Chapter 1: The Sword Ghost Reborn

The vast plains were drenched in crimson.

Corpses littered the ground in grotesque displays—some missing limbs, others decapitated. Those without heads were the lucky ones. At least their suffering had ended quickly, unlike those torn apart like scattered plum blossoms or trampled into pulpy messes resembling crushed berries.

“Ghk…! As expected… your power is… far too dangerous, Sword Ghost.”

A towering old man—nearly six feet tall—spoke through bloodied lips. His condition was dire: his left arm severed, three swords embedded in his chest, solar plexus, and thigh.

“The Three Paths Alliance pooled all their strength just to stop you… Now, the martial world will finally know peace.”

Thud.

The old man knelt, his expression one of weary relief.

“Bullshit…”

A man sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood spat the curse. A longsword was lodged in his chest—the Heavenly Thunder Blade, the weapon of the old man before him: Namgoong Cheon-gang, the Sword Sovereign and leader of the Martial Alliance.

“What did I even do to deserve being hunted like a rabid dog by the entire orthodox faction…?”

“Because you are a Spirit Awakened.”

“I’m not the only one! Plenty have unlocked their Upper Dantian! You did too!”

“But you are the only one in this world capable of Intent-Driven Motion.”

Namgoong Cheon-gang’s gaze drifted to the shattered remains of swords scattered around the man.

“You were never truly alone. Your ability to command an army of blades… Had you lived another decade, who knows what chaos you would have wrought?”

The man on the ground was none other than Dan Wi-myeong, the Sword Ghost.

An orphan who clawed his way from the gutters, he had become the world’s strongest martial artist by the age of forty. But his overwhelming power made him a target. The Martial Alliance, the Sacred Path Sect, and the Demonic Cult had joined forces to eliminate him.

They were certain of victory.

Yet the result was mutual annihilation.

The Sword Ghost was far stronger than they anticipated.

“Heh… What a joke. First, they say the weak deserve to die. Now, they kill me for being too strong?”

“Cough…! Forgive me. A tiger cannot promise not to bite.”

Dan Wi-myeong’s voice turned furious.

“Then you should’ve killed me ten years ago! You had the chance!”

The old man was ridiculous. If they were going to do this, why spare him back then on that bridge at West Lake?

“Hah… I… personally wished to be your friend. But I, too, have my duties…”

Namgoong Cheon-gang’s eyes held regret.

“Life is about accumulating bonds… You severed too many with your blade. In your next life… may you forge kinder ties…”

“Next life? Don’t make me laugh!”

“Once more… on behalf of this world… I apologize… Truly… sorry…”

His words cut off mid-sentence.

His breathing stopped.

With this, an unprecedented event had occurred: the Three Sovereigns—Demon, Heretic, and Sword—had all fallen to a single man.

And the man responsible, Dan Wi-myeong, felt nothing but bitterness.

“What a fucking joke of a life…”

Born an orphan, he had no choice but to wield a sword to survive. He cut down all who came for him, earning the title Sword Ghost.

What had he done wrong? Wasn’t this how everyone lived?

“Hah… Maybe fate is decided the moment you’re born…”

Every time he swung his sword, one question haunted him:

Why was I born? Why do I live? Why do I keep swinging this blade?

He never found an answer.

Dan Wi-myeong, the forsaken orphan, believed in nothing but the sword. Even in death, it was a blade that killed him.

Pathetic.

Gathering the last remnants of his spiritual energy, he channeled it into the Heavenly Thunder Blade.

Bzzzt—CRACK!

The sword trembled, then yanked itself free from his chest.

“Guh…!”

His forcibly sustained meridians snapped one by one. But Dan Wi-myeong didn’t resist. He simply watched the hovering sword, making no effort to prolong his life.

“Cough…! We really were alike, you and I. Lives swayed by forces beyond us. Heh…”

The sword pulsed in response.

No one would believe the world’s strongest man lived a life without control.

But Dan Wi-myeong truly believed it.

“What a meaningless existence…”

As his vision darkened, fragments of his desperate, struggling life flashed before him.

He had reached out, grasping for something—anything.

But in the end, even the sword he clung to was just an illusion.

‘A fleeting life spent surviving, yet never truly living…’

With that final thought, the Sword Ghost closed his eyes.

Clang.

The sound of the Heavenly Thunder Blade hitting the ground was the last thing he heard before his consciousness plunged into the abyss.

---

Darkness. Silence.

Then—voices.

“Ho-yeon! Open your eyes!”

“Sob! My child!”

“What in the world…?!”

‘Hell? Too noisy for hell…’

Dan Wi-myeong frowned at the disturbance.

“H-He moved just now!”

“He’s alive!”

“Ho-yeon! Hang in there!”

‘Who the hell keeps yapping?’

Annoyed, he forced his heavy eyelids open.

Light.

“Ugh…!”

“H-Ho-yeon!”

“His eyes are open!”

“Call Physician Seo, now!”

Blinding light seared his vision. The voices grew louder, ringing in his skull like tinnitus.

A moment ago, everything felt muffled, as if underwater. Now, it was deafening.

“H-How?! His pulse was gone!”

“Nonsense! He’s clearly alive!”

“Physician Seo! Check his meridians!”

Irritated, Dan Wi-myeong groaned.

“Ugh… Shut… up.”

“He spoke!”

“Idiot! He said to be quiet!”

“Cheong-gang! Sang-ah! Silence!”

The chaos continued, but his vision slowly adjusted.

“…Huh?”

The first thing he saw were eight eyes staring at him.

Then, four figures emerged from the light:

• A broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with a fierce presence.

• A stunning woman, her beauty undimmed even through tears.

• A young man who resembled the older man.

• A young woman who mirrored the beauty of the first.

As Dan Wi-myeong stared blankly, the middle-aged man hesitantly spoke.

“H-Ho-yeon… Are you alright?”

Blinking slowly, Dan Wi-myeong voiced his thoughts aloud.

“…Who the hell are you people?”

Silence.

Then—

“……!”

“……!”

“……!”

“……!”

---

Namgoong Family Estate

Namgoong Baek, the family head and master of the Heavenly Will Sword, sat stiffly.

Before him, a fidgety physician named Seo Jung-hak ranted.

“It’s unbelievable! His pulse had stopped! Young Master Ho-yeon was unquestionably dead, yet…!”

“Physician Seo. You keep repeating yourself. Ho-yeon is alive.”

“Y-Yes, he is. But how…?”

Seo Jung-hak trailed off under Namgoong Baek’s icy gaze. Clearing his throat, he continued.

“Ahem… Perhaps it was that strange lightning energy.”

“Lightning energy?”

“Rumors say some who’ve died from heart failure revived after being struck by lightning.”

Namgoong Baek’s eyes flicked to the desk, where a sword rested.

A three-foot-long blade, its hilt worn but its surface gleaming like moonlight on a lake.

The Heavenly Thunder Blade—a sacred relic of the Namgoong Family, forged from meteorite iron.

‘Could it be…? No, impossible.’

The sword had never emitted lightning in all its history.

Not since 300 years ago, during the infamous Sword Ghost Blood Chronicles.

Back then, the Heavenly Thunder Emperor’s Divine Art was lost after Namgoong Cheon-gang’s death.

Since then, not a single spark of lightning had appeared in the Namgoong Family.

“…And my wife?”

“Lady Peng is fine. She merely fainted briefly.”

“And Ho-yeon?”

“Well…”

Seo Jung-hak hesitated.

“Amnesia. A condition where memory is lost due to severe trauma.”

“Can it be treated?”

“Not by me.”

Namgoong Baek’s expression hardened.

His youngest son had survived—but at what cost?

“…Then it’s up to fate.”

---

Elsewhere in the Estate

“Fate? Or misfortune?”

Dan Wi-myeong stared at his small, pale hands and scoffed.

Calloused, but nothing compared to his Sword Ghost days.

Turning, he faced a mirror—and the delicate-looking boy reflected in it.

Pale skin, red lips, long hair clinging to his neck with sweat. At first glance, he looked like a girl.

But the sharp eyebrows, pronounced nose, and budding Adam’s apple confirmed it: this was a young man.

“You’re me?”

The boy in the mirror mimicked his words in a soft voice, like a parrot.

“Tch.”

Dan Wi-myeong closed his eyes, sorting through his memories.

‘I died fighting the Three Paths Alliance. Namgoong Cheon-gang’s sword pierced my heart… Ugh!’

A sharp pain shot through his skull as unfamiliar memories surfaced.

---

Memories of “Namgoong Ho-yeon”

“The Heavenly Thunder Blade! I need it!”

The original owner of this body—Namgoong Ho-yeon—had been ecstatic.

That morning, he had suddenly felt the sword’s will.

The blade at his waist trembled, whispering to him.

“Got it! Just wait! I’ll polish and oil you!”

Excited, Ho-yeon rushed to the family head’s quarters and retrieved the sacred sword.

‘Sword Heart Resonance?!’

Dan Wi-myeong was stunned.

This was an extremely rare spiritual ability—the power to communicate with a sword’s soul.

The only other person he knew with this power was Namgoong Cheon-gang.

“Here! The Heavenly Thunder Blade!”

Ho-yeon unsheathed the sword and pleaded:

“Please! Teach me the lost Heavenly Thunder Emperor’s Divine Art!”

He believed the sword could restore the Namgoong Family’s lost legacy.

After all, this was the very blade that had slain the Sword Ghost 300 years ago.

‘300 years?!’

Before Dan Wi-myeong could process this, Ho-yeon laughed and began reciting an incantation.

“Hahaha! You do know it! Father will be so happy! Okay! Heavenly Thunder Emperor’s True Formula. Yin and Yang clash, transforming into divine lightning. Gather energy, condense thunder essence. The Emperor’s might shakes the heavens!”

‘You idiot! STOP! You’ll die!’

But Ho-yeon didn’t listen.

“Channel the heavens, cycle energy. Yang rises, Yin descends. Storms gather, winds roar. Thunder and lightning merge. Mind and body unite with the cosmos. Breathe in thunder, exhale lightning. Ignite the Dantian, blaze through the skies… Ugh!”

Disaster struck.

Crackle—ZZZT!

White lightning erupted from his Dantian, scorching his meridians.

“AAAHHH—!”

The room filled with blinding light.

Ho-yeon collapsed.

‘…Told you.’

The aftermath was predictable:

• A maid screamed.

• Family and physicians rushed in.

• The physician declared him dead.

• His family wept, denied, raged.

Dan Wi-myeong watched bitterly.

‘Tch. At least you had people who cared. I died alone on a pile of corpses.’

Then—something strange happened.

Bzzzt…!

The Heavenly Thunder Blade floated into the air.

Dan Wi-myeong saw it clearly:

A beam of white light shot from the sword—into Ho-yeon’s forehead.

And in that moment, he understood.

‘This body… is now mine.’