His life was like duckweed drifting atop bloodstained water.
He stepped fearlessly wherever he desired, slicing down anything that blocked his path.
Death alone was his constant companion, yet that companion never once spoke to him.
Thus, all that remained for him were speechless corpses and the single sword that had forged them alongside him.
He was a peerless wanderer, his solitude as venomous as gu poison.
Only the scars carved into his body testified to the passage of his years.
The simpler the sword trails left in his hand became, the more people sought him out.
It was around that time, perhaps.
That he realized he was called the Sword Ghost.
The label of unorthodox supreme master trailed after him like a tag.
He could sense the world's gaze upon him shifting from simple contempt and loathing to fear and reverence.
All sorts of people tried to win him over for one reason or another.
Some even came from time to time, begging to be taken as disciples.
But what use was any of that?
It was all futile.
What was so grand about the name Sword Ghost?
He had simply grasped the sword because it was the weapon scattered about nearby.
Had a spear lain there instead, he would have seized it.
A saber if one was present, a staff likewise—even an exotic weapon, the same.
Many desired him.
Some as their master, others as a subordinate, still others as a comrade.
Yet every path ended in bitter parting.
Those who sought him as master were crushed and devoured by the karma he had amassed.
Those who wished to serve under him shattered for failing to know their own vessel's limits.
Those who desired camaraderie collapsed in the end, swayed by their own greed.
Fleeting bonds brushed past, but none endured to the end.
And so, the Sword Ghost laid down his sword alone.
Without sharing his heart with a single soul.
Without truly accomplishing anything.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[A truly venomous life.]
"Who are you?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[If there is a heaven as you mortals speak of, then it is I.]
"Then you've come to claim my life."
The end.
Just as that 'heaven' called it—a venomous life indeed.
But even such a life must come to an end.
"Take me away, then."
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[That, I cannot do.]
"What do you mean by that?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Your karma is far too deep and heavy. I cannot take you to the light heavens where only the unburdened ascend, nor drag you to the underworld that receives the weighted souls.]
"Heavy? It's just the lot of a mere beast. Why speak so of one as grand as heaven itself?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Had your karma at least been pure, I might have made you an immortal. But there is no pursuit of the righteous path in your heart. Had your karma held purpose, you could have ascended beyond heavenly law of your own accord. Instead, you merely drifted like duckweed.]
Immortals of the Daoist path, arhats of the Buddhist way—such things existed, did they not?
Yet he felt no admiration or excitement at comprehending truths beyond the mortal world.
He merely passed it off calmly, as if to say, So be it.
Heaven continued just as impassively, mirroring his reaction.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Thus, I neither take you away nor release you from the mortal coil.]
"Then what becomes of me?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[I shall grant you another chance.]
"A chance?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Live your life anew. Gather the lingering regrets of the past, wash away the mountain of evil karma with virtuous deeds, untangle the knotted threads of this defiled world and weave them into fine silk. Weep when you wish to weep, laugh when you wish to laugh.]
Others might have felt boundless joy and ecstasy at those words, but not him.
On the contrary, he felt rage.
Rage toward this heaven that presumed to judge his life and peer into his soul.
"I have no regrets in my life."
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Can you truly affirm with no doubt that you harbor no regrets?]
"Of course. I have no regrets."
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Truly?]
None?
Could he truly declare with absolute certainty that there were no regrets?
"..."
Without discovering anything.
Without accomplishing anything.
Ending just like this?
The moment his eyes began to waver.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Your mother now resides in hell.]
A meteor crashed into a serene lake.
"What...!"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Karmic chains between parent and child usually have minimal influence on the afterlife. Yet you have piled up far too much killing karma—surpassing even those born under heavens' curse.]
"Is this my fault?"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[I know your injustice. You were born under heaven's punishment, and this end is but the result of being swept up in it. I know it was a yoke the world thrust upon you, unasked for.]
He killed to survive.
He killed to avenge his grievances.
Whether he willed it or not, blood always flowed at his feet.
That was the heaven's punishment dealt to him.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Thus, rather than annihilate you, I grant this chance.]
"Ha... now of all times."
Only after everything had ended.
Forcing another choice upon him, dredging up a mother who remembered nothing anymore.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Know this as my mercy, compassion, and sacrifice bestowed upon you.]
"Sacrifice? What sacrifice? I've already told you—I have no regrets!"
Even amid his roar of indignation, the exchange ran parallel, each on their own track.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Deceiving the law of causality is an arduous task. It is the immutable law of this great universe, even for me. You shall lose much and gain much in turn. All things bear cause and effect.]
"I told you, I have no regrets!"
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Such stubbornness.]
It was not stubbornness.
It was conviction.
He knew not love, but toward those who had birthed him into this world.
Thus, there could be no regrets in that life.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[Then let it be a wager between you and I. When you stand before me once more, answer my question again.]
That was the last thing he remembered from this life.
⚙ HEAVEN SPEAKS ⚙
[I hope your next life differs from this one.]
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Upon tattered rags, a girl opened her eyes.
Her long eyelashes arched gracefully upward, unveiling the deep pupils beneath—strangely tinged with a red hue.
An enigmatic shade, like fresh blood or polished ruby.
Blinking several times, the girl slowly rose and began examining her body with her own hands.
The process was meticulous and thorough, akin to a physician conducting a diagnosis.
Once finished, she lowered her hands and murmured softly.
"So this is what it meant."
The words about needing to intervene to cheat the world's causality.
Who could have guessed it meant this?
Had she known, she might have pondered it more carefully.
Though it would have happened regardless of her will.
At the very least, she could have prepared her heart better.
"To be a girl..."
A hollow laugh nearly escaped her.
Who could have imagined?
She had heard tales from legends: perfecting the Flower Transformation Preservation turned men into women. But legends were called such because no real cases existed.
Men were men.
Women were women.
That had been his common sense—until he broke it himself.
Yet he remained surprisingly calm.
No— he forced himself to be.
He who had lived a life more arduous than any other.
Regaining composure was one of his specialties, after all.
'First things first.'
There was something he had to confirm.
The Solar Mark, branded like ink punishment, as if declaring this his eternal curse.
The trace of the Nine Yang Absolute Meridian.
'It's gone.'
In its place, a Crescent Moon Mark, tilted oppositely.
Seeing it, the girl realized her heaven's punishment had not vanished.
'Even this has changed.'
From Nine Yang Absolute Meridian to Nine Yin Absolute Meridian.
The nature inverted, but the curse still clung to her.
Yin energy that should circulate, balance the body, and exit via breath and metabolism instead endlessly accumulated. One day, her body would freeze solid like ice and perish.
An inescapable short life.
A body that wouldn't survive past twenty.
From birth, death had always walked beside her.
But unlike her previous life, the girl now felt no fear.
She had already tasted death, and a mere short-lived fate was something she had shattered long ago in that prior existence.
Even if yin and yang had swapped, she could surely tread the same path again.
As she settled into meditation with that thought—
"Little Moon!!"
A boy, barely old enough for rough studies, burst in by ripping aside what passed for a curtain—a shabby straw mat.
His pale face was drenched in sweat, and beneath it, droplets that were not sweat fell in strings.
Blood.
The familiar demonic crimson hue pierced reality, dragging forth old memories.
He naturally recalled the days when he was called Aso.
Among the beggar whelps, he alone had a name, rare as that was.
Taken from Wi Soil, they called the little brat Aso.
But even that name seemed changed, along with his appearance and curse.
Just as Nine Yang Absolute Meridian became Nine Yin Absolute Meridian, so too had Little Sun become Little Moon.
The relief that his childhood memories remained untouched was fleeting.
The acrid stench of blood assaulted her nose, and Wi Sowol—the girl who now bore that name—shook off nostalgia in an instant and rose to her feet.
"...Ban Brother."
The nameless beggar whelps.
Thus, they called each other by nicknames instead.
Unlike himself, dubbed Aso for being the runt, this boy had no name but was known by his mother's clan name.
As the leader among the whelps, Ban Clan's brother.
Hence, Ban Brother.
The steadfast pillar for all the beggar whelps was now shaking more perilously than ever.
"Run! Hurry!"
With every step, blood gushed forth, yet the Ban Clan Boy worried for his little sibling first.
Ah, so that's it.
Wi Sowol finally realized the moment she had returned to.
The origin point of her blood-soaked life.
The day all the beggar whelps died, and only she survived.
The day she saw her brother come searching, burning his own life to save even one, and willingly accepted her fate to become a beast.
She had returned to that day.
In the body of a girl, not a boy.
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