The Regressor of Namhyang Village (1)
"...ed... how?"
A voice? How? Can I still hear sounds even after death? No, that doesn't make sense. Come to think of it, something felt off. I could feel my senses. The sensation of my entire body touching the ground. The feeling of cold air brushing against my face. ... The sensation in my limbs.
"I should be dead!"
I pushed myself up with both arms. It worked. Arms that had been reduced to ash were whole again. A miracle even the God of Life and Death couldn't perform had occurred. But something was strange. My arms felt far too weak. My whole body lacked strength. I wondered if it was because I'd been tied up with rope, but that wasn't it. There was no sensation of being bound at all.
My eyes opened. The world came into view.
"Still not dead?"
I had clearly suffocated. Until the very moment of death, no guards had come to where we were. Resurrection? If it was necromancy, was it that bastard Maryeongwang? Just how far did this Heavenly Demon Cult's limits go? What kind of treasure trove was this?
"It's a ghost!"
".... Who are you people?"
Four or five children surrounded me. They screamed that I was a ghost upon seeing me. What the hell. These kids. Before I knew it, they had turned their backs and were running far away. Wondering what they were up to, I tried to use lightness skill to chase after them. But instead of moving even a single step, I simply fell over. I couldn't have executed the lightness skill wrong. I'd been using it for years, at the very least. Feeling something was wrong, I examined every part of my body.
"My inner energy is gone?"
My dantian wasn't damaged. If it had been, even moving like this would be painful. My dantian was perfectly intact. Only my inner energy had vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. Looking around, I realized the surroundings were entirely forest. The Ten Thousand Great Mountains where the Heavenly Demon Cult resided were remote lands buried in eternal snow. There was no place there that could be called a forest. This was a place several times warmer than that, and at the same time, somewhere I knew.
"Namhyang Mountain?"
It was the mountain where I'd played as a child, back when I was still an ignorant brat who knew nothing of righteous sects or demonic cults. It was also the monumental place where I'd first met my master. ... A place that shouldn't be visible now, since I'd burned it down with my own hands.
As if entranced, I climbed down the mountain. Though ten years had passed, the mountain paths I'd traversed endlessly until my early twenties were paths I could walk with my eyes closed.
"Crazy...."
Below the mountain path, as expected, a single village awaited. My hometown—a place I'd wanted to visit countless times but never could. As I stood there dazed, staring at it, I felt someone watching me from afar. Unconsciously, I hid behind a tree.
"Ugh..."
A small splinter dug into my flesh. A body that shouldn't be like this. As I reached to pull out the splinter, I heard what sounded like the woman's voice from earlier.
"Sowoon?"
I pulled out the splinter and casually looked at my hand. Then, seeing my small hand without any calluses, I accepted it. Hearing the woman in the distance call my name, I accepted it.
I had returned. To before everything had happened.
. . .
"Oh my. Whose boy is that, I wonder?"
"You still don't know? That's the Jin family's son."
"The Jin family's son? Was he always like that..."
Beyond the fence, the chattering aunties were gossiping about the boy, the Jin family's son. That was me. This wasn't the first or second time. Occasionally they spoke to me directly, but until then, no matter what the aunties said about me, I continued what I was doing. Swinging a sword.
"Two hundred."
A month ago from now, I'd been treated as if I were already dead. They said I'd suddenly lost strength while climbing the mountain and collapsed, unable to regain consciousness. It was right around the time the children discovered me and rushed to tell their parents that I'd returned. That was when I became certain. What had happened to me was time regression—what people commonly called returning.
At first, there were quite a few confusing parts, but once I organized my thoughts neatly, several conclusions emerged. First, my sins had been erased. Not that I wasn't a sinner. It simply meant that those who had once been sacrificed to the beliefs I'd wrongly held were now alive and breathing in this world. That alone was enough.
"Four hundred."
Second, I could live a new life. Not simply living again. Beyond correcting the things I regretted, I could use the future to live an entirely different life. Then naturally, one begins to ponder. In this life, how should I live?
"Six hundred."
It was simple. The path I'd truly desired. Walking the righteous path. And giving that damn Heavenly Demon's heart a good, solid stab. Those two things alone would make this life worthwhile.
"Eight hundred."
The Heavenly Demon I'd seen that night had been, frustratingly, stronger than I could have imagined. The sight of him wielding bizarre magic and unfurling magnificent wings. The realm of the Hegemonic Path, suppressing enemies with overwhelming attacks from where he stood. He was more than qualified to call himself the demon of the heavens. Though he was at a level where people discussed whether he was the greatest swordsman under heaven or whatnot, against him, even a one-on-one fight would have been difficult—I'd have held out briefly before losing. After all, he was the greatest sword under heaven, not the greatest person.
But I didn't despair. In that final moment, I'd vaguely glimpsed the end of that monster. It was an extremely distant realm, but he was undoubtedly human all the same. A human who must be endlessly fair before sword and death.
"One thousand."
Therefore, I must become stronger. So that I could gift him death. So that my sword could become faster and stronger, reaching him. It wasn't impossible. It was a path I'd already walked once. Though I hadn't reached it, the path had been clearly visible. If I ran along that path, I would naturally surpass that moment.
Before I knew it, I'd swung my sword over a thousand times. It was a level of fatigue a child's body couldn't handle, but I stubbornly gripped the sword and swung. I raised my slowed speed once more. I swung my weakened sword with renewed strength. Even considering my past life, it was training pushed to the extreme, but I didn't hesitate in the slightest. Because to kill the heavens, one must collide with the limits of humanity.
-Thud
As I gradually progressed and began swinging my sword infused with inner energy, it soon reached the tree ahead, leaving a sword mark about two handspans long. I still couldn't cut through it. But at the very least, until I reached first-class, I would swing my sword here like this.
. . .
"It's probably around the hour of the Rooster."
The sun had just set, and the sky was growing dark. I had no intention of stopping training, but swallowing my regret, I gathered my things. Though calling it "things" was generous—just a crude wooden sword and a dishcloth.
I took a step forward. Once I reached second-class, unlike before, I could use lightness skill without falling. Though I couldn't use the Cloud Dragon Eight Steps I'd originally employed due to my realm's limits. Ah, of course, I wouldn't use it in the future either. It was stolen from the Kunlun Sect, so if I got caught without having joined them, I wouldn't even be able to recover my bones. What I was using now was the Heavenly Mile Household Courtyard. The basic lightness skill of the Namgung Clan. It didn't give off the vibe of being from the Namgung Clan, and its efficiency was decent enough. Plus, since this village was within the Namgung Clan's sphere of influence, there were a few excuses I could make. This too would get me killed if it was discovered I'd stolen and learned the manual. Yeah. It won't be discovered. This one won't be found out even if I die.
After walking a few steps, I entered a house. A savory smell of rice wafted from inside the room. Slowly opening the door and entering, I found a middle-aged woman—my mother, whom I'd always wanted to see.
"I'm home."
"Sowoon. You're quite late?"
"I only swung it a few thousand times. It's because winter makes the days short, Mother. I'm not late."
I pointed at the sky with my wooden sword as I spoke, then tossed it into the corner of the room.
"I already ate. Are you hungry?"
"Just one bowl of rice, please."
"Alright. Here you go."
As I sat at the table, Mother pushed a bowl of rice toward me. Smiling as she did so. At the same time, I saw her wrinkled hand that had pushed the rice bowl. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. Mother must have lived alone. For twenty years. Dragging her aged body, cooking with hands that seemed ready to break, sitting blankly by the door staring at the sky before falling asleep—a tedious, routine daily life. Should I have visited? Should I have at least told her I was alive? No. If it had been revealed that I was her son, she would have been in danger. At the time, I was right. But now, that won't happen. Because I will stay by Mother's side until the very end.
".... I'm sorry."
"What's with the sudden apology? Never mind that—clean up the dishcloth too. Suddenly getting obsessed with the sword... Come back before sunset tomorrow. It's dangerous."
"Yes. Understood."
I should head out a bit earlier tomorrow. Mother probably doesn't know. What I'm training the sword for. It's better she doesn't. Just a child's whim—that's the appropriate level.
Placing the now-empty rice bowl on the table, I picked up the sword I'd thrown and the dishcloth. Thank you for the meal. Saying that, I moved to the next room.
"... Come to think of it, there was one more thing I had to do."
Sitting by the closed door, I muttered to myself.
"I have to stay here until the end."
That aside, it's dangerous.... huh. The feeling of someone worrying about me felt awkward. At the same time, it was warm. It was just a single phrase, but when was the last time someone had worried about me? The last time was probably when the Poison King asked if I was okay after taking the Formless Poison. At least five years ago.
"I wish you could have felt this warmth too."
Suddenly, I thought of the woman who had despaired at her family's death. Unlike me, she would have remembered this warmth vividly, and perhaps that's why she missed it even more.
"It's a shame."
It would have been best if both of us had survived. But hoping for a once-in-a-lifetime miracle to happen simultaneously is just wishful thinking. The absence of the woman who had disappeared from the world, using that day as a turning point. It left me with an inescapable sense of regret.