Prologue

Dust rose from the cliff’s edge.

A man in a pale mask stood face to face with the youngest disciple of Heukcheon, Yae Kang Oh.

“There is no turning back now.”

A voice like a blade of frost came from Kang Oh’s lips. It was a rare thing, for he was the very subject of the rumors claiming that a noble aura had emerged from Heukcheon.

And yet now, Kang Oh…

The force radiating from him was no less than that of his master, the Lord of Heukcheon, Yae Jinrang.

The masked man silently tightened his grip on his fan. Kang Oh was right. There was no more room to retreat.

Kang Oh was the one who struck the ground first.

Black qi surged from his blade in thick, overlapping waves. Though the masked man was merely holding the folding fan in place, he blocked Kang Oh’s sword completely. Once might have been coincidence. But the masked man showed no signs of faltering as he faced his opponent head-on.

Being blocked again and again by his opponent’s defense was a rare experience for Kang Oh. But he did not stop. He continued to launch one attack after another without pause.

The sun chased after the path of Kang Oh’s sword.

The swordplay unleashed by the cherished disciple of Heukcheon’s lord, said to rule half the martial world, was riddled with fatal openings and killing intent.

Had there been a witness, they would have screamed at the sight of the countless white arcs pouring down, certain the masked man could not survive it.

This was no duel. It was a one-sided pursuit met with silent defense.

Without a single attempt to counter, the masked man was driven back step by step, until he stood at the very end of the cliff. Yet his pale robes showed no sign of disarray, his breathing remained quiet and steady, a stark contrast to the blazing eyes of Kang Oh.

The fact that the man still hadn’t uttered a single word only fanned the flames of Kang Oh’s frustration, like a thousand years of drought suddenly breaking in a violent storm.

The ground beneath the two warriors trembled under the pressure of their clash, as though it would crumble at any moment. But neither Yae Kang Oh nor the masked man yielded an inch from the jagged edge.

A single step forward meant certain death. And yet, the man who raised his fan to block Kang Oh’s blade showed no sign of fear.

He was unbearably bold. And far beyond that, incomparably strong.

There was a certainty in him that even if he fell from here, he would not die. And beyond that, a resolve, that he wouldn’t let Kang Oh die either, even if Kang Oh insisted on being the executioner.

Kang Oh knew this.

This was not a fight meant to win. It was nothing more than a test. A way to draw out the truth from the man.

From behind the mask, calm eyes looked straight into Kang Oh’s.

A gaze so familiar.
And so dearly missed.

Kang Oh gathered his qi into the blade.

Zlip—

Dan-sa, the sword in his hand, responded to the torrent of power pouring from its master. As if it were being reforged in the forge of his will, the blade darkened, turning pitch black, like it had been quenched in ink.

For the first time, the masked man’s brow twitched at the force of Kang Oh’s qi, which had now pushed beyond sword energy into pure force.

This was the final strike.
But it wasn’t meant to take a life.

With one hand, the masked man blocked the blade using only his fan. His palm tore open, and blood began to drip.

In the brief instant when the masked man faltered, Kang Oh’s sword sliced through his mask.

Clang—

The mask split cleanly in two, revealing a face so exquisitely sculpted, it scarcely seemed of this world.

Pale skin, so fair it looked like even a touch would stain it. His eyes were cool and wide-set, his nose straight, and his lips perfectly shaped. His features were so delicate they seemed drawn from a dream. Once black as ink, his hair had now turned white like the snow-covered peaks of the far northern mountains.

He was still beautiful. But now, there was something fragile about him, an ethereal quality that made him seem like he might dissolve into the air at any moment.

His lashes lifted slowly, revealing eyes as still and luminous as polished black jade.

No one had seen it but Yae Kang Oh and the sun. And perhaps that was the saddest part of all, because the face beneath the mask was something no one else would ever witness, a beauty that seemed carved out of silence itself.

But in front of that breathtaking beauty, Kang Oh’s expression slowly crumbled.

There was no way he wouldn’t recognize that face. Not because it rivaled the finest portraits in elegance and charm, but because that man had once been his protector.

“Is it you…?”

The youngest disciple of the Lord of Heukcheon, Yae Kang Oh, stood before the man he had admired, longed for, and never stopped waiting for.

The man believed by all to have vanished from the world, Dan Woo Hyo, the Lord of Baekragung, was right there.

“All this time… all this time, it was you.”

Even as Kang Oh pressed him again and again, Dan Woo Hyo gave no reply.

It was driving Kang Oh mad.
A storm of emotions blazed within him.

He had thought it was strange.
Just strange.

The whole martial world had been shaken by the compassion shown by the masked man who claimed to be the Lord of Baekragung. But Kang Oh alone had seen something more in him.

In the one who stood tall as a leader of the righteous sects, he had caught a glimpse of the man he once called a slave… Woo.

Since then, Kang Oh began following the masked man. And little by little, fragments of the past he had buried began to return.

He kept hoping it wasn’t true. Yet in the end, he led him to this snowy cliff.

And now, everything was clear.
Memories he thought long forgotten surged up in an instant, tangled with emotions that had lost their way.

Over the shattered pieces of Dan Woo Hyo’s mask, Kang Oh threw down his sword. A hollow sigh drifted from his lips.

“I kept thinking… it might be you.
And still, I prayed it wasn’t. I can’t even count how many times I begged myself to be wrong.”

As Woo stood there with a twisted expression, Kang Oh’s eyes quietly traced over his face. Even as he looked at him, he found himself thinking, I want to see him.

He had promised himself he would spend a lifetime just longing from afar. But in the end, he had stubbornly chased after Woo. And now, he had found him.

The one-sided pursuit had ended in Dan Woo Hyo’s defeat.

For Yae Kang Oh, the day they stood together at the edge of that cliff had long been hidden in a shroud of silence and shadow. But now, it was vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.

He had taken the blade in Woo Hyo’s place, wrapped himself around him, and fallen from the cliff. He had prayed that Dan Woo Hyo would remain brilliant forever.

But reality had not followed the path that the boy had hoped for.

Swept away by the merciless tide of fate, he had seized Dan Woo Hyo, hurt him, and in the end, lost him.

The past had finally caught up to Kang Oh.
Regret tore through his chest, and the pain it brought erupted from his lips.

“That lowborn servant… he never once dreamed of a future with you. So why are you here? Why? Why!?”

To that anguished cry, Dan Woo Hyo, who had remained silent all this time, gave a bitter smile.

That was why he could throw his life away so easily. He never even thought of it as a sacrifice. “So… is that why you did it?”

Kang Oh clenched his teeth at Dan Woo Hyo’s chilling question. It was about that day ten years ago, when he fell from this very cliff.

But he had never once regretted the choice he made back then. He had only thought, if that moment could remain in Dan Woo Hyo’s heart, as just one unforgettable memory, then it was enough. Even if the man were to one day take the hand of a gentle woman and marry her, he might still remember that once, there was a lowborn fool who died for him. That was all Kang Oh had hoped for. Because he didn’t believe there could ever be a future for them. He never let himself expect something like that.

But then… why was that man standing before him now? Why was he looking down from such a height, as if he had crossed through every bloodstained, tear-soaked memory to meet him here?

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T/N

All names of sects, people, and places will be presented in Romaji without hyphens. This is a stylistic choice made for smoother reading and a more consistent flow throughout the translation.

Footnotes or a glossary will be provided where clarification is needed.