You don't need to be born strong. You just need to be willing to destroy yourself and rebuild."
⸻
The Beggar Sect never cared who lived or died — as long as someone brought in gossip or coin. Jin Seol had done both for fifty years… and all it earned him was death on a blood-soaked battlefield.
Now reborn, he was still surrounded by the same stench, the same hunger, the same silence.
But this time, he wasn't staying.
⸻
He sat hunched in a rotting shed behind the eastern mountain, rolling a broken ink brush between his fingers. A scrap of parchment lay open in front of him — no martial arts, no secret technique.
Just a schematic. One from memory.
"That crossbow… the rebels in the Southern Pass used it to bring down mounted patrols. Crude. But deadly."
He had only seen it once — a minor skirmish between rogue clans — but it had left an impression. Compact, fast to reload, and easy to teach to idiots.
Perfect for a merchant like So Taek, the kind of rat who thrived in alleyway deals and under-table weapons sales.
"He'll think it's a fortune. And he'll pay before someone else does."
⸻
Across the floor lay another page — this one more delicate, more personal.
The healing formula.
In his former life, he'd watched an alchemist die screaming when his furnace exploded mid-refinement. No one had claimed the notes. Jin Seol did. Not because he was clever — but because no one else bothered to look.
He didn't understand it back then. Now? He remembered every step.
"White Flame Root. Iron Vine. Core Powder. If I can just get the right herbs…"
Pills to accelerate healing. Pills to rebuild a body fit for channeling Qi.
It wasn't talent that made great warriors. It was preparation.
⸻
Jin Seol's stomach growled. His hands shook. He hadn't eaten anything but stale millet for two days, but his mind was burning.
"I won't train until I can heal. And I won't heal until I can fund it."
⸻
His first life had been random survival. His second would be planned conquest.
He folded the crossbow plans and tucked them inside his robe. He would meet So Taek tomorrow, in the usual gambling den. The man always came on the sixth day of the week to collect debts and break fingers.
Perfect time for a deal.
And if he refused?
Jin Seol smiled faintly.
"The funny thing about cowards is… they fold faster when they think you've already killed someone before."
⸻
Tomorrow would be his first move on the board.
The training would come next.
The pain would come after.
The revenge?
That would never end.
Chapter 3 – The Teeth of the Rat