A red moon stained the mountain peak.
An aura darker and gloomier than usual covered the sky, and the wind carried the metallic scent of blood.
The main sanctuary of the Heavenly Demon Cult, the Blood Heaven Peak.
On top of that peak, a blood-soaked man was kneeling.
Outwardly, he appeared to be in his mid-forties.
His blood-stained clothes were in tatters, and dozens of swords were embedded throughout his body.
Chest, back, shoulders, sides, thighs, and even his two hands.
The sword he had been gripping had long since fallen to the ground, and the steel-like legs that once supported him had collapsed powerlessly long ago.
"It is over now, Phantom Demon."
Those forming the tight encirclement called the man the Phantom Demon.
The strongest under the heavens—no, the strongest of all time. The Phantom Demon.
The Phantom Demon, who was thought to have no equals in the world, was now in a near-death state.
Those who attacked the Phantom Demon were not the martial artists of the Murim Alliance, his longtime archenemies.
They were the people of the Heavenly Demon Cult, where he had dedicated his entire life.
The Cult Leader stood at the forefront, and even the disciples he had taught with all his heart and soul had joined in.
Seeing the traitors, the Phantom Demon began to laugh as if he had transcended everything.
"Hahaha! Hahaha... Cough!"
Blood spurred from his mouth, spreading like a dark red mist and staining the surroundings.
The Cult Leader, hiding his hands behind his back, looked down at the Phantom Demon with an expressionless face.
"It is over now. Even you cannot recover from this state. Just give up."
At the Cult Leader's words, the surrounding people let out small breaths.
Long-held fear, long-held anxiety.
The existence that drove the world into terror was now dying right before their eyes.
"Kuhahaha! Cult Leader. Was this merely it? The price for a lifetime of loyalty?"
Every time the Phantom Demon spat out words, blood flowed from the corners of his mouth, and his body, pinned by swords, rattled and shook.
With every finished sentence, the swords would spew blood and tremble minutely.
The Cult Leader spoke without wavering.
"I am sorry, Phantom Demon. However, you were too strong. Enough to threaten this seat of mine."
The Phantom Demon was too strong.
Whatever he desired was achieved, and anyone he glared at was never safe.
Eventually, his fame rose higher than the Heavenly Demon Cult itself, reaching a point where not only the Martial World but even the Emperor trembled in fear.
"That is why you must die."
"Kuhahaha! The thousand-year wish of the Cult, the conquest of the Central Plains, is about to be realized, yet you do this?"
"That achievement shall be mine. It is not your jurisdiction."
"Ha!"
The Phantom Demon wore an expression of resentment and futility, but there was nothing he could do with a dying body.
When the red moonlight slicing through the sky stained the peak even more vividly, the Phantom Demon's head dropped with a thud.
His pupils grew dim, and blood no longer gushed out.
Everyone, thinking the Phantom Demon's breath had stopped, sighed in relief.
But it was then.
A chilling black energy began to rise from the Phantom Demon's body.
Woo-woong!!
The energy slowly floated up to the sky; the body remained, but the soul was attempting to separate.
The first to react was the Phantom Demon's first disciple.
"That is...! The Soul Shifting Great Art?! That is surely a technique not yet completed!"
Because he had watched and learned from the Phantom Demon closer than anyone else, he recognized it at once.
"No! We must stop him!"
If they did not kill the Phantom Demon, everything would be in vain.
The first disciple ran desperately.
His toes kicked off the rock to soar up, and energy gathered at his fingertips to pour out a powerful force.
A strike with fearsome power capable of tearing even a soul.
However, it was too late.
The Phantom Demon's soul rode the red moonlight, soaring up and scattering into the void to disappear.
The attack merely sliced through the empty air, and the killing intent bursting from the fingertips dispersed futilely into the sky.
Under the red moonlight, the Phantom Demon's final voice seemed to echo down.
[I will definitely return. With these hands, I will cut the windpipes of every single one of you who betrayed me! Ahahaha!!]
The voice, filled with a curse, echoed throughout the Thousand Mountains.
Ten thousand martial artists were mobilized to kill the Phantom Demon, but the survivors numbered merely a thousand.
This was despite feeding him extreme poison beforehand and trapping him in a Strange Gate Formation to exhaust his strength.
Indeed, an absolute master worthy of the title 'Strongest of All Time'.
Such a Phantom Demon is returning.
And to kill them, at that.
The surviving crowd of the Heavenly Demon Cult wore expressions of dumbfounded horror.
Like that, 30 years passed.
Outside the window, rain was drizzling down.
Inside a room where a lantern flickered.
Seomun Hwan, the third son of the Seomun Clan who turned 18 this year, woke up from his sleep sweating profusely.
"Uwah!"
The moment his whole body shot up, Seomun Hwan gasped for breath.
His head was dizzy.
It was too vivid to be a dream, and his senses were too distinct to be an illusion.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"...I remembered."
The red moon.
Dozens of swords.
The eyes of the traitors.
And, the martial arts that stained the world with blood.
Memories flooded in like a tidal wave.
"I was the Phantom Demon?"
In his past life, he was the Phantom Demon.
The Cult Leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult, the Leader of the Murim Alliance—he was the demonic head of the world, on a different dimension of strength than any other martial artist.
A man who killed thousands and forced tens of thousands to submit, but was ultimately betrayed by the Cult and disciples he had dedicated his life to.
The scenes from that time were as vivid as if they had happened just moments ago.
As the rage of his past life surfaced, the temperature of the room seemed to cool coldly for an instant.
But soon....
Growl!
The sound ringing from his stomach covered over all those thoughts.
"Ugh! I'm hungry."
He flopped back onto the blanket just like that.
"No, what's the point of remembering this now...."
Revenge? Go out to the Murim again and cause a bloodbath?
Memorizing the names of all those humans again is annoying enough as it is.
He muttered to himself mixed with a sigh and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Ah, it's bothersome and I'm hungry. I'm hungry, but it's bothersome."
Seomun Hwan sluggishly raised his body and headed to the kitchen.
He opened the cupboard, picked up a leftover dumpling, put it in his mouth, and chewed.
As a pleasant satiety was felt, he felt like he had gained everything in the world.
"This is paradise. What do you mean revenge, I'd rather freeze to death."
Seomun Hwan, who harbored the memories and soul of the Phantom Demon.
He no longer desired revenge, the Martial World, or power.
He was just a lazy 18-year-old who loved warm blankets and peaceful mornings.
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