The Greatest Under Heaven (1)
He folded his arms and thought it over.
What could possibly be hidden in the Seomun Clan?
“If there’s a secret, it’s probably… an object? Maybe some priceless relic tucked away somewhere?”
Seomun Hwan quietly began to move, deciding to search every corner of the residence.
From the clan’s buildings and weathered corridors to the gardens where traces of past generations lingered.
These were places he knew well, yet when he activated Hyeonwon-geuman, everything looked different.
His vision expanded, and the layers of the world shifted.
The stone lanterns he had assumed were mere decorations turned out to be authentic imperial ornaments once used in the Imperial Palace. Faded murals on the walls bore verses written by the most renowned poet of the current era.
“The clan had such rare treasures all along?”
There were also disappointments.
The jade plaque they had carefully maintained was nothing more than cheap imitation jade. The Buddhist scripture they treated like a sacred talisman was a clumsy scribble penned by some later monk as a joke.
“They used this for ancestral rites every time?”
Most shocking of all was something else entirely.
A chamber pot that had once sat in his grandparents’ room long ago.
It was an old piece of pottery, covered in dust and destined for disposal.
Its surface was stained, cracked in several places.
Yet Hyeonwon-geuman saw straight through to its true nature.
“You’re serious?”
The chamber pot was no ordinary vessel. It was a vase once used in the bedchamber of an ancient emperor—a treasure crafted by the greatest court artisan in history.
Properly preserved, it could have bought an entire city.
Seomun Hwan silently pressed a hand to his forehead.
The treasures they cherished were fakes, while a chamber pot left forgotten in a corner was a national heirloom.
“And it wasn’t even a major clan that missed this…”
With a hollow laugh, he continued his search.
But no matter how thoroughly he looked, he found nothing of the kind he sought.
What he needed wasn’t simply something valuable.
“There has to be something. A decisive clue tied to my reincarnation.”
Not just expensive objects, but something that could stir memories or resonate with illusion arts.
Yet no matter how hard he searched, nothing like that appeared.
He examined the clan’s storehouses, ancestral shrine, gardens, and even the cellar with Hyeonwon-geuman, but found nothing remarkable.
“It really is the ultimate technique for appraising treasures…”
Through Hyeonwon-geuman, he could determine not only authenticity but also an item’s current condition and the exact year it was made.
The same eye technique let him read the flow of inner qi in martial arts, exposing openings and weaknesses.
That was how he had defeated So Ji-myeong—by drawing out every ounce of Hyeonwon-geuman’s power.
Even this seemingly omnipotent technique had one fatal flaw.
“It doesn’t work on anyone stronger than me.”
He could not see through those whose realm surpassed his own.
It was an unexpected weakness he had never noticed in his previous life.
After all, as the greatest under heaven who had even transcended the Life and Death realm, who could possibly stand above him?
He would have to stop relying solely on past knowledge and experience.
“Ugh. No results, and I’m exhausted.”
He had diligently operated Walyong-singong for a year, yet his inner qi reserves were still insufficient.
If only Hwanma-singong had been an ordinary art, he could have easily increased his power with rare elixirs.
But because it was a supreme technique that integrated all his past understanding and experience, even consuming a thousand-year-old ginseng until his stomach burst would not increase his inner qi.
‘At the very least, I’d need an elixir from a divine beast…’
Seomun Hwan glanced absently at Ggamangi perched on his shoulder.
The bird was dozing just like its master.
When their eyes met, Ggamangi flapped its wings happily.
[Peep!]
“…Yeah. Sleep well?”
It was growing larger by the day.
Most birds its age would still be dependent on their mother for food, yet Ggamangi could already fly.
Full of curiosity, it chased after any crows that approached, treating them like older siblings.
The clever crows seemed annoyed by Ggamangi, but knowing how much its master cherished it, they never drove the bird away.
[Chirp!]
As Ggamangi rubbed its sleepy face against him, Seomun Hwan understood and called out.
“Deokheum!”
A reply came from afar.
“Yes, young master! Did you call for me?”
“Ggamangi looks hungry. Take it and feed it.”
“Again? What kind of bird eats more than ten times a day?”
“It’s still a chick.”
“Even so… And why does it refuse anything but the most expensive beef? I can’t even eat that myself.”
Ggamangi, being a young Vermilion Bird, had extremely refined tastes.
Unless the beef was of the highest quality, it would turn its head away and refuse to eat.
Deokheum shook his head in exasperation as he watched Ggamangi open its beak wide, demanding food.
“Do you know this thing eats half a cow a day? Any other household would have gone bankrupt feeding it.”
“Good thing our family is wealthy. Stop complaining and just feed it already.”
“……Yes.”
Deokheum grumbled as he headed toward the kitchen, and Ggamangi fluttered after him.
“That aside, is there anything else to check?”
Even after thoroughly searching the entire residence, he found nothing unusual.
“So it really was a dead end?”
He folded his arms again and pondered.
Had his initial guess been wrong?
Or had he simply missed something?
“If it’s not an object… then the only possibility left is martial arts.”
Could some incredible secret be hidden within the Seomun Clan’s techniques?
For a brief moment the idea seemed plausible, but he soon shook his head.
“I already have every technique the clan possesses memorized. There’s no way some grand secret exists.”
Their inherited arts were merely those of a minor clan—and not even a martial one, but a merchant family.
At best, they barely exceeded third-class level.
That was why he had already revised them extensively and passed the improved versions to his family and subordinates.
In the end, Seomun Hwan muttered in resignation.
“I must have been mistaken. The Seomun Clan isn’t some great sect. There’s no way it holds such a monumental secret.”
Just as he was about to turn back, a familiar cry echoed from the sky.
[Peep!]
Ggamangi had already finished eating and was returning.
The bird flapped its wings and landed in front of him.
But it was carrying something strange in its beak.
A rolled-up scroll.
“What’s this? You went to eat and came back with this?”
Seomun Hwan took the scroll with a puzzled look.
It was a familiar object—the old, majestic landscape scroll that had always hung like a folding screen on one wall of the clan head’s study.
Now that he thought about it, he had searched everywhere except the study itself.
He had planned to enter it later when the chance arose…
“You brought this from that room?”
[Peep!]
Ggamangi flapped its wings excitedly.
It clearly wanted to say something, but its meaning was unclear.
Half-doubting, Seomun Hwan unrolled the scroll.
Whoosh!
A painting appeared on the white paper.
It depicted mountains and rivers shrouded in thick mist, rendered with beautiful detail.
The majestic ridges of the mountain range, the gentle flow of water, and trees veiled in fog were all meticulously captured.
And there was one tiny human figure.
Hidden within the mist, it was so small it could easily be overlooked.
Barely more than a speck.
“Hmm…”
Seomun Hwan narrowed his eyes and examined the scenery and the figure more closely.
At first glance, it was just an ordinary scroll. No matter how he looked, it seemed like nothing special.
A painting he had seen hundreds of times before.
Yet the fact that Ggamangi had deliberately brought it bothered him.
“Don’t tell me…”
Acting on a hunch, he prepared to activate Hyeonwon-geuman.
Since his father had treasured this scroll, perhaps some secret lay hidden within.
But before he could use the eye technique, something unexpected happened.
Hum!
A sudden ringing filled his mind, as if thunder were crashing through his consciousness.
Intense dizziness surged over him, and his vision began to waver like heat haze.
“Ugh!”
It felt as though the ground beneath him had vanished.
The vertigo was so overwhelming he could barely resist it.
Even when he tried to focus, all he could manage was not to fall over.
“Ugh… Why all of a sudden…?”
How much time passed?
In an instant, the dizziness vanished as if it had never existed, leaving him perfectly fine.
“What… was that?”
It was something he had never experienced in either his past or present life.
Could this body have some hidden illness?
Regaining his senses, he reflexively looked around—and froze in shock.
The grand Seomun Clan residence had disappeared.
He now stood alone in an unfamiliar place.
“What? Where am I?”
This was the middle slope of an unknown mountain.
Before him stretched a river veiled in thick mist, and in the distance rose layer upon layer of majestic mountain ranges.
Though he had never been here before, the scene felt strangely familiar.
He had definitely seen this landscape before.
“Don’t tell me this is… that scroll from earlier?”
It was unmistakable.
The mountains, the river, even the flow of the mist matched exactly.
And the scroll he had been holding had vanished without a trace.
In that moment, he understood.
“An illusion array.”
He immediately realized he had fallen into an illusion formation.
A massive doubt rose within him.
“Me, of all people, caught by an illusion?”
He was the Phantom Demon of his past life—the greatest illusionist who could deceive the heavens and earth themselves.
Having seen through every illusion and trick in the world, he should have sensed at least a trace or sign even if he had been caught in such an array.
Yet…
“There was no qi, no presence, no trace of any spell at all.”
Just a single scroll.
An old, weathered landscape painting that looked like it belonged on a wall.
And within it had been hidden such a sophisticated illusion array.
“A thing that had been left untouched for decades…”
What kind of technique had been used?
How had it activated?
Those questions lasted only a moment before he sensed something strange.
He felt someone’s presence.
Seomun Hwan reflexively shouted.
“Who’s there?!”
Even as he spoke, something felt off.
The presence was clearly right in front of him, yet it also felt impossibly distant.
He looked at the figure.
It had no size, no color, no presence—yet it radiated an overwhelming sense of existence.
Though visible, its outline was blurred, its features smeared like a shadow.
He could not even tell if it was male or female, old or young.
A face existed, yet it could not be captured by the eyes.
Only one thing was clear.
Its eyes.
Empty, as if they had swallowed everything. In the center of that hollow world burned a single sun-like pupil.
That gaze pierced straight through him.
The figure opened its mouth.
It seemed to speak.
But the voice did not reach him.
Words he could not hear.
A resonance that did not connect.
It was as if the sound was not sound at all, but pure concept.
The next moment…
Hum!!
Once again, the world seemed to ring.
When he came to his senses, he realized he had returned to the Seomun Clan residence.
The scroll was still in his hands.
The painted landscape was exactly as before.
The mist-shrouded mountains, the calm river, even the single leaf drifting upon it—all unchanged.
But…
“……It’s gone.”
The tiny figure that should have been somewhere in the painting had disappeared.
No one remained there anymore.
A strange emotion welled up in Seomun Hwan’s chest.
It was neither anger nor fear.
“……How humiliating.”
Faced with such a profound existence, he had been completely powerless.
He had only managed to meet its gaze. He could not even hear its name or its words.
Though he had not heard its words clearly, he could sense its intent.
[You are not ready yet.]
Who would dare say such a thing to him?
Even if he had only recently reincarnated and had not yet regained even a tenth of his former power.
He slowly rolled the scroll back up.
Then he looked down at his own hands.
The afterimage of those burning eyes still had not faded.
“Who are you?”
He had been cast out without being able to resist at all.
Never before had he been rendered so helpless, forced to move entirely according to someone else’s will.
His stomach churned, and his chest burned.
It was not merely wounded pride—it was the humiliation of having his very existence denied.
Yet beyond that cold rationality, an inexplicable heat began to rise.
A flame ignited deep in his core and gradually spread through his entire body.
“Kukukuk! How interesting.”
Trembling fingertips.
A burning palm.
And the lingering afterimage of those eyes that would not fade.
This heat was clearly not anger or fear.
It was the same emotion that had completely vanished after the days when, having no more worthy opponents, he had befriended only emptiness as the Phantom Demon.
Now, that feeling was returning with perfect clarity.
It was the desire to compete.