He had returned to his childhood.
It was an unbelievable situation.
Even as he looked at the vividly unfolding scenery before his eyes, Danmok Yun found it hard to believe he had gone back to the past.
'Why has such a thing happened to me?'
That was the very first thought that came to him.
'I was clearly…'
Danmok Yun placed his hand on his chest. His heart, which should not be beating if he were dead, was pounding vigorously.
He quietly closed his eyes, then opened them again.
'It's a miracle.'
Danmok Yun already knew. In this world, countless things happen that cannot be explained, and we call them miracles.
What had happened to him could only be described as a miracle.
"Fifteen years old…"
Danmok Yun scratched his head.
On the day of his fifteenth birthday before his return, he had quarreled with his father.
When he declared he would become a scholar, his father told him to learn the sword in order to carry on the family, and he stubbornly refused.
The winner of that quarrel was him.
In the end, he did not learn the sword and studied letters instead.
But from then on, the relationship between father and son had grown distant. Their only family gathering became a single meal together at the turn of the year.
'I must tell him I am sorry.'
This time, could he become a good son to his father?
"Though it seems I already took the wrong first step."
Danmok Yun gave a small bitter laugh.
The moment he returned, he had been thrown out of the house. In some ways, it was worse than before. At least back then, he had never been thrown out.
"From now on, I'll have to do well."
Well, there was no need to be disheartened over something like this.
This was just the beginning.
Danmok Yun lifted his head and gazed at the signboard of the Danmok Clan.
Whenever he closed his eyes, the sight of that signboard burning in flames would unfold as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. But now, those dreadful things had all been undone.
'I can prevent the annihilation.'
His clan, his family—he could protect them.
That was what he needed to think about now. That was what he had to focus on.
"Good."
The day the clan was annihilated was the winter of his twentieth year.
He was still only fifteen. There was plenty of time left.
"There's much to do ahead."
But he did not feel daunted. Not compared to any moment of his past life.
Just then, when his chest was swelling with emotion—
Creak.
The great gate, which seemed it would never open, cautiously opened. A man poked his head through the slightly opened door.
"Young Master!"
"You—you! You!! You, could it be Jincheol?!"
Danmok Yun's eyes widened, and then a beaming smile spread across his face.
Jincheol had been a servant who had been with him since childhood. He was the son of the nanny who had cared for him dearly, so they had gotten along without formality.
"Jincheol, it really is you, isn't it?"
He was overwhelmed with emotion. Because Jincheol had died when the clan was annihilated.
'I only made you suffer…'
During the Heavenly Demon Cult's attack—
He had escaped through a secret passage in the manor.
Shamefully, he was the only one who used it.
His father, the elders of the Danmok Clan, the warriors of the household, all fought to hold the line and buy time. Even Jincheol had done the same.
'Jincheol wore my clothes, didn't he.'
In order to conceal that the heir had escaped, Jincheol had willingly worn his clothes and drawn the enemy's attention.
"Young Master!"
Jincheol ran up quickly and grinned.
"I heard the rumors. They say you finally pulled something off?"
"Rumors? Pulled something off? What are you talking about?"
"Ah, don't pretend you don't know. It's already spread all over the manor. That you turned your birthday feast into your parents' ancestral rites."
"What? No, it wasn't like that… ugh."
Danmok Yun pressed his forehead.
It seemed the events at the mealtime had spread in that way.
"As expected of you, Young Master. I believed in you!"
"…Believed in what?"
"What else? I believed the foolish, worldly-ignorant Young Master would one day be driven out of the house!"
Danmok Yun's eyebrows twitched. Jincheol grinned mischievously.
He had forgotten. Jincheol was this kind of fellow. Seeing that cheeky face and teasing manner, his fists itched anew.
'Sigh. I'll let it slide once.'
Because he owed him, he decided to endure it just this once. Danmok Yun waved his hand dismissively and changed the subject.
"Enough. Why did you come out? What if you also get scolded?"
"Ah, Madam told me to quietly come and check."
"Mother did?"
"She was worried you'd be stubborn again. She doesn't want you hurting yourself outside. Just slip back in. Once some time passes, the Clan Head's anger will subside."
At that, Danmok Yun snorted.
"Slip back in, you say."
He glanced sideways at the gate. Outwardly it looked as though two guards were keeping watch, but the truth was different.
Several warriors had concealed their presence and were watching the gate and the walls.
Danmok Yun knew who they were.
'The Twenty-Eight Swords.'
The Clan Head's personal guard, the elite warriors of the Danmok Clan.
They were not just ordinary warriors. If the Twenty-Eight Swords were guarding the gate, that meant every one of their eyes was fixed on him.
What did that mean?
'Father has no intention of letting me back in yet.'
Until his father's anger cooled, he would not be allowed to step one foot inside the manor.
Danmok Yun shook his head and told Jincheol,
"This time, he's truly angry. It would be foolish to hope for leniency."
"Uh… th-then shouldn't you go right away and apologize?"
"If I apologize right away, it'll look insincere. I should quietly reflect for a while."
To apologize now would be a bad move. To calm his father's wrath, the wiser course was to stay quiet.
Jincheol seemed flustered by the unexpected answer.
"Then… you won't go in? But that's really dangerous! The outside world is rough!"
"The outside is rough, but it's still just Zhejiang. And Jincheol, anywhere you go, as long as you have money in your pocket, there's nothing to worry abou—"
"But you don't have any money!"
"Ah."
Danmok Yun patted his pockets. Truly, there wasn't a single coin.
"None."
"Of course not."
Growl—
His stomach rumbled loudly.
"I'm hungry."
"You got thrown out in the middle of the meal, after all."
"Hungry, broke… and if it gets cold, I'll be a beggar through and through."
"You can still joke at a time like this?!"
Jincheol leapt up angrily. Danmok Yun only shrugged.
What could he do? He couldn't just sneak in to grab some money. Better to find another way to get some.
There were plenty of ways to earn money, but not many usable at the moment.
Danmok Yun clasped his hands behind his back, thinking.
Jincheol glanced around, sighed, and scratched his head.
"Ugh. Fine, no choice."
Then he stepped closer and whispered.
"Young Master, Young Maaaster."
"…Why are you calling me so secretively?"
Did he really have to whisper so suspiciously? Even if he lowered his voice, the Twenty-Eight Swords would hear everything.
"You can't just stay out here forever. I'll give you some money, so at least stay at an inn. It's not much, but…"
Clink.
Jincheol pulled a few coins from his pocket and pressed them into his hand.
"I'll figure something out somehow. For now, use this to get a room and treat yourself to something good to eat."
"…."
"It's your birthday, but you didn't even get to enjoy a proper feast. That's such a bitter thing."
"…Forget it. I won't take a child's pocket money."
"A—a child's…? I'm older than you, Young Master!"
Flick!
Danmok Yun flicked his finger against Jincheol's forehead.
"Older, my foot. You've got a long way to go. You need at least fifty more years. Save that money for your old age."
"Wh-what…?"
Old age, what old age?
Jincheol rubbed his forehead and asked again.
"Then what will you do? Stay here like this?"
"I have money."
Danmok Yun chuckled and stepped forward.
"Everything I'm wearing right now is money."
Several days later.
Danmok Yun sold the clothes he was wearing at a fair price. Being made of the finest silk, they fetched a good sum.
With that money, he stayed at a decent inn.
Though he managed well enough, Jincheol still worried and came by once a day to check on him.
'A good lad.'
Before, he might have found it annoying and snapped at him. Now, though, he didn't know why, but he found himself glad to see him each time.
"All right. Jincheol's gone, so…"
He had said he was managing fine, but that didn't mean he spent his days idly.
Danmok Yun sat in the center of the room.
"Let's begin again today."
It was training.
To be precise, he was cleansing his body.
"Start with the Ilwon Heart Method."
The Ilwon Heart Method—Danmok Clan's introductory cultivation technique.
This technique had one strength that set it apart from others: it was excellent at expelling impure energy and purifying the body.
That was why it had been chosen as the clan's foundational method.
And it was for the same reason that Danmok Yun had sought it out.
'I must drive out the impure energy.'
Danmok Yun observed his own body.
A thick accumulation of impure energy was piled up within him, enough to make him feel sick just to look at it.
'A mess, truly a mess. Just like before.'
The fifteen-year-old Danmok Yun, who had dabbled only slightly in martial arts and spent all his time shut inside, had been frail and weak.
He had suffered much because of it in the past.
'I never thought I'd see this again.'
Danmok Yun clicked his tongue inwardly.
But if he had endured it once, he could endure it again. It wasn't even really a trial. In truth, within this impure energy…
'A treasure is hidden.'
And not just any treasure, but one far greater and more extraordinary than what he had discovered before.
"Huuhh."
Danmok Yun exhaled deeply.
Then, as he had done the past three days, he closed his eyes, recited the formula, and began circulating his energy.
'No—that was just the warm-up. Today will be different.'
What he had done over the past three days had only been preparation. He had warmed up his body with the cultivation method. Today, he would drive out the impure energy in one stroke.
From his small, fragile dantian, energy began to flow. It coursed along his meridians.
'I must not rely on sight.'
Because of the impure energy, it felt as though he were trapped in a fog. But Danmok Yun had already circulated energy countless times in his past life.
He knew exactly the breadth of his meridians, how they connected to his bones, muscles, and organs, and where the branch meridians extended.
He guided the flow relying on honed intuition.
He walked confidently down the invisible paths. His circulation was bold and rough, but because of it, the paths opened just as he intended.
'Turn right here. Make a big circle ahead.'
It was exactly the same as he had done in his previous life, without a trace of error.
His body might be younger, but that was all.
After a while, the corners of Danmok Yun's mouth curled upward.
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