"Young master, please don't strain yourself. You've been unconscious for three days."
Woon-seok's eyes fluttered open to find a middle-aged woman in servant's robes hovering over him with genuine concern. The memories hit him like a sledgehammer. Two sets of them, intertwining and conflicting in ways that made his head throb.
Eldric's memories. And... Cheon Woon-seok's.
He was no longer the Heavenly Archmage who commanded the elements and bent reality to his will. He was now the seventh son of Cheon Ma-ryong, the current Heavenly Demon, and quite possibly the most pathetic member of the Heavenly Demon Cult in its thousand-year history.
"Nanny Yeon," he said, his voice hoarse. The servant's face lit up with relief.
"Oh, young master! The physicians said your internal injuries from the sparring match were severe, but..."
"Sparring match?" Woon-seok sat up slowly, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. The memories crystallized. Three days ago, his fourth brother, Cheon Woon-jin, had challenged him to a 'friendly' bout that ended with Woon-seok coughing up blood after a single palm strike.
The original Woon-seok couldn't even circulate qi properly. No wonder he was the family disgrace.
"Young master, your father wishes to see you once you've recovered," Nanny Yeon said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He seemed... displeased."
Of course he is. In the Murim world, weakness is the greatest sin.
Woon-seok swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his body's condition. The meridians were intact but narrow, the dantian barely developed. A martial artist's body in name only. In his previous life, he could have leveled mountains with a gesture. Now, he probably couldn't defeat a common bandit.
"Nanny Yeon," he said, his voice carrying a coldness that made her step back instinctively. "Tell me about my brothers' current cultivation levels."
She blinked in surprise. The young master had never shown interest in martial arts before, preferring to hide in his quarters with books.
"Well, your eldest brother Woon-hyeok is at the Peak Transcendent realm, preparing for Heavenly Ascension. Second brother Woon-jin reached late Transcendent last month. Third brother..."
"And my level?"
Her face fell. "Young master, you're still at... initial Qi Gathering realm."
Qi Gathering. The level children reach by age ten. I'm seventeen.
Woon-seok stood, his joints protesting. The disparity was even worse than he'd thought. In a world where martial prowess determined everything from social standing to the right to live, he was essentially a cripple wearing the Heavenly Demon's bloodline.
But I have something they don't. Knowledge, experience, and the memories of magic that transcends their petty martial arts.
"Nanny Yeon, I need training manuals. Everything available for Qi Gathering cultivation."
"Young master, you've tried before. The physicians said your meridians are too narrow for proper cultivation..."
"Bring them." His voice carried an authority that hadn't been there before, and Nanny Yeon found herself bowing instinctively.
If I can't use brute force, I'll use intelligence. Magic and martial arts may be different systems, but energy is energy. And I've had a thousand years to understand energy manipulation.
As Nanny Yeon hurried away, Woon-seok walked to the window overlooking the Heavenly Demon Cult's sprawling complex. Disciples sparred in the courtyards below, their movements flowing like deadly dances. The strong commanded respect; the weak were ignored or eliminated.
In my old world, knowledge was power. Here, only strength matters. But what if I could combine both?
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Without waiting for permission, a young man entered. Tall, handsome, with the bearing of someone accustomed to authority. Cheon Woon-jin, his fourth brother.
"Still alive, I see," Woon-jin said, his tone carrying mock disappointment. "I was hoping my palm strike might have finally put you out of your misery."