Chapter-4
As the golden hues of morning filtered softly through the clouds, the time finally came.
Lee Cheon-Hwa stood at the entrance of the orphanage, the worn wooden gate behind him, and the open path ahead. Dressed in a modest traveling robe that fluttered gently in the breeze, he looked up at Rosie—the woman who had raised him like her own. Her eyes were filled with concern, lips pressed together, torn between the instinct to protect and the will to let him go.
"I want to travel alone," Cheon-Hwa said, his voice calm, steady… far too grown for a child of his age.
Rosie's heart ached. But then he smiled.
It was the kind of smile that made time stop. Ethereal—gentle yet dazzling, like moonlight shimmering on still water. His long, obsidian-black hair danced with the breeze, framing a face so beautiful it bordered on unearthly: eyes of soft, glowing magenta, clear as gemstones, holding a light that soothed every worry. His features were delicate, serene, and impossibly graceful—if angels walked among men, surely they would look like this.
"I'll be alright," he said softly. "I've always dreamed of seeing the world… And I'll come visit soon. So please, take care of yourself and the others until then."
Rosie blinked away the mist in her eyes and chuckled shakily. "You speak like an old man in a child's body," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
From her pocket, she pulled out a small flower clip—woven with pink silk thread and tiny blossoms gathered from the orphanage garden. She gently tucked it into his hair, right above his ear.
"A reminder that you're still someone's child… no matter how strong or far you go."
Cheon-Hwa's eyes shimmered, and he gave her the softest, most grateful nod. "Thank you… I'll come back stronger."
With a final wave—small, poised, but full of warmth—he turned around and began walking the dusty path toward the horizon. The children gathered by the door shouted their goodbyes, and Rosie stood in silence, hands clasped to her chest, watching the figure grow smaller.
The wind whispered through the trees, petals fell around him like blessings from the heavens, and the light clung to him as if reluctant to let him go. He looked like a painting come to life—beautiful, bright, and destined for something far greater than the world had yet to realize.
A child on the surface… but a blooming legend in the making.
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Cheon-Hwa strolled through the dense forest, his black cloak fluttering behind him like he was on an important diplomatic mission—when in truth, he was just a very small boy with very big plans and a map half the size of his face, gifted by none other than Rosie.
"Hm," he murmured, holding the map upside down for a second before flipping it back with an embarrassed cough. "According to this, I'm either heading toward Xi'an… or a swamp. Excellent."
The forest around him was peaceful, the sunlight filtering through the leaves like golden lace. Birds chirped, the wind rustled the trees, and for a brief moment, everything felt serene.
'Ah, yes,' he thought, hands behind his back like a wise old man. 'The trees are the same. Quiet. Reliable. Not trying to kill me. Good trees.'
His silky black hair swayed in the opposite direction of his walk, dramatic enough to look cool, but not messy. He smiled.
Yes. Today, nothing could possibly go wro—
"AAARGHHHHH—!!"
From just ahead, the loud crash of blades clashing, men shouting, and one very creative string of insults that included a donkey and someone's ancestor echoed through the forest.
Cheon-Hwa blinked. Then blinked again. "...Oh come on."
Peeking from behind a bush, he saw a full-blown martial arts brawl breaking out—limbs flying, hair pulling, someone kicking someone else into a tree. And in true Cheon-Hwa fashion, he stood there, watching for a moment with narrowed eyes.
"Idiots," he muttered, calmly dodging a flying sandal that whizzed past his head. "Grown men fighting in a forest like wild chickens."
Without wasting a second, he crouched low and sprinted through the chaos like a shadow. Thanks to his small size and great instincts (and possibly divine pettiness), he slipped through without being noticed. A tomato splattered near his foot.
He didn't question it.
And just like that, silence returned.
Emerging on the other side, he let out a deep sigh and straightened his cloak like nothing happened, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders. He glanced around the peaceful trees once more and gave a satisfied little nod.
"Nature is healing."
He walked in silence, the crunch of leaves beneath his feet barely audible over the rhythmic sway of his black cloak. The forest path ahead curled into shadow, dappled sunlight flickering through the trees like ghostly lanterns. Lee Cheon-Hwa's eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the path out of habit—because in Murim, you always expected the unexpected.
And right on cue—
THUMP!
Something dropped from the sky.
Cheon-Hwa didn't flinch. His face remained expressionless. But his soul? His soul just threw a chair.
He turned casually, gaze flicking back as if checking on a fallen leaf. But his eyes widened. His heart skipped, then stuttered violently in his chest.
There, sitting on his butt and rubbing the back of his head, was someone he never thought he'd see again.
Chae Ryun.
His sahyung.
His senior martial brother.
And not just any sahyung—the one from his past life.
Cheon-Hwa's breath caught. His fingers trembled. A hundred images flashed through his mind: the sparring, the laughter, the quiet companionship… and finally, the blood. The death. The moment when Chae Ryun had died shielding him from the Demonic Sect's final strike. That scene—his broken body, the smile he wore even in death—it was forever scorched into Cheon-Hwa's mind.
This wasn't possible.
This shouldn't be possible.
Yet there he was.
"Ah! Are you new here?" the boy called out cheerfully, completely oblivious to the emotional nuclear bomb he just dropped.
Cheon-Hwa blinked, stunned, while Chae Ryun stood up, brushing off leaves and still rubbing his sore rear. "Fell off that tree. Stupid squirrel startled me."
He chuckled to himself, then noticed the pale, frozen boy standing across from him. "Uh… you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
More like a ghost who used to call me "little brother" while kicking my ass when i got in trouble, Cheon-Hwa thought, barely holding himself together.
"No, it's nothing," he said at last, masking his emotions beneath a blank expression. "I'm just heading to Xi'an."
His voice was calm, composed… a little too calm for a child. Even Chae Ryun blinked at the formal tone, then scratched his head and grinned.
"Xi'an? What a coincidence! I'm going there too—gotta meet my master." He stretched his arms and beamed. "Guess fate decided I needed company."
Cheon-Hwa looked at him for a long moment, then exhaled, lips twitching slightly. Maybe this was real. Maybe this was fate being merciful—or fate being an absolute clown again.
"…Let's go together, then," he muttered.
Chae Ryun threw an arm over his shoulders—completely unaware of how close he was to being punched out of pure panic—and cheerfully said, "Great! I'll show you how to catch rabbits on the road. It's not hard. Just don't look them in the eye—they judge you."
Cheon-Hwa sighed. Yeah… this was definitely Chae Ryun.
And somehow, his heart felt lighter.