The Legend of the First Alliance Leader
“Want to sit?”
“Sure.”
Namgung Seha steadied her breathing, set her sword down beside her, and sat. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead before speaking.
“How long has it been since you regressed?”
Aren’t we both in the same boat? Still, it didn’t seem like a random question, and I had no reason to hide the answer. I thought it over carefully. One month from the moment I opened my eyes on that mountain until I met my master, then another month after that. Quite a bit of time had passed since then as well.
“Not long. About two months and a dozen days or so?”
She repeated the words two months under her breath, then looked at me.
“For me, it has been three weeks and two days as of today.”
Only after hearing her answer did I understand why she had asked the question.
“There’s a time difference.”
“I arrived roughly a month and a half later than you.”
Why had a time gap appeared? No—more fundamentally, why had we regressed at all? If someone had orchestrated it, why introduce a delay? Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to send us back together? The chain of why questions stretched on endlessly. Yet every conclusion I reached was little more than vague speculation. Not a single clear answer emerged.
“…That’s about all the facts we have.”
“For now, yes.”
The deliberate emphasis on for now stood out. If that was the case, then the fact that she had chosen to add those two words meant—
“You have a lead on something, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her calm affirmation carried no hesitation. I nodded, brushed back the hair that had fallen across my face, and waited for her to continue.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard it, but there is one particular rumor about the first leader of the Murim Alliance. Are you familiar with it?”
I gave the only answer I could.
“How would I know something like that? There are countless absurd rumors about him.”
Stories of him splitting the sun and moon with two swords, of him covering the sky with thousands of blades through sword flight, of him resurrecting the dead with a single stroke—because he bore the title of the very first Murim Alliance Leader, the wild tales surrounding him were beyond counting.
“There is one rumor in particular.”
“The first leader of the Murim Alliance is a transcendent figure who already lived through a destruction of the murim that we never witnessed. He turned back time itself to save our world.”
It sounded ridiculous. Time travel? Such a miracle shouldn’t exist anywhere in the world. Even a Buddha or the Primordial Heavenly Venerable would find it impossible. In my previous life, I would have dismissed it outright. But now I couldn’t. After all, the two people currently discussing that very impossibility had both experienced it firsthand.
“There’s no smoke without fire.”
Every rumor that circulated through the jianghu was absurd on its face, bloated by centuries of exaggeration. Yet where there was smoke, there had once been fire. The tales must have grown like foam in the wake of his actual deeds. Could the idea of regression have been born from such distortion?
No. Absolutely not. No matter how mythical a warrior’s feats, such a specific rumor would not attach itself so easily. People already cursed fortune-tellers who claimed to see the future—how much worse would it be to claim the power to reverse it?
“If only one among the hundreds or thousands of rumors about him is true,” she said quietly, “I believe it is this one.”
“Too much time has passed. Almost no records of him remain. At this point, it is fair to wonder whether he was ever a real person at all.”
It was as if the entire history of the murim had been deliberately erased where he was concerned. Neither of us voiced the thought aloud.
“Even so, I know of one place where information about him might still exist.”
“Where?”
Curiosity—personal as well as practical—prompted the question. She raised a finger to her lips in a gesture for silence, then whispered as softly as she could.
“The Murim Alliance’s Archive of Forbidden Texts.”
The forbidden archive? I had never heard of such a place within the Alliance. Forbidden texts usually referred to books dangerous to the state—histories containing state secrets or writings that opposed the imperial court. From the Murim Alliance’s perspective, what would count as forbidden? Demonic arts? But I was fairly certain those were stored separately in the Demon Suppression Pavilion.
“Only about thirty people in the entire Alliance know of its existence. It holds secrets of the murim that must never be recorded, along with forbidden sorceries too cruel or heinous to be allowed into the world.”
“And you believe information about the first leader is kept there?”
Namgung Seha nodded.
“If it exists anywhere, it will be there. I entered it once in my previous life. The amount of knowledge stored inside is staggering—texts on raising one’s realm, sorcery capable of resurrecting the dead, even lost scriptures from the Complete Truth School and the Esoteric Buddhist sects.”
“…Then we should visit as soon as possible.”
We could not afford to leave any power capable of reversing time unchecked.
“What should we do in the meantime?”
“…We must grow stronger. At the very least, you need to reach the Peak Realm in the near future.”
A reasonable demand. First-class experts were not weak, but the respect and treatment they received differed vastly from those at the Peak Realm. A Peak expert could dominate an entire region and stand as a true local sovereign.
“And then we will participate in the Yongbongjihoe.”
“Suddenly?”
The Dragon and Phoenix Gathering. A prestigious tournament where young martial artists under thirty tested their strength. Usually the winners came from the Nine Great Schools or the Five Great Families, and the champion received the title of Dragon or Phoenix.
I had wondered if it was truly necessary, but Namgung Seha nodded firmly.
“Are you planning to infiltrate the Heavenly Demon Cult as a spy?”
What a horrible suggestion. It wasn’t impossible, but it held no appeal. It would require shedding a great deal of blood before I could even begin.
“If you intend to operate within the righteous path, acquiring the name of Dragon or Phoenix would be greatly advantageous. It is a title that unexpectedly carries real power…”
“Power?”
“A pioneer of the righteous path? A hero of justice? The public views anyone bearing the title of Dragon or Phoenix in that light, which grants them considerable influence in debates and decisions.”
I hadn’t known that. While I was in the Cult, the only reaction I ever saw from Peak Realm experts was mockery whenever someone was called Dragon or Phoenix.
“Is it acceptable for someone like me to claim such a title?”
The question carried multiple layers of meaning. Namgung Seha responded in a tone that suggested she found me ridiculous.
“…You are not a criminal yet. Get a hold of yourself.”
“If your previous life feels like a sin, then do your utmost to atone. We know better than anyone the dozens of crushing defeats, the bloodbaths that consumed five great sects and three great families. We know the secrets and the truth behind them. Isn’t that right?”
Her gentle rebuke left me no choice but to nod. As if the moment had never happened, she returned to her usual dignified tone.
“The next Yongbongjihoe will likely be held at the end of this year, when the current Dragon steps down.”
“It would cause problems if a ten-year-old were known to have reached the Peak Realm. So at that gathering, you will become the Dragon.”
“And you?”
“There is no helping it. Like last time, I will enter at fourteen.”
If we were going to do this, that arrangement made sense. Becoming the Dragon at twelve—an unexpectedly weighty title.
“After that, we will address each crisis in order until the Great Righteous-Demonic War begins.”
The Great Righteous-Demonic War. Unless we assassinated the Heavenly Demon himself, it was a catastrophe we would inevitably face. The Demonic Cult’s offensive had proven stronger than the Murim Alliance’s full strength; had things run their course, the world would have fallen under demonic rule. To prevent that disaster, there were many fires we needed to extinguish in advance. Major conflicts never erupted without warning, and that period had been especially rife with strange incidents. In particular, we had to block the Heavenly Demon’s covert schemes designed to sow internal division and weaken the righteous path. One misstep could leave an entire major power without a leader.
“Then I should take my leave. The hour grows late.”
Already? It felt as though we had barely spoken. At her words, Namgung Seha rose to her feet. She brushed the hem of her skirt, then reached for the swords she had set aside.
At that moment, a breeze stirred. Her hair lifted and danced in the wind. As if waiting for exactly that instant, moonlight poured over her, illuminating every strand. The light caught in her hair, turning each ripple into a soft, silvery wave. Her clear black eyes, set against her pale skin, sparkled like black pearls.
What was this feeling? I hadn’t drunk any alcohol, yet my head felt strangely light. Seeing her like this again, I—
“You’re kind of pretty.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. An honest mistake.
“Pardon?”
Though I had spoken softly, she heard it perfectly. She whipped her head around, eyes wide. Even in the dim light I could see the faint blush coloring her earlobes. She had definitely caught every word.
Damn it. Should I try to take it back? I could have. Claim I had said the moon was beautiful or some other clumsy nonsense. But why should I feel awkward about it? Objectively speaking, she was beautiful, so the statement wasn’t wrong. I grinned mischievously and doubled down.
“When I look at you like this, you really are quite pretty.”
Her fair cheeks flushed bright red in an instant. She stood frozen, unable to utter a single word.
“…H-haha.”
Namgung Seha let out a hollow laugh that clearly meant you must be joking, then walked away with unusually quick steps.
“Stop talking nonsense and go to sleep.”
“It was a joke! A joke!”
Worried I had angered her, I called after her back. Her reply came laced with clear irritation.
“I know! So just go die somewhere!”
She really was angry… Sorry.
