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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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“Ah……”
With difficulty, she opened her eyes, and a ceiling unfamiliar yet not entirely strange came into view.
An iron ceiling, half-devoured by darkness.
And surrounding her on all sides—
a narrow, stifling chamber.
It was the underground cellar of the Namgung Clan.
“You’ve awakened.”
“……”
“Do you suffer from some lingering illness?”
“No.”
At the words that reached her ears, Yu So-eun shook her head in denial. She had no particular illness or condition.
Only then could she recall what had happened to her.
Coughing blood. And collapsing.
“The so-called matron of the Namgung Clan, and yet you’d go without even a tonic?”
“……”
“Or perhaps you picked up some leftover inner pellet and botched it?”
“It’s not that. Please refrain from making baseless guesses.”
“Hmph. If your tongue had slipped, I might’ve shown leniency, but you’re sharp. In just a few days, venom has crept into your eyes.”
Just as Blood Demon said, Yu So-eun’s eyes now carried a killing intent they had never borne before. Her eyes, hollow and sunken, revealed just how tormented she was inside.
‘…….’
Yu So-eun always kept her distance from Blood Demon, never allowing him within even a step of closeness. Even if they met daily here in the cellar.
The reason was simple.
‘You too… were one of those who tormented Sang-gong.’
Inside the Azure Radiant Sword, she had witnessed Blood Demon’s form as he fought against Lightning.
Blood-red hair and eyes, so vivid it seemed as though rivers of blood had formed; the light, snake-like air about him—frivolous yet deadly sharp.
Her self-loathing for having harmed Lightning weighed on her so much that the hatred she bore Blood Demon and Namgung Bin was no less consuming.
But that was not what mattered now.
‘…Am I dying?’
Coughing blood.
Heavenly Energy.
She could no longer ignore the connection between those two words.
Shiver—
She was afraid. To face death with composure was something only a regressor tempered by countless deaths, or an immortal bored by life itself, could manage.
Yu So-eun was neither. She had never been a person of strong will. Since childhood, her heart had been fragile, always leaning on someone—her father, then her husband.
Now, she was trying to stand on her own for the sake of her daughter, but how could one so easily change the course of an entire life?
‘Death…….’
And so, as her body trembled beyond her control,
‘What should I do?’
Countless worries began to surface in her mind.
It wasn’t as though she had never thought about death before.
Especially after discovering her husband’s secret, her life had been nothing short of a quiet hell.
Each breath she exhaled pierced her chest with guilt, her aching heart leaving her sleepless at night.
Already plagued by insomnia, she had recently taken on the appearance of a walking corpse.
“Tell me, do you still put powder on your face these days?”
“…What?”
“Never mind your skin and bones—look at the dark shadows under your eyes.”
“Ah……”
“Central Plains folk have never seen demonic arts. They wouldn’t know how to distinguish between dark shadows and demonic blotches. But you, wife of the Sword Saint, should know better than anyone.”
Yu So-eun walked toward a mirror. Reflected there was a haggard woman she could hardly believe was herself.
‘This… is me?’
Her pallid skin, the dark shadows beneath her eyes—they told the full story of her condition. The thought of putting on makeup came to her naturally.
Though she had scarcely ever bothered with cosmetics after girlhood—blessed with natural beauty and a modest nature—her present state left her little choice but to consider it.
‘Was the mental strain truly that severe…? No, this alone wouldn’t make me look like this.’
Yu So-eun circulated her long-unused qi through her body. A warm current spread through her fine veins.
The qi swam gently along her twelve meridians, and for a fleeting moment, brushed against her innate energy—only to collapse, lifeless, into nothing.
‘I… really don’t have much time left.’
The vague notion of death had now taken tangible form. A wave of dread seeped into her chest, and she swallowed dryly.
‘Not yet… not yet.’
And as though to confirm her dread, Blood Demon’s ringing voice pierced her ears.
“Your days are numbered. You won’t last long. Without a divine pill like Elixir of Returning Life, there is no hope.”
“Urgh……”
Yu So-eun still had things to do. Above all, to die so meaninglessly would be a betrayal to the Sword Saint who had once saved her life.
Even the Jade Blossom, her rival, had been forgiven and embraced by her husband. If she were to die, it was certain he would fall into devastating despair.
One might say, how could a supreme master be so weak-willed? But Lightning was. His mind, refined in kindness even as his strength grew, was fragile—like a sandcastle always on the verge of collapse.
At least, that was what Yu So-eun believed.
And.
And…
‘…Soo-ah.’
She had one reason—no, the single, absolute reason—she must not die.
‘If I’m gone… Soo-ah will be completely isolated.’
Truth be told, she did not only dread death.
Half of her life had been far from happy, and lately she had been tormented to the point of suicidal thoughts.
Even so, she endured, endured again—partly out of duty to Lightning, but above all because of her daughter.
‘Truly… what should I do? I mustn’t die, I mustn’t die….’
Namgung Soo-ah was only sixteen, with no one but Namgung Bin around. And Namgung Bin was not someone to rely upon.
She had hoped to build connections for her daughter during the Seventh Martial Meet, but due to Huashan’s Baihua and the ensuing bloodshed, everything was lost.
‘Cheol-bin… no, Lightning.’
Soo-ah. Soo-ah. Namgung Soo-ah.
The fruit of her love with her husband. A treasure so precious it could never be compared with anything else. Her joy, her reason to live.
‘I won’t ask you to accept me…’
Her daughter, priceless beyond compare. Her daughter, whom she loved more than anything in this world.
‘Instead… just, please… protect Soo-ah.’
For Soo-ah, she could do anything. No—she must do anything. She was her mother.
‘She’s only a child… even if she falters, it’s a parent’s duty to forgive, to embrace her….’
Yu So-eun prayed. Forgetting that Blood Demon was even there beside her. She prayed and prayed again.
‘I may not be able to take back my mistakes… but please, at least spare Soo-ah. She’s only a child. If you tell me to die, I’ll gladly die. If you tell me to vanish, I’ll never appear before you again….’
And then—
Of all the vast regions of the martial world, which place did the people revere most?
There were many candidates. Hubei, home of Wudang. Anhui, seat of Namgung. Sichuan, defended steadfastly by Emei and the Tang Clan.
But in the end, the root of the martial world led always to one place.
The North Star of Mount Tai.
The Thousand-Year Shaolin.
Henan, where Shaolin stood. Mount Song.
It was the holy land of martial arts, and the cradle of all Buddhist and Daoist sects.
Even Zhang Sanfeng, founder of Wudang, had once been a disciple of Shaolin.
The seventy-two strongholds of the dreaded Green Forest never dared to set foot upon Songshan. Even the Green Forest’s Divine Elder, one of the Twelve Elders himself, strictly forbade his men from stepping into Songshan.
Shaolin’s rules were stricter than any other sect’s. Its monks had far fewer scandals or hidden shames compared to others.
Break the monastic rules once, and you were confined to the Chamseon Cave for half a year. Break them twice, and you were locked away for three years. Thrice, and ten years.
A fourth violation meant crippling your energy channels and dantian before expulsion. Not even the Abbot himself would be exempt. Shaolin was that strict.
And what kind of place was this Chamseon Cave? What sort of cell could confine Shaolin monks, renowned even in the martial world?
Chamseon Cave had originally been a place for cultivation. Like Prajna Cave or Vajra Cave. Like the wall-facing meditation of sitting before a cliff.
The difference was that Chamseon Cave was a colossal cavern. A stone chamber of unbreakable rock on every side.
Without the door opened from outside, entry or exit was impossible. Light barely filtered in—perfect for confining wrongdoers.
And yet, there was once a child who stepped into Chamseon Cave of his own will.
The Divine Monk, one of the Five Absolutes of the Martial World, asked:
“Have you truly resolved yourself?”
“Yes, Great Ancestor.”
“Must you seclude yourself in Chamseon Cave? You are yet so young, your body not even fully grown.”
“Great Ancestor, do you know why I entered Shaolin?”
The child answered without hesitation. In his eyes flickered a blue radiance.
“When the war between the Demonic Cult and the Orthodox martial world began… I witnessed a sword I can never forget.”
“You speak of your father?”
“Yes. My father was a great sword. A sword that protected all, a sword that never lost. When demonic cultists came surging like waves upon the mountain where my family strolled, my father alone stood against them to protect my mother, my younger sibling, and me. That sword, I can never forget.”
The Divine Monk knew the boy’s father. How could he not?
The hero who had blazed into the martial world like a comet—the Sword Saint, Namgung Cheol-bin.
During that first year of war, he had written countless legends with his blade.
“You cannot know, Great Ancestor, how grueling it was for my father to swing his sword.”
“……”
“I came to Shaolin because of a vague dream to protect him. Because he always suffered for us—my mother, my sibling, and me. I may be powerless now, but one day, I wish to stand beside him as his strength.”
“Such filial devotion. Your purpose in the martial way comes from a good heart. But why abandon Namgung for this temple?”
“A sword is a weapon to cut men down, but the staff is meant to protect. Unless one reaches my father’s level, the Namgung heavy sword is not suited for protection.”
The Divine Monk gazed upon the boy with sorrowful eyes. For within him was a resolve far beyond his years.
To witness such tragedy in tender youth, to be forced into early maturity…
For most, maturity was a blessing. Yet the monk’s heart only ached.
“…Very well. I understand your will.”
“I give you my deepest gratitude for your compassion, Great Ancestor.”
“In the cave I’ve placed enough fasting pills, a single Summoning Pill, and scrolls of our chosen Shaolin scriptures from the Sutra Pavilion. Make your seclusion one without regret.”
“Yes. I will never forget this grace.”
Thus, for the day when he might stand to protect his father, the boy walked into Chamseon Cave of his own accord.
And thirteen years passed.
A time long enough to change the rivers and mountains—and yet Chamseon Cave remained unyielding, unchanged.
Until now.
Kugugung—!
The boulder sealing the entrance of the cave trembled violently. Cracks spread along its grain like rippling waves.
Kwaaang—!!
Once more the rock shook. Not just the boulder, but the whole peak quaked. Beasts fled down the mountainside, birds burst into the air.
Then the third strike.
Kuwaaaaaang—!!!
The boulder shattered as though struck by a cannon. A deafening roar rang out, followed by thick smoke and dust.
As the haze slowly cleared, a man’s figure emerged into the world.
“Ah… sunlight. It’s been so long. Warm, so warm.”
On the man’s hardened fists were countless calluses and scars, testament to years of toil.
Once, he had lived under the name Namgung. Thirteen years ago, he was given the Dharma name Ja-pyung.
Now, in his eyes—
a blue radiance flared and surged.
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