The Head of the Northern Heavenly Clan
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Hot breath tore its way up from my lungs and spilled out.
My heart pounded so hard it felt ready to burst.
My internal energy had already run dry, leaving me feeling utterly hollow.
Using my sword for support, I barely managed to rise and look around.
What a ruin.
Even calling it a field of corpses wouldn't begin to do the place justice.
All across that battlefield, no matter where I looked, the dead were strewn everywhere.
And most of those corpses belonged to the last martial artists of our Northern Heavenly Sword Sect.
"Ha ha..."
A hollow laugh slipped out of me, though there was nothing remotely funny about this.
Because I was the one who had driven them to their deaths.
My name was Jin Muyeol.
I was the seventh Family Head of the Jin Family, known as the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect—and a dark ruler who had ruined the clan after becoming nothing more than a puppet for the elders and the shadowy force behind them.
Of course, I hadn't been like this from the start.
I had tried. I truly had.
From the moment I was appointed Young Lord to lead the clan in place of my bedridden father, I had done everything I could in my own way to restore the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect.
But I had been far too lacking.
In experience, in martial ability, in backing—I had fallen short in every way, and so I was always dragged around by the elders who held the real power in the clan.
In the end, I had been nothing more than a figurehead who raised his hand and approved whatever they wanted.
At times, driven to despair by that fate, I had tried to resist.
I had openly defied the elders. I had even clenched my teeth and thrown myself into secluded training to improve my martial arts.
It had all been useless.
By then, it had already been too late.
While I was away, the elders tightened their grip on the clan and manipulated public opinion as they pleased.
They painted me—a man in secluded training—as a selfish leader who had abandoned the clan and locked himself away for his own ambition.
Worse, that training hadn't even produced proper results.
I hadn't known it at the time, but poison from the shadowy faction had already been building up in my body, slowly and silently.
More than once, it had nearly driven me into deviation.
Attempt after attempt. Failure after failure.
As that cycle repeated, I gradually became more and more powerless.
Until eventually, I even lost the will to resist.
And yet, back then, I still had a chance.
Yes. Back then, I had still had a chance to sweep away the elders drunk on power and save the clan that was collapsing around me.
But in the end, I let go of everything.
I only came to my senses after I discovered the existence of the shadowy force that had been controlling the clan from behind the scenes all along.
Once I realized that everything that had happened to the clan—from my father's collapse into bed onward—had been their doing...
I resisted one last time.
I used every means I could think of to drive them out.
And this was the result.
The extermination of the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect, which had barely been clinging to life.
They decided we were no longer useful, and to erase all traces of themselves, they committed everything they had.
They dispatched countless masters and wiped the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect from the map.
Only a tiny few survived, myself—the Family Head—included.
And it looked as though I didn't have much time left either.
Because I could see the enemy commander approaching.
Hell Saber Ghost.
"Heh heh. I thought you were dead, but you're more tenacious than I expected. If we hadn't crushed you while you were still young, you might've become quite a troublesome enemy."
"You..."
"Well, I'll praise you for surviving this long. You're about to die anyway. Hahaha!"
Laughing at me, Hell Saber Ghost swung his massive saber.
Clang!
I raised my sword and somehow blocked the strike, but my palm split open in the process.
Blood streamed down as pain surged through me.
Even so, I gritted my teeth and thrust my sword forward.
I wanted to drive the blade into his chest no matter what.
But—
Slash!
"Urgh!"
The impossible remained impossible.
My chest was carved open, and I fell backward.
Thud.
I could feel far too much blood pouring out of me.
At the same time, my consciousness was dimming.
"That was amusing in its own way, Jin Muyeol."
Through my fading vision, I saw the bastard's lips moving.
Damn him.
If I could, I would have severed that neck myself...
But in my current state, all I could do was twitch a finger.
At my fingertips, I felt the Seal Ring of the Family Head.
A seal ring forged from some unknown metal.
Ever since I had become the head of the Northern Heavenly Clan, I had worn it constantly.
I had never once taken it off.
At least you're still with me to the very end.
Just as my consciousness was about to sink away with that thought—
"Begin again. My... child."
"So that you may set everything right."
A warm energy suddenly flowed out from the Seal Ring and wrapped around my entire body.
Startled, I stared at it.
The seal ring, which had always been dark, was now shining in five colors.
Begin again?
What the hell does that mean...?
I had no time to wonder.
An overwhelming drowsiness crashed over me without warning.
Unable to fight it, I closed my eyes.
And when I opened them again—
What is this?
I realized a miracle had occurred.
...
In the smooth, polished mirror, I saw the figure of a young man.
He looked to be in his late teens at most.
His complexion was deathly pale from illness, but even that couldn't hide how handsome he was.
I knew his name.
How could I not?
The young man in the mirror was me.
Just what happened?
Clutching my throbbing head, I dropped into a chair.
There was much I remembered, but everything was too chaotic for me to sort out.
The only thing that stood out clearly was that final voice.
"Begin again. My... child."
"So that you may set everything right."
Those words were carved into my mind as clearly as if each syllable had been engraved there.
Part of it had been hard to hear, but for some reason I was certain that the owner of that voice had sent me back to the past.
And I had reason to think so.
After what I had experienced in those final moments, there was no other explanation.
"Hoo..."
I let out a quiet breath and examined my situation.
Judging by the timing, this seems to be after I became Young Lord and acting head of the clan.
I was sure of it.
The sickly body weakened by poison slowly building up inside me.
The pounding headache.
And the Seal Ring on my index finger—the proof that I was acting Family Head.
All of it told me the same thing: this was after I had become Young Lord.
Of all times, I had to return to this one.
I couldn't help clicking my tongue softly.
If only I had gone back a few years further, there would have been so much more I could have done.
But what had already happened had happened.
Complaining about it would change nothing.
So I had no choice but to steel my resolve.
Maybe this is fate.
The one who had sent me back told me to set everything right.
If so, then that was exactly what I ought to do.
It was while I was deep in that thought that it happened.
"Young Lord. Are you inside?"
A middle-aged man stepped into the cluttered office, crowded with stacks of documents.
His name was Wang Ho.
If memory served, he was one of the chief administrators working for the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect.
And also...
One of the parasites gnawing away at the Northern Heavenly Sword Sect.
After I became Young Lord, Wang Ho had steadily embezzled money, and only years later was the truth exposed.
But because he was protected by his uncle, Elder Wang Jin, he had escaped proper punishment.
And because of that, I suffered through helplessness for quite some time.
Even after becoming Family Head, I had been unable to punish a criminal.
Remembering that past, I narrowed my eyes.
But perhaps he hadn't noticed my reaction.
Setting a bundle of papers down, Wang Ho spoke.
"These are the documents requiring your approval today. I ask for your kind attention, Young Lord."
In place of my bedridden father, I had handled the clan's affairs as acting Family Head ever since my days as Young Lord.
So I quietly looked over the papers Wang Ho handed me.
They detailed the dispatch of martial artists as guards for merchant groups contracted with the clan, in exchange for a fee.
Up to that point, there was nothing unusual about them.
But once I compared them with the other documents, something strange became apparent.
Even after accounting for the money paid to each contracted martial artist and the clan's share, there was still money left over.
Which meant, quite simply, that funds were being diverted somewhere.
The me of this time never noticed things like this.
Because I had been frail since childhood, much like my father, I had never properly learned the administrative work expected of a Family Head.
So I had often failed to fully grasp documents that hid the truth behind clever wording.
Though later on, they stopped at nothing short of outright forging documents to embezzle the clan's funds...
The Wang Ho standing before me probably wasn't acting this boldly because he underestimated himself.
No—he had simply assumed I would stamp the Family Head's seal on the papers without checking them properly.
I looked at him and spoke.
"Chief Administrator Wang."
"Yes? Young Lord?"
"Do them again."
"Do... them again?"
Wang Ho's face flickered with confusion.
He clearly hadn't imagined I would say such a thing.
And of course he hadn't.
What kind of person had I been, after all?
Weak in body, weak in will, a pathetic man who couldn't even raise his voice at those beneath him.
As acting Family Head, I had also been utterly incompetent.
So Wang Ho—and many others—had looked down on me in secret.
Hearing words like this from someone like me naturally caught him off guard.
"Did you not hear me?" I asked quietly, my gaze fixed on Wang Ho.
Perhaps he felt the chill in that stare, because he flinched for a moment.
But soon enough, he recovered his usual composure.
"May I ask why you say that?"
"Because the documents contain errors. Did you fail to notice even that?"
"Young Lord, I believe you may be mistaken. There is nothing wrong with these documents."
"Really? You truly think so?"
Our eyes met.
Fine. If that was how he wanted to play it, then I would do this properly.
I raised a finger and pointed to a section of the papers.
"Then let me explain it to you line by line. The total wages listed here for the dispatched martial artists, the total amount the clan takes as its share, and the total paid by the merchant group do not match."
"Th-that..."
He probably hadn't expected me to point out the discrepancy so precisely.
Wang Ho faltered.
Still, he forced himself to remain calm and continued.
"It seems Young Lord has misunderstood something."
"Oh? I have misunderstood?"
"Yes. The reason those totals don't match is perfectly natural."
"And why is that?"
Wang Ho blinked rapidly.
He was buying time, turning his mind over in search of an excuse.
And judging by what came next, I was right.
"Because the actual amount paid to the clan's warriors is greater than what is written there. However, that portion is not listed because it is given in the form of special compensation rather than basic wages."
"Oh?"
Hearing that, I twisted my lips into a faint smile.
"Special compensation? And why, exactly, would you do that?"
"Why, naturally, to raise the warriors' morale and make them work harder..."
"Then are you saying some receive special compensation while others do not? That's odd. In that case, money would still be left over."
"Th-that is..."
"And even if that were true, any remaining money should be entered into the clan's finances. So why is it being separated and managed elsewhere? At this point, it almost looks..."
I paused deliberately, then spoke in a meaningful voice.
"As though someone were trying to embezzle what remains."