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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Heavenly Demon
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Some crazy old man was spouting utter nonsense while holding a blade to my throat.
Normally, I would have dropped to my knees and begged for mercy right away.
Ever since dealing with complainers as a civil servant, I'd tossed half my pride out the window. In my first year, I'd seen too many cases where clinging to pride just made things go to shit.
It had only gotten worse since coming to this world.
In a place where martial artists went berserk, screwing up didn't just tangle things up—it meant getting crippled or killed nine times out of ten.
But for some reason, my knees just wouldn't bend.
What was it?
Just... fucking infuriating.
Maybe disgust at myself for years of living without any pride.
Or rebellion against kneeling to the bastards who might have killed Tae-hyeon, the man who'd treated me like a son for a year.
Or maybe this young body was ignoring reason and giving in to instinctive rage.
Or all of that mixed together.
I didn't know the reason.
My body and mouth just ignored the rational screams of "Kneel now and beg for your life!"
"What bullshit."
At the irreverent words, the old man's eyebrows twitched, his Mount Tai-like aura surging.
"...What did you just say?"
But despite that overwhelming presence, my mouth moved on its own.
"You kill a man like a father to me, and now you want me as your disciple? Go insane quietly, you senile murdering bastard!!"
Unleashing a stream of curses at the old coot felt damn refreshing.
At the same time, searing pain shot through the back of my neck.
As my vision blurred in an instant, the thought crossed my mind.
'Guess I'm getting stabbed and dying again.'
Was this really the end this time?
Or would I reincarnate or possess someone else again?
With those hollow thoughts, I lost consciousness.
* * *
"Urgh."
A dull ache throbbed through my entire body as I groaned and opened my eyes.
What met them was an unfamiliar ceiling.
'Crazy. Possessed again?'
But that hopeful thought shattered at the voice from beside me.
"You're awake."
"!?"
Goosebumps erupted across my skin in an instant.
It wasn't a voice I'd talked to much with, but one I'd never forget.
It was the old man who had shoved a blade into my throat.
"H-How?"
The old man, looking down at me from the side, responded to my loaded mutter.
"What do you mean?"
"Why am I still alive?"
The moment I asked, a horrifying possibility flashed through my mind.
'He hasn't finished venting his anger!?'
Bored of a quick kill, maybe he planned to drag me around and torture me bit by bit!
As visions of a gruesome future filled my head, the old man burst into hearty laughter for some reason.
"Hahahahaha."
It felt bizarre.
The old man who'd exuded a Mount Tai-like aura before I blacked out was gone.
Same face, same voice, yet he radiated no ferocity—like a completely harmless being.
Maybe because of his serene demeanor, I finally pulled myself together and scanned my surroundings.
'A carriage...?'
It seemed I was riding in one with the old man.
Just then, having laughed his fill, the old man stroked his long beard calmly and spoke.
"First, we should clear up the misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?"
"Hmm. Not sure if you'll believe me or not, but we didn't assassinate that inn's owner."
"..."
At the mention of the man, my expression hardened involuntarily.
This young body apparently couldn't hide intense emotions well.
What can I say? I could stomach bending my own pride, but smiling at my benefactor's killer was a bridge too far.
"Then who killed him?"
"The Martial Alliance's doing."
"...Trying to pin it on them?"
The Martial Alliance was the righteous faction's coalition. Most martial artists were like modern gangsters or thugs, but the Alliance at least pretended to be the good guys.
Shifting blame to them suggested this old man was definitely some demonic fiend or villain with a grudge against the Alliance.
"Quite the opposite. The Alliance killed the inn owner and tried to frame me for it."
"Why would the Martial Alliance do that?"
"Only then could they smear my name and rally their forces against me."
Listening to him, I wondered if he had dementia.
This old coot claims framing one geezer would unite the righteous sects?
But recalling the immense aura I'd glimpsed before passing out, it didn't sound entirely like nonsense.
"Then what was that slicing sound from the kitchen?"
"That was us killing the Martial Alliance assassin who poisoned the inn owner. I never planned to stop at that inn in the first place—just dropped in on a whim. Doesn't it make no sense that the owner served me poison as if prepared for my arrival?"
Finishing there, the old man twitched his eyebrows as if remembering something, then spoke calmly.
"Come to think of it, this must be quite the injustice for you and the inn owner. Just because I showed up, you both got dragged into this."
Seeing his genuinely apologetic face stirred complicated feelings.
Back when I was a civil servant, apologies like that only egged on entitled complainers to throw more tantrums.
In other words, this was the perfect moment to vent at the old man or throw my weight around.
'But somehow, it's similar yet totally different from what I'm used to.'
Maybe because I'd glimpsed his true power, it felt that way.
Like the final mercy from a predator?
My whole body screamed warnings: underestimate his kindness, and he'd tear me apart.
So instead of raging, I asked calmly.
"Then why didn't you say so back then? It feels like you came up with a convenient excuse while I was out."
Stroking his beard, the old man replied.
"Two main reasons. First, there wasn't time for lengthy explanations."
Seeing my confused look, he elaborated.
"The assassin poisoning the inn meant the Alliance had caught my trail, so their hounds would swarm soon enough. Their dogs don't scare me, but fighting while protecting a promising disciple candidate I hadn't seen in ages wouldn't be easy."
"Then why force that choice on me?"
"That's the second reason. With time short, I wanted to test you."
"???"
"No matter how talented in martial arts, a twisted heart would only breed disaster if I took you in. Though due to a misunderstanding, I liked your spirit—choosing death over becoming your enemy's disciple. Heh heh heh."
"..."
So, my defiant cursing actually impressed him?
What was this, some drama from ten years ago? 'You're the first to treat me this way'?
But the absurdity faded quickly.
'If I'd agreed to be his disciple, I'd be dead?'
Fresh goosebumps prickled my skin.
My impulsive rebellion had ironically saved my life.
Then, having explained everything, the old man asked.
"Now do you understand a bit?"
"...I can't fully trust it, but it makes sense."
Not just because his words were logical.
The biggest reason: he was keeping me alive.
He'd brought along the brat who spat curses and refused discipleship.
That illogical act in this world made him seem less like a indiscriminate killer.
As I sorted those thoughts, I snapped back and met the old man's steady gaze.
Like a serene, bottomless lake.
I couldn't fathom its depths, but it reflected me completely, reading my every thought.
Feeling that eerie sensation, I spoke with a sliver of hope.
"But I don't fully believe you. So I can't become your disciple. Instead, let me off here, and I'll head back to the village to investigate the inn incident."
True or not, I didn't want to get tangled in martial world affairs.
People dropped dead every day in this brutal place.
All I wanted was a peaceful, stable life of working just enough and resting plenty—pure Work-Life Balance.
But the old man, who'd been mild until now, shook his head firmly.
"Impossible."
"...May I ask why?"
"Simple logic. Why would I bring along someone who hasn't agreed to be my disciple?"
"..."
What, to force me into servitude after kidnapping me?
I couldn't voice that.
He scared me, but more because it didn't add up.
If he planned to force me, there'd be no need for this kindness.
Meeting the eyes that seemed to wait for my own answer, I reached a conclusion.
"To prevent me ending up like Tae-hyeon, killed by the Martial Alliance?"
"Exactly. As long as you live as a witness, their plan to frame me hits a snag. They're the type to kill you too and pin it all on me."
"I swear I won't say a word implicating you. I'll keep quiet about you and hide. So please, let me go..."
"The Martial Alliance's net is tighter than you think. And no matter how upright a man's heart, his body betrays him. Think their hounds' torture—ripping out nails and claws, branding flesh, slicing skin strip by strip—wouldn't make you confess?"
"..."
I couldn't claim it would.
No matter how I lied to myself, enduring that was impossible.
As if reading my mind, the old man drove the point home.
"From the moment you got involved with me, you had only two choices: join me, or spend your life hunted by the Martial Alliance, end up in their prison, tortured to death."
"..."
I'd stepped in shit. Not just a pile—into a world drowned in it.
No, wait—I hadn't stepped in.
The moment the old man entered the inn, the world turned to shit.
But with choices down to one, my thinking simplified, injustice aside.
No options? Then make the best of what's left.
"Is my only choice becoming your disciple?"
"Indeed."
"Then, might I humbly ask the esteemed name of my potential master?"
I had to check if this lifeline was a rope or a noose.
"Heh heh heh. Esteemed name, eh? Your tone's changed."
"Ahem..."
"Joking. I am Hyeok-ryeon Il-hwi."
Hearing the name, I nearly tilted my head in confusion.
Pretending ignorance might offend him.
A man claiming the entire Martial Alliance targeted him must have massive pride.
Saying I'd never heard of him could bruise that ego. Most martial artists thought that way.
But my acting fell short; the old man chuckled lightly and spoke again.
"Heh heh heh. In the Central Plains, my moniker is more known than my name. They commonly call me the Heavenly Demon."
Heavenly Demon.
That was the old man's title—the one who turned my world to shit.