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Chapter 1: Prologue
To carry it with you even in death—that is what true resentment is.
And that’s exactly what I feel.
Even after becoming an absolute master of the martial world, the grudge from my past life still claws at my chest.
I wonder... do people know?
Do they know that someone who once reigned as the supreme lord of the Murim still carries an unpaid debt of gratitude and vengeance?
Of course not.
After all, I’m the one who made that phrase famous that still echoes in the Sichuan Tang Clan:
“We never forget grace, even in ruin. And we repay grudges, even in death.”
And yet that very person—the one who coined those words—failed to settle his own score?
What kind of absurdity is that?
But the truth is, those words only came to be because I couldn’t get my revenge in my past life.
In my former life, I was born into a count’s family—one of noble status, lacking nothing.
But when the house was swept away by conspiracy and fell into ruin, I died without lifting a single finger.
A pathetic man, really.
So when I was born again in an entirely different world, into the Tang Clan as one of their collateral line, Tang Cheol-woo—
—I vowed I would never live a life filled with regret again.
And the result?
Do I even need to say it?
I rose to become the Great Elder of the Tang Clan, and the feared Shadow Lord—an undisputed supreme master of the Murim.
Ha… and yet, what good did it do?
I still never got to settle my grudge.
Sigh…
A long breath escaped me.
Those from the Tang Clan and the friends who’d come to visit flinched at the sound.
They knew—it meant my time had come.
I would die soon.
Everyone gathered around me now had come to see me off on my final journey.
The current clan leader, Tang Cheol-san, stepped forward and spoke softly.
“Great Elder… are there any last words you wish to leave behind?”
Last words…
What could I possibly say?
Perhaps because of the regret from my first life, I lived this one with bitter determination.
And I did it in the most fitting place: the cold-blooded, iron-willed Tang Clan.
So, no—I had no regrets.
I made sure to leave behind nothing that could be regretted.
Even the martial arts philosophy I perfected in my final years was passed on to the clan.
I gave the clan everything I could.
That should be enough.
Ah… if I had to name something—not a regret, but maybe a lingering wish—it would be not reaching the peak of Perfect Poison Body.
I even developed a unique cultivation technique to reach that path...
But it was far too dangerous a martial art to leave behind.
Even if I did, it wouldn’t benefit the Tang Clan in any way.
Besides, walking that path would require decades more of cultivation.
Let’s be honest—I no longer had that kind of time.
What’s the point now?
I’m dying anyway.
So what could possibly be left to say?
What else...
Funny, isn’t it?
Even after living this long life, some habits just never die.
Even with these dulled emotions, the words slipped out once more.
“If a grudge takes root in your heart… then repay it—no matter what. Don’t be like me... don’t die still bound by resentment.”
Tang Cheol-san bowed his head.
The other clan disciples followed suit, voices rising together as one.
“We will forever remember the Great Elder’s final words!”
To the wider martial world, they were not exactly comforting last words.
I could vaguely hear my old friend Gong Cheon-gae muttering under his breath,
“Even in death, he says the same thing… The same old line. He was the kind of guy who’d get revenge just for eye contact...”
But what could I do?
I never got to avenge the injustice of my first life.
I closed my eyes.
I had said what I needed to say.
Now, I could rest—
Ssshhhhhhh...
What was that sound?
“…?”
Running water?
It sounded like a gentle stream, like something out of a paradise.
And something beneath my head… it was soft.
I opened my eyes.
My vision was still hazy, but then I saw—
“…Marianne?”
Even after all those years, I hadn’t been able to forget her.
Was this my life flashing before my eyes?
Her golden hair was pinned up neatly, and her eyelashes, long as butterfly wings, framed her eyes with graceful curves.
It was unmistakably her—Marianne.
She smiled at me and spoke.
“Lord Deyan, you’re awake?”
Deyan…
I hadn’t heard that name in so long.
Not even once during all those years as Tang Cheol-woo of the Tang Clan.
Even when I occasionally had that dream—that nightmare—I was never called by ‘Deyan’.
I smiled back at her and replied.
“…It’s been a long time, Marianne.”
“Huh? What do you mean, a long time?”
She tilted her head in confusion.
Exactly like I remembered her—no, even more radiant than in my memories.
“Well, of course… you wouldn’t know.”
I sat up.
Wait—why do my legs feel so short?
Damn it.
…So I became Deyan again in the dream?
Okay, I could accept waking in the dream as Deyan instead of Tang Cheol-woo…
…but why did my body become exactly the same?
When I stood up, my limbs ached.
That frail, sickly body—always prone to illness.
What’s the point of having that?
Maybe because of having Deyan’s mind…
Memories of the first life started flooding back, one after another.
I looked up at the zelkova tree, its wide branches filtering the sunlight like a roof, and muttered,
“Yeah… I remember this tree. We used to rest here together, didn’t we?”
“This is your first time here, young master. What are you talking about?”
Marianne blinked in confusion.
“The first time...? Ah… then maybe I’m dreaming about the day I first came here.”
“Are you feeling unwell?” She asked, stepping closer, concern evident on her face.
“Unwell? I feel fine. That’s what’s strange about all this. Everything looks exactly like I remember. The cool shade… the fresh breeze… this is where I used to clear my head.”
But I shouldn’t have.
Back then, I was weak in every way. If only I had pushed myself harder…
Maybe my family wouldn’t have met such a tragic end.
Maybe Marianne could’ve been saved too.
Overcome by guilt, I pulled her into a hug. With my body being so small again, it looked like I was clinging around her waist—it must’ve been a ridiculous sight.
But I didn’t care. I was just so happy to see her again.
“Marianne… I’m sorry. This old man—no, I—spent so long longing for this time, regretting everything. Why was I so weak… Why did I do nothing? But did you know? There’s another world out there. And in that world, believe it or not, I became the Shadow Lord of the Tang Sect—the man everyone in the Murim feared. Haha… But I guess none of that makes sense to you. Still… Marianne, it’s so good to—”
Thud!
My butt hit the ground hard.
Ow.
That actually hurt?
Wait—what’s going on?
While I sat there, dazed, Marianne backed away in a huff, covering her chest.
“Young master, what are you doing?!”
“Eh...? What do you mean?”
She shot me a tearful glare.
“Even if I’m just your maid, that doesn’t mean you can treat me like that!”
“N-no, that’s not what I meant—”
But Marianne turned away sharply and stormed down the hill.
I sat there dumbfounded, eyes trailing after her… until something behind her caught my attention and made me shoot to my feet.
A sprawling estate bathed in sunlight—its silhouette spread across the green hill like a painting brushed with gold.
It was the same mansion.
The one that had belonged to my old house before it fell to ruin.
“…What the hell is this?”
Marianne’s reaction.
This unfamiliar pain.
This strangely vivid scenery.
I looked down at myself.
Slim wrists. Small, delicate hands.
A body completely untouched by martial cultivation.
When I touched my face, my skin was soft—almost feminine.
“…Hahaha…”
This was absurd.
Completely absurd.
And yet—I had no choice but to accept it.
If it were my first time, maybe I could doubt it.
But this was my second reincarnation.
Understanding it wasn’t that difficult.
The only blemish was that realization hit me after I’d fallen flat on my butt while trying to hug Marianne…
Still, the fact remained:
I had returned to the life of Deyan—the youngest son of the fallen House of Pador—who had died without doing a damn thing.
And now…
I had been given a second chance.
A chance to seek vengeance.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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