Plains martial world.
“This child could grow into another Blood Demon. Let’s end it while it’s still a newborn.”
The Beggar King knew.
The chaos those born under this slaughter star had wrought in the martial world.
Far away beyond Xinjiang, I Mu-baek of the Three Great Heavenly Demons had drenched the western martial world in blood.
Seo Woo-jin, once a mere wanderer known as the Sword Ghost, had unified the southern martial world and formed the Black Snake Alliance, a union of the unorthodox paths.
And what of the Demonic Sword O Chun? Born in the famed O family, his lifetime achievement was slaughtering a hundred thousand commoners.
“Big brother, we must kill it now.”
Mok Seon-o’s brow furrowed at Ma Il-seok’s urging.
He agreed with Ma Il-seok but hesitated because the thing in his arms was just a newborn.
“…It’s too small a child.”
“Big brother…”
“Look. It hasn’t even been weaned yet. It can’t even cry out.”
“Don’t be deceived. This is a slaughter spirit!”
“Before that, it’s a child.”
Ma Il-seok’s expression hardened.
Mok Seon-o gazed sadly at the child even then.
“…Isn’t it a child that has become nothing yet?”
“The child will call forth blood.”
“Has there ever been a day without blood in the martial world?”
“It might not be the blood of martial artists!”
“It could be the blood of fiends.”
“Big brother! That child might massacre thousands of innocents!”
“It might also cut down tens of thousands of villains.”
The conversation didn’t narrow.
Mok Seon-o simply pitied the child that had become nothing yet, while Ma Il-seok pressed him, foreseeing the coming chaos.
Things were heading toward blades being drawn.
“Beggar.”
“…”
“What did we come all this way for?”
Ma Il-seok clenched his fists and replied.
“…To catch the Blood Demon. And we did.”
“Why did we do that?”
“Why? Obviously! For peace! For righteousness, we came here!”
“Then let me ask.”
Mok Seon-o’s gaze was fixed solely on the child.
“Is cutting down a child that has done nothing yet, just because it might be dangerous, what righteousness is?”
A jolt.
Ma Il-seok froze.
His eyes widened hugely, then pitifully furrowed.
“Is that the only reason we took up the sword? Peace is the goal. This is the process. But if we can’t be upright in the process to achieve that goal, can we call it righteousness?”
It was sophistry.
For peace, such sacrifices were inevitable.
Yet Ma Il-seok couldn’t retort.
Not for any other reason.
Because the one standing before him, speaking such frank words, was none other than Sword Saint Mok Seon-o.
Because that name belonged to the one seated at the top of the Four Saints and Six Kings, the Ten Great Masters of the orthodox martial world.
He couldn’t bring himself to argue in a situation where the man he called big brother—one who never overlooked injustice, always pondered righteousness, and never retreated before danger—spoke such words.
“Beggar. I can’t do it.”
Even amid the heated exchange, the child who had only looked at Mok Seon-o giggled as their eyes met.
As Mok Seon-o extended his hand, it tightly gripped his finger.
Ma Il-seok watched the scene.
Conflict and sorrow rose on his face.
After a long deliberation, he finally slumped his shoulders and spoke.
“…You’re truly cowardly, big brother.”
The words spat out with hollow chuckles carried no doubt: surrender.
Mok Seon-o smiled faintly.
“Thank you. For indulging my stubbornness.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I’ll raise it.”
“You, big brother?”
“Yes. Since I stubbornly insisted on saving it, I should raise it with these hands.”
The child still clung to Mok Seon-o’s finger.
It brought it to its mouth and suckled noisily.
“…I’ll teach this child righteousness. I’ll raise it so it lives resisting its fate.”
“Really, I can’t stop you, big brother.”
Ma Il-seok shook his head.
His tone was gruff, but it didn’t mean he was displeased.
Quite the opposite.
He felt a sense of relief.
Seeing him hold hope even for a child who might become a slaughter spirit, Ma Il-seok recalled once more why he called this man big brother.
‘He speaks bluntly but always keeps his word.’
The weight of the name Sword Saint in the Central Plains martial world equaled the weight of his righteous deeds.
That was why he couldn’t help but expect.
Perhaps.
Just perhaps, Mok Seon-o might raise this child not as a slaughter spirit but as a righteous hero.
“Mok Ri-won.”
“Pardon?”
“That’ll be the child’s name. Taking my Mok surname, with characters for ‘to govern’ and ‘origin.’ A prayer that it grows into a child who can govern the origin within and control itself.”
A fine smile graced his face as he continued.
“How about it?”
Ma Il-seok looked at the child.
A pale infant with blood-red pupils.
The redness in those eyes would fade as it grew. And unless the child indulged in blood, it wouldn’t show again.
If the child lived up to its name, that red hue would never appear in those eyes again.
“…A good name.”
“Right?”
“But.”
“Hm?”
“But, big brother. I’ll follow since I trust you, but…”
Ma Il-seok nodded toward the door.
“What about convincing those outside?”
The question referred to the other masters in the audience hall beyond the door.
Mok Seon-o smiled troubledly and replied.
“I’ll have to hope they understand.”
“Those guys? Impossible, I’d say. The Poison King especially won’t allow it. The Tang Clan suffered too many sacrifices in this war.”
“That doesn’t mean we should pass those sins onto this child.”
“At least he won’t see it that way.”
The atmosphere sharpened once more.
Mok Seon-o’s worry deepened, and Ma Il-seok waited silently.
The answer that followed was the same as before.
“I suppose it’s right to seek their permission too.”
“Big brother…”
“I can’t deceive them with my own desires.”
Mok Seon-o smiled as he stepped down from the altar.
Now, the child was in his arms.
“Let’s go.”
Mok Seon-o stepped out the door.
Those waiting before the Blood Demon’s corpse saw what he held and heard his words, each showing different expressions.
The conversations exchanged in that audience hall that day were not recorded.
What the Central Plains martial world knew was only one thing.
On the day the Blood Demon died, the brightest star of the orthodox sects renounced his own name.