The name of the young man I reincarnated into is Byeok Ridan.
This place is called Gokbu, located in Shandong Province—considered the borderland of the Central Plains (Jungwon).
Our family is known as the Byeok Sword Clan (Byeokssi Geommun), a prestigious traditional noble house in Shandong.
My father is Byeok Dojun, and my mother is Im Yehwa.
Unlike my lively and outgoing mother, Im Yehwa, my father, Byeok Dojun, is a calm and quiet man.
I'm their only child.
If I had to guess, the reason this Byeok Ridan turned out to be such a failure was probably because he was spoiled rotten as the sole heir—ultimately leading to his ruin.
I decided to accept the reality of this situation.
During the first few days, I kept hoping that everything would go back to normal when I woke up.
But that never happened.
Honestly, being reincarnated as this young man wasn't all that bad.
I had given up the position of the Murim Lord, and in return, I gained something priceless—youth.
Something that couldn't be bought with money or power.
Besides, I was seventy years old when I died. I had lived long enough.
Of course, it would've been better if this newfound youth had come with better conditions.
This guy, Byeok Ridan, was a complete mess—not just socially, but in terms of martial arts too.
He was already twenty, yet as a descendant of a martial family, the internal energy in his dantian amounted to a mere five years' worth. And even that was impure trash.
To make matters worse, his untrained, weak body looked like it would break from a single blow.
The only thing that seemed remotely useful was this chatterbox with a bright yellow head—Gwangdu, who had served me as a personal servant since childhood.
"Have you heard any rumors?"
"What kind of rumors?"
"Like... the legendary sword of a grandmaster has appeared... or a two-headed spirit beast has shown up... or that the Murim Lord has died."
It had already been a few days since I reincarnated.
It wouldn't be strange if news of my death had started spreading.
But things were eerily quiet.
Then again, this place—Shandong—is quite far from the main base of the Murim Alliance. It might just take a while for the news to reach here.
Or maybe… they're deliberately hiding my death.
After all, the death of the Murim Lord would send shockwaves throughout the martial world.
Still, it's not like they can keep it hidden forever.
Well, Galsa-ryang will take care of it somehow.
"There are some rumors going around about you, young master."
"What kind?"
"That you got beaten up by Miss Song and lost your mind."
I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
Come to think of it, it had been a long time since I laughed.
In my previous life, I was someone who rarely smiled.
Well, it wasn't exactly a position where laughter came easily.
I lived in a world where kindness was seen as a weakness.
"Is this Miss Song really that pretty?"
"Yes. She was beautiful even as a child.
But that day... she was absolutely breathtaking.
Didn't you see the line of punks from nearby towns lining up just to catch a glimpse of her after the rumors started?
Honestly, that might have been part of the reason you got so worked up and insisted on going to see her.
Anyway, even though you've only just returned, people are already calling her the most beautiful woman in Shandong."
A woman, huh? A beautiful one at that.
In my past life, I met many women.
I was in my prime, after all—it was only natural that women flocked to me.
Some were among the Four Great Beauties of the Central Plains.
One of them was even known as the most beautiful woman under the heavens at the time.
But not a single one of them… did I ever truly love.
But I was never able to truly fall in love with any of them.
I became too powerful, too young.
To those women, I wasn't just Cheon Hajin the man, I was Cheon Hajin, the greatest master under the heavens.
They smiled on the surface, but deep down, they feared me.
And the women who didn't fear me only tried to use me to gain power.
If it wasn't them, then it was their parents.
I cut them all off and crushed them without hesitation.
Later, when I was older and finally developed an eye for discerning the right kind of woman, I was too busy fighting against the Sima Cult.
Back then, I lived a life where I did nothing but fight—aside from eating and sleeping.
"You still want to see Miss Song, even after getting beat up by her, don't you? I totally get it, young master."
"Forget it."
"Forget what?"
"I'm done with women."
"Oh no… Did you just refer to Miss Song as just a 'woman'?! She's not just any woman—she's Miss Song! Song Hwarin, the most beautiful woman in all of Shandong! The very same Miss Song you nearly died trying to see!"
"Yeah, yeah, that most-beautiful-in-Shandong Miss Song—I'm done with her too. Now go fetch me a sword."
"A sword? All of a sudden? Why?"
Because a sword…
is the only lover I've ever had in my life.
"What do you mean why? Does a warrior need a reason to seek out his blade?"
"A warrior… a sword… Those words don't suit you at all, young master."
"Disobedience, punishment, accidentally killing a subordinate. How about those? Do they suit me better?"
"Yes, sir! I'll get it right away!"
Gwangdu clutched his head and bolted out of the room.
It was quite a while before he returned with the sword.
"It took me forever to find it. You had it stashed in some warehouse."
The moment I held the sword in my hand, my mind grew calm.
In my past life, I was known as the God of Martial Arts.
I had mastered nearly every form of martial arts, but if I had to choose just one specialty, it would be the sword.
By the end of my life, I had reached a realm of swordsmanship known as "Will Surpasses Swordsmanship" (Yi Gi Eo Geom Sul).
With just a flick of my finger, my blade would shoot out like a flash of light and pierce my enemy's heart.
But the realm I truly aspired to lay beyond even that.
The State of the Heart-Sword (Simgeom Jigyeong).
A realm where a physical sword was no longer necessary.
Those who attained the Heart-Sword State could freely wield invisible blades born purely of the mind.
According to legend, a Heart-Sword could cut through anything in existence.
They said the firmer the heart, the stronger the Heart-Sword would become.
And I wanted to know—what form would the sword of my heart take?
But in the end, I never reached that realm.
And now, I've been reborn.
A longing has awakened in me—a desire to walk the path I could never tread in my previous life.
But if even I, Cheon Hajin, born with a body perfectly optimized for martial arts, couldn't achieve it…
Can I truly reach it now, in the body of this Byeok Ridan?
Srrrng—
I slowly drew the sword.
"It was a fine blade, once."
But it had been left unattended for far too long without proper care.
Now it was badly worn and damaged.
"Of course! That's the sword the family head personally gave you on your fifteenth birthday, young master."
"To let such a good blade rot like this… what an utter fool."
"I'm just glad you finally realized it."
When I pointed the sword at him, he yelped and bolted away in fear.
"Just stick with calling me a fool! Leave the 'insane' part out of it!"
"Hah."
I couldn't help but laugh.
Don't worry, you fool.
Since being reborn, this moment right now is the clearest my mind has ever been.
The moment I held the sword, my heart began to beat with excitement.
'Now that I think about it… when was the last time I actually drew a sword?'
After I defeated the Sima Cult and rooted out the traitors within the Murim Alliance, the only times I ever drew my sword were during training.
And in the final years, once I'd accepted that I would never reach the realm of the Heart-Sword, I stopped wielding a blade altogether.
As I gazed at the gleaming edge of the sword, I made a new vow in my heart.
'In this lifetime—'
I will reach the realm of the Heart-Sword. No matter what.
Achieving a certain level of mastery depends on many factors:
natural talent, relentless effort, unexpected insights, and even miraculous encounters.
In my previous life, I had experienced all of them.
I had the talent. I trained hard. I gained enlightenment and encountered rare opportunities.
And because of that, I rose to the top—I became the greatest under the heavens.
But to reach the Heart-Sword State, there was one more thing I needed.
Heaven's Blessing (Cheonun).
A stroke of fate that aligns all the other factors at just the right moment—
A divine permission, if you will, granted by the heavens themselves.
This life... I'll try again.
Whether or not fate is with me this time—well, I'll just have to wait and see.
"Go get a whetstone."
"A whetstone? You're not planning to crack my skull with it, are you?"
"I'm going to sharpen the sword."
"Who are you planning to kill now?"
When I gave Gwangdu a slight sideways glance, as if I were eyeing him with intent, he flinched and stepped back.
"Quit joking around."
"Why do you assume I'm joking? You know crazy people always kill the ones closest to them first, right?"
"And how would you know that?"
How?
Because that's exactly the kind of person I saw most in my past life.
I saw countless men, driven mad, slaughter their own families in cold blood.
"Wait… Did you just say I'm the closest person to you?"
"Did I say that?"
Gwangdu looked at me with a confused expression.
"Let's just say… in this particular case, you're the person physically closest to me."
Scratching behind his ear, Gwangdu muttered,
"That's even weirder."
A little while later, Gwangdu returned with the whetstone, and I began sharpening the sword.
Shk, shk, shk, shk.
As he watched my skilled hands work, Gwangdu tilted his head in curiosity.
"You're really good at that. When did you learn to sharpen a sword like that?"
I had spent my entire life with a sword in my hands. Naturally, my skill at maintaining blades surpassed even that of most blacksmiths.
"If you're this good at it, why haven't you done it before?"
"Everything has its time."
Gwangdu stared at me quietly before asking again.
"You're really okay, right? I mean… when people suddenly change like this…"
My hands paused for a moment.
I lifted my head and looked at him.
His eyes were filled with concern—genuine, heartfelt worry.
It was the kind of look I hadn't seen in a long time.
The same kind of look Baekpyo had given me… on the day I died.
A gaze that only came from true care for someone.
"I'm fine."
Shk, shk, shk, shk.
I resumed sharpening the sword.
If it had been the me from my previous life, it wouldn't have mattered what kind of sword I used.
A stick from the ground or a treasured blade—either would have produced the same result.
No, even having a sword wasn't necessary.
I could kill with my bare hands, and if I needed a blade, I'd just take my opponent's.
But right now, I needed a good sword.
Because this body of mine was in a condition that could easily get me killed.
Gwangdu glanced nervously at me before speaking cautiously.
"You're not… planning to get revenge on Miss Song with this sword, are you? You absolutely mustn't do that."
Just then, someone else picked up on Gwangdu's words from behind us.
"Is that really your reason?"
I turned around—and there stood my mother, Im Yehwa.
Gwangdu sprang to his feet and bowed deeply.
"Madam, welcome."
He quickly stepped aside as my mother approached.
"Aren't you going to answer me? Are you truly planning to harm Hwarin?"
"That's not the reason."
"Then why are you sharpening the sword?"
My mother had probably never seen her son sharpen a sword before.
So it was only natural that she shared the same worries as Gwangdu.
"I'm planning to begin serious martial arts training from now on."
"You? Martial arts training?"
My mother was visibly shocked.
Even Gwangdu, standing beside her, gaped with his mouth wide open.
"Gwangdu, did he really say what I think he said?"
"He said he's going to start training in martial arts."
"He's gone mad, hasn't he?"
"Yes, ma'am! Whether it's a doctor or an exorcist, we need to call someone right away."
Just how little effort had I put into training before for them to react like this?
My mother eventually let out a deep sigh.
"So you really are planning to get revenge on Hwarin."
There was strength in her eyes, the kind of firmness only a strong woman could carry.
But layered above that was something no strength could mask—a mother's love.
In my previous life, I never had children.
Partly because I never met someone I truly loved—
And partly because I never wanted my bloodline dragged into the ugly power struggles of the world.
Since I never had a child of my own, I couldn't possibly know the full depth of a mother's heart—
But surely, after seventy years of life, I'd gained more than just inner power and wrinkles.
I could feel the sincerity in her concern for her son.
This was the kind of woman who would gladly give her life for her child.
She's someone who would willingly give her life for her child.
"Would you take a look at this sword?"
I held out the freshly sharpened blade to her.
She examined it—and her eyes widened in surprise.
The edge had been restored so well, it gleamed.
"I don't yet know what I'll end up doing with this sword."
Her gaze shifted from the sword to me.
"But I can promise you this: this blade will never be used to strike the woman I was promised to in the womb."
"It will never be used to bully someone weaker than me. As your son, I swear it."
There was a subtle change in the way she looked at me.
It was probably something she had never heard from her son before.
To be honest, I felt sorry for her.
Because I wasn't truly her son.
But even though I felt guilty for deceiving her, I couldn't tell her the truth.
The truth doesn't always lead to good outcomes.
And if she ever found out… she would be devastated.
To know that her son had vanished forever, leaving behind only his shell.
No matter how this story ends—
the story that began when I became her son—
I will never tell her that cruel truth.
Until that day comes, I intend to live as her son.
I took back the sword I had handed to her.
"Don't worry… Mother."
After offering a respectful bow, I turned and left.
Even as I walked away,
I could still feel her gaze lingering on me—
a gaze filled with concern and uncertainty,
unsure of how to accept the sudden change in her son.