The Martial God Returns to the Past [01]

My fingertips slid along the spine of an old book. Dust clung between my fingers. Just from that texture, I could guess how many years it had endured.

I stared at the bookshelf, pondering where to place it. Collecting ancient books was more than a mere hobby—it bordered on obsession. The musty smell of moldy paper. The weight of time seeping into faded letters. All of it was precious to me.

Maybe that's why I couldn't shelve it. I just held it in my hand for a long while.

Did you know? There's a place that sells books that don't exist in this world.

Rumors always drift in vague and hazy, just like that. An old alleyway, a secretive space that opens only at dawn. At first, I dismissed it as urban legend, but strangely, the story lingered in my mind.

Should I go? Might I find new books there?

Reason clashed with impulse in my head. In the end, on a morning when the dawn air hung cold and still, I set off toward that place.

The alley was darker and creepier than I'd imagined. Amid shadows where even streetlights barely pierced. The shop I barely found looked on the verge of collapse. It screamed bad omens at first glance. The door creaked, and the glass windows ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were cracked—like a ruin.

Is this really a functioning store? Did I come to the wrong place?

I glanced around cautiously. The only thing intact was a single sign:

As I stepped inside, a pungent smell assaulted my nose. Mold, aged ink, and something indefinable mixed together. Books were piled in disorder. Some buried in dust, others so damaged their titles were illegible.

But one kept catching my eye. It had been nagging at me since earlier.

Cheonha Magic Art. An old novel with a black leather cover etched in red letters. My hand moved on its own. And I snatched it up.

The moment I grabbed the book, a strange warmth spread through my palm. A pulsing sensation like a heartbeat made my spine chill. The book is alive. This isn't an ordinary book.

I set it down, then touched it again. It felt like it had been waiting for me all this time. The other books seemed dead by comparison—this one was different. Take me with you, it whispered relentlessly.

Enchanted by that voice, I left money on the table and fled the shop.

Back home, I opened the book. As I turned the first page, the world flipped upside down. No time to scream. I was sucked into the book.

A hundred years passed since that day. The Second Cheonma War had ended.

Cheonha's First, Martial God, Ma Sinwang, Cheonma—countless titles bestowed upon me. No one could defeat me anymore.

Numerous sects had vanished alongside my name. I gazed at those kneeling at my feet, but felt nothing. My heart still beat, yet I felt no sense of being alive. As if someone had carved it out.

Wind blew across the blood-soaked earth. A distant groan reached me, but it passed like background noise.

Mother, in this world without you... I've become Cheonha's First.

Others call me the Martial God. I rolled the name on my tongue but didn't speak it aloud. I had no right to.

Ma Cheon-hu. The one who gave this body life and soul. The one who loved me from head to toe, every part of me.

I never understood why she cherished me so. We weren't bound by blood. No special fate connected us.

It was when I first fell into this world. Transformed into a woman's body, huddled in terror on the ground— that's when she found me. She asked nothing. Silently reached out and stroked my hair. Her hand was so warm. I didn't want to let go of that tiny warmth I'd finally grasped.

"It's okay."

Those words made the world pause. Without that warmth... I wouldn't have lasted a day.

I believed strength would let me protect. So I stained my hands with blood. I went mad with demonic arts, became a monster. That's how I endured a hundred years.

The more I took, the deeper the thirst grew, but I couldn't stop. Even crossing death's threshold, thinking of her face gave me strength to rise again.

Yet in the end, I failed to protect her.

The Second Cheonma War. A muddy war tangled with every murim force and the imperial court. Countless fell within it. My friends, my master. And my mother.

Too many vanished in an instant. Closing my eyes still brings it vividly: that rainy day, her throwing herself for me, sinking into a pool of blood.

That day, I first realized the Cheonha Magic Art was worthless. I collapsed to the ground. Cheonha's First knelt on bloodied earth. No reason to rise.

The reason I wanted to win. To survive. All for her... to be with her. That's why I seized power.

Wind blew. My hair fluttered. Alone on the empty plain.

The demonic art's backlash should have ruined my emotions long ago. So why this sadness? Why this pain? Why this suffocating chest?

...Why does no one know?

Ah. I've lost everything.

Then a blue window appeared before me.

I stared. For a long time, just stared. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠No joy. I'd imagined how happy I'd be when this appeared—one reason I endured a hundred years.

But facing it now, my mind went blank. What can empty hands grasp?

As I moved to close it, my hand froze. Something held me back.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. My hand stopped. My heart raced. A sensation long forgotten.

I want to see her. Before she was called Ma Cheon-hu. Before the demonic cult dragged her in—back when she was Hwasan Sect's top sword.

Before the wounds. When smiles still lingered.

My eyes heated. What if I regress and lose her again?

The thought flashed. Would anything change?

For a moment—just a moment—my hand trembled.

Still. I reached for the blue window.

Even if she doesn't recognize me, it's fine. This time, I want to stay by her side. Protect her.

If... if we meet again. The promise I couldn't keep before. I'll keep it now.

Only then will I earn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the right to stand beside her.

No more blood on these hands. Yes. Abandon needless killing. Straighten this broken body and mind. Set it right now.

Because she always worried. Hoped I wouldn't stray.

So what I can do... is just one thing.

Become the world's most enviable... Cheonha's First filial daughter.

I exhaled deeply. On the bloodied earth, my breath scattered like white mist.

And I pressed the blue window.

Vision darkened.

When I opened my eyes, the world brimmed with green. A deep forest, though I didn't know where. The scents of earth and grass—long missed—tickled my nose. Wind rustled leaves softly. Birdsong followed.

Things I'd forgotten amid life... pure peace.

No battlefield clamor, no screams, no clash of blades. Just the forest breathing.

I closed my eyes, then opened them.

But. I raised my hand. It was small. Chubby, short fingers. My feet peeking from the skirt were tiny too. The ground felt oddly close.

...What is this?

Stepping forward, my skirt hem swayed differently. I approached a nearby stream. What did I look like now? Something wrong with my body?

Reflected in the rippling water... huge black eyes. Soft white skin. A childish face, contours not yet set. Chubby cheeks, tousled black hair.

I'm young. Too young. Like recreating Heukyeon's childhood.

After turning female, I'd lived as an adult... now a little kid?

The world's ways are unknowable. But this tiny body didn't scare me. Instead, it felt like a fresh start.

From the beginning, without questions. Showing Mother an untainted me.

She'd always said casually she wanted to see my childhood. Now I could grant that wish. I hope she likes this form.

I wondered cautiously if even my martial arts were gone. Gingerly probed my dantian, slowly drawing up demonic qi.

Black energy rose from my fingertips, swirled briefly, then faded.

Good. The Cheonha Magic Art is intact. I calmed my startled heart.

So... what now? To Hwasan Sect where Mother is? Or an expensive gift?

As I pondered, a small icon blinked in my vision's corner. Curious, I reached and tapped.

Suddenly, my body shot upward. My center of gravity shifted. Long black hair cascaded down my back. Skirt fluttered below my waist in the breeze.

I looked at my hands. Slender, pale. Hands I'd grown used to over a century.

Hands that claimed to protect... but only destroyed and took.

These hands stole countless things. Shattered approaching bonds, severed them myself.

I clenched them quietly. With these hands, I'll do right.

But what's this? A blinking hourglass above my hand?

Sand trickled down. As it piled below, my body grew faint.

A time limit to maintain this original form? Doesn't matter. Big or small, it won't change me. My essence remains.

More important things now. Just imagining it warms me. Me in her arms. Playfully stroking my hair. Me grumpily shrugging it off.

I can reclaim what's lost! See her again. See her again!

Realizing that, the world looked beautiful. No longer grim and dark.

Hwasan's top sword. Before becoming Ma Cheon-hu, unwounded.

We might meet as strangers at first. Wary, chased away. Fine. No rush.

Slowly, carefully... matching her pace, I'll approach. This time, make her happy for sure. No more tears.

I gazed beyond the forest. Somewhere here, she's breathing, laughing, crying, living.

What does Mother look like now? I hope she's healthy.

I took a step. Skirt fluttered, long hair flowed down my back. Sunlight gently settled on my shoulders.

I walked. No regrets this time.

Like how you saved me. Now it's my turn to save you.