Chapter 01…
Invincible Sword Spirit (1)
Prologue
The boundless sea!
In the middle of an endless ocean, a single raft crudely tied together with logs drifted.
On top of the raft lay two old men and a beautiful middle-aged woman, while a youth—who had yet to reach full maturity—sat quietly at their feet.
Towering waves crashed over the raft, yet the four figures didn’t stir in the slightest.
But something was strange. The three lying down showed no signs of life. Their faces were pale, devoid of vitality—already corpses.
The raft simply swayed in submission to the tide, carried wherever the waves wished.
“Been boring all this time, hasn’t it?”
The youth, who sat still as a stone, suddenly spoke. His voice was clear and melodious.
Through the strands of hair falling across his face, his delicate features—so fine and pale that one might mistake him for a woman—glimmered.
He turned his gaze to the old man lying on the far left.
Though aged, the man’s figure still radiated formidable strength.
“Old Man Solitude! You told me you were the strongest in the world, but I guess even you couldn’t beat time.”
Though the youth’s words carried a playful tone, his eyes brimmed with infinite affection.
This was Heavenly South Flame, Cheon Nam-yeon, known as the Lonely Demon Lord (孤獨魔爺).
At the prime age of twenty, he had appeared in the martial world and, for thirty years, stood unrivaled. With no peers or enemies left, his absolute power doomed him to solitude. Thus, he called himself the Lonely Demon Lord.
“But still, having me as a disciple in your twilight years must’ve made you happy, right?”
The youth asked, but Cheon Nam-yeon gave no reply. He was already dead.
Shifting his gaze, the youth looked to the right, where another old man lay.
“I think I’ll miss your nagging, Ghost Grandpa.”
This was Gu Yeong-cheol, the Ghostly Demon Emperor (幽靈魔帝).
A contemporary of Cheon Nam-yeon, had Nam-yeon not existed, Gu Yeong-cheol would surely have been hailed the greatest of all. Cunning and cruel, he was feared more than the Lonely Demon Lord himself.
But to this youth, the Ghostly Demon Emperor was nothing but family.
The youth’s eyes then rested on the middle figure. Unlike the old men, the woman lay with elegance, her beauty so striking that in life she had once shaken the world.
“Grandma Warrior!”
This was Yak Bing, the Battle Mother (戰母), famed as the greatest beauty of the martial world.
Her personality was straightforward and manly, intolerant of injustice—hence the nickname Battle Mother.
Fifty years ago, all three had vanished from the martial world. Gossip claimed they had grown weary of the rivers and lakes and gone into seclusion; others whispered that the two men had fought over Yak Bing, destroying each other.
And yet, fifty years later, here they lay lifeless beside one young man, adrift at sea.
“They must’ve really liked you, Grandma. Otherwise, why would those old men chase you even here?”
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“I’ll live as you wished—free, unbound, enjoying life.”
With that, the youth rose.
As his hair slipped back, his full face was revealed—delicate, beautiful, more like a maiden than a man. With a touch of powder, none would doubt he was a woman.
He smiled gently at the three.
A moment later, their bodies lifted into the air, drifting off the raft and slowly sinking into the sea.
It was a burial at sea.
The youth watched until the water swallowed them completely, then spoke softly:
“I’ll be fine on my own in the martial world. So don’t worry.”
His eyes lifted toward the distant land—the Central Plains, where the world of martial arts awaited.
Guangdong Province!
In the southern reaches of the Central Plains lay a prosperous city, blessed with fertile land and a bountiful sea. Known as the “land of fish and rice,” it bustled with life.
In Hong Kong, a marketplace overflowed with merchants hawking produce and seafood from dawn.
At one corner stood a small bun shop, steaming with freshly made buns. Hungry merchants often bought them to start the day.
A youth of sixteen or seventeen lingered nearby, staring hungrily at the steaming buns. He had no money; he could only look.
The shopkeeper, busy with customers, finally noticed him.
Though his clothes were old, they were of fine material, and the worn sword at his waist suggested he was no beggar.
“Boy! What are you staring at?”
The youth answered honestly:
“My stomach’s empty, but I’ve no money. I was hoping staring might fill me up. Or… maybe, if you’re generous, you might give me one bun.”
He trailed off, watching the shopkeeper’s face.
This youth was the Sword Spirit (검령). He had lived on a remote island with his three masters, and stepping into the Central Plains, he naturally carried no coin.
The shopkeeper squinted.
“Even so, loitering like this isn’t a good look.”
“I know… but I’ve no strength left. I came all the way from Black Darkness Island without a proper meal. It’s true.”
At the name, the shopkeeper flinched. That island, shrouded by whirlpools and storms, was said to be unreachable. Fishermen who ventured near had never returned.
Surely, this boy was lying.
The youth sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s the truth.”
“Are you really that hungry?”
“I haven’t eaten in three days. My stomach feels stuck to my back.”
The youth answered with a hint of hope.
“Here. Eat this.”
The shopkeeper handed him a bun. The youth beamed, bowing his thanks, and accepted it with both hands.
His hands were fair and delicate, like a woman’s.
The shopkeeper thought, Anyone would mistake him for a girl.
The youth took a bite, savoring it slowly instead of devouring it.
“Everything in this world tastes better than Grandma Warrior’s cooking,” he murmured with a bittersweet smile.
Grief flickered in his eyes. The loss of his three masters—his only family—was both his first and final sorrow.
He shook his head vigorously.
“Didn’t Ghost Grandpa always say dwelling on the past ruins the future?”
He smiled faintly and took another bite.
“Still, living off others’ pity isn’t manly.”
Thanking the shopkeeper again, he left the stall.
As he walked through the busy streets, he noticed a man posting a notice.
“Oh?”
It was from Gangnam Escort Agency (강남표국), one of the more reputable agencies in Hong Kong, seeking escorts and guards.
“Perfect. I’ll work as an escort and earn some travel money.”
He hadn’t left his island for any grand purpose—just to see the world, meet people, and broaden his horizons.
The youth recalled his masters’ teachings and chuckled.
“In the Central Plains, the young get looked down on. If anyone sneers at you, crush them flat so they learn their lesson!” — Ghostly Demon Emperor Gu Yeong-cheol
“Avoid meaningless trouble, Sword Spirit. Don’t live as lonely as I did.” — Lonely Demon Lord Cheon Nam-yeon
“A man must never ignore injustice. Sometimes you must be ruthless for the sake of righteousness.” — Battle Mother Yak Bing
“I’ll keep all your words in mind,” the youth whispered with a smile.
Following the directions, he arrived at the Gangnam Escort Agency. After knocking, he was greeted by a brusque man—Seo Nam-chun, the chief steward and an escort himself.
The youth explained he wished to apply as an escort.
Seo Nam-chun eyed the sword at his waist suspiciously.
“This? Just for protection,” the youth explained. “Didn’t the Huangshan Three Heroes once say every man should carry a sword?”
Nam-chun frowned, never having heard of them. “Well, escorts don’t need swords. It unsettles clients.”
“I see. Then I’ll set it aside. Can I start today?”
“No. There’s a test at noon. If you pass, you’ll be accepted.”
The youth nodded cheerfully.
When the time came, he returned. A handful of men had come to test for escort guards, but he alone sought work as a porter.
While others introduced themselves and demonstrated their martial arts, the youth stifled yawns. Compared to the absolute techniques he’d inherited from his three masters, these displays were child’s play.
Looking around idly, he noticed a little girl peeking out from the inner courtyard. She was seven or eight, her features resembling the Escort Chief. Likely his daughter.
When he smiled at her, she shushed him with a finger to her lips.
The youth played along, but when he glanced back at her again, she made faces—pouting, sticking her tongue out, even shaking her fist.
The youth only found her more adorable.
Life is going to be interesting, he thought.
