Chapter 1
Connection (1)
Midnight.
At Tianhua Pavilion, located in Shijiazhuang, Hebei Province.
In a small room at the far end of the kitchen, Kang Yongun sat by the wide-open window, gazing out.
The moon hung full and bright, and countless stars glittered across the heavens, as though consoling his quiet heart.
“Hoo… Will I really be able to find it?”
The words slipped out as a sigh, pulling his mind back into the distant past.
“The second half of the Great Celestial Divine Art…”
The martial art of his clan.
With the destruction of his family, that priceless legacy had disappeared into the world without a trace.
“If I don’t reclaim it, I can’t rebuild my clan.”
Bi-in-bu-jeon—if one is not truly human, one cannot pass it on, must not pass it on, and it will never be passed on.
He had never realized how painfully true those words were until now.
His family had fallen. His parents were gone.
And his grandfather—their last hope—had vanished without a trace.
“What I wouldn’t give for even a single manual… That way, at least, Bi-in-bu-jeon would still be possible.”
But it was just a complaint.
If a manual had existed, it would have been seized by their enemies during the slaughter. Bi-in-bu-jeon would have become an empty phrase, meaningless.
“What my father passed down before he died was only half of the Great Celestial Divine Art. What can I really accomplish with only that much?”
The answer was clear.
Training.
Even with just half, he had to continue cultivating, grateful for what little remained.
“Well, ever since seven days ago, my training has started to trigger strange reactions. If I keep pushing, maybe I’ll reach a realm no one could have imagined.”
Lately, each training session had been filled with an increasingly powerful response.
Who was to say?
Perhaps with enough effort, he could still reach greatness, even without the missing half.
“Yes. Enough brooding. Let’s train.”
Kang Yongun steeled his heart, brushing away the weakness that had come with old memories.
Until I find Grandfather—or the missing second half of the Great Celestial Divine Art he might have left somewhere—I’ll keep training with all I have.
Who knew?
Perhaps the heavens themselves would take pity on his devotion and grant him the rest of what was lost.
Thump, thump!
His heart pounded. Just recalling the fierce reactions of the past week was enough to fill his chest with excitement.
“Ah—!”
He quickly pulled himself together.
How can I get carried away already, when I’ve only just begun crawling forward?
He took a long, deep breath, letting stray thoughts—the clumsy obstacles of the mind—fade away.
His heart grew calmer.
And within that tranquility, he raised a clear, unwavering goal like a pillar.
[I will reach it. The heavens themselves.]
The words said to mark both the beginning and the end of the Great Celestial Divine Art.
Kang Yongun carved that phrase into his heart as his vow.
Rejecting the sweetness of sleep, he turned his gaze inward.
His mind became as still as a polished mirror.
His breathing lengthened, deepened.
Even the faint chirping of unseen insects faded from his awareness.
“In harmony with heaven, obedient to heaven; clarity to the utmost of heaven’s mandate…”
He began to recite the opening formula of the Great Celestial Divine Art.
What is inner force?
Is it a tangible substance, something you can touch?
Impossible.
Inner force is the intangible strength of the heart.
Though it can be drawn out and wielded as if it were material once it grows dense enough, such methods are but crude tricks—locking the infinite into the confines of a human body, mistaking a drop for the ocean.
How pitiful.
To bind what has no form, no beginning, and no end, and then take pride in its meager use!
No. It is enough simply to reach the heavens.
To become one with them.
With the heavens.
If so, would that not allow the strength of heaven itself to flow through the mortal body?
Kang Yongun absorbed the commentary of the art with every breath.
Slow and deep, over and over, he immersed himself further.
Each verse he recited drew out its meaning and hardened his resolve.
The first principle of the Great Celestial Divine Art: In harmony with heaven, obedient to heaven. Follow wholly, without resistance.
So he surrendered himself completely.
To the heavens.
Trust, follow, obey.
As if pledging a vow, he offered his very being to the sky, sinking deeper and deeper into it.
In harmony with heaven, obedient to heaven.
That was the only thought he held.
His half-lidded eyes rose toward the stars.
No—further still. Beyond the stars, to the deepest reaches of the void.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
Immersed to the utmost!
Kang Yongun forgot the passage of time, his breath, even the formula itself.
And then, in a single instant—
Ziiiiing!
A fierce sensation surged from between his brows, where his upper dantian lay unopened.
It had begun seven days ago, grown stronger last night, but tonight—tonight it was overwhelming.
Yet—
In harmony with heaven!
Instinct told him one thing: he must not falter.
Submit wholly, reach the heavens!
This was his only inheritance.
He harbored no greed for what came after.
Because this is all I have left.
And so it was purer.
Though the sensation shook his body violently, he held his focus, strengthening it further.
In harmony with heaven. Clarity to the utmost.
He sent every shred of his will upward.
That simple phrase, he had been taught, was the beginning and the end of the Great Celestial Divine Art.
And then—
Boom!
Something burst forth from his brow.
It was a blazing manifestation—his will itself exploding skyward.
Fwoooosh!
It surged upward, higher and higher, until it reached the boundless night sky.
And then—
One of the stars of the Northern Firmament, where his gaze had been fixed, trembled violently.
No—it warped.
Bent into a curve, almost like a mouth.
And then… it moved.
As if speaking.
[Well, well! Look at this one!]
The voice struck his mind like a bolt of lightning.
[A mere mortal body—and yet he dares to force his will this far?!]
It was impossibly clear.
The words rang through his entire head, echoing so loudly he could not ignore them.
[Hah! He actually made it! He really reached us!]
[What’s going on?]
[Wait—that’s a Heart Scar!]
[A Heart Scar? Oh—he’s right!]
The voices multiplied, overlapping.
Gods? Spirits?
Countless unknown presences filled his mind at once.
[Oho! A new arrival?]
[The Firmament is open?!]
[How long has it been since we welcomed one?!]
[Hey, Blue Crane! Get up and fetch him! Bring the newcomer in!]
[Tch, Blue Crane’s asleep in the corner again! Not even moving!]
[Wait, but where’s his Original Spirit?]
[Strange. All we see is his Heart Scar.]
It was chaos.
W-what…?
Inevitably, his immersion broke.
Not by his own weakness—he could have endured that.
But by this unforeseen intrusion.
Wh-what is happening…?
Before he could process it—
“Urgh!”
He let out a short groan.
An unimaginable torrent of force poured down from the heavens like a waterfall.
“AAAAHHH!”
His groan turned into a scream.
His entire body felt as though it would burst apart.
This was a power so immense he had never even conceived of it.
[Tsk, tsk. I knew it.]
The first voice clicked its tongue, scolding.
[Foresight prevents mishap. But here he is—no Original Spirit, no preparation. Only will and mind reaching the Firmament first…]
Regret and pity seeped into his very heart.
They saw his doom, but none would intervene.
[Ahh, so that’s it.]
[How disappointing.]
[And here I thought we were welcoming a new one.]
[But what do we do about him?]
[Poor thing.]
[A heavy price to pay for peeking at the Firmament unprepared. Far too cruel, really.]
[Tsk, tsk.]
And then Kang Yongun knew.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
Death was near.
My body… it can’t endure this.
If this went on, his flesh would explode like fireworks.
This is the end…
It was as though a raging volcano had erupted inside him, filling his body with fire enough to engulf the continent.
So this is it.
As the voice had said, he was paying the price for lacking preparation.
I couldn’t forge an Original Spirit because I never had the second half of the Great Celestial Divine Art…
He had suspected as much.
But there had been no choice.
I thought I could reconstruct the missing half myself…
But that was impossible.
For a boy of barely twenty, just stepping into the martial world, to restore half of a divine art? It was laughable.
Regret came too late.
His body was about to—
[Hm! Was all this… the will of ■■?]
The mysterious voice rang out again.
And miraculously, Kang Yongun’s collapsing body stilled.
[Unprepared though he was, the Firmament opened. His Heart Scar remains intact, when it should have shattered… Ha ha! In that case, I can only comply…]
[Wha—? Don’t tell me…?]
[That One is stepping in?]
[Impossible! Just who is this boy?!]
His swollen body, on the brink of bursting, slowly began to return to normal.
[Rest now, child. Sleep deeply. Do not forget—the heavens recognized your incredible will, though you were not ready. Even if, for a time, you forget all of this… Ha ha ha!]
The voice the others called That One.
A warm, gentle voice seeped into Kang Yongun’s very soul.
Don’t forget…?
How could he not?
They had just said he would forget everything for a while!
Grandfather, that doesn’t even make sense…
But the voice faded.
And with it, his consciousness slipped away.
Thud.
He collapsed backward, unconscious.
“Snore… Kuuh… Hnng, In-harmony-with-heaveeen…”
Even in sleep, his arms lifted skyward, mumbling as though cheering.
He sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.
And his body, little by little, returned to normal.
