CHAPTER 1

Sochunma Yeon Un-hwi

Silky hair cascading down to the waist like a white carpet.

Languid and decadent eyes.

A young man so beautiful that, if he dressed as a woman, people would believe he was a stunning maiden.

However, no one living in the Tian Shan Mountains would dare say such things to his face.

— The Grand Sorcerer of Dark Arts.

— The King of Wandering Spirits in the Nine Heavens.

— The Young Master of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

His titles and epithets were as numerous as the stars in the sky.

— Sochunma (Young Heavenly Demon), Yeon Un-hwi.

He was the young master of the Heavenly Demon Cult, a sect known as the strongest single force in the martial world.

Naturally, all martial artists, regardless of their affiliation, had to be extremely cautious under his gaze.

But the real reason people feared him was something else entirely.

"Is this all you've got, Martial Uncle? If this is it, then as your nephew, I must say I'm rather disappointed."

Look at that venom.

He had just consumed a deadly poison—one that could dissolve an ox with just a handful—yet instead of collapsing, ghostly flames flickered around his eyes.

And despite it all, he smiled, cold and mocking—enough to send chills down the spine of anyone who saw it.

Scattered around him were overturned cups of liquor and the lifeless bodies of more than a dozen elite assassins, each with a hole in their forehead.

Even in a weakened state, he had accomplished all this.

That alone explained what kind of monster Yeon Un-hwi was.

A beast.

Despite being unable to learn martial arts due to his body's condition, he had seized control of the cult purely through his supernatural abilities. In the end, he even rose to the position of Young Master.

The evaluation of him was simple:

— If he smiles, don't look back. Just run. It means you're screwed.

— Get into his good graces, and he'll become a lifelong umbrella of protection for you. That is, if you can.

"He's always been like this. Was he born with a twisted nature, or did his unfortunate body make his personality this way?"

Tsk!

Cheon Hwa-jin, the Deputy Cult Leader who had orchestrated this situation, was far from pleased.

There was a time when Yeon Un-hwi had visited the Central Plains on an inspection tour.

Somehow, word got out, and a young Taoist from the Wudang Sect kept tailing him, annoying him to no end.

In response, Yeon Un-hwi plucked out all of the young man's hair and tossed him into the Shaolin Temple, telling him to get along with the bald monks.

The entire Martial Alliance was in an uproar.

It had been a nightmare to clean up the mess.

And that was just one small example.

The incidents and scandals Yeon Un-hwi caused were endless.

This was always how it went.

Yeon Un-hwi caused the trouble, and Cheon Hwa-jin cleaned up after him.

The real issue was that Yeon Un-hwi's bold and unrestrained actions were earning him more and more support from the younger cultists.

Cheon Hwa-jin could no longer stand by and watch the cult be ruined by that illegitimate brat.

"Indeed. I had intended to teach my dear nephew a lesson for the first time, but it didn't go as planned. My apologies."

"Had my body not been so sluggish, I would have put a hole in your forehead just like them, Martial Uncle. Quite the shame."

"Unfortunately for you, that wouldn't have gone as you wished."

Cheon Hwa-jin responded calmly, but inside, he was seething with rage.

He couldn't allow this orphan to run his mouth any longer.

Everything was already prepared.

Yeon Un-hwi's personal guards had long been eliminated.

The elders had been convinced—they did not want a leader who could not wield the Cult's supreme martial arts.

Even those above had given their approval.

All that remained was execution.

Step, step.

Cheon Hwa-jin walked across the bloodstained floor, littered with corpses.

Despite his distaste, he still acknowledged their master-disciple relationship.

For now, Yeon Un-hwi was still the Young Master of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

So at the very least, he would personally put an end to him.

Master.

Was this the price of trust you spoke of so often?

You were truly naive.

See for yourself.

That bastard struck us in the back, just as I warned.

I wished I could tell my master, who was still deep in slumber within the Heavenly Demon Palace.

Divine Sword Heavenly Demon.

Once, he had shaken the martial world.

Had he not fallen into a qi deviation while researching forbidden arts to heal my crippled dantian, none of this would have happened.

I had been born with a shattered dantian, unable to learn martial arts.

Thus, I had never even practiced basic breathing techniques.

But whether it was a stroke of luck or a cruel twist of fate, I was born with an unusual talent.

— The Eyes of the Dead.

I could see the dead.

No, not just the dead.

I could perceive the unseen forces that lurked in the shadows of the world, communicate with them, and sometimes, even control them.

My master had found me because of this.

"You are not abnormal. You are extraordinary."

That day, I still remember it vividly.

I had been beaten and abandoned under a bridge for claiming to see things that weren't there.

My master reached out his hand to me.

"Ever since the 'Tower' appeared beyond the sky, there have been children like you—those born with highly developed upper dantian or unique spiritual roots. It is not a curse but a blessing."

Extraordinary.

Blessing.

For someone who had lived with nothing but regret, those words were magic.

"And such children always go on to achieve extraordinary things. You will too."

"Really...?"

"Yes. So will you come with me? This old man will help you become the most extraordinary person in the world."

From that moment on, I trained under my master, learning arts that utilized my special abilities.

Yin-Yang magic, talismans, geomancy—secret techniques of the demonic sects, astrology and devilry from the West, even the forbidden rituals of the old Manichean faith.

I pursued them all relentlessly.

Though I could never wield a sword like my master, I could at least assist him in his reign.

Despite all the prejudice and scorn, I endured with a single-minded desire to be like him.

I overcame every obstacle to claim my position over the Cult's successor factions.

But it seemed that even such accomplishments would end today.

"Before I go, let me ask you one thing, Martial Uncle."

Cheon Hwa-jin's smug grin reflected his victory.

I wanted nothing more than to smash that face.

"What is it?"

"Who was behind you? You don't have the guts to orchestrate something this grand. There must be a rat who laid the groundwork."

Cheon Hwa-jin's expression twisted.

"What nonsense—"

"Cut the crap. You're not capable of this."

And so, as everything collapsed, I reached for my last gamble—Rebirth through the Forbidden Ritual.

If I could not be reborn as Yeon Un-hwi…

Then I would simply wake up as someone else.