Namgung Yeonil
Yeonil's true name was Namgung Yeonil.
The Namgung Clan to which he belonged traced its origins back to the ancient aristocratic martial families of the Central Plains. As ages turned and civilization advanced, the golden age of martial arts slowly waned. By the time the modern era arrived, the clan had faced brutal persecution against the murim in China, forcing the Family Head of that generation and the clan's core leadership to flee across the sea and resettle on the Korean Peninsula. Fortune favored them; they established roots, expanded their influence, and in the wake of The Disaster, succeeded in achieving prosperity surpassing even their ancient glory.
It was into this illustrious lineage that Yeonil was born as the son of the Namgung Clan Head—specifically, as the younger of twin boys.
Since ancient times, twins had been shunned as an ill-omened sign portending bitter factional strife. To make matters worse, unlike his elder brother, Yeonil was born with golden, wave-like marks etched across his face and body. Deemed unsightly and cursed, he was confined to a cramped, isolated room, practically locked away from the world. A fortune teller's ominous warning that one of the twins would bring ruin upon the clan only sealed his fate. His father strictly forbade the clan members and servants from ever setting foot near Yeonil's quarters.
Under such suffocating isolation, the only person who sought Yeonil out and kept him company was none other than his supposed rival: his elder twin brother, Namgung Amsung. The Clan Head frowned upon these visits, but Amsung paid his father's disapproval no mind.
"Were you waiting long?"
"You're here, Brother."
"Sorry I'm late. I got so caught up in swordsmanship practice that I lost track of time."
His kind-hearted brother did far more than merely play with him; he taught Yeonil how to read and shared whatever knowledge he could, explaining the workings of the world and the history of their times.
Long before the twin brothers drew breath, a cataclysm known as The Disaster had swept across the globe. Human civilization collapsed in ruins, and horrors previously unheard of roamed the earth, slaughtering mankind. In that chaotic vacuum of power, vampires rose to become the rulers of the world.
Vampires—monsters blessed with eternal youth, yet condemned never to gaze upon the sun, cursed to crave blood for all eternity. Once, they had lived in hiding, cowering in shadows like condemned criminals. Now, the tables had turned, and they kept humanity as mere livestock.
Among humankind, there were superhumans known as martial artists who commanded the power of internal energy, yet even they were hopelessly outmatched. Relying solely on internal qi was far from enough to overcome the terrifying supernatural abilities and overwhelming physical might of the vampires. To make matters worse, a great many vampires had learned to wield internal energy themselves. Considering that a martial artist's reservoir of internal qi generally deepened with every passing year, the vampires—blessed with near-immortal lifespans—harbored vastly superior masters within their ranks.
"When I'm older, I'm heading straight to the front lines to fight the vampires," Amsung declared, his eyes burning with conviction. "I will reclaim this world and return it to humanity."
True to the blood of a martial lineage, Amsung overflowed with fiery passion. Unlike his younger brother, who was quietly content with his solitary existence, Amsung harbored grand dreams and a fierce sense of justice. Watching his elder brother speak with such resolve, Yeonil could not fully grasp the weight of his words, but he thought his brother looked undeniably magnificent.
"Oh, right! I just had a great idea."
"Pardon?"
"Yeonil, why don't you learn martial arts too?"
"Martial... arts?"
"Yes!"
Yeonil blinked, utterly taken aback.
"Me? But... Father will never allow it."
"Not right now, of course! But if you distinguish yourself on the battlefield later, he'll have no choice but to acknowledge you!"
"Is that... so?"
"Of course! So from now on, I'll teach you martial arts myself."
Thus, around the age of seven, Yeonil held a wooden sword for the very first time. Amsung imparted the sword forms he had been taught, clumsy though his own mastery was.
I don't think that's quite how it goes...
Though he had never mentioned it to a soul, Yeonil possessed senses fundamentally different from ordinary people. He could see straight through muscle tension, blood flow, and the subtle circulation of qi. The minute particles composing the world and the underlying currents of force whispered what was "correct" directly to his mind.
"Is this how it's done, Brother?"
Guided by that instinctive sight, Yeonil executed the crude sword form his brother had shown him with a level of perfection far exceeding even their father's mastery.
"Huh? Uh, yeah... I think so."
Young as Amsung was, he could tell something about it was extraordinary, though he lacked the experience to understand why. His understanding of martial arts was still shallow, so he simply assumed his younger brother was reasonably quick at picking things up.
Two years passed in the blink of an eye. And when Yeonil turned nine, an incident occurred—an event that defied all sense and reason, something no one could have anticipated.
"How peculiar."
The Sect Leader of the Beggars' Sect had visited the Namgung Clan Estate on official business. After conferring with the Clan Head, he strolled through the compound to take in the grounds. Prompted by idle curiosity, he slipped toward a secluded pavilion that the clan servants treated as a forbidden secret.
There, he came upon the young Young Clan Head teaching martial arts to his younger brother. To the eyes of a seasoned grandmaster, it was a truly bizarre sight. The Beggars' Sect's intelligence network had already informed him that the Young Clan Head had a twin, so the boy's existence came as no surprise. What astonished him was the disparity: Yeonil's martial display was blatantly, overwhelmingly superior to his elder brother's.
"Are you hiding your true skill on purpose for your brother's sake?"
"What?"
"Let us test that skill of yours."
With a playful grin, the Sect Leader launched a surprise strike. Yet the one who hit the dirt was the Sect Leader himself.
"What in the world...?"
At first, he could not comprehend it. Or rather, his pride refused to accept it. A second time, a third time—he lunged again, only to be effortlessly countered and thrown flat on his back each time.
"...I shall get serious this time."
In the end, the Beggars' Sect Leader cast his dignity to the winds. The supreme master of the Beggars' Sect, a pillar of the Nine Great Sects and One Clan, unleashed his full might just to bring down a nine-year-old boy.
Naturally, such a monumental uproar drew an immediate crowd.
"What in heaven's name...?"
Before the disbelieving eyes of the assembled clan members, the unthinkable played out: the supreme leader of the Beggars' Sect was thoroughly defeated and pinned to the ground by a nine-year-old child.
It was the genesis of a legend.
Though the elders attempted to swear everyone to secrecy, there had been far too many witnesses. The rumors slipped through the cracks, spreading like wildfire through the martial world.
"How foolish I have been."
Beholding Yeonil's peerless talent and martial prowess, the Clan Head's eyes gleamed with ambition. Perhaps this child, once cast aside as an omen of calamity, was the miracle destined to elevate the Namgung Clan to supreme heights. He summoned a legendary elder known as the World's Greatest Physician to uncover the secret behind Yeonil's unfathomable strength.
"...In all my years, I have never seen such a body," the World's Greatest Physician muttered, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.
Yeonil was born with the flawless skeletal structure of a martial paragon. Not only that, but he manipulated internal qi as naturally as drawing breath; energy accumulated with every inhalation, and any spent qi restored itself almost instantaneously. Even considering the Namgung bloodline, his pure yang energy was overwhelmingly abundant—yet rather than causing disharmony, it circulated in perfect equilibrium throughout his vessel, rendering him immune to all poisons, diseases, and foul curses. Furthermore, his comprehension was peerless. A single glance at any martial technique allowed him not merely to emulate it, but to elevate and refine it to perfection.
Heavenly Martial Physique — The Perfect Warrior's Vessel
Innate Immortal Bones — Boundless Qi Generation and Instant Recovery
Heavenly Yang Body — Absolute Harmony and Immunity to All Corruption
Instant Comprehension — Flawless Perception and Refinement of All Martial Arts
In eras past, possessing even one of these divine gifts was enough to reign supreme over the realm. Yeonil had been born with every single one.
"Even the legendary Heavenly Killing Star could not compare to this."
"..."
"A child like this could not have been born under ordinary circumstances. Were there any unusual omens?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Except..."
The Clan Head recounted the day Yeonil had entered the world. Unlike Amsung, who had been born smoothly in the morning, Yeonil had refused to emerge. It was as if some unseen force were holding the infant back. Hours blurred together as the agonizing labor stretched on, until the exact stroke of high noon arrived. Then, as effortlessly as breath, Yeonil appeared into the light. Tragically, the prolonged and grueling delivery proved too much for Yeonil's frail mother, and she breathed her last shortly after.
That had been another reason the Clan Head had resented Yeonil for so long. Though that hatred had dissolved now.
"Do you happen to recall the date?"
"June twenty-first."
"The Summer Solstice! The longest day of the year... The sun! Yes, the sun! To think a diviner claiming to read the heavens couldn't even see the greatest star of all! What utter incompetence!"
It was neither the Heavenly Killing Star nor any mere constellation. Countless stars adorned the heavens, yet not one could hold a candle to the radiance of the Solar Star. Yeonil was a child born of the sovereign essence of the Sun itself.
"What this child will become once he grows to adulthood, even this old man cannot fathom."
"Is it truly to that extent?"
"The Namgung Clan has received a tremendous blessing."
From that day forward, Yeonil's standing within the clan changed completely. He was no longer an ill-omened outcast, but the central pillar upon whom the clan's future rested. The fortune teller's foolish prattle was discarded and forgotten. Yet the sudden barrage of reverence and expectation only weighed Yeonil down. It was more than uncomfortable—it was agonizing.
Above all, on the day their father showered Yeonil with lavish praise, the look his closest friend and beloved brother gave him struck him like a blow to the chest. The warm, proud light in Amsung's eyes had curdled into something Yeonil could barely bear to look at.
Unable to endure it any longer, Yeonil slipped away in the dead of night. A mere child leaped over walls and rooftops, vanishing like a wisp of smoke, and not a single soul in the estate noticed his departure.
And so, the boy took his first steps into the wider world.
The city was far more wondrous than anything he had seen in books or heard from his brother. Swarms of people gathered in a bustling blur, and towering skyscrapers pierced the clouds. Fearing that lingering in the city would lead to clan enforcers tracking him down, he eventually walked beyond its borders entirely.
Beyond lay territory outside human domain. It was a realm where neither human law nor order held sway—a lawless wasteland ruled by monsters, where human life was treated as cheaper than dust.