Chung Myung, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, revived as a child after defeating the Heavenly Demon. He discovered that the Mount Hua Sect had fallen and vowed to restore it to its former glory, starting his journey despite the sect's ruined state.
Was it a dream, a memory, or a delusion? He teetered on the brink of death, unsure if he was alive, deceased, or somewhere in between.
Only the past flickered before his eyes.
Images from his youth: his appearance upon first entering the Mount Hua Sect, training sessions with his Sahyung, and escapades into the world, defying the sect's strictures.
Nagging.
Endless, tiresome nagging.
It became monotonous. Though a disciple of the esteemed Mount Hua Sect, his adherence to its teachings was less than perfect. Despite possessing exceptional natural talent, which had once earned him the prestigious title of “Plum Blossom Sword Saint,” he remained a novice within the sect's hierarchy.
Why had this truth eluded him for so long? Even when the doctrines felt discordant, when he felt utterly out of place… every aspect of his being was a testament to the Mount Hua Sect. This profound gratitude fueled his deep admiration for the sect.
He realized it all too late. Regret was a futile emotion now.
If only a sliver more focus had been given to the teachings, if only he had possessed slightly more strength, perhaps that tragic end could have been averted. If only…
Chung Myung heard the gentle voice of Sahyung Jang Mun. This man, who had served as his father, his elder brother, his entire family—he was Chung Myung’s ultimate aspiration. He had yearned to follow him until the very end, but that opportunity, too, had vanished.
His voice resonated with an unmistakable warmth.
To Chung Myung, it seemed as though Sahyung was offering a soft chuckle. Forever kind and exceptionally benevolent.
Tak!
Puck!
“Aggggggggggggghhh!”
“H-Heavenly Demon?” Instinctively, Chung Myung thrust his hand upward, seeking to shield his head. If death hadn't claimed him yet, these assaults would surely seal his fate.
“Heavenly Demon?” Yet, the voice that responded was not the Heavenly Demon's, but a coarse, whimpering tone he couldn't place.
“Huh?” Upon opening his eyes, he was met with an equally unfamiliar face.
A beggar. A novice, judging by the simple knot securing his waist, indicating he was just starting out. A beggar among beggars.
The beggar, his face etched with a perpetually grumpy and unkempt expression, scrutinized Chung Myung.
He couldn't fathom the unfolding events.
“‘Heavenly Demon’ – As if!” The beggar’s face contorted, flushing with annoyance. “You lazy oaf, still mumbling in your sleep! Everyone else has already set off to beg, yet you linger here, slumbering as if you’ve accomplished something monumental! Hey! Do I amuse you, huh?” The beggar brandished his bamboo staff.
“Huh?” The beggar recoiled slightly at Chung Myung’s sudden, mocking grin.
Though the situation was bizarre, an inexplicable urge told him not to bother with trivialities. Who was Chung Myung, after all? He was undeniably among the three greatest swordsmen in the world. His swordplay was lauded as the very embodiment of the Mount Hua Sect’s essence, earning him the title Plum Blossom Sword Saint – the other two supreme swordsmen were hardly worth considering as rivals. Even the Heavenly Demon, in his dying moments, had recognized Chung Myung’s unparalleled swordsmanship. Disciples and sect leaders alike had offered him their deepest respects.
Yet, this lowly beggar dared to issue a threat? A THREAT?!
“Huh? Ungh? You find this amusing?”
“Listen here, brat.”
“‘Listen here?’”
“I’m trying to make sense of this predicament, but for starters, you can put that stick down.”
“Ha. Hahahahaha. Hahahahahahahaha!” The beggar could only erupt in laughter.
Chung Myung’s brow furrowed. How dare he respond with such insolence?
And then, the beggar brought his bamboo staff down upon Chung Myung.
Chung Myung was utterly bewildered. How could a mere beggar dare to act so presumptuously, knowing Chung Myung’s true identity? Regardless of the circumstances, he resolved to correct this beggar's insolent attitude before the day concluded.
First, he needed to intercept that staff! Chung Myung raised his right arm…
… What?
Huh?
Why were his limbs moving with such lethargy?
The staff was swift, but his arms felt sluggish as they reached for it. It defied logic – with his renowned speed, he should have already seized the weapon.
Ah! Perhaps it was due to his existing injuries? In that case, he would simply have to rely on his inner resolve…
From the periphery of his vision, a small hand emerged, moving towards the staff with agonizing slowness.
Far too slow… and…
…far too small?
Huh? Hands so diminutive couldn't possibly stop it! This was futile!
The staff connected squarely with Chung Myung’s head.
Chung Myung crumpled to the ground, his body wracked with involuntary spasms. The skull-splitting pain obliterated all coherence of thought.
“Kuaaaaaa!” Chung Myung clutched his head, rolling on the ground. Even the agonizing sensation of his arm being severed had not rivaled this pain!
“You scoundrel!” The beggar intensified his assault with renewed vigor. “Situation? Understand the situation? I’ll do just that! But first, you’ll understand the situation! If you’re going mad, you’re going mad! Stupid fool! Has the heat addled your brain? The remedy for heatstroke is a good beating, you idiot!”
“Ack! Ack! Ack! You insane beggar! Stop this instant, or else… ack!”
“Die! Die!”
“Ah—it stings! Ack!” Chung Myung’s cries gradually shifted as the beating continued.
“—You bastard! I won’t overlook this! I’ll make sure to rend you—”
Smack!
“—Stop! Please, stop now, you jerk!”
Smack!
“—Ack! Accckk! Why are you hitting me! Ack!”
Smack!
“You– beggar– ah, ack! I apologize!”
The relentless whipping continued without mercy.
“…save…”
Smack!
“Spare meeeee!”
As if to emphasize that there were no second chances, Chung Myung was immediately beaten to a pulp.
“…Ack. That really hurt my pride.” Chung Myung withdrew the piece of cloth he had stuffed into his nose.
“Ah, ahhh.” The instant he saw the crimson stains, Chung Myung’s face darkened.
A nosebleed! It wasn't even from internal injuries, but a nosebleed from being beaten! How was that even conceivable? It wasn’t just the nosebleed—nothing had seemed to make sense since he had woken up.
To not even mention his bruised eyelids, it felt as though no part of his body had been spared; beating someone that thoroughly had to be an art form in itself. Had someone not intervened, he would have simply continued beating him!
Had he ever endured such a beating in his entire existence? Despite all the pranks he had executed within the notoriously strict Mount Hua Sect, he had never once suffered such a severe pounding.
To endure such a humiliation for the very first time at the hands of a mere beggar…!
“I am going to tear him apart… That scoundrel! I will bring him down.” Rage and resentment churned within him.
Chung Myung remained on the ground. Acting impulsively would only further harm his already battered body.
“No, that’s not it…” Chung Myung slowly pushed himself up and gazed into the river.
An unfamiliar young face stared back at him. When Chung Myung contorted his features, the young man mirrored his actions; when Chung Myung let out a sigh, the young man also sighed.
“…How did this happen?” Why was there a different child’s face reflected in the water?
No, it was a rather pleasant face. The change in his appearance didn't bother him—after all, the younger, the better, right? But it was far too young. Although, younger was certainly preferable to older.
Furthermore, no matter how he compared them, this face possessed a significant amount more charm and handsomeness than the aged Chung Myung. He had no qualms about this new visage.
However, he was deeply displeased with the fact that his body had become younger as well.
The limbs were short – not due to natural stature, but because he was a child. Worse still, he was alarmingly thin, practically skin and bones. Even now, he felt too depleted and famished to even lift a hand.
“So…”
To put it simply…
“This implies I am alive.”
Perhaps “I” was not entirely fitting terminology. No matter how he looked at it, this child bore no resemblance to the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, Chung Myung. The Sword Saint was gone; his soul, along with all his memories, now resided within the frail body of a child beggar.
“This must surely be the work of some devil.”
Or perhaps it was Buddhist reincarnation? Had he possessed this foreknowledge, he would have certainly joined the Shaolin instead of the Mount Hua Sect.
He pondered if the Heavenly Demon had employed some sort of loathsome sorcery upon him. But if such power was at his disposal, he would undoubtedly be ruling the entire world already.
Chung Myung didn’t particularly concern himself with the specifics of how it transpired, but he had to concede that everything surrounding him was undeniably real. This was neither a dream nor a mere fantasy. His entire body throbbed with pain – the more he contemplated it, the more his anger intensified.
“Nothing will change if I remain seated here pondering. First, I must ascertain the current situation and precisely what occurred. Chung Myung scrambled to his feet and made toward the beggars’ encampment.
Or at least, that was his attempt.
“Kuk!” Within a few short steps, he collapsed.
“You beat me severely, you wretch!” Chung Myung’s eyes blazed with fury. “Regardless of the circumstances, I swear I will repay this debt.”
Even death would likely not cleanse his inherently wicked disposition.
