In a shop near the Dongdong Lake Branch of the Dongrim Battlefield. “Ugh…” Pain lanced through Do-kwang’s stomach and face, dragging him back to consciousness. “……?” His bleary vision slowly sharpened. The first thing he saw was a high, unfamiliar ceiling. And then, sitting in a chair beside him— “You bastard!” The moment Do-kwang recognized Yoon-seok, he lunged from the bed, his fist outstretched. “What are you doing?” “……” Yoon-seok’s expression was one of pure pity. So slow. Do-kwang was striking with all his might, but his arm moved with agonizing sluggishness, possessing less force than would be needed to swat a fly. And it was so thin. Do-kwang’s hand was skeletal, narrower than a woman’s wrist. Whap! With a flick of his wrist and a look of annoyance, Yoon-seok swatted the arm aside. “Keck!” Had he really hit him that lightly? He’d been careless, just waving his hand dismissively. But Do-kwang couldn’t withstand even that minimal force. He was thrown from the bed, tumbling across the floor. “…A paper doll?” It was just a tap… He would have to be more careful next time. “Hey. Get up.” At Yoon-seok’s sigh, Do-kwang struggled to push himself to his feet. It was a pathetic sight. Yoon-seok had watched Do-kwang’s transformation over the course of the night. The man hadn't been able to handle the vitality drawn from a mere two cows. It was like watching a corpse desiccate in real-time. The once-strong Do-kwang’s body had gone limp and wasted, like waterlogged cotton. His limbs had shriveled to sticks, and his eyes bulged grotesquely in their sockets. Yoon-seok had been aware of the side effects of the Chaegi technique, but he had never expected them to be this severe. “Ugh… you… I’ll kill you.” “……” Yoon-seok watched, slightly bewildered, as Do-kwang gripped the bedframe and hauled his trembling body upright. His face was smeared with blood, as if he’d split his head open in the fall, and the arm Yoon-seok had struck quivered uncontrollably. Wait, had that little tap really been enough to break his arm and make his head bleed? He decided he needed to calm the man down. Yoon-seok lightly placed his hand on Do-kwang’s forehead. “What are you doing—!” A jolt of pure, cold energy shot through Do-kwang, and for a moment, his mind went blank. The Shaman's Spear. It was the signature energy of the Domun sect, its icy purity possessing the power to dispel malevolent qi and demonic influence. “Ugh……” As his vision cleared and his mind settled, the wild madness in Do-kwang’s eyes faded. For a time, at least, his true self would return. “Wha… where am I?” Do-kwang, now lucid, looked around in confusion. In truth, his memories from the time he was lost to the technique’s madness were bound to be fragmented. “Hey. Let me ask you something.” “……” At Yoon-seok’s words, Do-kwang kept his head down, his face contorted in pain. Yoon-seok waited, his annoyance growing with the prolonged silence. He briefly considered starting with a blow to get his attention but then shook his head. There was nothing to be gained from beating a madman. This one needed to be coaxed, not broken. “Who are you?” “That’s not important. You’re going to tell me how you learned the Chaegi technique.” “Chaegi… technique?” It seemed he didn’t even know the proper name of the martial art he was practicing. “Yes. The Chaegibeop. The art you’re using that drains the life force of others.” “…..?!” Do-kwang’s face twisted, and shock flared in his eyes. “How do you know that?” “Need more proof?” “……” “The changes to your body. The vitality you drain from a cow only sustains you for two hours. After that, the intense pain returns. We call that the sangong. I’m certain of it. Judging by your current state, the agony must be unbearable.” As Yoon-seok spoke, Do-kwang’s eyes widened. “And the mornings are excruciating, aren’t they? After you’ve spent the whole night sating your thirst. It’s a feeling of absolute emptiness that hits you all at once. Then, for a while after, your body is completely devoid of strength.” “……?” “Your body isn’t supposed to be like this. When you first started absorbing vitality with the Chaegi technique, there wouldn’t have been any problems.” Yoon-seok was laying out the facts of his life as if he were a fortune teller. If he’d been wearing colorful robes and face paint, Do-kwang would have sworn he was a shaman. “But at some point, you started to wither. And from then on, the thirst became unbearable.” The more Do-kwang listened, the more his eyes began to twitch. “It’s a side effect. It’s caused by the accumulation of dead qi in your body.” “How…?” Though his expression remained wary, Do-kwang’s tone had softened. “How do I know? How about this: you answer my questions, and I might just be able to cure those side effects for you. It’ll take some time, but it can be done.” A cure? Do-kwang’s pupils trembled. He had searched everywhere for a cure, but every attempt had been in vain. But this man smiling before him? He not only understood his condition without being told but was now claiming he could treat it? “Who are you?” “I ask the questions. You provide the answers. Do you understand?” Yoon-seok smiled faintly. “How can I trust you?” “You don’t have to. It makes no difference to me. I was planning to kill you here and now anyway.” “……” After a moment’s hesitation, Do-kwang began his story. His name was Do-kwang, and he was the master of the White Household in Guilin, Guangxi. The White Household (白家莊) was a well-known and respected faction in Guangxi Province. It had held its ground for generations, even within the sphere of influence of Sapa. In particular, the family’s sword style, ‘Wrecked Pungdo (亂破飛刀),’ was renowned. As its name suggested, it was sharp enough to slice the wind, a martial art that had earned them a place among the mid-rank masters. But ten years ago, the White Household was bathed in blood. “I heard Cheon Woo-myeong of Sapaecheon paid a visit?” “Yes. How did you know?” “It’s nothing. Go on.” Yoon-seok waved his hand dismissively. Why had Cheon Woo-myeong gone there? Ten years ago, Cheon Woo-myeong had been searching for the kihwayocho. The timing matched perfectly. “He said he was looking for something. He demanded to enter the Sacred Heart, the valley our family has guarded for generations. That is…” The Sacred Heart. A valley said to be located in the center of a cassia forest protected by the Baek family. Cheon Woo-myeong must have heard ancient rumors that the kihwayocho bloomed there and went to investigate. That bastard really had scoured every corner of the land. The rest was easy enough to guess. As proud members of their faction, the master of the White Household would have refused entry to the sacred land they had protected for so long. A fight must have broken out. And against the skills of Cheon Woo-myeong, the Iron Swordsman? “My father was beaten to death by him. My mother, consumed by grief, hanged herself.” Of course. That sounded exactly like Cheon Woo-myeong. Once he set a goal, he would stop at nothing to achieve it. “Oh, is that right?” “……..Yes?” “Nothing. Please, continue.” At Yoon-seok’s detached reaction, Do-kwang tilted his head in confusion before continuing his tale. “It’s all his fault.” That’s right. “Cheon Woo-myeong did this to me…” “Ah!” He remembered. There was one other person besides himself who knew the Chaegi technique. And he was the one who had taught it to Cheon Woo-myeong. That bastard. He’d told him never to teach it to anyone. “Cheon Woo-myeong, that absolute idiot!” “…Yes?” “Oh, nothing.” “…Right. Anyway, I couldn’t control my lust for life, so I had to flee my hometown. I should have just died then.” Do-kwang stared at his withered hands, his face a mask of regret. A tear threatened to spill from his eye. It made sense. He would have been unable to suppress the thirst and desire that had been forcibly awakened within him. It was a miracle he had endured this long. “I tried to resist. But the craving just got stronger and stronger…” Of course it did. Seeing his slumped shoulders, Yoon-seok knew. There was no way that oaf Cheon Woo-myeong could have taught the Chaegi technique properly. The fool couldn't memorize the principles with his brain, so hadn’t Yoon-seok had to beat the knowledge into him? He certainly wouldn’t have passed on the proper mental disciplines and crucial warnings. So, the corrupting thirst that was only supposed to arise when dead qi accumulated must have plagued Do-kwang from the very beginning. That absolute moron. If you don’t know how to teach something, then don’t. To destroy a man’s family and then force this upon him? Had he thought he was planting some kind of seed? Why not just kill him instead of condemning him to this agony? When he thought about it, however, the root of this entire incident might just be the kihwayocho. It was because of Cheon Woo-myeong’s relentless efforts that he had found the fire-flower, and because of that, he had been able to return to this body of Yoon-seok. Was this the Buddhist concept of reincarnation? A karmic bond from a past life continuing into the present? No, that didn't excuse it, did it? But for some reason, he felt a nagging guilt. If he hadn’t known the circumstances, he could have ignored it, but now that he did, his heart felt heavy. Damn it, did learning a righteous martial art actually change your personality? He’d been getting far too sentimental lately. Yoon-seok sighed and asked. “So why didn’t you die?” “Why? I don’t know. I suppose even after mastering this damn art, I didn’t want to die.” Do-kwang let out a self-deprecating laugh. It was just a casual question, not meant to provoke anything, but Do-kwang suddenly began to weep, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Perhaps, as he recounted his past, the jumbled fragments of memory were finally falling into place. Slowly, the memories would return. He would remember the faces of the people he had killed, one by one. “Ah, just to live… To live, to satisfy this craving… How can I ever face my ancestors?” “Hey, hey. That’s enough of that.” “I’m sorry.” Wiping away his tears, Do-kwang knelt before Yoon-seok. “I don’t know who you are, but thank you for bringing me back to my senses.” “Forget that. Now, hold still. This is for my sins.” Yoon-seok stared down at Do-kwang’s exposed neck. Damn it all. What was he supposed to do with him? He pondered for a moment. The man had become a monster and killed innocent people, but the cause was Cheon Woo-myeong. And wasn’t he, in turn, partially responsible for that? Yes. He would help him. The Chaegi technique itself wasn’t evil. In fact, it was one of the best arts for building a solid foundation. And though it had been passed down improperly, in a way, they were fellow disciples who had learned the same martial art. Yoon-seok sighed and drew his sword. Shing. The pure white blade appeared. Swish! Yoon-seok’s sword moved in a blur. Psh! Psh-psh-psh! Blood spurted from twelve precise cuts etched along Do-kwang’s major meridians, spattering the floor. “…!” But Do-kwang was unharmed. He stared up at Yoon-seok, his expression bewildered. His eyes asked the questions for him. Why didn’t you kill me? And what is the meaning of these twelve cuts? “I told you. I can get rid of the side effects.” “....Ah!” “These points on your body are where the dead qi gathers. And…” Yoon-seok sheathed his sword and walked over to Do-kwang. Tuk. He placed his hand on Do-kwang’s head. “From now on, I am going to purge the dead qi from your body. Focus.” “…!” It was one surprise after another. Do-kwang had been certain Yoon-seok was going to kill him. But not only had he spared his life, he was now curing him? In that moment of stunned admiration, a tremendous wave of internal energy penetrated his body. ‘Ah!’ Another wave of awe washed over him. “Don’t let your mind wander. Circulate the energy I’m giving you. If you make a mistake, you will truly die.” “Yes!” Do-kwang adjusted his posture, settling firmly onto his knees.

Chapter 2: A Paper Doll Wakes