Chapter 3: Sometimes, the Smallest Reason to Cling to Life
Ella tilted her head at Cheon Woo-jin's words.
"Army... stew?"
"Ah, no. What is this dish?"
Cheon Woo-jin showed curiosity as he propped himself up. His body wouldn't obey him properly, trembling all over, but his gaze locked precisely on the silver tray in Ella's hands.
Her face flushed with bewilderment as she stammered a reply. "Th-this? It's... it's your favorite, young master. Red ham potage."
"Good, I see. Bring it here quick."
At Cheon Woo-jin's urging, Ella handed over the bowl with a dazed expression. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. Just thirty minutes ago, Young Master Cael had stopped breathing entirely. His pulse had vanished; she'd been pacing in panic, torn between calling a physician or reporting to the family head.
But she hadn't acted fast. If the young master died, she wouldn't survive either.
Then suddenly, with a gasp, he'd come back to life—and seemed like a completely different person. The hunched, corpse-like posture was gone, and those rotten-fish eyes now sparkled with life. And that strangely aged way of speaking—what was that?
Wh-what the hell? Am I hallucinating from the shock?
Ella swallowed cold sweat inwardly and cautiously offered the bowl. "Y-yes, here you go, young master. It's hot, so eat carefully."
Cheon Woo-jin ignored her warning. He seized the bowl with both hands and shoved his nose right into it.
This aroma! I'm not imagining it!
It was a thin soup for an invalid, with all solids strained out and only weak broth left. Visually, it was just a reddish, watery porridge. But that sharp, spicy tang hitting his nostrils was exactly the scent etched deep in Woo-jin's memory.
Of course, it wasn't the perfect budae jjigae from his hometown, loaded with chili powder. But the subtle processed meat flavor wafting over the broth...
Ham! This has ham in it!
With trembling hands, Cheon Woo-jin scooped a spoonful and slid it between his lips. The moment the broth touched his tongue and slid down his throat...
No... no way!
Had he ever been this shocked since ascending to Heavenly Demon? Cheon Woo-jin's eyes flew wide, like when he'd reached the Transcendence Realm.
Back in his days ruling the Heavenly Demon Cult from the Shipman Mountain Range, he'd used his immense power to scour the Central Plains for ingredients. He'd threatened the world's top chefs to mimic his homeland flavors. But the Central Plains ingredients were utterly different—too greasy, overwhelmed by pungent spices that made true Korean tastes impossible. Fifty years of effort, and all he'd gotten was pale imitations.
How he regretted not learning to cook back home.
But this dish was different. No solids, sure, but the meat stock base and processed meat taste matched perfect Korean budae jjigae flawlessly.
He slurped down half the bowl in seconds, smacking his lips before demanding urgently, "Y-young master!! Eat slowly!!"
"Th-this... couldn't it be spicier? A heavy shake of hot powder to make it blood-red—that'd be perfect..."
Ella's eyes widened in shock at Woo-jin's request. Is the young master out of his mind? He used to cough just from this mildness...
Cael's body was like a block of ice. Congenital frailty plus some nameless disease meant he couldn't maintain body heat. His hands and feet were perpetually freezing, so this soup—laced with just a hint of spice—forced warmth into him and aided circulation.
Ella waved her hands in distress. "It-it's possible, but... your stomach's too weak right now. Anything too spicy could make you sick..."
Cheon Woo-jin paused his spoon, realizing with a start. Right, the body's condition. This rotten shell can't handle spice. What a pity.
Still, a faint, irrepressible smile crept across his lips as he smacked them.
Just moments ago, he'd despaired over this trash body and depleted inner energy, ready to embrace quiet death. But one bowl of budae jjigae porridge changed everything. That umami lingering on his tongue had ignited a roaring will to survive in his cooling heart.
How could I forget that crucial fact, you idiot?
A sealed memory from fifty years ago bubbled up. Heavenly Demon's Lone Journey was a novel he'd devoured in all-nighters, gripped with sweat. But The Young Master of the Sword Duke Family Obsesses Over Me Alone—Sword Duke Obsession for short—he'd only bought out of loyalty to the same author.
It was riddled with plot holes that made him snort in disbelief, yet weirdly addictive. And among the absurd tropes, one stuck in Woo-jin's mind.
This fantasy world has Korean food.
Not a staple, just occasional festival treats in brief mentions. But its existence was hugely motivating now. If there was ham stew, then chicken, ramen, doenjang jjigae existed somewhere on this continent too.
Ha! Life's full of twists—what a stroke of genius!
And the world's key setting that set his heart racing: Cola exists here!
Per the novel, an eccentric imperial mage tower alchemist accidentally made it while brewing elixirs—a black, sweet, fizzy drink. Rare and pricey, sure. Back in his room fifty years ago, he'd mocked the sheer idiocy of cola in medieval fantasy.
Now? He'd kowtow in gratitude for that contrived gem. Plus, the world brimmed with modern-ish tech disguised as ancient wonders—beyond even Korea's.
I'll live! No idea when this wretched body gives out, but I have to taste all the Korean food and cola out there first.
Thus, Heavenly Demon Cheon Woo-jin resolved to endure—not for conquest or revenge, but sheer obsession with food.
Sometimes, the smallest reason holds life together.
Cheon Woo-jin scraped the bowl clean and handed the empty dish to Ella.
"Did you make this?"
"Y-you ate it all!? Y-yes! I'm the only one here!"
Cheon Woo-jin tilted his head. Just one maid in this huge house? Odd, but not the time to dwell.
"Good, it was delicious. From the next meal, double this portion."
"D-double?"
"Eat big to recover fast, right?"
"Y-yes, young master! I'll show you my skills, Ella will!"
"Good. Now go."
"Yes, young master. Rest well—if you're in pain, ring the bell right away!"
Ella left, door clicking shut. Whew, what a kind-hearted girl. Good cook too... Should teach her a martial art sometime.
Woo-jin slowly crossed his legs into lotus position on the bed. Bony joints creaked.
"Kuh...!"
Ridiculous. Pain just from sitting cross-legged?
This decayed husk can't chew meat. First, assess my state precisely.
Cheon Woo-jin had reached Transcendence Realm, beyond mortal limits. Orthodox elders claimed it inferior to Profound Realm, but they were the same pinnacle—legendary heights.
The Heavenly Demon had touched the end.
A path I've cleared once. No reason I can't again.
Restore this body through cultivation, roam the continent savoring perfect Korean dishes. That was Woo-jin's grand plan.
He closed his eyes, steadied his breath, preparing to circulate the supreme heart method of his signature Heavenly Demon Divine Art: Heavenly Demon Illusory Art.
Demonic arts twisted the mind and risked qi deviation, but this ultimate art was different—safe from the start.
Cautiously, he sank his mind into his dantian, peering into his true flesh—meridians and qi blood, not mere shell.
His brow furrowed darkly. Damn, worse than I thought.
The dantian for Heavenly Demon Illusory Art was empty, shriveled like a deflated pouch. The eight extraordinary meridians were cracked and blocked like drought-fissured fields. Qi blood twisted or severed entirely.
Forcing even a speck of its domineering energy could burst vessels and kill him.
Cheon Woo-jin agonized. Even supreme, it was demonic at core. This body couldn't accumulate the slightest demonic qi.
But no options? No.
His mind held more than Heavenly Demon Divine Art. The vast Heavenly Demon Repository beneath Shipman Mountain Range stored thousands of manuals—including lost orthodox ones.
In idle conquest-free days, he'd crammed them all. Useful now.
Forcing demonic qi is suicide. Start with gentle, nature-attuned Taoist pure heart method.
Not his path, but viable—Heavenly Demon Divine Art worked without demonic qi. Switch later if needed.
He selected the safest, least burdensome: Tai Chi Profound Heaven Heart Method.
Perfect. Always wanted to try it.
Cheon Woo-jin smirked. Me learning Wudang's Elder Three Peaks' method... Hilarious.
Decision made, he formed the mudra on the bed and began slow, shallow breaths.
"Huuu..."
Room air rippled faintly. Around his gaunt torso, tiny, pure qi strands gathered like silk threads.