I come back to my sense's to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, their cheerful songs a stark contrast to the storm raging in my mind. The memories of my past life—of Baek Kang-Ho—lingered like a shadow, refusing to fade. My body ached, not from physical exertion, but from the weight of what I had lost.
I sat up slowly, my movements stiff and uncoordinated. This body felt foreign, like a poorly fitted glove. My muscles were weak, my reflexes dull, and my Qi—what little I could sense—was a faint flicker compared to the roaring flame it had once been.
'This is going to take some getting used to,' I thought, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
I stood, my legs trembling beneath me, and took a few shaky steps toward the center of the room. The wooden floor creaked under my weight, the sound loud in the quiet morning. I glanced at the wooden stick and the plain sword on the table, their presence a constant reminder of the life I had left behind.
I picked up the sword, gripping the hilt tightly. The weight felt familiar, but the blade itself was dull and unremarkable. I swung it experimentally, the motion clumsy and awkward. My body didn't respond the way it used to. My movements were slow, my balance off.
'Pathetic,' I thought, frustration bubbling up inside me. 'This body can't even handle a basic sword form.'
I set the sword down and turned my attention to the wooden stick. It was simple, unassuming, but the faint trace of Qi within it intrigued me. I held it in my hand, closing my eyes and focusing on the energy within.
The Qi was different from what I was used to. In Murim, Qi was raw and untamed, a force of nature that could be harnessed and shaped. This Qi, however, felt… refined. Almost artificial, as if it had been processed or altered in some way.
'What is this?' I wondered, turning the stick over in my hands. 'It's not natural Qi. Did someone infuse it into this stick? And if so, why?'
I tried to channel the Qi, to draw it into my body and use it to strengthen my muscles. But the energy resisted, slipping through my grasp like water through a sieve.
'This body can't even handle basic Qi manipulation,' I thought, frustration mounting. 'How am I supposed to regain my strength like this?'
I set the stick down and began to move through a series of basic martial arts forms. The movements were simple, designed to build strength and coordination, but even they proved challenging. My body felt heavy, unresponsive, as if it were fighting against me.
I pushed through the discomfort, forcing myself to complete the forms. Sweat dripped down my face, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. By the time I finished, my muscles were screaming in protest, and my legs felt like they might give out at any moment.
'This is going to take a lot of work,' I thought, sinking onto the bed. 'But I don't have a choice. If I'm going to survive in this world, I need to get stronger.'
I sat there for a long time, my mind racing. The memories of my past life—of Baek Kang-Ho—were still fresh in my mind. The battles I had fought, the enemies I had defeated, the power I had wielded. It all felt like a dream now, distant and unreachable.
'I was the Heavenly Demon,' I thought, clenching my fists. 'I unified the Central Plains. I fought against thousands of martial masters. And now… now I can't even complete a basic sword form.'
The frustration was overwhelming, but I pushed it down. I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. I needed to adapt, to find a way to regain my strength in this new body.
I stood, my legs still trembling, and walked to the window. The sun was rising, casting a golden light over the small village below. The streets were quiet, the only sound the occasional clatter of a cart or the distant bark of a dog.
'This isn't Murim,' I thought, staring out at the unfamiliar landscape. 'This is a different world, with different rules. If I'm going to survive here, I need to learn how it works.'
I turned away from the window and began to pace the room, my mind racing. The wooden stick and the sword were my only tools, but they weren't enough. I needed to learn more about this world, about its dangers, its people.
'Mira,' I thought, remembering the young girl who had helped me. 'She might have answers.'
I grabbed the wooden stick and the sword, strapping the latter to my belt, and headed for the door. My body still felt weak, but I pushed through the discomfort, forcing myself to move.
The hallway outside my room was narrow and dimly lit, the walls lined with faded tapestries. The air smelled of dust and old wood, and the floor creaked under my feet as I made my way to the stairs.
The common room of the inn was already bustling with activity. Travelers sat at wooden tables, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of conversation. The smell of food filled the air, mingling with the scent of ale and sweat.
I scanned the room, my eyes landing on Mira. She was behind the counter, pouring drinks for a group of travelers. She looked young—no older than fourteen—with dark hair tied back in a braid and a smudge of flour on her cheek. Her sharp eyes flicked up to meet mine as I approached.
"You're up early," she said, setting a mug of ale in front of a burly man. "Feeling better?"
"A little," I said, leaning against the counter. "I need to talk to you."
Mira raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She finished serving the travelers and motioned for me to follow her to a quieter corner of the room.
"What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms.
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I need to know more about this place," I said finally. "About the kingdom, the dangers. Everything."
Mira studied me for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No," I admitted. "I'm… not."
Mira sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Alright. But this isn't a conversation we should have here. Come with me."
She led me to a small room at the back of the inn, closing the door behind us. The room was sparsely furnished, with a single table and a few chairs. Mira motioned for me to sit, and I did, my body grateful for the rest.
"Where do I even start?" Mira muttered, sitting across from me. "You really don't know anything about this place?"
"Not much," I said. "Just what I've seen and heard since I woke up."
Mira sighed again, leaning back in her chair. "Alright. Let's start with the basics. This is the Kingdom of Greymoore, ruled by King Varian Greymoore. It's one of the largest and most powerful kingdoms in the region, but it's not without its problems."
"What kind of problems?" I asked.
"Bandits, for one," Mira said. "They've been getting bolder lately, attacking villages and travelers. And then there are the wolves—bigger and meaner than any you've ever seen. But the real danger…"
She trailed off, her expression darkening.
"The real danger?" I prompted.
Mira hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. That's a conversation for another time."
I wanted to press her, but I could tell she wasn't ready to talk about it. Instead, I asked, "What about the people here? How do they live?"
Mira's expression softened slightly. "Most people here are just trying to get by. The nobles have all the power—they're the ones with magic, after all. The rest of us… well, we make do."
"Magic?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
Mira nodded. "Yeah, magic. It's rare, though. Only the noble families have it. They say it's passed down through bloodlines, but who knows? All I know is that it gives them power over the rest of us."
I nodded, filing the information away for later. "And you? Do you have magic?"
Mira laughed, a short, humorless sound. "Me? No. I'm just a commoner, trying to make ends meet. My father was a blacksmith, but he fell ill a few years ago. I've been running this inn ever since, trying to pay off his debts."
I frowned, a pang of sympathy stirring in my chest. "I'm sorry."
Mira shrugged again, her expression unreadable. "It is what it is. But enough about me. What about you? Who are you, really?"
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I'm… just a traveler," I said finally. "Someone who's lost their way."
Mira studied me for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You're more than that," she said. "I can tell. But I won't push. Not yet."
I nodded, grateful for her discretion. "Thank you."
Mira stood, brushing off her apron. "You should get some rest. You look like you need it."
I didn't argue. My body was still weak, and the conversation had left me feeling drained. I stood, my legs trembling beneath me, and followed Mira back to the common room.
As I made my way back to my room, my mind was racing. This world was different from Murim, with its own rules and dangers. If I was going to survive here, I needed to learn how it worked.
But first, I needed to get stronger.
After my conversation with Mira, I decided to explore the village. My body still felt weak, but I needed to get a better sense of my surroundings. The wooden stick and the sword at my side were a constant reminder of how unprepared I was for this new world, and I couldn't afford to stay ignorant any longer.
The village was small and unremarkable, its streets lined with rundown buildings and its people worn down by years of hardship. The air smelled of earth and smoke, and the sound of clanging metal from a nearby blacksmith's forge echoed through the narrow streets.
I walked slowly, taking in the sights and sounds. Villagers bustled about, their faces etched with worry and fatigue. Children played in the dirt, their laughter a rare spark of joy in an otherwise grim environment. Occasionally, a noble would pass through on horseback, their fine clothes and haughty expressions a stark contrast to the commoners around them.
The divide between the nobles and the commoners was impossible to ignore. The nobles carried themselves with an air of superiority, their every movement dripping with entitlement. The commoners, on the other hand, kept their heads down, their eyes avoiding contact with their so-called betters.
'This world is no different from Murim,' I thought, my jaw tightening. 'The strong rule, and the weak suffer.'
As I passed a group of villagers, I overheard snippets of conversation—whispers of bandit attacks, strange occurrences, and something called the "Shadow Wolves." My steps slowed, my attention caught by the name.
"Shadow Wolves?" I muttered under my breath.
One of the villagers, an elderly man with a hunched back, noticed me listening and gave me a wary look. "You're not from around here, are you?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm just passing through."
The man studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Be careful, then. The Shadow Wolves have been getting bolder lately. They've been attacking travelers on the roads, and some say they've even started targeting villages."
"Shadow Wolves?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
The man nodded. "Aye. Bigger and meaner than any wolf you've ever seen. Some say they're not natural—that they're creatures of darkness."
I frowned, filing the information away for later. "Thank you for the warning."
The man nodded again and shuffled away, leaving me to my thoughts.
I continued my exploration, my mind racing. The villagers' fear was palpable, and it was clear that the kingdom was far from peaceful. Bandits, wolves, and whatever these Shadow Wolves were—this world was full of dangers, and I was in no condition to face them.
As I walked, I noticed a small marketplace at the center of the village. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from fresh produce to handmade goods. The merchants called out to passersby, their voices blending into a cacophony of sound.
I approached a stall selling weapons—simple daggers and swords, nothing compared to what I was used to. The blacksmith behind the counter, a burly man with soot-streaked arms, gave me a nod as I browsed.
"Looking for something specific?" he asked, his voice gruff.
I shook my head. "Just browsing."
The blacksmith studied me for a moment, his eyes lingering on the sword at my side. "That's a fine blade you've got there. Not from around here, are you?"
"No," I said, my tone curt.
The blacksmith nodded, seemingly unbothered by my lack of conversation. "Well, if you need anything, let me know. I've got the best weapons in the village."
I thanked him and moved on, my mind still preoccupied. The village was a microcosm of the kingdom—struggling, divided, and on the brink of collapse. If I was going to survive here, I needed to learn more about this world and its dangers.
But first, I needed to get stronger.
By the time I returned to the inn, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden light over the village. The common room was quieter than before, with only a handful of travelers scattered about. Mira was behind the counter, her dark hair tied back in a braid, her sharp eyes focused on the task at hand.
But she wasn't alone.
A woman stood beside her, her presence commanding attention. She was tall, with long dark hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes were a deep, piercing black, and her features were striking—high cheekbones, full lips, and a graceful elegance that seemed out of place in the rundown inn. She wore a simple dress, but it did little to hide her good figure or the charming aura that surrounded her.
'Beautiful,' I thought, though the observation was clinical rather than admiring. In my past life, I had seen beauty in all its forms, and this woman, while striking, was no exception.
Mira noticed me first, her sharp eyes flicking up to meet mine. "There you are. I was starting to think you'd run off."
"Just exploring," I said, my gaze shifting to the woman beside her.
Mira followed my gaze and smiled. "This is my mother, Elena. Mom, this is Leon."
Elena turned to me, her black eyes studying me with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "So, you're the one Mira's been talking about."
Her voice was smooth and melodic, with a warmth that put me at ease despite her piercing gaze.
"I suppose I am," I said, nodding politely. "It's nice to meet you."
Elena smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Likewise. Mira tells me you're not from around here."
"No," I admitted.
Elena nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you need. We could use the help around here."
I glanced at Mira, who was busy wiping down the counter. "I'll do what I can."
Elena's smile widened, and for a moment, the weariness in her eyes faded. "Good. We could use someone with your… skills."
I frowned, unsure of what she meant, but before I could ask, Mira interrupted.
"Mom, can you help me with the inventory? We're running low on ale."
Elena nodded, her attention shifting back to her daughter. "Of course. Leon, we'll talk more later."
I watched as the two women moved to the storeroom, their conversation fading into the background. The inn felt different with Elena here—warmer, more alive. But there was also an undercurrent of tension, a sense that something was being left unsaid.
I sat down at a nearby table, my mind racing. Mira had mentioned her father being a blacksmith who fell ill, leaving her and Elena to manage the inn. But there was more to their story, I could tell. The way Elena carried herself, the way she spoke—it was clear she was more than just an innkeeper.
'Who are you, really?' I thought, my gaze lingering on the storeroom door.
But for now, I had no answers. All I could do was wait and watch.