> "The world called me villain once. I just never had the spine to accept it. Now I wear the name like a crown."
— Ryu Seok-jin
---
The pines whispered like dying monks as Ryu Seok-jin descended the ridge, dusk bleeding across the sky like an open wound.
His jaw was stone.
His steps—measured, unhurried.
But beneath that stillness, a storm churned.
> "What the hell was I thinking…?"
That girl… Seo Hana.
No. Not her.
Just a mirror. A cruel echo of a memory he had buried in the grave of his first life.
And yet—her face, her voice, her presence had scraped something raw inside him. Had carved open a wound he'd sworn would never bleed again.
> "She's not Hana. Hana is gone. Long gone."
His knuckles whitened over the hilt of his blade.
> "I don't have time for ghosts."
He stopped at the edge of the path, eyes narrowed toward the Iron Vow Saber Sect gates far ahead.
> "I didn't come back to feel. I came back to destroy."
---
The Oath of Ruin
They took everything from him.
His title.
His dignity.
His dreams.
His name.
He had spent Forty years clawing his way to the summit of the sword path, only to be cast down by cowards in silk robes—whispers and politics painting him a traitor.
> "The Five Great Clans thought they won."
> "They thought killing me in silence would erase me."
His voice was a whisper—and a curse.
> "But I lived. And now I choose this path—the villain's path."
There would be no redemption. No hero's journey.
Only blood.
Only fire.
Only revenge.
> "One by one, I'll hunt them."
> "I'll shatter their bones and tear the truth from their dying tongues."
> "And when they kneel before me—when their lineage turns to ash—they'll remember the name they tried to bury."
> "Ryu Seok-jin."
---
Return to the Sect
Night had fallen by the time he reached the Iron Vow Saber Sect.
And there—waiting at the main gate, arms crossed beneath the flickering torchlight—stood a tall figure. A mountain of a man with stern eyes and a quiet strength in his posture.
Sect Master Nam Gun-seok.
Father of Nam Cheon.
The man who, by blood, now called Ryu son.
Ryu cursed under his breath.
> "Tch. I forgot he was returning today from the student expeditions... I was too distracted."
Too distracted by a girl with a dead woman's face.
He braced himself for a scolding. Questions. Maybe suspicion.
But instead—
Nam Gun-seok stepped forward and pulled him into a sudden, solid embrace.
> "So," the man grunted, patting Ryu's back. "You've healed well. Stronger, even. Handsome too. The heavens must favor you, boy."
Ryu froze, stunned.
> "…What?"
> "No need to speak," Gun-seok said with a small, rare smile. "You've returned. That's all that matters. Go eat. Rest. Tomorrow, the sword calls."
Then the man turned and strode back toward the training grounds, leaving Ryu speechless in his shadow.
> "This… is what it feels like?" he muttered. "To be cared for?"
He almost laughed.
But it came out as a breathless scoff.
> "Too late for that."
---
Training Grounds — Iron Vow Discipline
The sect had changed.
New disciples flooded the field—faces he didn't recognize. They trained with hard gazes and tighter formations. The Iron Vow Saber Sect, once stagnant, had grown sharper in his absence.
Rows of saber users clashed in rhythm, executing precise close-quarters routines. The sound of steel echoed across the courtyards like thunder rolling over stone.
One student spotted him.
> "Senior Cheon!"
Heads turned.
Cheers. Greetings. Respect.
> "Welcome back!"
"Glad to see you recovered, senior!"
"You're looking strong again!"
He nodded in return, silent but composed. He didn't need their praise. He didn't need friends.
He was playing a role—and the mask fit too well.
> "They cheer for me," he thought. "But if they knew who I truly was… they'd run."
---
Private Quarters — The Blade Awakens
Later that night, after a quiet meal, Ryu returned to his quarters—a simple wooden room with no luxuries, only a meditation mat and a single sword stand.
He sat.
Closed his eyes.
And opened the floodgates.
His internal Qi surged like a river breaking its dam. The Sword Saint's Heart pulsed within his dantian, reforging every cell, refining his Geomgi with unnatural purity.
> "I'm beyond Sword Initiate now."
> "I've crossed into the realm of Sword Spirit Wielder."
A realm where will shaped reality.
Where a sword was not just steel—but voice, spirit, and wrath.
> "Earlier, I killed three Blade Disciples in seconds. I didn't even try."
This body… this rebirth…
> "It can handle two of the Five Ultimate Sword Techniques already."
He stood, unsheathing his sword in a slow, reverent motion.
The air shimmered.
---
Ryu's Techniques — Reforged in Blood
1. Davaoeño Dance of Death
A flowing, deceptive sword form modeled after the rhythm of traditional Davaoeño dances. Every movement was graceful… until it snapped—lethal, precise, and impossible to read.
He shifted, spun, and struck.
Footwork like a breeze.
Blade like a whisper turning into a scream.
The shadows on the walls danced with him.
> "Deception is the deadliest rhythm."
---
2. Mount Apo's Fury
A technique drawn from the fury of the Philippines' highest peak—raw, explosive power focused into a single, mountain-splitting strike.
He stepped forward.
Gathered his weight.
And slammed his blade down in a precise arc.
A crack split the training dummy clean through, the shockwave knocking over a torchstand.
> "A single blow to shatter foundations."
His breathing slowed.
> "Only two of the five… but enough."
> "Enough to start killing."
He sheathed his blade.
Walked to the window.
And stared at the stars.
> "I'll polish the rest… while carving my path through their throats."