Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Childhood (1)
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A thatched cottage in a mountain valley of Jiangxi Province.
The boy Mok Ri-won, who had just turned seven this year, tilted his head at the words of the old man who was his master.
“Ri-won, you were born bearing the Star of Slaughter.”
“What’s the Star of Slaughter?”
“It refers to the act of taking lives.”
“Does that mean I’ll become someone who takes lives?”
“No. That’s something you’ll decide for yourself.”
The old man.
Mok Seon-o, the man once called the Sword Saint, shook his head with a hearty laugh.
“You look like you don’t quite get it.”
“Yes…”
Mok Seon-o gazed at the child.
With his innocent face blinking wide-eyed, he had the delicate beauty of a young master from some grand city, not this remote mountain hollow.
Beneath his jet-black hair were eyes of a deepening brown, verging on black.
His skin was flawlessly fair, his eyelashes long and curling.
He hadn’t yet grown into manly features, giving him a fragile look that could be mistaken for a girl’s—and true to that impression, he was a gentle-hearted boy.
Seven years ago, on the day of the bloody incident, he had taken in this child. And now, the boy had grown into such a lovely young soul.
“It’s fine not to understand yet. You’ll come to know it in time.”
Mok Seon-o stroked Mok Ri-won’s head.
The boy flushed red and bowed his head.
“Do you know why I’m telling you this?”
“No…”
“Because I hope you won’t grow up to be one who takes lives.”
The old man’s and the child’s eyes met.
“This master of yours wishes for you to become one who saves others.”
“I like saving things too!”
“Yes, you’re the kind boy who even saves rabbits caught in traps.”
For a full seven years, Mok Seon-o had raised the child with nothing but love. Now, revealing the truth to him felt unbearably cruel.
How could the heavens burden such a pure and beautiful child with so harsh a fate? He couldn’t help resenting it.
But that didn’t mean he could hide the facts.
The Heavenly Slaughter Star was a star that compelled one to commit slaughter regardless of their will—and at the same time, it dragged its bearer endlessly into the abyss.
That was why it was better to tell the truth and nurture the strength to resist it.
“The star that has come to you—we call it the Heavenly Slaughter Star.”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes widened at the words.
The boy, gifted with keen comprehension, had pieced together the meaning from the conversation’s flow.
“Heaven’s ‘heaven,’ kill’s ‘slaughter,’ and star’s ‘star’—right?”
“Yes, you’ve already grasped the meaning of the word. Very impressive.”
“Hehe…”
“Then you must know what this star is for.”
“It’s the star heaven sent down to take lives!”
Right after shouting confidently, Mok Ri-won belatedly gasped in surprise.
“Th-then, am I going to become a killing ghost?!”
“As I said, that depends on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes, on you. You could live up to that fate and rack up karma of slaughter, or resist it with all your might and build karma of virtue.”
Mok Ri-won furrowed his brow.
He pondered for a moment, then shook his head and replied.
“I don’t want karma of slaughter. It makes me so sad to see animals die.”
“Then you’ll have to build karma of virtue.”
“Yes!”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes sparkled.
He already knew what the old man would say next in this flow of conversation.
‘Learning!’
The old man would teach him something.
Just like when he taught him literature by naming flowers, or farming by handing him bird feed.
He would impart something wondrous and amazing.
Mok Seon-o knew of the child’s anticipation.
So he skipped unnecessary words and met it head-on.
“This master will teach you martial arts.”
“Martial arts?”
“Yes, martial arts. Master them well, and you’ll be able to fight even a tiger and win.”
Mok Ri-won’s mouth fell open.
Tiger.
It was the biggest, scariest animal he knew—and the strongest in the world.
“I’m going to become the greatest under heaven!”
“The greatest under heaven… Yes, with the talent bestowed upon you, it’s not impossible.”
Mok Seon-o smiled.
‘The Heavenly Slaughter Star is a star of martial genius.’
The killing ghost sent by heaven.
Fitting its name, the star granted its bearer astonishing talent in martial learning.
In other words, if the boy trained properly, reaching the realm of the greatest under heaven wasn’t out of reach.
“So, will you make one promise?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me you’ll use the martial arts I teach you for heroic deeds.”
“Heroic deeds?”
“Yes, heroic deeds. It means doing what is righteous and just.”
“What’s righteous and just?”
“The path your beliefs tell you is right.”
It was a difficult concept for a child.
Mok Ri-won scrunched up his face in confusion.
Mok Seon-o let out a hearty laugh and simplified it.
“Heroism is a lifelong study—one you might ponder without ever finding the answer.”
“Then I can’t use martial arts my whole life?”
“No.”
Mok Seon-o looked straight at the boy.
In the most solemn tone he had ever used, he continued.
“It means to ponder heroism with every use of your martial arts.”
Mok Ri-won gazed steadily at the old man.
The one who always treated him with smiles sometimes wore this poignant expression.
In such moments, there was only one thing Mok Ri-won did.
“Yes! I’ll become someone who always thinks it through!”
He gave an answer that would make the old man smile.
He smiled brightly first, so the old man could laugh.
“…You’re truly remarkable.”
Fortunately, this time too, the old man smiled with him.
*
“Martial arts is the study of tempering the body to cultivate the mind.”
In the yard of the thatched cottage.
Mok Ri-won stood there, listening intently to the old man’s words.
“The study of forging a single pure self amid all things in the world. The study that brings one closer to truth. That’s what we call martial arts.”
“Who are ‘we’?”
“The martial world.”
Mok Seon-o said, then added an explanation.
“The society of warriors who learn martial arts. A small world formed by the trees of warriors becoming a forest.”
“Then everyone in the martial world is a hero?”
It was a natural question for Mok Ri-won.
Mok Seon-o had said martial arts must be used for heroism.
And that martial world folk all used martial arts.
By that logic, weren’t martial world folk naturally heroes?
Mok Seon-o gave a wry smile and shook his head.
“Not everyone. No—in hindsight, there may be many who shout about heroism but few who truly live it.”
“Bad people?”
“Well, even this master isn’t sure.”
Once, he had called those who abandoned heroism villains.
He had condemned those who lived for profit over morals.
But now Mok Seon-o knew.
Their heroism simply differed from his own.
The justice in their hearts took different shapes.
“That’s for you to judge for yourself as you experience the world. Let’s return to the main topic.”
“Ah, yes!”
“Anyway, because martial arts has such roots, it’s a study where the meaning within matters more than raw power.”
Mok Seon-o unbound his hands from behind his back.
In his hands, now visible to Mok Ri-won, was a single weathered sword.
“Let this master show you a little.”
Shing-.
The sword was drawn.
Unlike its worn sheath, the blade was honed to razor sharpness—any martial artist would see it had been meticulously maintained.
Swaaa-.
The sound of wind rising.
The phenomenon that followed deserved such a description, widening Mok Ri-won’s eyes.
‘…Stars.’
Bright daylight, yet stars dazzled his vision.
The sword he had drawn was covered in cold starlight.
“Meteor Seven Swords.”
Mok Seon-o said.
“That’s the name of the martial art you’ll learn from now on.”
Mok Seon-o’s arm swung.
What unfolded was a beautiful sword dance, forever etched in Mok Ri-won’s memory.
*
Late at night.
Mok Ri-won huddled under the blanket, trying to sleep, but couldn’t quite manage it.
No other reason.
The image of Mok Seon-o’s sword from earlier kept churning in his mind.
‘Meteor Seven Swords…!’
The swordsmanship he would learn from now on.
The beautiful swordsmanship that embroidered the space with cold starlight.
‘I want to learn it fast!’
Mok Ri-won imagined it.
Himself wielding a sword gleaming white, dancing beautifully.
Filling this forest with light.
Thump.
Thump.
His young heart raced busily.
The corners of his mouth refused to come down, curving high.
Mok Ri-won recalled more.
-Martial arts are divided into realms by level. From the bottom: third-rate, second-rate, first-rate, pinnacle, peak—that’s the basics, five in all.
-Basics?
-Yes, meaning there are higher ones. But no need to worry about them yet. In study, staring too far ahead makes you neglect what’s right in front of you. Just know that for now.
The day he learned the basic structure.
Mok Ri-won let the excitement disrupting his sleep linger as he reviewed what he’d heard.
‘I’m third-rate!’
Not yet initiated properly into martial arts, unable to sense qi or even swing a sword right.
But Mok Ri-won wasn’t worried.
-The greatest under heaven… Yes, with the talent bestowed upon you, it’s not impossible.
His master had affirmed his talent, so there was no reason to fret.
He surely had talent for the sword.
Just like what he’d seen—able to pour out stars shining even under the sun.
Mok Ri-won thought back to the day.
His eyes grew dreamy.
‘…The realm where you emit stars.’
The jianghu called it the pinnacle realm.
-Sword Qi Wounds Men. That’s what we call what you saw, Ri-won. Only upon reaching this do we earn the title of master.
That was how Mok Seon-o had named the stars from earlier.
The thought that flickered was, ‘Can I do that?’
But Mok Ri-won quickly shook his head to dismiss it.
‘He said I can.’
His master had told him so.
He’d said he’d become the greatest under heaven—no need to doubt.
Mok Ri-won took a deep breath, calming himself, then closed his eyes.
His thoughts trailed off.
A child’s body was so vulnerable to fatigue; Mok Ri-won drifted into deep sleep mid-thought.