‘Where did he go?’

Among the watching wraiths, the black-clad one bothered me the most.

I had tried several times to break through with my wooden sword, annoyed that he kept watching me, but every time the wraiths blocked me as if protecting a king.

Could there be a king even among the wraiths?

These were beings that killed their fleeing comrades without hesitation, yet they sometimes died protecting the black-clad one—whether by my hand or the Sword Demon’s.

It gave me a strange thought.

Although the wraiths were being led as if they were in retreat, it felt like the black-clad one was actually the center of everything unfolding.

Even during combat with the wraiths, I found myself locking eyes with him now and then, feeling something peculiar.

As if I were reading his gaze—and he was reading mine.

Clearly, he was a master I hadn’t recognized even in my past life...

There had to be something connecting him to me.

‘What the hell is he?’

If these beings were true martial artists of Jianghu, I could’ve asked directly, or at least forced them to babble something out, or perhaps they’d have stopped fighting altogether.

But fighting with the wraiths felt more like battling a foreign tribe on the battlefield, unable to speak the same language.

There was no communication at all.

Is that why they were wraiths?

Some of them even looked like they came from faraway homelands—completely out of place in this region. Like how the Demonic Cult would kidnap poor foreigners and raise them as slaves.

Then at some point, the black-clad one vanished without a trace...

And the wraiths, perhaps losing the purpose of guarding something, started retreating one by one. As if with their king gone, the army had decided to withdraw.

Of course, the arrival of new reinforcements also played a role.

Why the hell is he fighting here?

Watching Yi Gun-ak, the Fist King of my past life, rip the arms off a fleeing wraith, I felt a moment of confusion.

So wraiths are still human in the end? His internal and external martial arts combined with physical power tore through their exhausted limbs—breaking, twisting, ripping them apart.

Meanwhile, the enormous fist-shaped energy he conjured struck the tired wraiths like a cannonball.

Watching the master and disciple duo run wild was exhilarating.

A moment later, a rain-drenched fighter came near and asked,

“Lord, are you alright?”

It was only after seeing him cleave a wraith in two that I realized this guy wasn’t one of them—he was the Blade King.

Too drained to bother answering, I kept silent.

Suddenly reminded of the black-clad one, I felt a rising reflux and vomited heavily.

“Uurgh...”

I’d never swung a sword while throwing up before, but that was what I was doing now. It wasn’t that I lacked inner strength or was out of stamina—this was a bizarre kind of exhaustion.

Maybe the lingering rage from clashing with the Four Heavenly Kings, or the aftermath of using my full Heavenly Self Cultivation Technique?

I lowered my sword and tried to steady my breathing.

It felt like a strange form of internal deviation.

Even when I’d eaten my own terrible chicken noodle soup, I hadn’t felt my insides flip like this.

I knew the Four Great Villains would only move if I moved, but even I needed rest. Thankfully, the Fist King and Blade King were tearing through the battlefield, turning the tide heavily in our favor. The wraiths, already exhausted, had no hope of resisting the Blade King’s sword.

I stood still and looked around—and spotted Cha Seong-tae.

‘Could I have already been killed by a wraith?’

The thought overtook my mind. There was no reason for that bastard to be fighting here. Unsure if I was dreaming or awake, I called out,

“Seong-tae.”

Cha Seong-tae approached and answered,

“Yes, Lord.”

“Been a while.”

“It really has.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning up the remnants.”

“Why?”

“Still too nervous to take on a healthy expert.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

He looked me up and down and said,

“You look very tired. Please rest for a moment. I’ll keep watch.”

Suddenly, a blood-soaked wraith came toward us. Cha Seong-tae clapped his hands, producing a loud, crackling pazijik sound.

From the sound alone, it seemed to be a level of thunder energy equivalent to at least the second layer of the Hundred Battles Tenfold Technique. More than power, it was the volume that drew attention—causing the wraith to turn and get decapitated by the Sword Demon.

The Four Great Villains had now gathered around me.

The battlefield was a complete mess, and my condition wasn’t much better.

There were simply too many wraiths. We didn’t have the strength left to pursue and kill every fleeing one.

Everyone was exhausted, so we let the runners go.

Soon, the Drunk collapsed nearby, and the Lecher slumped down, panting heavily.

The Sword Demon, still on guard, said quietly,

“...Someone deliberately spread the fog.”

Even with the rain pouring down, the fog was thickening, just as he said. The sneaky White-Robed Scholar, who had been watching from the rooftop, was nowhere to be seen.

From within the fog came the Fist King’s voice.

“Lord, where are you?”

“Over here.”

When I responded, the Fist King, Yi Gun-ak, and the Blade King appeared and sat down on the rain-soaked ground.

Curious how they had found me, I asked,

“How did you know to come?”

The Fist King answered,

“Ran into Demonic Cult forces on the way back. They were clearly waiting to ambush us. After killing them, I figured if they were lying in wait for me, then the other kings were probably walking into similar traps. I was heading back to the Martial Alliance when I met the Blade King.”

The Blade King nodded.

“Same for me.”

The Fist King looked at Cha Seong-tae.

“This young man stepped in bravely. Said he was the General Director of Haomun...”

I looked at Cha Seong-tae with a puzzled expression.

“You helped the Fist King, Seong-tae?”

“Yes. Is that strange?”

The Sword Demon asked me about my condition.

“You were vomiting earlier. Internal injury?”

“Hmm. Not really. I’m not sure why I vomited. Ah—hold on. It’s coming again.”

Remembering the black-clad one, I stood up abruptly, took a few steps, and keeled over, retching again.

After I threw up once more, the Drunk said,

“What the hell? You’re not poisoned, are you?”

Watching the rainwater trickle down, I realized not much had come out. I began to seriously consider what caused this nausea. Maybe it was the cold rain, lowering my body temperature? I felt goosebumps.

Even without a clear answer, I could vaguely infer why the wraiths tried to protect the black-clad one.

As soon as I collapsed into the muddy ground and closed my eyes, I lost consciousness.

***

When I opened my eyes...

I saw an unfamiliar ceiling, and the space around me was warm. Getting up and looking around, I saw a few people lying down in what looked like an ordinary guesthouse. Someone was cooking in the kitchen.

I called out toward it.

“Seong-tae, give me food.”

From the kitchen, Cha Seong-tae answered,

“Understood.”

After fully regaining my senses, I looked around. The Lecher and the Drunk were meditating and recovering. The Sword Demon stood by the window, watching outside. Despite how far we seemed to have traveled, this appeared to be the same guesthouse where the White-Robed Scholar had once hidden.

I asked the Sword Demon at the window,

“Big Brother, what about the kings?”

He answered,

“They likely got ambushed too and went to provide support. Since you three are injured, I stayed behind.”

So, in short, the Sword Demon was standing guard. It wasn’t safe—wraiths could regroup, or the Demonic Cult could launch another attack. But since all of us needed time to recover, he was watching over us silently.

I considered asking him about the black-clad one—but held back.

Perhaps sharing the same concern, he spoke first.

“This is just my guess...”

“...”

“But I think the Cult Leader sees you as material for the Heavenly Pearl.”

“Me?”

He nodded while gazing out the window.

I cautiously asked the question I’d always wondered:

“How do they make the Heavenly Pearl?”

The Sword Demon thought for a moment, then replied,

“Only the Cult Leader would know.”

Oddly enough, from that answer, I was able to roughly infer the black-clad one’s identity.

In my estimation...

The black-clad one is the Heavenly Pearl.

Strange as it sounds—he’s the human form before the Pearl is completed.

Perhaps he doesn’t even know he’s the material.

Who knows their own fate?

No one—except me, who came from the future—could know such a thing.

Only if the black-clad one was the material for the Heavenly Pearl...

would it make sense for the wraiths to desperately protect him. Since they revere only the Cult Leader, anything they protect must be related to him.

Only if he’s a living elixir the Cult Leader intends to use—would there be enough reason to guard him. The thought that the pre-Heavenly Pearl state is a living person made me nauseous. Perhaps I vomited because I once consumed that very thing to regress.

I couldn’t be sure of the answer.

But all my deductions pointed toward one conclusion: the black-clad one and the Heavenly Pearl are undeniably connected.

The wraiths protect the Pearl’s original body.

The Cult Leader turns that body into the Pearl.

And that body is now targeting me?

This really is hell.

Come to think of it, the Cult Leader might want to make either me or the black-clad one into the Pearl.

So the only way to stop him is—

First, I must not become the material for the Pearl.

Second, neither must the black-clad one.

Only by preventing both can the Heavenly Pearl never appear. And that, in truth, is the fundamental reason I returned to the past.

As I spiraled deeper into my deranged deductions...

Cha Seong-tae came out with a bizarre stew filled with all kinds of ingredients. The Lecher twitched his nose and opened his eyes. The Drunk looked over at the food.

Cha Seong-tae set the pot down and looked at us.

“...Please eat.”

Without lifting my butt, I shuffled over and peered into the pot.

“Why does this look like a vision of hell?”

“You’re being dramatic. It’s just food.”

Cha Seong-tae handed out bowls and chopsticks. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

The Drunk, looking like he might collapse, still pulled out a silver needle and stirred the stew.

“...It might contain poison. Not that I doubt you, Chief Cha.”

Cha Seong-tae nodded.

“I understand. Please stir that side too.”

We were all starving, so we sat around and started eating what looked like stew filled with ingredients possessed by wraiths. On closer inspection, it was a hotchpotch made from everything in the guesthouse.

Martial artists aren’t all that special, honestly.

If we don’t eat, we starve and die.

I asked Cha Seong-tae,

“You’ve got alcohol, right?”

“Yes, there’s quite a bit.”

“Good. Can’t drink on an empty stomach. Let’s think positively.”

The Sword Demon said while chewing,

“It’s surprisingly edible.”

The Lecher, eating quietly, asked him,

“Master, why do you think they attacked all at once?”

The Sword Demon looked at me.

“...They probably planned to sever our limbs and take the Lord. The talk of reclaiming the sword was just an excuse.”

The Lecher asked,

“But why?”

The Sword Demon answered with a troubled expression.

“They see the Lord as material for their demonic cultivation.”

“Because he contains both yin and yang energy?”

“Most likely.”

The Lecher nodded resolutely.

“Then I’ll just keep cultivating ice arts.”

“....”

I nodded, staring at the little brat.

“Smart one. Damn, when did this punk get so clever?”

The Drunk, while eating, said,

“I got help from the White-Robed Scholar earlier when things got dangerous. No idea where he went. Anyway, if the Cult Leader appears himself, can we stop him? What do you think, Big Brother? I’ve never seen the Three Calamities in action, so I can’t judge.”

The Sword Demon answered flatly while eating.

“Unlikely. He won’t come alone.”

“What if we strike first? With the Martial Alliance or the other kings?”

He gave a faint smile.

“Could that even work? No matter the size of the force, more than half would die. And even then, there’s no guarantee we could kill the Cult Leader. This standoff will only end when someone surpasses the Three Calamities. Until then, we’ll just have scattered skirmishes over the years.”

He looked at me, chewing earnestly.

“To me, the third is growing rapidly. Beyond all expectations. Whether the Cult Leader takes him, or we protect him so he can grow—those are the hidden stakes.”

Cha Seong-tae asked,

“The Lord has grown that strong? When did that happen?”

I met his gaze and answered,

“Can’t you tell just by looking?”

Cha Seong-tae stared at me blankly and shook his head.

“No, I really can’t.”

I looked around at the Four Great Villains and Cha Seong-tae, then lifted my chopsticks.

“...Let’s eat.”

I forced the black-clad one out of my head and stared into the stew.

“...”

Strangely, I found myself missing Brother Deuk-soo.

In the [N O V E L I G H T] end, a man should just do what he’s best at. Maybe that’s what being Haomun’s Lord means. As I confirmed that Cha Seong-tae’s cooking skills were inferior to his fighting, I shoved the food into my mouth.

Surviving is just that hard.