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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Reincarnated
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"They say you can't fix a person, just throw them out."
Why did it take a sword in my back for those words to hit home?
Puuk!
A blade pierced through my back.
"Kuhk!"
Blood sprayed in a fountain.
I sneered at the pathetic end drawing near.
I'd devoted my entire life to the clan.
Yet the reward was this sword through my back.
'Is this all true loyalty gets you?'
My past life flashed before me like a lantern show.
Nameless, without a proper name.
Taken in by the Cheon Clan's Patriarch, I was called Nameless instead of given one.
"Protect this child. That will be the reason for your life."
Nameless trained relentlessly.
All for the sake of becoming the bodyguard to the Cheon Clan's Eldest Young Master, Cheon Muryang.
'Why didn't I realize back then what a vicious spoiled brat he was?'
But Cheon Muryang was a spoiled brat.
The Patriarch drove the wayward boy mercilessly.
Was it rebellion against that?
Cheon Muryang turned into a wastrel.
Even after becoming Patriarch himself, his rotten nature never changed.
'Patriarch, are you watching? You should have... just abandoned that brat.'
By the time Nameless became his bodyguard, it was already too late.
Cheon Muryang's wastrel ways were fully formed by then.
The early days were somewhat bearable.
Because the Patriarch was still alive.
But then the Patriarch died suddenly.
'After that, Cheon Muryang became Patriarch...'
Amid the great chaos, Cheon Muryang took the seat.
But nothing changed.
The clan declined sharply, and those loyal to the Cheon Clan were all driven out.
In the end, only fawning jackals who groveled remained.
'I should have left then, at least...'
I should have left.
Yet Nameless stayed by Cheon Muryang's side.
Desperate to somehow prop up the crumbling Cheon Clan.
But there was only so much Nameless could do.
And in the midst of it all, Cheon Muryang made an irredeemable choice.
'He brought in the Demonic Cult.'
I still didn't know why.
But Cheon Muryang joined hands with the Demonic Cult.
'Something that should never have been done.'
By the time Nameless learned of it, the Demonic Cult had already shown its true colors.
In an instant, the Cheon Clan went up in flames.
The clan I'd sworn to protect my whole life was heading to annihilation so pointlessly.
"So devotion's reward... was this sword."
The lantern show ended.
Time passed once more.
Clang.
The sword fell from my hand.
I turned to see who had stabbed me, and a hollow laugh escaped.
Tremble, tremble.
There stood the Cheon Clan's Patriarch, Cheon Muryang, shaking like a leaf.
"I did everything to save you, Young Master... and now you're the one killing me. They promised to spare you if you brought them my head?"
I understood.
He wanted to live.
That's why I couldn't understand.
Nameless smiled coldly.
"You thought that was the way to survive?"
If he wanted to live,
he never should have brought them in.
"You're wrong."
Cheon Muryang didn't know.
To them, all this was just a game.
Slice.
Cheon Muryang's head fell.
An end foretold.
The Young Master I'd protected so fiercely met such a pathetic demise.
"A fool."
I sneered.
That mockery was aimed squarely at myself.
"From the very start..."
I never should have served the Young Master.
Cough!
I spat out a handful of blood.
My blood was already dead; pitch-black, without a hint of red.
"No. Who is there to blame...?"
At this point, who could I blame? Who could I resent?
"Just regret."
Regret for failing to spread my wings across the blue clouds.
For never achieving my dream of standing tall as a master of the martial world.
And regret for the innocents dying here today.
Nameless sneered one last time at the black shadows encircling him.
"In my next life, I hope I'm not born Nameless again."
Puuk!
Dozens of swords pierced Nameless.
Drip, drip.
Blood flowed.
And so, the nameless one died.
'Cold.'
Death was frigid.
I thought that was the end.
Drip, drip, drip.
But suddenly, the sound of running water hit me, and my feet felt icy.
"Ack! It's cold!"
I opened my eyes.
This wasn't the afterlife.
"Am I... alive?"
The sword through my back.
The sensation of dozens more blades stealing my life—they were still vivid.
But what was this ticklish feeling?
"Y-Young Master?"
A unfamiliar voice came from below.
My head naturally tilted down.
A young maid was scrubbing my feet.
"Ugh, ack!"
"W-Why, Young Master? I-I'm sorry! Did I do something wrong?"
"N-No, just... dizzy for a moment..."
I quickly calmed my startled heart.
'Feels familiar.'
The voice wasn't unfamiliar at all.
And the maid washing my feet—I definitely knew her face.
"You're Wol Yeong, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes, Young Master. If I've made any mistake, please forgive me generously."
Wol Yeong was the maid who served the Eldest Young Master.
And she was also the girl constantly abused by him.
Shiver.
So even as she continued speaking calmly, her trembling hands betrayed her.
Seeing this, I felt doubt stir.
'She's different from the Wol Yeong in my memories.'
In my memories, Wol Yeong was cold as ice.
She never showed emotion, no matter how the Young Master tormented her.
'She's still young.'
But what about now?
A terrified little maid.
Her fear was plain as day.
'What the hell happened?'
I asked Wol Yeong.
"Why are you calling me Young Master? Where is Eldest Young Master Cheon Muryang?"
"Pardon?"
The fear vanished in an instant.
Replaced by confusion.
"Aren't you Eldest Young Master Cheon Muryang?"
"W-What?"
I instinctively looked at the basin by my feet.
The reflection in the water was the coward who'd stabbed me: Cheon Muryang's face.
"T-This can't be...!"
Impossible.
I wanted to call it a dream, but I knew better than anyone this was real.
"Wol Yeong."
"Yes?"
"How old am I?"
"You're Scholar's Age this year."
"Hm..."
Scholar's Age was fifteen.
On the day Nameless died, Cheon Muryang had only been Established Age—not even thirty.
Fifteen years thrown into the past.
'Absurd. How could I become the Young Master?'
Impossible.
I wanted to call it a dream, but I knew better than anyone this was real.
So I asked.
"One more question."
"Yes?"
"Is there anyone in the clan called Nameless?"
Wol Yeong pondered briefly.
No matter how she thought, no such name existed.
"No, there isn't."
"I see..."
My existence was gone.
I felt a strange sensation.
'I've become Cheon Muryang... and because of that, Nameless me is erased?'
A hollow laugh escaped.
'I said I didn't want to be born Nameless again before dying, but...'
How could I reincarnate as the very lord I served?
Grind.
Cheon Muryang ground his teeth.
It was too vivid to dismiss as a dream—the life Nameless had lived.
In the future I'd foreseen, the one who led the Cheon Clan to destruction was Cheon Muryang himself.
'I couldn't stop it.'
Nameless hadn't been able to stop it.
The chilling sensation of death was still fresh.
'But maybe... this is a chance.'
It might be an opportunity.
A chance to fix the Cheon Clan that Cheon Muryang ruined.
'I don't know why. I don't know how. But it doesn't matter.'
The reason didn't matter.
Whatever principle brought me back.
It didn't matter.
'I'll protect the Cheon Clan.'
That was protecting myself—and fulfilling Nameless's duty to protect Eldest Young Master Cheon Muryang.
'I have to accept it.'
Nameless was dead.
And I had to accept that I was now Cheon Muryang.
'I am Cheon Muryang.'
Nameless's consciousness shifted to Cheon Muryang's.
Wol Yeong cautiously addressed him.
"Y-Young Master?"
"Yes, Wol Yeong."
Cheon Muryang smiled at her.
Wol Yeong had suffered greatly because of the wastrel Young Master.
Yet even at the moment of his death, she never left the clan.
Knowing that, Cheon Muryang trusted her.
"Let's get along from now on."
He patted the bewildered Wol Yeong's shoulder with a smile.
"...?"
Wol Yeong couldn't hide her confusion.
Before she could compose herself, Cheon Muryang pondered what needed doing first.
"Training clothes?"
"Ah, right here."
Wol Yeong opened the wardrobe.
It was packed with crisp, neatly arranged martial robes.
Cheon Muryang clicked his tongue.
They looked untouched.
"Tch."
"Should I prepare casual clothes?"
"No need. I'll be wearing these from now on anyway."
The Cheon Clan was a martial family.
Martial robes were everyday wear.
To the still-unadjusted Wol Yeong, Cheon Muryang stated his destination.
"I'm heading to the Heavenly Dragon Library."
"Pardon? The Heavenly Dragon Library?"
"Yes. Any problem?"
"N-No! Of course not."
"And grab an extra set of training clothes."
"Pardon?"
"Planning to go to the training grounds after the library. Nice to have a change."
"Ah... Yes!"
Wol Yeong nodded, recalling how other maids always carried spares.
"I'll prepare them."
"Thanks."
Wol Yeong left.
Cheon Muryang undressed.
Then examined his body's state.
"Hm..."
Cheon Muryang was born a golden spoon.
Fed elixirs like Azure Void Spirit Oil from birth.
"That was the problem. To this wastrel Young Master, it was poison..."
Cheon Muryang gave a wry smile.
Born into a martial artist's dream environment, the idiot had kicked it away.
Elixirs and spirit milks brought external energies—but they had to be refined through relentless effort into one's own.
"Instead of melting those energies through training, he skipped it all and wasted his potential."
Each elixir held unique essences.
Conflicts between them were inevitable.
Cultivation arts were needed to harmonize them, but with no training, Cheon Muryang's body crumbled from within.
"Whew. Signs already at this age. Must have been painful..."
Upon inspection,
clumps of elixir energies were clashing inside.
The backlash showed: bloated flesh.
"Tch."
His worsening wastrel ways might have been to forget the pain.
"Young Master, I have no intention of living like you."
He didn't want to see the Cheon Clan fall.
Nor meet a wretched end.
It wasn't just about him.
'Countless who died for the clan.'
Wol Yeong too.
Innumerable clan retainers would die.
'I'll protect them all, including myself.'
To do that, he needed strength.
Grip!
He yearned to grow strong.
"So don't feel wronged. I'm just walking the path you should have."
Glance.
A sword entered Cheon Muryang's view.
The Heavenly Light Sword, bestowed on the Cheon Clan's Eldest Young Master—a famed blade.
But its owner being what he was, it had been mocked as a pearl around a pig's neck.
"Don't grieve that your master's changed."
Whoooong!
Cheon Muryang gripped the sword.
A clear, resonant chime rang out—something never heard in his past life.
The sword's will reached him.
"Thank you. First things first: time for some polishing."
Before heading to the Heavenly Dragon Library,
Cheon Muryang first cleaned the long-neglected Heavenly Light Sword, caked in dust.
Then, with its shine restored and sheathed at his waist, he stepped outside.
"Ah..."
Sunlight poured down.
The sensation he'd thought lost forever tickled him.
"I really have been reborn..."
No time for sentiment.
Cheon Muryang headed straight for the Heavenly Dragon Library.
"Young Master!"
Wol Yeong waited ahead.
"Yeah. Only I can enter the library anyway, so rest nearby."
"Pardon?"
Wol Yeong's eyes widened.
She'd thought the wastrel Young Master odd since morning, but he seemed truly changed.
"Y-Young Master."
"Hm?"
"Did... the stir-fried mushrooms yesterday not suit your taste?"
In other words, had he eaten something bad?
Cheon Muryang shrugged.
"Not sure if you'll believe me, but those mushrooms must've caused my rebirth."
"Pardon?"
Even more baffling.
Leaving the confused Wol Yeong, Cheon Muryang tried entering the library.
Clank!
Were it not for the guards blocking him.
"What is it?"
"Unauthorized persons may not enter the Heavenly Dragon Library, Young Master."
"Don't I have permission?"
"No. The Patriarch revoked it. Have you forgotten?"
"Ah, right."
Now he remembered.
No interest in martial arts, so the Patriarch stripped even his library access.
Meant to make him reflect and beg forgiveness—but how would a top-tier wastrel get it?
'He probably just said "Great!" and got drunk.'
Now changed, he wanted to see the Patriarch first.
To apologize and regain access.
"The Patriarch is away on a trip."
"When will he return?"
"We don't know."
What could he do?
Cheon Muryang lightly praised their diligent guarding.
"Can't be helped. Carry on, then."
"..."
He ignored their slightly surprised looks.
'What, expecting me to throw a tantrum?'
The wastrel label on Cheon Muryang ran deeper than thought.
He approached Wol Yeong.
"No permission for me."
"Ah..."
Wol Yeong grasped the situation.
Expecting him to go back for drinks, probably.
"Well, training until he returns. I know the basics anyway."
"Pardon?"
In the past, only basic clan martial arts were allowed him.
Enough to serve as the Eldest Young Master's bodyguard.
"Didn't hear? Heading to the training grounds. Follow me."
"A-Ah, yes!"
No choice for Wol Yeong, so she hurried after his striding figure.
'Please, no trouble...'
Hoping for no incidents.
The Cheon Clan had many training grounds.
The one nearest the Heavenly Dragon Library had been for Cheon Muryang alone, but that privilege revoked, it was now public.
Swish!
Swish, swish!
Countless trainees swung swords, honing themselves.
Day and night immersed in martial arts, aiming to become official Cheon Clan warriors.
To them, Cheon Muryang was the clan heir—but a wastrel they refused to acknowledge as lord.
"Where's a spot?"
Halt.
Everyone froze as the infamous wastrel appeared.
Gazes converged.
Unaware or uncaring,
Cheon Muryang took a corner spot.
"Sit and rest there."
"Y-Yes!"
Cheon Muryang drew the polished Heavenly Light Sword from its sheath.
"Hm. A famed sword is different."
The cheap iron sword Nameless once wielded couldn't compare.
"No more excuses about a bad sword."
Grip!
He gripped it.
Not the callused hands of old; it felt rough.
'How long since I felt the sword's weight...?'
New body, new grip.
Unfamiliar, yet thrilling.
'I'
Whooo!
Clear sky.
The Heavenly Light Sword soared upward.
'can grow strong.'
Infused with that resolve, it plunged to the earth.