"Muhwi, are you trying to go outside?"
"...Yes."
Dokgo Heon nearly answered carelessly with a blunt "That's right." but caught himself and mumbled instead. Baek Jin studied his complexion and nodded.
"A little movement won't hurt. Just be careful not to aggravate your wound."
"Yes, sir."
Dokgo Heon exited Hwaeui-gak and headed toward a small pond nearby.
Each step sent a dull ache through the sword wound across his chest, but this kind of pain was nothing new to him—he had endured far worse.
No, the real problem lay elsewhere.
He stared into the crystal-clear pond, clear enough to see all the way to the bottom, and saw a reflection staring back.
"...This is insane."
A youthful face, just past twenty. Fair skin, sharp, well-defined features—he looked every bit the archetype of a handsome man.
It was the exact opposite of the fierce, scarred visage he once had—Dokgo Heon, whose face had borne three deep sword scars.
Sighing, Dokgo Heon ran a hand along his now-sleek jawline.
"To think… the day would come when I'd become the face of the Mount Hua Sect. And not just a disciple, but a great disciple?"
He had awakened in the body of Muhwi just seven days ago. Yet most of those seven days had been spent lost in dreams.
Sleep came relentlessly, and with it, dreams—no, memories. The life Muhwi had lived for over twenty years washed over him like crashing waves.
So much so that he found himself questioning whether he was still Dokgo Heon… or Muhwi.
He had to hold onto his sense of self, keep his identity anchored. But in doing so, he came to understand the life Muhwi had led.
"Fool. If you were so weak, you should've looked after yourself first."
Muhwi's last memory was of shielding his fellow disciple from the sword of a demonic cultivator of the Black Night Palace during their assault on Mount Hua.
That deep gash on his chest was from that moment.
"That wound… that's what killed him."
Baek Jin had said his heart had completely stopped.
The voice still echoed in his mind—the one that passionately declared it was only thanks to the blessing of Wonsicheonjon that he lived again.
That divine light.
Dokgo Heon recalled the faint glimmer of pinkish-red he'd seen before losing consciousness.
At first, he thought it a hallucination. But he was beginning to believe that the mysterious light—specifically, the Maehwa Spirit Pearl—was what allowed his soul to possess Muhwi's body.
He had no concrete proof, only a gut feeling that relentlessly pointed toward that artifact.
Nothing else could explain such a miracle.
A twist of fate… or a blessing?
He couldn't help but chuckle. In all his life, he had never come across such a fortuitous opportunity—only to obtain one at the edge of death.
"Why me? And why this body?"
With the Maehwa Spirit Pearl's power, he, not his comrade, had been reborn.
And now, the life he must live belonged to his friend's disciple. Fate had a cruel sense of irony.
Gazing silently into the reflection on the pond's surface, Dokgo Heon let out a long breath.
"As absurd as this is, I've been given a second chance. I can't throw it away."
Emotions surged within him, but he couldn't allow himself to be consumed by them.
"I'll find you... and I'll return the favor in full."
He recalled the masked man who ambushed him and Hyeonjo. His fingers curled into a fist, digging into his palm.
He clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. Standing motionless, fury swirled in his eyes like a still lake stirred by wind.
"That damned mask..."
Even with his injuries, he'd exchanged a few brief blows with the masked man.
And even then, he could tell—the man was no less formidable than the Lord of the Black Night Palace himself.
A terrifying master. One he couldn't defeat even at full strength.
It meant only one thing: he had to surpass even the Sword Demon of his past life to tear that man apart.
Vengeance for his comrade… and for himself.
But there was more than just revenge to consider.
"Watch over the disciples… and Mount Hua. That's all I ask."
"Don't be afraid, disciples! Mount Hua must be protected!"
Hyeonjo's dying words. And the words Muhwi had said in his dreams.
They both held Mount Hua dear to their hearts. But why?
As someone who had wandered all his life, never belonging anywhere, Dokgo Heon couldn't quite understand that sentiment.
But the fact remained—he had been given a second chance through the Maehwa Spirit Pearl, and a new life through the body of a Mount Hua disciple.
Unintentionally or not, he now owed Mount Hua a great debt.
"That mask... I'll tear it to shreds. And Mount Hua... I will protect it. That's the least I can do to repay you both."
He didn't know if these words would reach Hyeonjo or Muhwi.
But Dokgo Heon murmured them like a vow.
His solemn voice echoed across the still pond, where two plum blossoms gently drifted down from a nearby tree.
As the petals touched the water, they created delicate ripples.
Watching those ripples fade, Dokgo Heon turned away.
"Muhwi… I guess I'm Muhwi now."
A man who had once lived only for the sword.
The life of the Sword Demon, Dokgo Heon, ended here.
From now on, he would have to hold something else in his heart.
Whether he could truly do that… even he didn't know.
The Xianxi Blood Disaster
A massacre ignited by demonic cultivators who suddenly emerged in Xianxi. They called themselves the Black Night Palace.
In just three days, over a dozen small and mid-sized sects—regardless of whether they were orthodox or unorthodox—were wiped out.
Their ferocity was such that even the Mount Hua Sect and the Zhongnan Sect descended from their mountains, and their old nemesis, the Seven Demonic Heavens (Chilsa-cheon), had no choice but to lend a hand.
It was the rare moment when the righteous and the wicked—who had clashed for so long—joined forces.
The martial world of Xianxi united all its strength to end the bloodshed, but in the process, Mount Hua, which had taken the lead, suffered grievous losses.
To recover from those losses, meetings were being held at Mount Hua almost daily.
"We'll need to rebuild eight of the main halls?"
"Yes, Sect Leader. During the last attack on the main peak, we couldn't control the fire in time. The damage was extensive."
"Hah... And I hear the finances are already in dire straits. Baeksan, what's the situation?"
Baeksan, the head of the Finance Hall, looked grim.
"We've already spent heavily on the earlier recovery efforts. And for the foreseeable future, we won't see much income, nor will incense-paying visitors return in large numbers."
In other words, they needed to avoid major expenditures.
Hearing this, Baekyu gave a bitter smile and issued an order.
"Then prioritize the most critical halls and restore them one by one."
Baekyu, the leader of Mount Hua, turned to Baekjin.
"Baekjin, how are the disciples recovering in Hwaeui-gak?"
"Most are healing steadily. None are in critical condition anymore, so please don't worry."
"What about Muhwi? He must've been devastated by the news of Hyeonjo."
At the mention of Hyeonjo's name, the room's atmosphere turned heavy.
In the world of martial arts, the title of "Sword Saint" had long belonged to Mount Hua. But for the past hundred years, the sect had failed to produce another worthy of that name.
People whispered that Mount Hua's spiritual energy had dried up, that the sect was fading into decline.
Regardless of the rumors, it was clear that the long-standing prestige of Mount Hua was slowly eroding.
Then, like a miracle, came Hyeonjo, the new Sword Saint of Mount Hua—a beacon of hope, the one expected to revive the sect.
Losing him was a devastating blow.
"Surprisingly… he accepted it calmly. His wounds have also healed significantly. He left Hwaeui-gak just yesterday."
"That boy?"
Baekyu let out a dry chuckle.
Muhwi was neither particularly talented in martial arts nor gifted intellectually. His gentle nature had led many to question why Hyeonjo had even chosen him as a disciple.
"I hope he pulls through…"
Baekyu, worrying briefly about Muhwi, returned to the meeting.
While the council continued in the Upper Palace, Muhwi was at Hyeonjo's old cottage, organizing his master's belongings—or more accurately, searching for something.
By the time he had knocked over five piles of scrolls and manuals stacked up to his knees, he finally uncovered a nameless manual buried deep in the corner.
"Why the hell was this shoved in so far back?"
From his memories, he recalled that Hyeonjo always carried this manual with great care.
Opening it, he found a mess of dots, lines, and countless formulaic phrases densely packed together.
It must have been the blueprint for a new sword technique Hyeonjo had been developing.
The handwriting was firm and deliberate. As he traced the characters, Muhwi recalled a conversation from the past:
"Mount Hua as it stands now… is stagnant, no—regressing. They've become intoxicated by the illusion and transformation in the Plum Blossom Sword, convinced that it's already perfect."
Can martial arts ever truly be perfect?
Martial arts deepen and strengthen over time, passed through the hands of countless talented practitioners.
That is the strength of a great sect.
But Mount Hua had grown complacent, believing their current sword technique was the pinnacle.
While preserving the teachings of their predecessors was important, they had become mere imitators.
The traditions survived, but they were incomplete. Worse, there had been no meaningful progress to fill in the gaps.
It was a case of honoring the old without discovering the new—on-go-ji-shin (온고지신) in form, but not in spirit.
With no progress, stagnation was inevitable.
No amount of harsh training could fix this. That's why Hyeonjo had chosen to create a new sword style himself—to show his disciples another path.
To prove that the current Plum Blossom Sword technique was not the final destination.
"So that's why you randomly challenged me to a sword-creating duel back then, huh? You bastard."
"Haven't you always refined and rebuilt techniques as you climbed the ranks? I believed it would be possible—with you."
To take a structured martial art, break it down, and rebuild it into something stronger—this wasn't something just anyone could do, even among the most talented in the martial world.
Only those with a rare and extraordinary gift could.
Like the Sword Demon of a previous life.
As the memory of their conversation came to him, Muhwi let out a bitter smile.
A new sword art that would set the stagnant Mount Hua Sect into motion once more.
That was Hyeonjo's way of protecting Mount Hua.
"Mal-ko, let's consider our promise fulfilled if I complete this sword art in your place."
Muttering softly, Muhwi closed the manual.
It was something he knew he must do for Mount Hua—someday.
But now was not that time.
If it were just about creating a new technique, he could've started immediately.
But what needed to be created was no ordinary technique—it had to be a true sword of Mount Hua.
Not something that merely mimicked the form and style, but one that embodied the will and spirit of Mount Hua itself.
To do that, Muhwi first had to fully comprehend the teachings of Mount Hua and master its martial arts.
"The sword of Mount Hua, huh..."
Though Hyeonjo had said it was stagnant, Mount Hua's swordsmanship was still among the finest under heaven.
In contrast, the sword Muhwi had mastered in his previous life as the Sword Demon had been of the unorthodox schools—vastly different in nature.
Perhaps it would lead him to insights he'd never reached before.
It was only natural he felt excited.
"Tinkering with Mount Hua's techniques to suit my own tastes... sounds fun."
Leaving a deep mark of the Sword Demon upon the renowned legacy of Mount Hua—that was something worth getting fired up about.
His hands already itched with anticipation.
His body may have changed, but his obsession with martial arts had not.
Muhwi pulled out another set of manuals from inside his robes.
Six Harmonies Sword (Yukhap-geom)
Six Harmonies Internal Arts (Yukhap-shinbeop)
Nine Heavens Internal Arts (Guso-shinbeop)
These were borrowed from Maeseo-gak, the sect's martial library.
Normally, martial manuals were strictly forbidden from being taken outside.
But these were either basic health-preserving techniques known to the public or widely circulated within families, so exceptions were made.
The Six Harmonies Sword and Internal Arts were basic techniques taught to new disciples of the third generation.
The Nine Heavens Internal Arts was the internal cultivation method currently settled in Muhwi's core.
Of course, he already had the formulas and insights memorized in his mind—but he cleared them away entirely.
Even if the formulas were the same, the insights and interpretations could vary widely. There was no need to blindly accept another's understanding.
Especially not when that "other" had been someone less skilled than the Sword Demon of his past life.
Muhwi opened the manual for the Six Harmonies Internal Arts first and began reading.
"The flow really is different."
Though it was considered a basic technique and its formulas were relatively simple, it surprisingly gave him much to reflect on.
This was because he wasn't coming into it as a blank slate, but as someone who had already mastered the unorthodox.
"It may be an introductory-level martial art, but it's no pushover. Its energy gathering and circulation aren't inferior to the Chu-hwa Internal Arts or Yin Ghost Technique. And its stability is unparalleled."
Muhwi dug into the Six Harmonies Internal Arts from every angle, comparing it against the various unorthodox methods he'd learned in his past life as the Sword Demon.
"Blending Mount Hua's arts with unorthodox martial techniques might actually be pretty interesting…"
He continued this cycle: reading the manuals, closing his eyes when they ached, circulating his energy, then diving back in.
Total immersion and unwavering focus.
It was one of the very talents that had allowed him to become the Sword Demon in his past life.
Inside the cottage, only the soft sound of flipping pages could be heard.
Just as Muhwi was beginning to lose track of time, a voice unfamiliar to him called from outside.
"First Brother! Are you awake?"
< From Sword Demon to First Brother. > The End