NovelForge

# Chapter 1 The moment his eyes opened, dust filled his lungs. Seo Myeong-woo closed his mouth. He breathed only through his nose. The sulfurous air traveled down his throat. He tried to lift his body, but his left arm wouldn't move. It was buried in cement debris. Slowly. Don't rush. He moved his fingers first. His middle finger, ring finger, and pinky responded. His nerves were alive. His blood circulation too. Myeong-woo slowly pulled his left arm out from his shoulder. He checked each joint. No fractures. Only a numb sensation remained. He pushed away a fallen beam. Beneath it was some kind of fabric. Cloth. Myeong-woo stopped his hand. It was a person. He didn't turn his face. First, he needed to assess his own condition. He pressed his ribs. There was pain, but they didn't seem broken. He moved his legs. Both were normal. His vision cleared. The desolate ruins of Cheongun Mountain spread before him. Collapsed pillars, blackened bricks, bent iron railings. The sky was overcast. He couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. The sun was beyond the haze. Myeong-woo stood up. Sand-like particles fell from various parts of his body. His clothes were torn. His shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and his pants were missing below the knee. There was likely a black mark on his left cheek. When he touched it with his finger, it was a wound. It was dry. Had it been days ago? He looked around. The spot where the Cheongun Sect's main hall had stood now only showed a sunken depression. Below it was darkness. Myeong-woo didn't look in that direction. Instead, he saw what lay beside him. A person in a red martial robe. Their chest wasn't moving. Beneath their head was a dark stain. Their face was covered in dirt, so he couldn't tell who they were. Myeong-woo knelt down. He placed his hand on the person's neck. There was no pulse. His face showed no expression. He stood and looked around again. There were more people scattered throughout the ruins. Five bodies. No, six. One was so damaged it was hard to find. They were all disciples of the Cheongun Sect. Myeong-woo walked toward the edge of the ruins. Toward the cliff. The northern cliff of Cheongun Mountain. Below, he could only see clouds. It seemed to be at least three hundred meters down. There would be things that had fallen below. He counted on his fingers. Mentally. Approximately two hundred thirty disciples of the Cheongun Sect. Ten elders. One sect leader. Five guest officials. ─ Get a grip. Myeong-woo spoke to himself. Not aloud, but in his mind. He turned around. Toward the center of the ruins. To the deepest part. A memory from three years ago came to him. That day was also morning. A bright, clear morning. The sun was rising above the eastern peak of Cheongun Mountain. Myeong-woo had finished his dawn training and was heading to the kitchen. He was thinking of having a bowl of porridge. That's when it happened. ─ Huh? Something black fell from the sky. Myeong-woo immediately threw his body to the side. The black object passed over his shoulder and dug into the ground. It was an arrow. It looked to be over three meters long. Then came the next thing. Black shadows covered Cheongun Mountain. Hundreds of them. No, thousands. The sky turned black. A rain of arrows. Myeong-woo ran. To the nearest building. To the entrance. "Attack! We're under att─" Someone's scream pierced the air. What came next was... a chain of explosions. Myeong-woo went down to the basement of the main hall. He thought other disciples might be hiding there. But the basement was empty. What was there instead was... ─ Reapers. Things in black armor were on the stairs. Dozens of them. Their eyes glowed. They were devices inscribed with secret characters. The secret blade was in Myeong-woo's hand. He drew it. The first encounter with a reaper was brief. The secret blade severed its neck. But before it fell, ten more moved toward Myeong-woo. Myeong-woo ran. Deep into the basement. Into the darkness. Trusting only his senses. Listening only with his ears. Feeling only with his skin. They followed him. But they were weak in the darkness. The light from the secret characters was blocked. Myeong-woo felt along the wall with his hand as he went deeper. And he found what was there. ─ This bastard... The sect leader's secret chamber. A hidden passage that Sect Leader Han Jeong-suk had dug in secret. Myeong-woo entered it. Behind him, he heard the footsteps of the reapers. But they couldn't find that passage. Myeong-woo squeezed through between earth and stone and emerged. He didn't know when. He didn't know how long it took. But when he came out, the sun was already setting. Cheongun Mountain was engulfed in flames. Below, screams continued. And soon they stopped too. Myeong-woo didn't stay there. He descended the mountain. In the night. Without being seen by anyone. And he disappeared. ─ And now. Myeong-woo stood in the middle of the ruins. Around him were corpses. Six nearby. Dozens in the distance. Probably hundreds scattered throughout these ruins. In the earth. Under the stones. He was looking for something. Why these ruins were here. Why he had awakened here. Three years had passed. Myeong-woo walked toward the center of the ruins. To the deepest depression. There was... ─ A trace. Traces of arrows. Traces of explosions. And traces of something massive being destroyed. Myeong-woo placed his hand on a stone. The surface of the broken stone was smooth. It was the mark of being melted and hardened by flames. And beside it was... Myeong-woo took a deep breath. ─ The levitation nexus. The levitation nexus of the Cheongun Sect. Something only the sect leader could create. It was completely destroyed. The ground around it had been dug into. It seemed to be over ten meters deep. Myeong-woo stepped back from that place. Only then did understanding come. That the Cheongun Sect had been completely annihilated. That the nexus had been destroyed. That no one could ever return here. And why he had awakened here. ─ A survivor. The only survivor. A laugh came to Myeong-woo's lips. But it wasn't laughter. It was crying. No, it wasn't that either. It was just a sound. A meaningless sound. A sound without emotion. He knelt down. On the earth. Around him, corpses still lay. Now he could see their faces. They were disciples of the Fourth Form. They were ones he had trained with in the same class. Myeong-woo decided not to look at them. Instead, he looked at the sky. The sky was still overcast. He stood up. His body moved, but his heart didn't. He didn't even know where his heart was. ─ I must live. Myeong-woo spoke to himself. Again. And again. ─ I must live. That was all there was. He carefully stepped over the corpses, trying not to tread on them. He thought it would be disrespectful. No—he tried to think it would be. This was a moment that required emotion. But emotion had vanished somewhere. He ventured deeper into the ruins. The structure once called the main hall of the Cheongwun Sect was now half-collapsed. The timber was charred black, and the stone was split by the force of the explosion. Sunlight leaked through the cracks. Three years had passed, and this seemed about right. Nature quickly consumed things that were destroyed. Something glinted in the gap of a fallen wall. Myeongwoo picked it up. It was a bronze bracelet. The surface bore the emblem of the Cheongwun Sect—several curved lines bending above the character for cloud. He had seen this bracelet before. Countless times. It was Cheongwunja's bracelet. Myeongwoo's fingers convulsed. The bronze felt hot. He quickly dropped the bracelet. It fell to the stone floor with a sound. A clear metallic ring. In this ruin, it sounded like a scream. "……." Myeongwoo bit his lip. He looked at his own hand. It was trembling. Not just his fingers, but his wrist and arm trembled as well. He knew what this was. Emotion. The emotion he had been searching for was returning. It was not a hallucination. Myeongwoo decided to search through the entire ruin. Coldly. Systematically. He pushed emotion aside. It was something to deal with later. He found it in the south corner of the main hall. A wooden box. Its surface was blackened by soot, but the interior was somewhat preserved. It must have been beneath a collapsed stone slab. Myeongwoo carefully removed the box. Inside were two things. The first was a martial arts manual. The cover was worn, and more than half the pages were burned, but some were readable. Myeongwoo tried to read the title. The characters were faint. 'Cloud Path Eighteen Forms……' Something else was written below, but it was in the burned section and illegible. Myeongwoo turned the page. The explanation of the first form appeared. 'First Form, White Cloud Qi. Gather qi to lighten the body. It is not reducing weight but dispersing gravity. In the initial stage……' After that, it was erased. The writing seemed incomplete. As if the hand holding the pen had stopped. Myeongwoo continued turning pages. Most were in the same state. Only half of the explanations were written, the rest blank. Either burned or never written in the first place. This was unfinished. A martial arts manual in the process of being written. Myeongwoo opened the last page. There was only a single line written there. 'I have completed up to the sixteenth form. The remaining two forms……' It ended there. Ended forever. Myeongwoo set down the manual. He pressed his finger against the page. The paper was fragile. It seemed it would crumble with just a bit more pressure. He picked up the second item. It was a diary. The cover was brown in color, but now it was nearly black. Myeongwoo slowly opened it. On the first page was a date. 'Cheongwun Era 487, 12th Month, 15th Day' Myeongwoo calculated. The Cheongwun Era was a calendar system created by the Cheongwun Sect. In the common calendar, it was three years ago. To be precise, three years and two days ago. Myeongwoo began to read. 'Today Myeongwoo passed the final gate of the Chosa rank. That child is the future of our Cheongwun Sect. His strength is remarkable, but more than that, he has composure. A spirit unshaken by emotion. This is the true quality of a Daoist.' The handwriting was large and confident. But there were parts where it wavered. The pressure was inconsistent. 'When I see Myeongwoo, I remember. When I was in the Chosa rank. Was I as excellent as him? No. I was inferior to Myeongwoo. Myeongwoo is different. Myeongwoo is……' That part too was erased. No—it had been crossed out. Repeatedly struck through with a pen, the characters obliterated. Myeongwoo turned to the next page. The date was a week later. 'Myeongwoo came to my quarters. He asked for advice on martial arts training. What could I possibly tell him? That child was already looking at a higher place than I. But I told him. To take his time. Not to rush.' Below that were scribbles. The same characters written repeatedly. 'Do not rush. Do not rush. Do not rush……' Myeongwoo's throat tightened. He read more. The next pages. And the pages after that. 'Myeongwoo has been hovering around me these past few days. It seems he wants to ask something, but he cannot bring himself to speak. It is endearing.' 'Myeongwoo's mindset has changed. He no longer thinks only of training. He thinks of other things. I know what that is.' 'Today Myeongwoo asked me. Whether a person can change. I answered. Everyone changes. That is growth. When Myeongwoo heard those words, his expression softened. It was an expression I had never seen before.' The dates drew closer. To that day three years ago. 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow the Heavenward Incense will burn. I will begin my training while breathing in that fragrance. Myeongwoo as well. We will……' That sentence did not finish. The next page was torn. Myeongwoo set down the diary. But he could not remove his hand. Because he knew who had written it. The shape of the characters, the habitual spacing, the way the final sentence was expressed. Cheongwunja had written it. His master had written it. Myeongwoo's eyes grew hot. That emotion was returning again. No—this time it was not emotion. This was a bodily reaction. Something happening beyond his will. He picked up the bracelet again. The bronze was still cold. Myeongwoo gripped it tightly. The metal dug into his fingers. "……." He tried to steady his breathing. But his breathing grew rough. His chest heaved. ─ I must live. He told himself. Again. And again. But now those words carried a different meaning. ─ I must live. It was not a will to survive. It was a promise. Myeongwoo placed the manual and diary back in the box. His hands trembled. But he did not stop. He held the box to his chest. And he left the ruins. The sunlight on Cheongwun Mountain was still cold and pale. The sky was still overcast. But Myeongwoo's eyes were already fixed on something. On someone.