Chapter 1
Northwest of Sichuan Province, beneath the picturesque peaks of Mount Qingcheng (靑城山), the Qingcheng Sect (靑城派) was engulfed in flames on the very night they celebrated the twentieth birthday of their first disciple, Cheong Eon-woo.
Cheong Eon-woo—born with extraordinary bones and talent—had caught the eye of the Sect Leader early on and became his direct disciple.
Though he was the youngest among the sect’s foremost disciples, he was without doubt the strongest.
So great was his skill that, even before he reached adulthood, he had already earned the title of Hidden Dragon (潛龍).
He was the only hope of the Qingcheng Sect, which had grown weak after losing countless disciples in the war against the Demonic Cult years ago.
Everyone in the Qingcheng Sect firmly believed Cheong Eon-woo would restore the sect to greatness.
But just when they were basking in joy, tragedy struck.
Late into the night, masked warriors silently scaled the walls of the Qingcheng Sect.
“Who goes there! …Guhk!”
The throat of the disciple who spotted them was slashed in an instant. The blade gleamed coldly, dripping crimson.
The masked men, utterly unfazed, carried out their slaughter and set the sect aflame.
It was a merciless raid.
Their martial skills were exceptional, and the disciples of Qingcheng were cut down helplessly.
Only Cheong Eon-woo, with his outstanding ability, barely managed to hold his ground against them.
“You bastards! Do you even know where you are, daring to wreak havoc here?!”
But even his defiant cry did not last long.
Soon his body was riddled with wounds, and even worse, he had suffered grave internal injuries.
The one driving him into a corner was an old monster who appeared to be the leader of the intruders.
“Keheheh. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”
The old man’s sword oozed killing intent as he chuckled grotesquely.
‘He’s no ordinary man.’
Cheong Eon-woo exhaled raggedly, raising his sword.
He had fought countless warriors to earn the title of Hidden Dragon, but never before had he faced someone who made his hair stand on end like this.
It was a miracle he had lasted this long.
How much longer could he endure, weakened as he was? Could he truly protect the Qingcheng Sect?
Despair crept into him—he might fall here to this old monster, without saving anyone.
Biting his lip, Cheong Eon-woo spat out:
“Kill me instead. I will never beg for my life from the likes of you.”
“That won’t do. We burned Qingcheng to the ground for the sake of taking you alive!”
“…What?”
The old man offered no further explanation. Instead, he swung his short sword.
The slash was razor-sharp, but Qingcheng’s famed Clear Wind Sword (淸風劍) was sharp as well. Eon-woo intercepted the blow with swift precision.
Clang!
“They weren’t wrong to call you the best among the younger generation. Keheheh. This is fun! Truly amusing!”
“This ends here. Best be cautious now.”
Cheong Eon-woo forced out the last of his strength, intending to shatter the old man with a decisive strike.
Blue sword energy began to blaze from his blade. The old monster only looked on with fascination.
As Eon-woo leapt forward, a distinct, blood-red aura gathered on the old man’s sword—far more solid and perfected than Eon-woo’s unstable aura.
The old monster swung it like a madman.
“…!”
‘Perfect sword energy… He’s at least a master at the pinnacle. Can I truly win against him?’
Cheong Eon-woo had only just learned to release sword energy, and even that he could barely control. There was no way he could defeat a grandmaster who wielded it at will.
As defeat loomed, his spirit faltered.
The old monster, unwearied, prepared his finishing strike.
Their goal was to capture him alive. He didn’t need to be unscathed.
This stubborn orthodox disciple could be taken to their cult with a few broken bones.
The old man raised his sword to strike—
“Young Master! No!”
A maidservant, one whom the intruders had failed to kill earlier, suddenly dashed out in front of Cheong Eon-woo.
The crimson aura pierced straight through her chest.
“Guhk!”
With a final scream, she collapsed.
Eon-woo, forgetting his own peril, caught her in his arms.
“So… So-so! Why didn’t you stay hidden? Why… If you die too…”
“Y-young Master… I’m sorry… I couldn’t… help you…”
“So-so…”
Her name was Baek So-so, a maid who had served him since his first steps into the martial world.
Two years younger than him, she was like a true sister to him.
Even as blood poured from her, she smiled faintly, as if to say she was glad to have helped him just once.
His heart ached unbearably.
How cruel it was, to watch loved ones die again and again.
“Heh. Enough of this pitiful display. Let us finish this.”
The old monster’s cold voice cut through his grief.
Eon-woo gently laid So-so down, then raised his sword.
“I will never forgive you.”
Even knowing defeat was inevitable, he resolved to fight with everything he had.
“That’s the kind of talk only the strong can back up.”
The old man also lifted his sword, preparing a single, fatal blow.
The tip of his blade shone crimson, blood energy spreading like chains through the air.
The light at the edge of his sword glowed even redder than the setting sun.
Its beauty turned instantly into killing intent.
In the blink of an eye, Eon-woo’s robe was slashed open. Blood spurted as his body collapsed.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a sky dyed in crimson.
The Death-Blood Resonance Sword (滅死血響劍)…
A demonic martial art, long thought destroyed by the Murim Alliance.
Where the old man’s sword passed, a sea of blood remained.
The old monster slung the unconscious Eon-woo over his shoulder and left the burning Qingcheng Sect.
By the next day, the world knew: the Qingcheng Sect had been annihilated, and the Demonic Cult had returned.
So-so had surely died—yet she found herself trapped in darkness.
Was it because she had loved Young Master Eon-woo so presumptuously that even the afterlife rejected her?
If that were the reason, she wouldn’t complain even if she remained in the dark forever, for her feelings toward him had always been sincere.
How much time had passed?
Thud, thud—!
It felt as if the world itself trembled.
Strange—how could there be vibrations if she was dead?
Before she could ponder further, light flooded in.
When her vision cleared, she saw rocks surrounding her.
‘…A cave?’
Startled, So-so looked around.
She seemed to be deep inside, where no light from outside could reach.
Her body lay inside a brown wooden box.
The tremors had forced the lid open slightly.
A coffin?
She cautiously crawled out—no, rolled out.
‘Oh heavens, why does my body feel so round? If I don’t tense up, I’ll just roll away!’
Her entire body felt oddly spherical.
Despite being in a cave, her surroundings were strangely bright—because of a small pond nearby.
It stretched deeper into the cave, its surface sparkling like starlight.
Drawn in by the glow, So-so approached the pond.
The water was so clear that she could see straight to the bottom.
And there, reflected in the water, was something that looked like a huge bellflower root.
It was the size of a man’s hand, swaying gently left and right as if alive.
‘A moving bellflower root? Could it be some sort of elixir Young Master used to take?’
No ordinary root would move like that.
If it was indeed an elixir, it wouldn’t be just any herb—but the legendary Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng (萬年雪蔘).
A rare form of ginseng brimming with spiritual energy, it was coveted by martial artists and even commoners alike, for it not only boosted internal energy but also granted robust health.
But it grew only in extreme conditions and was notoriously difficult to find.
Then So-so realized something strange.
‘Wait—why don’t I see my reflection? Is it because I’m dead?’
It was odd enough that she had awakened in a cave, but for her reflection not to appear in the mirror-like pond?
The only thing reflected was the Snow Ginseng.
‘…’
With trembling suspicion, she raised her right hand.
One of the Snow Ginseng’s tiny rootlets twitched.
‘Huh…?’
She waved her left hand.
A rootlet on the ginseng’s left side waved back.
Finally, she touched her own face.
Numerous fine rootlets on the Snow Ginseng’s crown mirrored the gesture.
‘Eeeek…!’
In that instant, she realized—the Snow Ginseng was her.
“M-me? I’ve become… the Snow Ginseng?!”
She had died in Young Master’s place, only to be reborn as a Snow Ginseng?
Heavenly Sovereigns! Immortal Saints! What bizarre fate is this?!
So-so despaired.
