—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Hyolma found the current situation simply amusing.
From the beginning, just as Namgung Bin saw her as a tool, she, too, saw him as nothing more than a tool.
A tool to bring about an era of chaos in her stead, now that she had been rendered crippled.
That didn’t mean Hyolma held any desire to help Namgung Bin, however.
The only reason she had passed down the Blood Heaven Divine Art to him was because she found the situation amusing—a man who was the Sword Saint’s younger brother striving to bring about the Sword Saint’s downfall instead.
“I-Is this what you meant?”
“Yes! We must hurry!”
Even now, her reason for having Yu So-eun read Namgung Cheol-bin’s journal was the same.
She looked forward to the exploits Namgung Bin would achieve using the Blood Heaven Divine Art she had taught him.
But more than that, she wanted to uncover the secret of the Sword Saint—that monstrous, incomprehensible being who had suppressed all of the Blood Cult’s demonic forces as if swatting flies and even subdued her in just two moves.
She had known since long ago, without needing to think deeply, that the Sword Saint was no ordinary supreme master.
‘Hurry! Read it! Before that bastard Namgung Bin comes back!’
Yu So-eun’s unexpected appearance was a stroke of luck for Hyolma.
A chance to dig into the Sword Saint’s secrets, slipping past Namgung Bin’s watchful eyes—eyes that had never allowed the journal to be seen no matter how much she begged.
True, she might soon be discovered by the Namgung family and face real death at the hands of the orthodox sects. But having already died once, she felt no fear at the prospect of dying twice.
“Hmm… What in the world is this……?”
Yu So-eun held the worn-out notebook with a bewildered expression.
A light cloud of dust fluttered off as she flipped it open.
“Don’t even think about doing anything foolish. I’ll read it to you as you asked.”
Yu So-eun was a woman born with an inherently timid disposition.
Encountering a suspicious and grotesque woman oozing eeriness in the dead of night naturally filled her with a terror unlike anything she had ever felt before.
The fact that the woman’s limbs had all been severed only amplified that fear.
Swish—
Yet, precisely because of that, Yu So-eun also felt an overwhelming curiosity.
Humans are creatures of curiosity, and she found herself just as intrigued by the journal as she was horrified by the woman’s ghastly appearance.
‘What kind of content could be in a book that a woman like this is begging me to read……?’
Eventually, driven by curiosity, Yu So-eun brushed off the dust covering the notebook—
“……Huh?’
The moment she saw the three characters written on the cover, her fingers froze stiff.
Iljirok.
Journal.
The meaning of those three characters didn’t matter.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was—
“Sanggong…?”
The handwriting.
It was unmistakably the handwriting of her late husband, the Sword Saint, Namgung Cheol-bin.
In an instant, Yu So-eun’s mind went blank.
Her heart began pounding violently.
Swish— swish—
As if unable to believe it, she traced the title of the journal like a person possessed.
It was undeniable. There was no way she could mistake it. This was definitely Namgung Cheol-bin’s handwriting.
If so, then this—
The identity of this notebook—
The nature of this journal—
‘His diary……?’
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Yu So-eun could think no further.
Frantically, she flipped to the first page and began reading like a madwoman.
“Hey, you idiot! You have to read it out loud for me to hear too!”
“…….”
Hyolma’s furious shouts from behind fell on deaf ears.
Yu So-eun didn’t even have the presence of mind to listen.
The words reflected clearly in her wide eyes were already pulling her into an abyss of panic so deep she couldn’t see the bottom.
“What… What is all this……?”
Ah.
I’ve rewound time again.
Hmm… Where should I even begin?
First, I’ve returned once more.
I just wrote this, but……
…….
Damn it all.
When will I ever surpass Cheonma? I can’t even begin to guess.
How many times has it been now? It must easily exceed thousands, but even I’ve lost count of the exact number.
No matter how many times I rewind the loop of time, I can’t even come close to Cheonma, that demon of the heavens.
Why? Am I not progressing? Ever since around the three-thousandth loop, when I reached the level where I could barely graze Cheonma’s sleeve, I’ve seen no visible improvement. The frustration is suffocating.
My internal energy has already surpassed the realm of emptiness, reaching an infinite state. No matter what elixirs or divine pills I consume, it all circles back to the same point.
I thought I could walk through endless darkness for the sake of my family, but—
Damn it all……
I can feel myself being eroded by the darkness. It’s as if bugs are crawling up from the soles of my feet, coiling inside my body for thousands of years.
In the last… roughly hundred loops, what have I accomplished?
I’ve traveled every corner of the world, roaming freely across the martial world and beyond.
The Land of Wa, the Northern Sea Ice Palace, the Great Plains, the Great Desert, the Holy Empire, the Podalab Palace, the Heavenly Axis Nation, the Southern Barbarians… Honestly, I don’t think there’s anywhere left to go.
I even spoke to the Tathāgata at the Thunder Sound Temple—a transcendent being revered as a saint. Even he couldn’t provide me with answers about my current situation.
Faced with the absolute end that is Cheonma, what am I even doing? Maybe I’m just pointlessly flailing, holding everyone’s time hostage.
……I shouldn’t be having these doubts, but after dying in a single move against Cheonma in the last loop, my mind keeps drifting into numbness.
Damn it.
Writing this, I keep getting distracted by strange thoughts.
I have grown stronger. In the last loop, I managed to suppress Hyolma in a single move using only the bare minimum of my internal energy.
That I’ve grown is an undeniable fact.
This time, I plan to capture Hyolma without using any internal energy at all. Two moves should be enough.
The problem is Cheonma.
The monster who splits the heavens and erases the world.
When she stomps her foot, the continent splits apart. When she swings her hand, the entire Central Plains is swallowed by a storm that grinds everything to dust.
And at the end, she tells me: Rewind time once more.
I’ve begged her to stop. I’ve fought back desperately. But in the end, I always submit. I can’t abandon my family and the world.
Even though I know time has been stagnant for nearly ten thousand years, I rewind it again and live the same life once more.
That’s why I’m a machine. A regression machine.
A broken millstone that grinds time into dust, rewinding when she says to rewind, turning back when she says to turn back.
That’s what I am. A mere tool. Cheonma’s wretched little machine.
My writing’s gotten too messy. I didn’t mean to slip into cursive……. Even if I enter the realm of emotionlessness, this suffocating self-loathing refuses to fade.
Still, as long as I keep growing, I’ll eventually surpass Cheonma.
It’s fine. I can do this.
Even if it takes me as many loops as the square of what I’ve already endured.
I can endure. I must endure.
When it gets hard, I just think of my family’s faces. Their faces help more than those of a thousand, ten thousand others.
Therefore, I—
Can endure…….
.
.
.
The loop is progressing smoothly.
But I mustn’t let my guard down.
I push myself to the absolute limit while saving as many people as possible.
……This loop is just for training anyway.
Tomorrow, I fight the Twelve Blood Lords of the Blood Cult. At the same time, it’s also the day I save around five hundred children.
I’ll do what I always do.
Not a single hair on anyone’s head will be harmed.
While blocking every palm strike, sword aura, and hidden weapon the Twelve Blood Lords unleash toward the children surrounding us—
I’ll capture all twelve supreme masters.
If not for these restrictions, I could kill them in the time it takes to snap my fingers. But without these constraints, there’s no point in training.
Honestly, if I said I wasn’t daunted, I’d be lying. I don’t even know if there’s any higher realm left to reach, yet here I am, doing this absurd training.
But…… as I’ve done until now, I will succeed.
No—I have to. No matter what.
Just like when I first captured Hyolma, I’ll feel that exhilaration and sense of accomplishment again, like in the ninety-ninth loop.
Though I don’t know if I’ll even be capable of feeling such emotions by then.
Sigh…….
.
.
.
Something felt off the moment I woke up at dawn today.
For an instant—just a moment—I felt nothing.
The sensations I should’ve felt upon waking—refreshment, coolness, grogginess—none of them were there.
Though I often describe myself as “emotionless,” this was something entirely different.
It means I’m being worn down.
Not my personality, not my mind—
My very being. My soul.
…….
My handwriting is shaky. I’m feeling fear for the first time in so long. I didn’t want to experience such dark emotions.
Is this even selective emotionlessness anymore?
I tried to convince myself it was just a “brief moment,” but my instincts know better.
That “brief moment” will become an hour, then a day, then a lifetime.
I’ve been through this before. I can’t pretend otherwise.
And in the process of being worn down—
There’s nothing I can do. I won’t even be able to struggle. I’ll just be torn apart and scattered by the torrent of time.
A thought occurs to me.
When I finally break the cycle of regression—
Whenever that may be, when I’m bathed in dazzling light—
What if, while everyone else is laughing and chatting, I’m just… left standing there, out of place?
…….
As always, I have no choice.
I can only focus on today.
Even if that future does come to pass—
……I must keep moving forward.
I must keep moving forward.
Soon, I’ll be fighting a fierce battle at Mount Wudang. I’ll fight shoulder-to-shoulder with Okhwa and Cheonjon.
Before leaving home the other day, my wife looked at me with troubled eyes.
Worry, sorrow, fear, melancholy, love.
And just a hint of resentment.
Probably because I keep coming back injured. I only sustain the bare minimum wounds for maximum training efficiency, but…
The most chilling part wasn’t the way she looked at me—
It was the fact that, despite her gaze, all I felt was hollow indifference.
I’d rather feel fear or sadness at a time like this.
This cruel world, like a spiteful tree frog, drags me down with a vengeance.
Ah…….
.
.
.
Today, my wife asked me:
Do you truly love me?
She also told me to rest.
Said I’ve been looking too unstable lately.
Well… I agree, but of course, I can’t rest.
What use is rest for a tool? Everything will just reset in the next loop anyway.
The only thing that matters is what lies ahead.
Do you truly love me?
I’ve always whispered words of love to her when we’re together, but I guess words alone aren’t enough.
No, actually, words should be enough. Even in the early loops, I said the same things, and she never once asked me this question.
The fact that she’s asking now means…
She’s realized there’s no sincerity left in my words.
But even though she asked the question… now I’m the one wondering.
Do I truly love my wife?
Does that burning emotion still remain, or has it already faded?
Is my regression now just a mechanically learned behavior?
…….
Why am I even writing something so obvious in this journal?
I love her.
I love her, I love her. I love Yu So-eun.
Even if all other emotions dull, this one must not.
Even if only a thread remains, I must cling to it desperately.
If—just if—that last thread were to fray…
I can’t guarantee I’d be able to endure any longer.
Because then, there’d be no reason left to rewind time.
So, yes—
I love her.
The love is still there, intact.
I want to tell her.
I love you.
I love you, I love you.
I love you. I love you. I must love you. I have to love you.
Don’t forget. Don’t let go. Don’t let it fade.
I—
Loveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveherloveher
Ah… The paper tore a little.
Flip—! Flip—!
The further she read into the journal, the more frantically Yu So-eun turned the pages, like a woman possessed.
Her face contorted with each passing moment.
“……W-What is all this……?”
Her voice was hollow, trembling violently.
“Rewinding time… W-What kind of nonsense…?”
Suddenly, the memory of Namgung Cheol-bin—how he had abruptly changed fourteen years ago—flashed through her mind.
It was an absurd delusion, of course.
Rewinding time? Regression? What kind of madness was that?
But the journal described it in terrifying detail.
Flip—!
And it matched perfectly with the Namgung Cheol-bin in her memories.
“Hey, you moron! Read it out loud! Don’t just read to yourself like an idiot!”
“…….”
Hyolma’s furious screams only added to Yu So-eun’s confusion.
She didn’t have the presence of mind to listen.
The words reflected in her wide eyes were already dragging her into an abyss of panic so deep she couldn’t see the bottom.
“Sanggong… Sanggong… Sanggong… Sanggong……!”
Like a woman possessed, she muttered his title over and over as she flipped to the next page.
Unfortunately, there was still so much more of his journal left for her to read.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
[Your Text Here]
