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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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Three days after the Blood Demon’s death—just as in the novel—the Heavenly Demon descended from the Mountains of Ten Thousand Peaks, leading an army of demonic cultivators.
The righteous factions hastily gathered their forces, and the two armies faced off across the vast plains between the Central Plains and the Heavenly Mountains.
Though the Central Plains had been battered by the long war with the Blood Cult, they still had one unshakable pillar—the Sword Saint.
And I, too, believed in Cheol-bin.
Please… let this be the final cycle.
A suffocating silence. Ominous tension. A seething tide of killing intent.
Amidst it all, Cheol-bin stepped forward from the Central Plains’ ranks—and the Heavenly Demon emerged from the demonic horde.
Hundreds of yards apart, the two armies glared at each other in silence.
And at the center of it all—just three steps between them—Cheol-bin and the Heavenly Demon stood face to face.
I can say with certainty: at that moment, I was more nervous than I had ever been in both my past and present lives.
“………….”
“………….”
The moment their lips finally moved, I didn’t even dare breathe.
All I could do was watch.
“………….”
“………….”
Whatever they discussed, it took a long time. If they were going to fight, I wished they’d just get on with it.
Then—the unexpected happened.
“This one shall withdraw to the Mountains of Ten Thousand Peaks.”
“……!”
The distance was too great to hear their conversation, but I’ll never forget the Heavenly Demon’s final declaration.
He had done it.
That madman Cheol-bin—somehow, by some means—had saved the world again.
“What? Why are they retreating?”
“Did the Sword Saint do something? What the hell just happened?”
The righteous martial artists, who had gathered expecting a bloody battle, were baffled.
But it didn’t matter.
It was over.
Peace had returned to the world. The story had reached its happy ending.
Different from the novel’s conclusion.
We had made it happen.
For that brief moment, I was engulfed in indescribable pride.
The White Space
“Where… is this?”
An endless white void.
I found myself walking through it.
I didn’t know why. I didn’t even know where this was.
All I knew was—the moment the war ended, my vision darkened, and when I opened my eyes, I was here.
…Wait.
Isn’t this the same as when I first transmigrated?
The realization jolted me awake.
“Kim Tae-yang.”
A voice called my real name from behind.
I whipped around—and saw a man clad entirely in white, from head to toe.
The moment I saw him, I knew who he was.
“Author-nim…?”
“In this world, I’m called ‘Heaven’… or the ‘Celestial Emperor.’”
“W-Why are you—”
“Hmm… I could just send you back, but I wanted to thank you first.”
With that, the old man bowed to me.
I had no idea why. But one thing was clear—
He was deeply grateful.
So I asked:
“What… are you thanking me for? I never even donated to you.”
“Haha, well…”
The next words out of his mouth hit me like a hammer to the skull.
“Thanks to you, the sequel’s reception has been fantastic.”
“……Huh?”
“Our beloved regressor Cheol-bin and his transmigrator strategist… Readers loved their chemistry. For the first time in my career, I hit #1 on the daily rankings!”
“Wha…?”
“In fact, everything you did in the martial world was serialized in real-time. Well, except for what happened in this space. This is where I write.”
I didn’t understand at first.
But it didn’t take long.
A memory surfaced—the reply he had left me ten years ago, before I transmigrated.
“Great work. Keep writing.”
“Just words?”
“You… don’t mean…”
My throat tightened.
No way.
That reply couldn’t have meant—
“Just empty encouragement?”
“Encouragement isn’t just words. It’s action.”
“N-No…”
My mind went blank. What the hell was I hearing?
But his meaning was crystal clear. Infuriatingly so.
“A… sequel?”
“Yes. Readers loved you and Cheol-bin’s dynamic.”
“Wait… So Cheol-bin defeating the Heavenly Demon… The ending of 99 Ways to Save a Doomed Martial World was…”
“Just a teaser. If he could kill the Blood Demon, the Heavenly Demon was the natural next step, no?”
“……!”
My mind whited out in panic—then immediately ignited into red-hot fury.
……Why me?
Why was I dragged into his shitty novel to suffer for ten years?
Why did I have to fight the Blood Cult, risk my life countless times?
Why was I beaten half to death in the dead of night?
All for what?
“For a damn… novel?”
“Novels need realism. You helped bring it to life.”
“……!”
My back trembled uncontrollably. Rage surged like a tidal wave.
Ten years.
Ten years of being thrown into hell against my will—
All for some stupid “realism”?
“Is that… really so important?!”
“Hmm… Well, readers like authenticity. Honestly, I don’t care about ‘artistic integrity.’ What matters is reader engagement.”
“Why… Why did I have to be part of your writing experiment?!”
My voice shook.
“You volunteered.”
“……!”
“You left a comment. Take responsibility for your words.”
“You… psychotic bastard…!!”
I don’t know why I did it.
I knew it was pointless.
But—
“RAAAGH!!”
I lunged at the author.
My sanity had snapped.
“DIE! DIE, YOU SON OF A—!!”
“……Are you insane?”
Of course, my fist passed right through him.
As I stumbled forward, off-balance—
“No manners at all.”
He placed a hand on my head.
“FUCKING BASTARD!! WORTHLESS PIECE OF—!!”
Living as a martial artist, I’d suffered countless traumas I’d never forget.
Guts spilling, bones shattering—carnage beyond imagination.
I’d watched helplessly as characters I loved died one after another, tossing and turning in anguish every night.
Out of all my comrades, only Baek Yeong-sa-wang and Cheol-ho-gaek remained.
“Tch. I was going to send you back peacefully… but you’re too unruly.”
He sighed, then pressed down on my forehead.
His next words shattered me.
“If you’re this ungrateful, I can’t just let you leave.”
“……!! YOU FUCKING—!!”
“Since you hate the martial world so much… live there until you die.”
“……!”
Crack—
The harder he pushed, the more I sank—powerless to resist.
Through the white void, plummeting into the abyss.
“Ghk…! Ugh…!”
“……Just a side character, and you dare?”
My mistake.
I should’ve begged for death instead of cursing out the psycho who transmigrated me.
Whoooosh—!
Falling, falling endlessly through the sky—
Until I landed back in the martial world.
Revenge
Crack—!
Revenge.
No matter what, I’ll make him regret sending me back.
I’ll make that bastard author weep tears of blood. I swear it.
“Tch…!”
But how?
He’s Heaven. I’m just a side character—not even the protagonist.
So I gnash my teeth, searching for a plan. If I had one, I’d act immediately—but nothing comes to mind.
“I know nothing about him.”
To get revenge, I’d need leverage—some knowledge about the author.
But I have none.
All I know is that he’s deranged enough to transmigrate a reader just to mess with the world.
……Reader engagement?
“Readers…?”
Now that I think about it—didn’t he say everything was serialized live?
“…….”
I’ve got it.
A way to make the author suffer.
I don’t know if it counts as revenge, but it’s the best I can do.
“I’ll ruin the story.”
It’s not over yet.
Even if 99 Ways to Save a Doomed Martial World is complete, the sequel the author mentioned is still ongoing.
Which means everything I do now is being recorded.
It has to be.
“Then… how do I ruin it properly?”
The key is driving readers away.
Since the author loves reader engagement, my goal is to make them quit.
And the best way to do that? A godawful plot twist.
My first thought was killing Namgung Cheol-bin.
Nothing ruins a happy ending like the protagonist’s sudden death.
But I quickly dismissed the idea.
“He’s too strong now.”
Not that it’s impossible.
This cycle’s Cheol-bin—whether by design or chance—never achieved poison immunity.
Plus, we live together. A drop of lethal poison in his tea would do the trick.
But the author already killed the protagonist in his last novel. Readers wouldn’t quit over it.
Hell, this world kills characters constantly.
“Then what…?”
After much deliberation, three ideas crossed my mind.
The three biggest reader repellents in modern web novels:
BL drift, TS drift, NTR drift.
First, BL drift is impossible.
There was one pretty boy who trained in the Feminine Transformation Art just for Cheol-bin, but even after countless regressions, Cheol-bin never glanced his way.
The man doesn’t even see women as women unless they’re his wife.
TS drift is also unrealistic.
In this world, the only way to turn a man into a woman is the Feminine Transformation Art—and how the hell would I make Cheol-bin learn a demonic art?
With the calamities over, he has no reason to train anymore.
That leaves one option.
The most vile of the three—NTR drift.
Unlike the others, it’s actually feasible, and it’ll infuriate the maximum number of readers.
But… the world isn’t that simple.
Of course, NTR isn’t easy either.
Forget Cheol-bin—the biggest problem is my own body.
“Fuck.”
I glanced down at my crotch.
Nothing was visible.
That’s right.
Namgung Bin—this bastard—has a one-inch worm.
According to the novel, Cheol-bin is “indestructible like diamond” and nearly a foot long.
The most basic requirement for NTR isn’t even met.
Drugs?
A web novel I read before transmigrating gave me pause.
It’s not impossible. The only heroine, Yu So-eun, isn’t some chaste maiden, and the martial world has aphrodisiacs.
But… I remember a story where the heroine, even under drugs, never betrayed the protagonist. The title was something like 15 Days of Something.
Point is—modern readers are too forgiving.
Back in the day, just holding hands or sharing a room counted as NTR.
Now? Readers will call the heroine “chaste” and keep loving her even if she cheats.
……Which leaves me only one path.
Steal Yu So-eun’s heart.
Make the author’s beloved readers drop the novel in droves.
Can I do it?
……I will.
No matter what, I’ll make that bastard author regret ruining my life.
I’ll make sure he suffers.
Four Years Later
“Tch…”
Stepping out of the basement, Namgung Bin clicked his tongue quietly.
Memories of the past four years flashed through his mind.
“Has it already been… four years?”
He recalled everything he’d done to reach this point.
Using Namgung Cheol-bin’s sudden personality shift as an opportunity, he’d worked to bring him down.
Despite endless training, his body never improved—so he defied nature itself by learning the Blood Arts.
(At least his little friend grew half an inch.)
Fearing Cheol-bin might kill him before his plan succeeded, he’d even cultivated a secret faction.
“Damn it… How can she still love him after finding out he’s not just a cheater but a pedophile too?!”
The most critical part—winning Yu So-eun’s heart—was still out of reach. But he was confident he’d succeed eventually.
Lately, he’d even resorted to serving her tea late at night to ease her mind.
“Where sincerity fails, persistence prevails.”
Sooner or later, Yu So-eun would acknowledge his feelings.
Did he feel any guilt toward Namgung Cheol-bin?
Not at all. Even after fighting side by side for ten years.
“They’re just characters anyway.”
He’d only helped Cheol-bin to survive—not out of kindness.
If he were truly “good,” he wouldn’t have embezzled funds as the Martial Alliance’s strategist, frequented brothels, or assaulted women during the war.
“Heh.”
Creak—
Just as he was about to leave the basement—
“Huh…?”
Something felt off.
Hiss—
Killing intent.
An overwhelming, unignorable wave of murderous aura blanketed the entire Namgung Estate.
He’d felt this before.
“Already…?!”
The higher a killer’s skill, the more they suppress their aura.
A basic tenet of assassination—if the target senses danger, they might flee or prepare defenses.
A peak-level killer wouldn’t even breathe. Some say they stop breathing entirely.
But there’s one exception.
“Damn it…!”
The god of all assassins.
A killer so absolute, no defense or evasion works against her—even when she flaunts her killing intent.
The Star of Slaughter.
She had come to the Namgung Estate.
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