Awakening to a Second Life
In the martial world of clans, living with an unhealthy body was akin to having guilt lodged in one's chest instead of a heart, breathing that blood day after day. That had been Danmok Ryeon's short life.
The adults' backs were always distant, and the little brother standing behind her had eventually outpaced her as time flowed on. Yet no one could stop the martial world from trembling or her clan from crumbling under the resurgence of Blood Valley.
When death finally drew near, it had felt almost welcoming. The agony piercing her body like needles everywhere, the helplessness of watching her unchangeable family suffer—it would all end. Finally, it would end... It should have ended.
* * *
"This doesn't make any sense..."
A young girl sat on the bed, her face etched with grave concern. Pale and frail from prolonged illness, her eyes still sparkled like stars twinkling within, shifting with every angle.
How? How did I come back to life? And not just that—I've gone back in time...?
The girl, Danmok Ryeon, stared down at her shortened limbs and clutched her head.
She had died. The memory was crystal clear: the lifelong torment slowly fading, lulling her into that eternal, endless sleep. Then burial in the earth, her soul drifting through the world for so long. Suddenly pulled somewhere, witnessing far too much, until her mind snapped awake—and here she was.
She had seen the myriad phenomena of the universe, places near and far, past and future, realms unknown and familiar.
And during that time, I...
As she sifted through hazy memories, a bolt of realization struck Ryeon.
"Ah!"
But before she could dwell on it, someone entered from outside.
"Young miss, you're awake?"
It was Jang ssi, the wet nurse who had cared for Ryeon since birth. She always smiled at the sight of her, soft wrinkles crinkling around her eyes.
"N-Nanny..."
"Young miss, there's medicine today, but if you finish it all, you can have these as a reward."
Beside a white porcelain bowl of pitch-black herbal tonic sat sugared pastries dusted thin with sweetness.
But Ryeon, all too familiar with the tonic's bitterness, pulled a face.
"...Can't I skip the pastries and the medicine?"
"Now, now, don't say such things."
Jang ssi spoke sternly, and Ryeon had no choice but to take the bowl. Her nanny had always doted on her so tenderly—and never left her side during those seven years of lying motionless.
Ryeon knew full well how much worry and anguish Jang ssi had endured; she couldn't very well refuse the medicine now.
She gulped it down, squeezing her eyes shut against the taste until she finally blinked them open. Jang ssi gazed at her with an expression of pure emotion, eyes misty as if on the verge of tears.
Everyone in the household had reacted the same way since Ryeon awoke. Whenever she parted her lips to speak, grimaced at bitter tonic, or melted in delight over sweet dried persimmons, their hearts swelled and tears welled up.
It was only natural!
Seven years in a near-coma. So I've returned to this time.
For reasons unknown, Ryeon's soul had been ejected at birth. For seven years, her empty shell of a body lay listless unless propped up, ate nothing unless force-fed. No crying, no laughter, no words.
Desperate, the clan had attempted the grand ritual of Balsa Sesu to awaken her.
Mother, really... She insisted on that expensive ritual even without knowing if it'd work.
Balsa Sesu was typically for newborns: swiftly establishing the dantian foundation, burning away impurities, straightening bones and tendons for optimal martial cultivation.
Not a cure for illness, yet performed in a last-ditch grasp at hope—and miraculously, it succeeded! The ritual ended flawlessly, and Ryeon rose from her bed like a miracle.
The little girl finally making expressions, speaking—how must the watching adults have felt? Her mother had wept herself half-unconscious beside the recovered Ryeon, leaving Jang ssi to care for her in her stead.
Jang ssi, her own heart overflowing, wiped her eyes and set the pastries before Ryeon.
"Aigoo. How are you so sensible already?"
Ryeon munched the pastries—far better than the tonic—and sneaked a glance at her nanny.
"Nanny, um... I want to go outside. Just to the garden in front."
"Very well, young miss. I'll ask the elders for permission."
With that, Jang ssi scooped her up like a baby, patting her back soothingly. After seven years like a doll, the seven-year-old Ryeon was far too small and light.
* * *
The moment her nanny slipped out, thinking her settled, Ryeon bolted upright. She grabbed the mirror and channeled a faint blue energy from her fingertips.
Words began materializing on its surface. Anyone witnessing this arcane sorcery would have fainted in shock.
[Verifying user: Danmok Ryeon]
[Adjusting display for convenience... ■■□□□]
[Outputting information user can observe.]
[Displaying in the fastest comprehensible format for user.]
[■■□□□ → ■■■■■]
[Change complete!]
[Immortal Mirror now visible!]
The fastest way for me to understand...
No matter how she looked at it, this was tailored for her quick grasp—like a game screen or computer monitor—which left Ryeon a bit embarrassed.
D-Damn it. Is this really all I'm capable of?
She couldn't deny it.
"Coming back from the dead was worth it, at least..."
While her soul wandered the nine heavens after death, she had seen much and learned more. To know was to understand, and to understand was to manifest again.
Though returning to the past had erased most knowledge her body couldn't handle, what was once ingrained—like a skill etched into flesh—could be observed through her soul's imprints. But only to the extent she could manage, in the way she could comprehend.
This was that way.
Swallowing her shame, Ryeon stared firmly at the mirror. Ink-black letters soon flowed across it.
Just like this.
Warning: Maintain Spiritual Energy at 50 or below. Sustaining this state for over two months will lead to death.
Only as much as possible, in a comprehensible way—this mirror shows it all...
But knowing how to read it didn't mean she had the power. Most stats were pathetically low: stamina at 3/100, outer arts unacquired.
And inner power—completely impossible to acquire.
Ryeon clutched her head. Meanwhile, only her Spiritual Energy bar pierced the heavens.
This was her life's greatest hurdle. In a martial world where outer arts alone couldn't reach supremacy, being unable to cultivate inner power... Even if she avoided death from her vessel shattering under excessive Spiritual Energy, could she survive as a martial artist?
In her past life, unable to learn martial arts, she hadn't even known such things existed. Aptitude and five elements showed measurement errors, unknowable. And Spiritual Energy blinked in angry red.
With that warning beneath.
Yes—the most urgent issue now was her two months of life remaining.
Keep Spiritual Energy at 50 or below?
Having clear numbers eased her despair somewhat. Just drop it to 50 somehow. Though how was a mystery.
"And what are these traits...?"
She didn't grasp "Partially Known" or "Touched by Malice's Lament," but "Infinite Spring of Spiritual Energy" and "Sickly Flower in the Greenhouse" were obvious.
The reason she'd finally died before regressing: her body unable to contain the overflowing Spiritual Energy, creaking endlessly until it broke.
But not anymore.
Ryeon clenched her fist tight.
For unknown reasons, she'd returned to the past. She now knew why she'd been ill. And how to become healthy.
"From now on, I'll live without incident, without disaster, long and healthy...!"