Chapter 1
Prologue
The wilderness, soaked in deep twilight, was still red.
The body of Nam Yeongshin, Lord of the Southern Heavenly Palace, staggered as he stepped onto the blood-soaked earth.
His left shoulder had been torn off entirely, and three fist-sized holes had been punched through his chest.
His flesh had long since reached its limit. He should have died at any moment.
And yet, the determination driving him forward remained unmistakable.
Squelch!
His leather shoes, stiffened by dried blood, pressed firmly against the ground.
The vivid crimson footprints spoke of an unwavering resolve.
Watching Nam Yeongshin approach, the leader of the Sun and Moon Cult let out a note of admiration.
"Sword Emperor... How interesting. You actually made it this far in the end."
"Interesting?"
Seated casually atop a slanted rock formation split in two, the cult leader rested his chin on one hand with a knee raised.
Despite having his heart pierced and shattered, he appeared utterly relaxed.
Yet Nam Yeongshin could not share that amusement.
Instead, grief leaked from the corners of his lips.
"Did you just call it... interesting?"
His gaze shifted past the cult leader's shoulder.
A gentle hill formed from countless corpses.
Between the bodies flowed blood and torn flesh like a river.
They were the disciples of the Southern Heavenly Palace who had stood beside him against the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.
—
"Palace Lord, the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult has reached Anhui Province. What should we do?"
"A hero's sword must be sharp because it bears responsibility. It must remain straight because it refuses compromise. Is the blade in your hand the sword of a hero, or the sword of a common man?"
"There are no common men among the disciples of the Southern Heavenly Palace. All of us will advance alongside you, Palace Lord."
—
Their final conversation echoed vividly in his ears.
It helped him straighten his posture.
That's right. I taught you that way, and you lived up to it.
His grip tightened around his beloved sword, the Righteous Heaven Sword.
As though the disciples who had gone before him were placing their hands upon his own.
Now... it is my turn.
Nam Yeongshin's lips moved slowly.
"The disciples of the Southern Heavenly Palace never retreated. They advanced to fulfill their responsibility to the martial path they had walked."
Fresh blood spilled from between his parted lips.
Even so, his voice remained clear and majestic.
It was the final praise a master could offer his disciples.
And a vow to himself.
Squelch!
At last, Nam Yeongshin reduced the distance between himself and the cult leader to seven steps.
His ruined body no longer possessed enough blood to spill.
Yet his steps never faltered.
"To those who proved an unbreakable sense of righteousness... how dare you call it interesting."
His voice was as cold as eternal snow, yet beneath it raged a storm of fury.
Perhaps sensing the emotions buried beneath the words, the cult leader's lips curled upward in a sinister smile.
Shing!
Nam Yeongshin raised the Righteous Heaven Sword.
Piercing the man's heart had not killed him.
This time, he intended to sever his head.
Though death loomed near, vitality still overflowed from the cult leader's expression.
"Sword Emperor. Can you bear the consequences?"
Nam Yeongshin's lips closed.
The firm line of his mouth reflected absolute conviction.
"When a swordsman holds a sword in his hand, what is there that he cannot bear?"
Taking his final step, Nam Yeongshin gathered every last shred of strength he possessed.
For a single swing.
As the cult leader formed a strange hand seal—
The Righteous Heaven Sword swept horizontally.
Swoooosh!
A blue sword strike divided heaven and earth.
The endless azure horizon stretched across the battlefield, and the cult leader's neck lay perfectly in its path.
Slash!
A fountain of blood erupted from the cult leader's severed neck.
At that very moment—
[The Black Sun and the Crimson Moon forever yearn for one another. Therefore, they shall never be separated.]
The will contained within the cult leader's spinning head twisted all creation.
BOOOOOOM!
As though the heavens themselves had become a colossal drum, dark crimson ripples spread across the sky.
A deafening roar followed.
The ominous waves swept through his entire body, and Nam Yeongshin's consciousness began to blur.
"So that's it... mutual destruction."
Whatever technique it was, it had clearly been arranged to ensure his death.
Nam Yeongshin collapsed onto the ruins.
Struggling to remain conscious, he thought of his disciples.
Though he had borne the title of Sword Emperor, he had failed to protect them.
Even if he could return to the past, he would still choose to stand against the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.
Yet their deaths remained unbearably painful.
Compared to that grief, the agony of his crushed body was nothing.
I'm sorry... my disciples.
Now it was time to follow them across the River of the Dead.
"The last thing remaining upon my blade... is regret."
If only he had been stronger.
If only he had worked harder.
If only he had struggled more desperately.
If only he had gone a little further.
Perhaps he could have done more than stop the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.
Perhaps he could have saved the Southern Heavenly Palace and his disciples.
Tears flowed from his eyes, mixing with the blood on his cheeks until they became tears of blood.
Nam Yeongshin suddenly looked up at the sky.
The heavens, once hidden beneath the cult leader's demonic aura, were now clearly visible.
They were so blue.
So impossibly high.
That sky embodied the righteousness he and his disciples had sought to protect.
The faces of the disciples who had gone before him appeared faintly among the clouds.
Yet he could not bring himself to reach out.
He had no right.
Such was the fate of a man who protected the martial world but failed to protect his disciples and sect.
When the bloody tears finally ceased flowing down his weathered face—
The breath that had connected Nam Yeongshin to heaven and earth came to an end as well.
He died embracing the Righteous Heaven Sword, his lifelong companion.
The lofty southern sky shone with a deep azure light as it descended toward him.
It was late autumn.
"Mumyeong! You bastard, get up! You sluggish worm!"
A furious shout invaded his sleep.
At the same time, a dull pain flared in his chest like fire.
Mumyeong groaned and opened his eyes.
Before him stood a middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely.
Deoksam.
His fist was already clenched.
"You're a sword attendant, and you're still sleeping?"
A Sword Attendant.
Literally, a boy who managed swords.
In reality, it meant a porter and servant who carried burdens and handled every menial task imaginable.
Deoksam lifted his foot and stomped down on Mumyeong's face.
"If an orphan with blocked meridians gets a name and a way to earn a living, he ought to be grateful. And you're pretending to be sick? Slacking off?"
Thud! Bam!
Though he acted angry, the corners of Deoksam's mouth twisted ever so slightly.
He was smiling.
Clearly enjoying the beating.
But Mumyeong's mind was focused elsewhere.
What happened? I clearly died.
The Southern Heavenly Palace.
The Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.
The disciples who had fallen before him.
His final battle to the death against the cult leader.
The memories were vivid.
And not only those.
The entire life of Nam Yeongshin flowed through his mind like a dream.
This isn't merely a dream.
Mumyeong instinctively understood.
In his previous life, he had been the Sword Emperor.
And now, he had been reincarnated into the body of Mumyeong.
A thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
The cult leader's final message before death.
The Black Sun and the Crimson Moon forever yearn for one another. Therefore, they shall never be separated.
Could that final will have somehow defied the heavens?
Mumyeong brushed the hair hanging over his eyes back.
Behind it, a blade seemed reflected within his pupils.
Thud!
Deoksam's kick was stopped by Mumyeong's hand.
"Hah! You dare grab my foot? Today I'll just kill you—huh?"
Deoksam put strength into his leg, but Mumyeong's grip remained unmoving, like a steel vise.
As the force lifting his foot became increasingly apparent, Deoksam's eyes trembled.
This bastard was groaning in pain just yesterday!
Overwhelmed by the cold gaze staring back at him, Deoksam unconsciously stumbled backward and fell onto his rear.
Meanwhile, Mumyeong slowly rose to his feet.
Simply standing upright with his back straight gave off an untouchable dignity.
It was a presence no one had ever seen from him before.
He looked like a noble young master experiencing the outside world for the first time, not a nameless orphan.
Mumyeong lowered his gaze slightly.
His cold eyes settled upon the worn sword hanging at Deoksam's waist.
"You torment someone younger than you who knows no martial arts? You have no right to carry a sword."
The wandering martial artists who had been silently watching finally burst into laughter.
"Just how much of a pushover are you for a sword attendant to climb all over your head? And it's a sickly brat with blocked meridians, no less."
"Pathetic! Deoksam, why don't you just go plow fields instead?"
The ridicule and mockery from his fellow wanderers turned Deoksam's face bright red.
"Mumyeong! Do all people with blocked meridians go insane like you?!"
Furious, Deoksam sprang to his feet and reached for his sword.
But Mumyeong's hand moved first.
At some point, he had already gripped the hilt in a reverse grip.
"Heavy."
The moment he tried to draw it, he understood naturally.
With this frail body, even drawing a single sword was difficult.
Even so, there was not the slightest hesitation in his movements.
The swordsmanship accumulated over a lifetime as the Sword Emperor was not something so trivial as weight could hinder.
The body was different, but the techniques engraved into memory remained vivid.
Instinctively, Mumyeong used not merely his arm, but his entire body.
Shing!
The sword that seemed impossible to draw slid free smoothly.
Holding the blade upright, Mumyeong swung upward with force.
The draw became a slash in one seamless motion.
Swoosh!
A harsh metallic scrape rang out from the scabbard.
Then came the wet sound of flesh being severed.
"AAAAAGH!"
The instant the sword was drawn, Deoksam's arm flew through the air.
The eyes of the wanderers and sword attendants widened to their limits.
"My arm! My arm—!"
"Raise your head."
Deoksam slowly lifted his face.
He had no choice.
Mumyeong's voice was stern and burning, like heated steel.
It carried a weight capable of making one forget pain and loss alike.
The way he casually flicked blood from the sword was completely natural.
The relaxed posture with which he held the blade resembled that of a swordsman at the peak of his craft.
He clearly knew no martial arts.
Yet a chilling sword intent leaked from beneath his eyelids.
There was not the slightest trace of the cowardly and pitiful boy everyone knew.
"Ah..."
Mumyeong had become a completely different person.
Deoksam desperately looked around for help.
No one moved.
No—
No one could.
Not a single person dared step closer to Mumyeong.
As if an invisible barrier surrounded him.
The wanderers, whose lives constantly brushed against death, instinctively understood.
The closer they approached Mumyeong, the closer they came to crossing the line into death.
Deoksam felt it as well.
He stood directly at the crossroads between life and death.
"M-Mumyeong! Mumyeong! I'm sorry!"
Using his remaining left hand, Deoksam hurriedly rummaged through his clothes.
A money pouch.
Jerky.
A few medicinal pellets.
Even unidentified roots and herbs.
He dumped everything onto the ground before bowing his head repeatedly.
"It isn't enough to repay how I've treated you until now, but... please take these and forgive me."
Mumyeong looked down at the crown of Deoksam's head, nearly touching the ground.
At the same time, the memories remaining within this body surfaced.
Days when proper clothes and food were provided were rare.
Whenever Deoksam was bored or angry, violence followed.
Rather than paying him for his work as a sword attendant, he extorted him without hesitation.
In dangerous situations, he used him as bait or a human shield.
Even when attacks caused by his blocked meridians struck, Deoksam never sought medicine or a physician.
He only kicked him harder.
These were Mumyeong's final memories.
Deoksam had always treated him with malice.
Like a toy kept around for amusement.
"I don't even need to see your face to know. What use is a treasure-laden apology without sincerity?"
The moment Deoksam's shoulders twitched—
A line so clean it seemed to chill the air itself passed through space.
The sword strike carried all the suffering Mumyeong had endured.
And so the path traced by the blade was extraordinarily cold.
Slash!
Deoksam's head dropped to the ground.
The headless body slowly tilted over, staining the earth dark red.
Just as he had treated Mumyeong as worthless, he too departed as something worthless.
"For the past five years, this is the price for oppressing and humiliating the weak. Your head shall serve as payment."
The gazes of the surrounding wanderers fixed upon Deoksam's severed head rolling across the dirt.
Mumyeong was right.
Deoksam's final expression was simultaneously pitiful and full of resentment.
Like a wolf crouching low while waiting for an opportunity to strike.
"One who does not take responsibility for his own martial path has no right to wield a sword."
Mumyeong's murmur weighed heavily upon the air.
I couldn't even follow that move with my eyes.
Deoksam died that easily?
Since when could Mumyeong use a sword like that?
Mumyeong had been born with blocked meridians.
Any mediocre cultivation method, let alone high-level martial arts, was impossible for him to practice.
He was so frail that even simple training exhausted him, and he occasionally suffered violent attacks.
Thinking about it now, the miracle was that he had survived at all.
Was there a reason he stubbornly clung to life all this time?
Good heavens... he was hiding his strength!
The wanderers looked at Mumyeong with fear clouding their eyes.
The other sword attendants stared at him with awe.
Each of them trembled for their own reasons, unable to move.
After glancing over the crowd once, Mumyeong was about to speak.
RIIIP!
SPLAT!
The sounds of flesh tearing apart and something wet spilling onto the ground echoed endlessly.
"AAAAAGH!"
"Demonic cultists! It's the demonic cultists!"
"The Sun and Moon Demonic Cult! Run!"
Mumyeong's head snapped toward the source of the screams.
The Sun and Moon Demonic Cult?
Voices filled with killing intent rang out from all directions.
"Secure the one with blocked meridians first!"
"Seal off the area! Block the southeastern path!"
Mumyeong's eyes narrowed.
Instinctively, he understood.
He understood exactly what the cultists wanted.
Blocked meridians? Are they looking for me?
Quickly surveying the surroundings, he saw wandering martial artists and sword attendants being slaughtered helplessly.
I cannot ignore this.
Mumyeong tightened his grip on the sword.
His body belonged to Mumyeong.
But his mind belonged to the Sword Emperor.
While everyone else fled—
Only Mumyeong advanced straight ahead.
The courage to walk in the exact opposite direction from ordinary people.
That was the martial path of the Sword Emperor.
Step.
Mumyeong's footsteps rang out with unusual weight.