Chapter 1 : Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

-Always repay grace, and carve vengeance into the blood.

Duuung! Duuung!

Heavy drumbeats resounded loudly.

As dozens, hundreds of drumbeats overlapped, the noise seemed to shake the very earth.

But the sound soon faded.

No, to be precise, it was drowned out by another sound.

Thump-thump! Thump-thump!

The rough pulsing of Sewoon’s heartbeat devoured the drumbeats.

‘At last—’

After fifteen years, the long-awaited day of vengeance had finally arrived.

Creeaak!

At that moment, a massive door swung open.

The Murim Alliance.

The grand inner hall of the once-great power that had once unified both orthodox and unorthodox sects unfolded before Sewoon’s eyes.

—Sewoon. This is where all the heroes who seek to uphold justice in the world of murim gather.

A sudden memory from his distant childhood flashed through his mind, when his father brought him here, holding his tiny hand.

His father had gently patted his head, distracted by the sugar sweets, eyes filled with pride toward the Murim Alliance.

But—

‘……You were wrong, Father.’

That was no longer true.

Sewoon, casting off his thoughts, stepped inside holding the box.

Limping on one leg, he walked between the leaders of the Murim Alliance who stood in rows on either side.

And then—

Boom!

They all knelt at once and pressed their foreheads to the floor.

“Ten thousand demons bow! Eternal life to the Divine Demon!”

“Eternal life to the Divine Demon!”

Without a shred of shame, they shouted at the top of their lungs, veins bulging in their necks as if in competition.

‘Now only these repulsive traitors remain in this place……’

All the righteous warriors who had fought for a greater cause had died horrific deaths.

Only those who had sold their loved ones for survival remained—less than beasts.

‘……Myself included.’

There was a heavy sense of guilt on Sewoon’s darkened expression for some reason.

Above the bowed heads of the orthodox warriors, a flag bearing the character ‘Blood’ fluttered.

Indeed, today was the day the Blood Cult unified the central murim and ascended as its ruler.

Slosh.

Finally, Sewoon stopped at the center of the inner hall.

“O Exalted Lord. For this glorious day, the Demonic Craftsman has prepared the eleventh Divine Weapon.”

The Sword Demon, vice-leader of the Blood Cult, bowed his head toward someone and spoke.

There was only one person the Sword Demon would call ‘Lord.’

The one shamelessly seated with one foot propped on the throne that was once for the Murim Alliance Leader.

The ruthless demon who had painted the lands from Mount Heaven to Kaifeng in rivers of blood.

The sky-born demon of this world.

It was none other than the Blood Demon.

“Bring it forth.”

The power in the Blood Demon’s voice was overwhelming.

Just hearing it was enough to make the orthodox warriors feel as if their insides were churning; they barely held back the blood rising in their throats.

But Sewoon calmly stepped forward, box in hand, toward the Blood Demon.

‘Four steps away.’

As planned, Sewoon knelt exactly four steps away from the Blood Demon and raised the box high above his head.

Clack.

The Sword Demon approached and opened the lid of the box.

Shiiing!

Everyone in the hall, except the Blood Demon, gasped in horror.

What was revealed was a single sword.

Ferocious demonic qi radiated from it, making everyone’s skin crawl.

For a brief moment, a flicker of greed passed through the Sword Demon’s eyes.

Even in the presence of his master, he could not resist—such was the primal lure of the demonic sword to a demonic practitioner.

It’s often said that weapons become less important as one attains a higher realm.

But the weapons made by this limping blacksmith were different.

The Poison Demon, once a low-ranking elder of the Blood Cult, had gained a bracelet and decimated half of the top ten masters in one sweep.

The Assassin, once a mere member of the assassination unit, had gained a dagger and reduced the then Murim Alliance Leader to a mere soul.

During his fifteen years of enslavement, the ten weapons Sewoon crafted were called the Ten Demonic Weapons, the greatest contributors to the Blood Cult’s rise to supremacy.

‘With that, I could……’

Greed glimmered in the Sword Demon’s eyes.

As if bewitched, his guard dropped and he leaned forward to retrieve the divine weapon.

And just then, as the Sword Demon’s body completely blocked the line of sight between Sewoon and the Blood Demon—

‘Now—!’

Swoosh!

Suddenly, Sewoon’s upper dantian activated out of nowhere.

Click!

A mechanical sound came from beneath the box.

A hidden compartment in the floor opened.

Thwip!

A hole pierced through the Sword Demon’s forehead.

There wasn’t even the sound of wind breaking.

It happened in an instant.

As the light faded from the Sword Demon’s eyes and his body collapsed—

Sewoon’s Formless Blade, created solely for this moment, shot like lightning toward its true target: the Blood Demon.

The revealed demonic sword had been a decoy.

The real weapon was the hidden blade beneath the floor.

‘Blood Demon, I’ll end you with your own martial arts—!’

Sewoon poured all the energy in his upper dantian into the new blade.

Kwagang!

Boom!

A powerful explosion erupted.

Incredibly, the Formless Blade shattered dozens of layers of protective qi and even pierced the Blood Demon’s left eye.

Drk! Grrk!

A grotesque noise echoed as the blade tore through his brain.

It worked!

At last, vengeance had been fulfilled—

“Ah—.”

But joy did not last.

Even with an eye pierced and brain torn apart—

“How amusing.”

The Blood Demon murmured, as if completely unharmed, while looking at him.

Slash!

“Guh!”

In the blink of an eye, the Blood Demon flew at him and lifted Sewoon by the throat.

‘Failure……’

This being, who had consumed all sorcery and dark arts, had defied even death itself.

“A dagger that has no form and no trace of qi—Formless and Emotionless.”

Though nothing was in the Blood Demon’s hand, a blade clearly floated above it.

“This is the eleventh Divine Weapon you sought to create?”

Demonic qi ripped through Sewoon’s body as unspeakable agony surged through him.

“……Yes. It’s called the Invisible Dagger. It’s the thing that punched a lovely breeze hole in your skull.”

Yet Sewoon answered boldly, without a whimper.

“You may be proud. Had your final technique not been incomplete, you would have surely succeeded.”

“……What a shame.”

The Blood Demon asked Sewoon,

“Was it revenge?”

“Cough. I never forget grace or grudges.”

“Indeed, that’s in your blood.”

As if recalling an old memory, the Blood Demon spoke softly.

Always repay grace.

Carve vengeance into the blood.

One sentence to summarize the clan that had vanished at his hands.

“Yes, that’s the blood of ‘our’ lineage.”

With lifelong hatred and killing intent in his eyes, Sewoon answered.

“What a shame. Had you not used all your innate true energy in your upper dantian, I might have spared your life.”

Everyone was shocked.

Until now, after countless battles with thousands, tens of thousands—

Not once had the Blood Demon ever tried to spare someone.

But Sewoon had no intention of begging for his life.

“……To live by your hand…… I’d rather suffer eternal torment in the fires of hell…….”

“Eternity, huh—.”

The Blood Demon muttered.

Then, with void in his hollow gaze, he looked at Sewoon and continued to speak.

“O loyal servant. As compensation for being the only warrior in the Central Plains to leave a scar on me, I shall bestow this item upon you.”

Vooong!

The Invisible Dagger, which had been suspended in mid-air, moved slightly.

Splat!

Sewoon felt a searing heat ignite in his right eye.

As his vision rapidly blurred—

He saw the Blood Demon faintly smile and mouth something.

‘……Be……gin?’

He barely caught just two syllables.

What on earth had he said?

That final question—

Was the last thing on his mind before his world turned pitch black, as if night had fallen.

On the day the Blood Cult ushered in the demonic age,

The final heir of the annihilated Sichuan Tang Clan, and once called the most fearsome Divine Craftsman in the world—

The Demonic Craftsman, Tang Sewoon, met his end.

“This bastard dares to ignore me!”

A voice full of fury rang out.

In that moment, Tang Sewoon opened his eyes.

No—he realized he had already opened them.

As if by magic, the darkness vanished and all five senses returned.

‘Where—?’

But what lay before his eyes—

Was neither the Murim Alliance's inner sanctum where the Blood Demon killed him,

Nor the Blood Cult's prison where top-level criminals were held.

Sewoon found himself standing in an elegant room of a high-class tavern with a lavish spread of alcohol and food.

Half a dozen warriors, looking to be in their mid-twenties, sat glaring at him.

‘What is this?’

He was utterly confused.

Was this a dream? Or some life-flashing-before-his-eyes moment?

But the scent of alcohol stinging his nose and the vivid sensation in his body were no illusion.

Stay calm.

He had survived fifteen years in the Blood Cult only through unyielding mental fortitude.

As his inner turmoil subsided, the situation began to come into focus.

‘Wait, these guys…….’

He realized the faces glaring at him were all familiar.

Just then, the man seated at the head of the table spoke up.

“Tch, Nampyeong! Does it make any sense for that snot-nosed brat to act so arrogant toward me?”

He was the voice that had woken Sewoon—full of anger.

Lee Hoseong, the Crimson Sword.

Once the top disciple of the Qingcheng Sect, he had caught the Murim Alliance Leader's eye and become his youngest disciple.

Yes, that pockmarked, hideous face was impossible to forget.

“O-Of course not. I have no idea why Master Tang is making such a scene.”

When Ju Nampyeong, young master of the Ju Clan Manor, spoke up, Maeng Geuk, junior sect leader of the Righteous Sword Sect, chimed in.

Hearing them take his side, Lee Hoseong shouted even more furiously.

“You bastard, say it again! What did you just tell me to do?”

……Say it again! What did you tell me to do.

And to Sewoon’s surprise, he had predicted Lee Hoseong’s words word-for-word.

Not because of some sudden gift of foresight.

‘Then behind me right now must be……’

Sewoon swallowed dryly and turned his head.

Good heavens.

There really was a woman behind him, trembling as her face turned pale.

It was Seori, the servant girl who used to attend him.

In that moment, Sewoon realized something miraculous had happened to him—something no one would believe.

‘No way. Have I really returned to the past?’

He had regressed sixteen years into the past.

How and why had he defied the laws of nature and reversed time?

His head began to ache again from the overwhelming questions—

‘……No, I’ll think about that later.’

Sewoon barely managed to cut off the spiral of thoughts.

Right now, he needed to deal with the immediate crisis.

If he let events play out the same as before his regression, not only he but Seori would be in danger.

Even though it was sixteen years ago, today’s events remained exceptionally vivid in Sewoon’s mind.

How could he forget—

This was the moment he became the laughingstock of the Sichuan martial world.

This banquet was held to celebrate Lee Hoseong becoming the youngest disciple of the Murim Alliance Leader, by gathering promising young successors from small and mid-sized sects of Sichuan.

But in truth, it was an excuse for Lee Hoseong to flaunt his newfound status and force them to attend.

Since all disciples of the Alliance Leader became important figures in the future, small factions of Sichuan saw it as critical to curry favor with Lee Hoseong.

—But Master Tang, is it true you were born with a malformed dantian?

—Haha, at least you were born with looks fit to ruin nations.

Yet Lee Hoseong spent the entire feast mocking Sewoon and the Tang Clan.

Still, Sewoon bore all the insults with dignity.

But then something happened.

While Sewoon briefly stepped away, Lee Hoseong forcibly made Seori sit next to him and began to harass her.

—What do you think you're doing! Apologize at once!

Sewoon returned and, enraged by the sight, rushed in.

The result had been a complete disaster.

But—

‘It will be different this time.’

Suddenly, Sewoon met Lee Hoseong’s gaze directly and spoke calmly.

“I told you to apologize to Seori.”

The eyes of the young successors widened like lanterns.

A killing intent gleamed in Lee Hoseong’s eyes now.

“……You want me to apologize to some wench?”

“You forced a girl who clearly didn’t want to sit by you, and then harassed her. If you’re even half a man, you should apologize.”

Half a man?

At Sewoon’s scathing remark, Ju Nampyeong, Maeng Geuk, and the others stared with jaws dropped.

As Lee Hoseong trembled with rage,

“And Seori isn’t a wench. She’s a servant girl formally employed and paid by the Tang Clan.”

“Gasp!”

Lee Hoseong and the others were stunned.

Harassing a lowly servant was one thing, but harassing a free civilian was entirely different.

If Seori were to report this to the Murim Alliance, they could be severely punished under alliance law.

As the successors glanced around nervously—

Bang!

With a thunderous crash, the table shattered into pieces.

Lee Hoseong had slammed it with a fist enveloped in qi.

Swoosh!

Already, a dangerous energy was radiating from his body.

“You’ve got to be kidding. You’re making it sound like I forced her.”

He continued with a sneer.

“She was smiling and flirting, so I simply played along. Isn’t that right, everyone?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s right.”

“Ahem, yeah. That girl doesn’t know her place.”

Seeing this spectacle, Sewoon shook his head.

“Still the same trash unfit to associate with.”

“W-What did you say?!”

They snapped, but Sewoon ignored them and replied in a voice cold as ice.

“Do you know why my sister rejected you?”

Everyone gasped.

Sewoon had struck Lee Hoseong’s sorest nerve.

The real reason Lee Hoseong had endlessly mocked Sewoon and the Tang Clan—

Was because he had confessed to Sewoon’s sister and been rejected.

“Your hideous face?”

“Shut up!”

“No.”

“I said shut up!”

“She saw through your vile and repulsive nature.”

Before Sewoon could finish—

“Die—!”

Clang!

Whoosh!

Lee Hoseong, having lost all reason, launched a surprise attack—an act forbidden among the orthodox.

Sword drawn, he charged at Sewoon like a bolt of lightning.

Though his life was in danger—

‘As expected, he took the bait.’

Sewoon grinned inwardly.

All according to plan.

The opponent was peak first-rate.

Before his regression, Sewoon couldn’t even properly resist and got beaten to a pulp.

Because for some reason, he only had the internal energy of a third-rate.

‘But it’s enough.’

The conditions were still the same.

But the outcome would be different.

Because what now resided in his mind was different.

Swoosh!

Sewoon drew two training daggers from his sleeves and held them in reverse grip.

‘His martial arts will do just fine.’

And in that moment—

He looked just like a seasoned assassin.