Mok Yeo-jin was born with a gentle, fragile nature.
From childhood, he avoided competition and conflict, always yearning for peace.Rather than honing martial skills, he preferred to recite poetry, paint, or simply lose himself in the beauty of the scenery.
But…
"Peace, my ass."
Now, well past thirty, Mok Yeo-jin bitterly regretted his past choices.
If only he hadn't wasted his life chasing hollow ideals.If only he had picked up the sword ten years earlier—no, even five.The course of this damned war might have been different.
"Damn it."
Swallowing the blood welling up in his throat, Mok Yeo-jin climbed the steep mountain path.His body was battered and drenched in blood, yet his eyes burned clear and sharp.
In his left hand, he gripped a chipped longsword.In his right, he carried… a severed head.
The head of none other than the Blood-Draining Demon God, one of the Five Elders of the sinister Wonyum Sect—the cult that had suddenly appeared in the Central Plains, bringing endless carnage in its wake.
Countless masters had perished at their hands.Hope itself had withered before their overwhelming might, and warriors everywhere had abandoned the struggle.
And yet… beneath the towering plum blossom tree atop Mount Hua's Cheonru Peak, five martial brothers and sisters had once gathered, shared a final drink, and pledged to fight. Each would face one of the Five Elders.
Now, Mok Yeo-jin had returned—having slain one of them.
"Of all places… they had to choose this damned mountain."
Mount Hua, renowned as one of the Five Great Peaks, was notorious for its treacherous cliffs.And now, after three days and nights of brutal combat, even standing was a struggle.The climb felt endless.
At last, he dragged himself to the summit. Before him stood the majestic plum blossom tree.
He smirked faintly."Looks like I'm the first back."
Among his sworn siblings, he had returned first from their deadly hunts.
"Perhaps I should have sided with Third Brother when he suggested ranking us again by the order we returned."
He tossed the severed head aside and collapsed against the trunk of the great tree, gasping for breath.
Time passed.As the mountain breeze cooled his skin, a faint, familiar fragrance tickled his nose.
He turned his head—and saw her.
A woman was climbing the peak.Upon her shoulder rested a massive battle-axe, the size of a grown man.In her other hand, she dragged along the broken remnants of a pitch-black saber, its blade ground down to ash-gray.
She was Cheon Hwa-rin—last heir of the Heavenly Demon Sect, once rulers of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, now erased from all maps.She was also the eldest of his sworn siblings.
Since the outbreak of war, she had swung her colossal axe like a whip, cutting down the Wonyum Sect's forces in droves. Her overwhelming might had earned her the name: The Blood-Crazed Empress.
And now, she dragged behind her the shattered weapon of Black Calamity, one of the strongest Elders. Clearly, she had slain him.
Mok Yeo-jin let out a dry laugh."As expected of Big Sister."
He waved at her."Second place suits you, Sister Cheon!"
She turned her head at the sound of his voice."This voice… ah, the youngest."
Something about her tone made him stiffen.With her unmatched senses, she should have recognized him instantly from this distance.
Then he saw it.Her eyes, once brilliant, had clouded into a dull gray.She was blind.
The reckless use of inner energy had shattered her meridians, leaving her blind and broken.
"No… Sister Cheon!"
He ran toward her, but then froze.
On her back hung familiar weapons.Second Brother's iron gauntlets.Third Brother's beloved Plum Blossom Sword.Fourth Sister's frozen fan.
But not their faces.Only their treasured weapons remained.
His heart sank.So, they were gone. All of them.
Grinding his teeth until his jaw ached, Mok Yeo-jin examined Cheon Hwa-rin's condition.Her dantian was crushed, her meridians shredded beyond repair.No miracle physician could save her.The fact that she still breathed was a miracle in itself.
Blood seeped from his clenched fists.
If only he hadn't wasted years hiding in seclusion, deluding himself with peace.If only he had devoted his youth to the sword.Perhaps… perhaps his siblings would still be alive.
If he could only go back…
He gave a hollow laugh."What useless thoughts."
He thought he had grown used to death. But faced with the loss of his brothers and sisters, his heart wavered.
Supporting her by the plum tree, he spoke softly."Second Brother, Third Brother, Fourth Sister… all gone. And now even you, Big Sister? Will you leave me alone as well?"
She gave him a faint smile."Your drinking emptied our coffers, little brother. They went ahead to drink without you."
"Ha! As if I drank that much. Miserly, the lot of you."
"They told me otherwise. Said you raided Second Brother's stash in the middle of the night."
"Tch. That stingy ox. He had plenty."
They sat together, trading pointless banter under the falling plum blossoms.
There was no lamentation, no weeping.This was their mourning—two warriors more familiar with death than life.
As her breath grew shallower, Mok Yeo-jin gazed at the drifting blossoms."I'll take revenge. So rest now, Sister."
She looked at him."Are you not afraid, little brother? You could still run."
"Afraid? Sure. But that's not who I am."
He smiled faintly."I just can't stand losing."
For a moment, she looked at him with something like hope."You say the same words again…"
"Again?"
"Yes. Then I shall place my bet on you once more."
Her hand moved.Before he could react—
Stab!
"Khugh!"
A dagger pierced straight through his heart.
Eyes wide, he stared at her."Why… Sister… why!?"
But instead of agony, he felt only confusion.The dagger pulsed with strange energy.
"It is the relic of the Heavenly Demon Sect," she said."The Blade of Regression. It grants two chances. I used one. The second… is yours."
"Regression…?"
"Too arrogant was I. I thought a second chance would let me sweep away our enemies. But I was wrong. My limits betrayed me. You, however… you have both talent and the gift to draw others to your side. So I place the last chance in your hands."
Suddenly, the ground shook.Three monstrous auras closed in—The Giant Titan, The Nine-Wheel Fire Maiden, The Shadow Ghost.
The remaining three Elders.
"Damn it!"
Cheon Hwa-rin stepped forward, axe in hand.
"In our past life, you protected me. This time, I will protect you."
"You fool! In your state, you'll only die—run!"
He tried to grab his sword—but his hands passed through it. His form was already fading.
Her lips bled, but she smiled all the same."Truth is… I was a year younger than you. In our past life, I only called you 'big brother.'"
The three monstrous auras crashed down upon them.
She turned to him, smiling radiantly."My brother will surely succeed."
And with a thunderous roar, Cheonru Peak—Mount Hua's highest summit—vanished from the mortal realm.
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