TSBIRBV chapter 3

It was an unexpected miracle. As if the tears had cleared away the mist, the once faint outline of the person’s face became clearer.

A handsome man, as if sculpted from winter itself, was holding Yegyeol in his arms.

His face, cold enough to freeze at a touch, was distorted beyond recognition.

“Ah…”

Yegyeol let out a sigh.

If it had been a complete stranger, it might have been different, but Yegyeol knew the owner of that face.

Although he seemed more mature than Yegyeol remembered, there was no mistaking the man who had often appeared in his dreams.

‘If this is just a mistake, it would be really unsettling…’

Yegyeol trembled as he spoke with quivering lips.

“Senior brother?”

It was Je Haryang, the senior disciple of the Kunlun sect and the man who had been Yegyeol’s senior in his previous life.

“Yes, it’s me. Do you recognize me?”

The man gripped his shoulder firmly. Yegyeol was utterly shocked.

‘This must be a result of the car accident affecting my mind.’

‘Why is my senior here, in front of me?’

This isn’t even Center Plains.

Suddenly, Yegyeol glanced around at the surroundings. The riverbank that seemed vaguely familiar, and beyond that, the towering mountain that had been hidden in the mist, was now revealed.

The enormous mountain, reaching up to the clouds, pressed down on Yegyeol’s chest.

Kunlun.

“Ah…”

Cold sweat trickled down his back. Yegyeol shrank away. Everything surrounding him began to fade away in an instant.

“Yegyeol -ah!”

The smell of burning mixed with the scent of blood. Here, there, everywhere, all were either dead or dying.

The building adorned with the symbol of the Kunlun sect, a dragon, was ablaze. The red tongues of fire licked at and devoured the dragon’s orb.

Yegyeol tightly gripped the sword that kept slipping from his sweat-drenched hands.

It had only been a month since he was granted a real sword.

Although he was the youngest, Yegyeol was slower in his progress than his senior brothers, and at seventeen, he had only just been able to hold a proper sword.

At the time, his heart had swelled with joy.

The weight of the real sword filled the heart of the young boy with dreams.

He believed that soon, he would enter the world of martial arts, defeat the bandits and demonic cultists, and make a name for himself as a hero.

But instead of vague dreams, harsh reality had arrived. The sworn enemy of Kunlun, the Heavenly Demonic Sect of Xinjiang, had risen up.

The demonic cult, raising its flag for the unification of the martial world, had invaded Kunlun, the first gateway to the central martial world.

The mountain, always enveloped in clouds and tranquility, was now overflowing with pain and screams.

The once proud plaque of Kunlun was split in half and lying on the ground.

From the elders who had retired to seclusion, to the youngest disciples, everyone took up their swords against the invaders, but they were overwhelmingly outnumbered.

The elite soldiers of the demonic cult, trained in bizarre dark arts, came in endless waves, and even the corpses of the dead were being desecrated by the undead.

It felt as though hell had been brought to earth.

‘I want to run away.’

Tears welled up in his throat. The boy feared the weight of the sword in his hand.

He was barely holding on, but the frontline had already collapsed long ago, and those who tried to flee were struck down with concealed weapons in their backs.

The only reason Yegyeol was still alive was that someone else had died before him.

But even in this hopeless battlefield, there was someone who shone.

‘Senior brother…’

In the distance, Yegyeol saw Je Haryang. He was leading the civilians in Kunlun to safety, staying behind to hold off the attackers.

With every swing of his sword, the blue aura of the Taechung sword blazed like a brilliant flame.

Je Haryang was a prodigy, even in the long history of Kunlun.

The elders spoke of his achievements whenever they gathered, and among the senior brothers, Je Haryang’s heroic deeds were frequently mentioned.

Everyone believed that Kunlun, which had been slowly declining on the fringes of the central martial world, would rise again through Je Haryang.

Although he was cornered, there were numerous enemies around Je Haryang that he had already defeated.

Had he been given a few more years, songs of how Kunlun’s hero had crushed the evil forces of the Heavenly Demonic Sect might have spread far and wide.

But Je Haryang was a dragon that had yet to ascend to the heavens.

“You’re quite tenacious for such a young one! To think you’d cause this much loss to my subordinates!”

The demonic leader laughed with bloodstained teeth. Though his subordinates’ bodies were growing cold, he showed no sign of concern.

“What do you think? Even now, if you follow me, I’ll give you a chance to receive the grace of the Heavenly Demon.”

Je Haryang silently readjusted his grip on his sword.

But his once graceful movements, like those of a dragon soaring through the clouds, were growing heavier.

It was as if something dark and malevolent was grabbing at his ankles, pulling him down.

“Kunlun has already fallen. Even if you protect it with your life, it’s the end.”

The demonic leader clicked his tongue in disdain, teasing Je Haryang by catching and releasing his sword, as if toying with a preyed-upon cat.

Watching was agonizing.

But Yegyeol couldn’t bring himself to charge into the battlefield.

“…Kunlun will not fall.”

Je Haryang’s eyes gleamed with the blue light of the Taechung sword.

“The demonic cult has crushed Kunlun many times. But we’ve always risen again.”

Kunlun’s history was one of constant struggle against the demonic cult.

Any attempt to advance into the central martial world without first toppling Kunlun, which stood in the Western Seas, would have ended in encirclement.

Moreover, the dark arts practiced by the Heavenly Demonic Sect and the martial arts imbued with the celestial energy of Kunlun were mortal enemies.

They were fated adversaries, bound by destiny.

“My death is not the end. Kunlun is a name you cannot destroy.”

Each time the demonic cult rose, Kunlun nearly faced annihilation, but it always rose again.

Over and over.

Je Haryang’s voice, declaring this truth, was steady and resolute.

At night, Yegyeol would often clutch his blanket, secretly listening to the senior brothers tell tales of Je Haryang’s heroic deeds.

The hero from those stories, the senior disciple of Kunlun, was now standing before Yegyeol.

A heart once filled with despair now overflowed with admiration.

“…Is that so?”

The demonic leader, who had been silent, suddenly smirked, causing Yegyeol’s heart to drop.

The mocking tone was gone, replaced by something far more sinister.

Before Yegyeol could think or react, he executed the “Cloud Dragon Eightfold Technique.” It was the very technique that always earned him scolding from his master for his slowness.

The dragon riding the clouds crossed the battlefield in a single breath.

Without realizing what he was doing, Yegyeol threw himself between the demonic leader and Je Haryang.

A dark hand pierced through Yegyeol’s chest. Stunned by the unexpected intrusion, the demonic leader hesitated, and in that moment, Je Haryang’s blue sword strike pierced the man’s forehead.

“Ahh, gah!”

Je Haryang, who had never let go of his sword even as his hand was torn, caught Yegyeol’s falling body.

Yegyeol tried to call out to his senior brother, Je Haryang, but instead, blood spurted from his mouth.

The fresh blood soaked into Je Haryang’s already tattered white robe, staining it further.

“Senior… brother…”

“What… is this…?”

Je Haryang, whose face was ashen under the blood splatters, looked down at Yegyeol in disbelief. His expression was one of complete confusion, as if he couldn’t comprehend the scene before him.

The man who had bravely stood against the demonic leader was now visibly shaken, and Yegyeol was astonished.

Je Haryang was a prodigy who carried the hopes of their sect, while Yegyeol had always been the overlooked youngest disciple.

“You… must live.”

Yegyeol’s words were was slowly going away. But there was something he needed to say, no matter what.

“Live… please.”

With a feeble hand, Yegyeol pushed against Je Haryang’s chest. The senior brother, who had always seemed as towering as Kunlun itself, stumbled back at the weak push.

Only now did Yegyeol realize that he had saved Je Haryang with his own life.

Yegyeol smiled brightly, forgetting even the pain. If Je Haryang survived, he would rewrite the history of the martial world.

He would become the new pillar of Kunlun, standing tall against the demonic cult, unyielding.

His limbs grew weak. Yegyeol exhaled his last breath and slowly closed his eyes.

“No! Junior, junior!”

The desperate cry, chasing after the now unanswerable Yegyeol, was filled with despair.

Thus, Kunlun’s dream became Yegyeol’s dream.

Waking up in a cold sweat, Yegyeol opened his eyes, gasping for breath. But everything before him was shrouded in darkness.

The sounds from the car accident and the screams of his parents echoed endlessly in his ears, causing a ringing sensation.

It felt as if a gong had been struck inside his head, making it throb painfully.

The aftermath of his breakdown had thrown Yegyeol’s senses completely out of balance, plunging him into a distorted world in an instant.

“Aah… Aahhh…!”

Yegyeol twisted and tore at his hair in agony.

‘Is this really my head that I’m holding onto?’

He couldn’t feel anything with his fingertips.

It was terrifying to lose sight of what he was seeing and to not feel what he was feeling.

Instead, there was only noise, pain, and the memories of the accident.

Once again, Yegyeol was thrown back onto that highway.

Someone grabbed his shoulders firmly.

“Gyeol, Yegyeol! Get a hold of yourself!”

Yegyeol shoved and scratched at the person restraining him, unaware that his name had been called.

In the midst of all the noise, he instinctively assumed that anyone searching for him must be the assailant who killed his parents.

“Get off! Let go, let go of me!”

Struggling desperately to break free, his clothes became disheveled.

The other person held Yegyeol in a tight embrace to prevent him from thrashing about and pinned him to something soft on the ground.

“Get a grip! If you keep this up, you might bite your tongue…!”

At that moment, the warmth of the other person’s hand spread from where it touched Yegyeol’s skin, slowly seeping through his entire body.

Only then did Yegyeol realize that he hadn’t lost his sight, but that something had been covering his eyes.

“When will the doctor arrive?”

The voice that questioned someone urgently sounded strangely familiar, even though Yegyeol had only heard it for the second time.

Yes, before he fainted, he had met the guide. And that guide was…

“Senior…”

The words he mumbled in disbelief prompted a response from the other person.

“Yes. Do you know who I am?”

The black cloth covering Yegyeol’s eyes slipped halfway off during his struggle. Squinting at the blurry figure in front of him, Yegyeol recognized the familiar shape and nodded.

Apparently, he had fainted.

It wasn’t surprising. His body had already reached its limit due to the breakdown.

Once he felt the relief of being guided, his body naturally collapsed.

He also understood the aftereffects he experienced upon waking up.

It was because the guide, Je Haryang, had let go of his hand while he was unconscious.

Who could have imagined that this hand was Yegyeol’s lifeline?

“It hurts, it hurts so much…”

Yegyeol buried himself in his guide’s embrace. Not even as a child reborn did he cling so helplessly.

Je Haryang wrapped his hand around Yegyeol’s trembling shoulder, still shaken by the memories of death.

“Hold on, just hold on a little longer. This time, I’ll make sure…!”

Je Haryang, in a voice full of tender affection, repeatedly promised something to Yegyeol.

Though Yegyeol didn’t understand what he meant, he nodded.

His condition wasn’t good.

The exhaustion from his frantic struggle had drained him.

Sensing his body sinking to the floor, Yegyeol quickly grasped Je Haryang’s hand.

“Ho, hold… please hold my hand.”

Even though it was an unusual request, Je Haryang obediently took Yegyeol’s hand.

Desperately intertwining their fingers, Yegyeol pulled Je Haryang’s hand to his chest and whispered.

“Don’t leave me alone. Please… promise me.”