“Hey, what are you standing there all dazed for?”

“..Ah, sorry, young master.”

“Huh?”

When I replied with an awkward smile, Wang Boheon widened his eyes and stared straight at me.

“What’s with the ‘young master’ all of a sudden? And what’s with the formal speech?”

Only then did I realize what I’d done wrong.

At this time… both Wang Boheon and I were still young. Naturally, we weren’t well-versed in manners or formalities, and we treated each other like friends of the same age. So of course, I’d never called him ‘young master’ before.

“Ah, I just thought… maybe it’s about time I start calling you that properly.”

“There’s no one else around—no father, no servants. It’s fine when it’s just us. Besides, it feels weird to have a handsome guy like you calling me ‘young master,’ man.”

“…”

That part hadn’t changed. I scratched my head and avoided answering.

I was ugly.

I hadn’t lived a particularly long life, but I’d met countless people in that time. Having spent over ten years in the Murim Alliance surrounded by warriors and workers alike, it would’ve been stranger if I hadn’t met so many faces.

Yet among all those people… there hadn’t been a single one uglier than me. Sadly, that was the honest truth.

Come to think of it, that in itself was quite an accomplishment. Warriors and laborers often aged far faster than scholars or nobles who lived with ink-stained fingers. A farmer’s face could look twenty years older than that of a scholar the same age.

Sure, martial artists slowed aging somewhat with internal energy cultivation—but that came with a different problem. They lived by the sword, and so their bodies bore the scars of that life.

Having a sword scar on your face was practically common. Missing an ear, an eye—it wasn’t rare either. There were plenty with fearsome appearances, yet somehow, I was uglier than even those people.

At least those men drew fear or pity when they passed by. Me? People would point, curse, or even spit on me—for no reason. Even though I wore a sword at my waist.

It had been the same since childhood, which was why Wang Boheon often teased me by saying the opposite—that I was handsome.

“Anyway! I was gonna say we should go play on the back mountain.”

“Isn’t it your study time right now?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Father went to another village anyway.”

Hearing him giggle, I suddenly remembered what today was.
A day I must never forget.
The day my entire life changed.

Today—was the day this village would be destroyed.
Soon, everyone in it would die. Everyone except me.

That nightmarish day…
The river of blood that flowed through the streets.
The countless corpses strewn everywhere.
The burning houses.

How had I managed to forget all that until now?

“..Alright. Let’s go.”

Running around the back mountain with Wang Boheon made it painfully clear this wasn’t a dream.

Even while talking, I’d had my doubts—but once I started moving, the sensations were undeniable.

The solid earth beneath my feet.
The faint smell of cow dung wafting from the village.
The nostalgic scent of grass in the mountain breeze.
The chirping of nameless birds.
And—deep within me, that faint, bubbling warmth…

Internal energy.

‘…How do I still have internal energy?’

Of course, the amount wasn’t much—someone like me who’d practiced the Jeonguigong for a few years had nothing impressive.
A young heir from a great clan would probably have more.

But having some at all was worlds apart from having none.
And I couldn’t understand why it was still there.
At this age, I was just a village kid with no martial arts training.
So how?

And more importantly… how had I gone back in time?
Was I under some kind of illusion?
No—this was too real. The line between dream and reality didn’t exist here.

And even if it was an illusion… why would someone cast such a powerful spell on me?

People always said never to provoke a sorcerer… but this level of power? This was divine.

“Ugh… I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah… want to roast some crayfish?”

“Ha! You read my mind. I was just thinking that!”

After running all around, even energetic kids got tired eventually.
I remembered this clearly—back then, too, Wang Boheon had suggested catching fish and crayfish by the stream.

Of course, for two little kids, catching fish was nearly impossible, and the crayfish were so tiny they barely filled your stomach.
But that wasn’t the point. The fun was in the catching, the cooking, the laughing.

Unlike the sweaty Wang Boheon, I didn’t even break a sweat as I walked toward the stream.
And then—I froze.

‘Who the hell is that!?’

The water flowed gently, reflecting my face on its surface.
Except… that face wasn’t mine.

How should I even describe it?
It wasn’t my face.
It wasn’t the face I’d seen all my life and grown to hate for its ugliness.

‘Handsome… incredibly handsome. Even as a kid, this face… it’s like looking at Prince Nanling, the famed beauty Gao Sook!’

Back in the Murim Alliance, I’d sometimes overhear the female warriors gossiping about the Four Great Beauties of the Martial World—Gao Sook, Ban Ak, and two others I couldn’t remember.

Of course, the moment they noticed me passing by, their laughter would vanish, replaced by disgusted scowls and dagger-like glares.

“Hey, Wang Chil. Catch some crayfish while I gather firewood. I’ll start the fire and wash up a bit.”

Wang Boheon spoke beside me, still unaware of my shock.
Just like before.

He’d never treated me like a servant, despite my position.
Even now, he was volunteering for the harder job.

And because of that kindness… he died.

“No, I’ll go get the firewood. You go wash first.”

“Huh?”

“I’m still full of energy. You wash up while I grab some branches—maybe some berries or mushrooms too.”

“Really? Alright then.”

Wang Boheon agreed easily and began undressing.
I turned away and headed into the woods.

Last time, it had been the opposite.
I’d stayed to catch fish and crayfish while he went into the forest—
And he never came back.

Firewood didn’t take long to gather.
It wasn’t difficult for either of us.
Yet he’d been gone far too long.

Back then, I hadn’t even noticed.
I was too busy trying to catch a huge fish in the shallow stream, blocking its escape with rocks and flailing around like an idiot.

By the time I finally slammed the fish against a rock and killed it,
The sky was already dimming.
And Wang Boheon… still hadn’t returned.

There was no way he got lost—he’d grown up here.
Even in the dark, he would’ve found his way.
No, the reason he didn’t return—

“Hey there, handsome kid. Come here, let’s have a chat.”

“..!”

—was this.

I slowly turned toward the voice.
A man stood there in tattered, filthy clothes.

They were full of holes, stained dark with what could only be dried blood.
He held a large sword in one hand, and a small dagger hung from his belt.

At best, he looked like a wandering vagrant.
At worst, a half-crazed beggar.
Men like that often carried short blades—not as weapons, but as tools for gutting animals or chopping meat.

“Wh-Who are you?”

“The name’s Wang Ak. Don’t be scared, kid. Just wanna ask a few questions.”

“I’m… Wang Chil.”

“Oh? You’re a Wang too? Haha… makes me feel a little softhearted now.”

Wang Ak grinned, showing yellowed, broken teeth.
If he felt ‘softhearted,’ it could only mean one thing—he was thinking about killing me.

Wang Boheon had died to this man.
I hadn’t known the details back then, only learned later that the massacre had been caused by a roaming killer.

This man must’ve tricked Wang Boheon into revealing the village’s location, killed him, then descended upon the town—
Slaughtering, burning, torturing… until he was finally caught by the pursuing martial artists.

I’d survived only because I was by the stream.
And when I returned, I found that hellscape…
The old man had found me standing there in shock and taken me in.

As I stepped closer, a foul stench hit me—the smell unique to unwashed vagabonds.
Wang Ak chuckled and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“So, you live around here?”

“Y-Yes… what about you, mister?”

“Watch your tongue, brat. Call me ‘sir.’ You’re speaking to a martial artist.”

“A-A martial artist!?”

“That’s right. I’ve cut down hundreds with this sword, boy.”

He slammed his sword into the dirt before me, smirking proudly.
It was an obvious lie.

He wasn’t a martial artist—just a lowlife thug.
But to ordinary villagers with no training, that made no difference.

“Kid, I need a place to rest for a while. Which way’s your village?”

“Ah! You’re in luck, sir. Our village has a fine inn! It’s big—lots of travelers from escort agencies pass by, you see. The lady who runs it is beautiful, and her cooking’s amazing too!”

“Hoho… is that so…”

As I babbled nonsense, he chuckled, clearly believing every word.

Then he started muttering about how long it had been since he’d had a woman, saying all sorts of disgusting things.

Perfect. He wasn’t paying any attention to me.

That confirmed it—this man had no right to live.
If I let him go, the village would suffer again.
This time, I could deliver the vengeance I’d missed.

I moved without hesitation.

Even as my hand gripped the dagger at his belt,
Even as I pulled it free in one smooth motion,
Even as I spun and slashed across his throat—

He didn’t react.

“…!? ..!”

It was a cheap blade, but with internal energy behind it, flesh and bone parted easily.
Before the blood could even spray, I kicked him away and leapt back to avoid the splatter.

He fell on his back, clutching at his gushing neck, making a horrible wheezing sound.
Those dying breaths—like air leaking through metal.

I stood there, coldly watching him thrash on the ground.