Vol. 1 Chapter 1 – Heukcheon Pt 1

“You can’t even do this properly? I’ve no face left to show the Lord of Heukcheon.”

A kick crashed into him. Another followed, then another. The Third Overseer didn’t hold back. Blows landed without pause.

Curled into himself, Woo bore it in silence. Pain was nothing new. Crying out only made it worse.

He no longer remembered what offense he was being punished for.

Sometimes the beatings came with reason. Sometimes they didn’t. He had long stopped trying to make sense of it. If he let his arms go slack and accepted it, the bruises faded faster. Even the memory dulled. It made him feel slow. Empty. Like something inside had unraveled.

Still, that one memory never left.

Would even it vanish, if he drank the water said to flow through the underworld?

Could it?
Should it?

It hadn’t always been like this.

“I’m sick of punishing you. Get out of here and wash.”

The Third Overseer spat near him. He managed Heukcheon’s servants, but the hatred he showed Woo was something personal. That alone made it clearer than words.

Hatred was rarely born from the one who carried it.

It came from the one above.

Yae Jinrang. Lord of Heukcheon. One of the two powers that split the martial world. A man who ruled not with thunder, but with silence.

Woo owed him more than his life.

But a spared life did not mean kindness.

Only after the Third Overseer left did Woo move. He waited, just long enough for his limbs to stop trembling. Pain flickered through every joint, every breath. Not a patch of him had been spared. But the command had been given. If he disobeyed, worse would follow.

He rose and limped forward. His steps had always been uneven, but now, every pace felt like broken glass beneath his heels.

He had never imagined this would be his life.

Once, he had been a man forged from glory.

But that belonged to a past too far to touch.

The stream was shallow today. When the monsoon came, it could swell high enough to sweep a man away, but now it barely reached his knees. Woo stripped off his torn clothes, slow and quiet, and laid them across a flat rock. Then he stepped into the water.

It was cold enough to numb bone.

Once, his body would not have flinched. But his strength had faded long ago. Now he shook. His teeth clattered. That wasn’t all. Wounds burned where water touched them. His legs, soaked in exhaustion, threatened to give out.

But he stayed upright.

The thought of another’s care was a story too distant to believe in.

Only the stream whispered beside him, relentless and soft.

Then came a sudden rustle from the woods.

He froze.

Someone was near. Close enough to be dangerous. And he hadn’t sensed them at all.

That alone was more frightening than pain.

“I seem to have lost my way.”

The voice was smooth. Measured.

A man stepped out from between the trees.

Young. Steady. His face was striking, masculine, yet unnaturally vivid. His lips were blood-red. His eyes, deep and black beneath strong brows, held a gaze that pinned the world in place.

Woo turned slowly.

He knew that face.

It was broad daylight, yet looking at him made it feel like night had fallen.

There was something decadent about him. Strange. Almost corrupted.

His shoulders were broad. His limbs, long and cleanly cut. The presence around him felt unreal, like something out of the old myths. A god of war from an age before records. Deep red fabric wrapped his frame, revealing the sharp contours of muscle beneath. His body moved with the quiet force of a weapon still sheathed.

He carried the scent of a man, the weight of a fighter. But there was something else too, something that stirred desire rather than fear.

Even so, it wasn’t his beauty that left Woo breathless.

He had grown.

That single thought startled him. He had been staring without meaning to. Then he dropped flat against the ground, face down in the dirt.

He was naked. He had only just managed to rinse the blood and sweat from his wounds. Now the earth clung to him again. But none of that mattered.

His mind had gone blank.

Why now?

He had lived in Heukcheon for ten years. Not once had their paths crossed. Not even by mistake.

That made this moment feel like being struck by lightning.

“A servant?”

The voice was cool. The weight in it pressed on Woo’s spine like a blade just short of touching skin.

The man’s gaze fell on Woo, who remained facedown in the dirt. His expression hardened as he looked at the bare body in front of him.

It wasn’t disgust at seeing another man naked.

It was what that body revealed.

Under the sunlight, Woo’s back was a wreck of skin. Old scars crossed over newer wounds. A few marks looked like they had come from a whip. Fresh bruises had begun to bloom, red and purple, like blood rising to the surface. He looked as if he had been beaten only moments ago.

Heukcheon’s name was feared across the martial world, but even so, treatment like this was rare for a servant who held no martial strength. The cruelty shown here crossed a line.

Kang Oh was not someone who concerned himself with others. But this was excessive.

“Yes, Third disciple,” came the voice from the ground.

“You know who I am.”

“How could someone like me not recognize the beloved youngest disciple of the Lord of Heukcheon?”

Woo lied without the slightest hesitation. His voice was smooth, his tone respectful.

Yae Kang Oh. The Third disciple of Heukcheon. The youngest and most favored disciple of Yae Jinrang, the man hailed as the greatest lord of the demonic path.

He was a prodigy among prodigies. A name spoken in whispers and awe.

Kang Oh’s name already carried weight among those marked as the next generation of leaders. His reputation was spreading fast.

But Woo had known Kang Oh long before he ever heard the name Yae Jinrang.

That was what made this reunion unbearable.

He didn’t know what this feeling was. Joy? Sorrow? Regret? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was all of them. Perhaps it was none. The only comfort, if it could be called that, was Kang Oh did not recognize him.

Even if some memory still lingered, there was no way he would connect that past to the person lying here now.

The gap between then and now was like day and night. Sometimes, even Woo could not recognize himself.

As he bowed, palms in the dirt, he noticed the soil clinging to his fingers. Crawling through the mud on one’s knees was a fate lower than any insect’s. He did not find it newly shameful. But the distance between him and Kang Oh was impossible to ignore.

He was someone who had already left.

Someone who belonged to the past.

Chance had placed them in the same space again, nothing more. They would not meet a second time.

Woo forced himself to remain calm.

“Those wounds. Who gave them to you?”

Kang Oh’s voice was soft.

“It’s nothing. I- I was punished. I failed at my duties, that’s all.”

Still flat to the ground, Woo bowed even lower until his forehead nearly touched the earth.

Kang Oh frowned.

“If someone defied Heukcheon’s order and broke our code, then punishment is expected. There’s no need for you to make excuses on their behalf. Just tell me. Who did this to you?”

Woo’s lips parted. But no sound came out at first.

“I… that is…”

He stammered, his words refusing to form. His throat tightened as if frozen shut. Kang Oh watched quietly and concluded that pressing this man further would get him nowhere.

Would he have to investigate every member of Heukcheon himself?

That was when Woo suddenly shut his eyes and blurted out,

“This… this one need to go. The Lord of Heukcheon summoned me. This one… was ordered to wash, but I took too long..”

“You’re saying you serve my master directly?”

Kang Oh’s voice turned cold.

It wasn’t a position where one could afford to lie. Yet something in the servant’s tone felt strange. Too rushed. Too desperate.

He couldn’t take it at face value.

Everyone in the martial world criticized Yae Jinrang for his violent temper, but the man Kang Oh knew had always shown a quiet depth of feeling.

If this servant truly served the Lord of Heukcheon, he would not be covered in bruises like that.

Yae Jinrang would never allow it.

At least, that was what Kang Oh believed.

“Y… yes. This one is only a low-ranked servant, but I do serve the Lord of Heukcheon.”

“Is that so. Then lead the way.”

“What?”

Woo looked up before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to react, yet the shock was too strong. He had nearly raised his head out of pure instinct.

Kang Oh sighed.

That sigh drifted down over Woo’s bowed head, and the weight of it made him flinch. Reflexes like that were often trained through pain. At moments like this, a hand or a foot usually followed.

Watching Woo curl up that tightly, Kang Oh’s gaze narrowed.

Did he really think I would strike him?

“I was already on my way to meet my master. You will guide me there.”

His voice had softened slightly.

“Y… yes, of course.”

Woo hurried to rise. He was still naked, but there was no shame in his movements. He simply turned toward the rock where his clothes were laid out and began to dress.

His back was narrow. Thin. Not even a thread of strength remained in that frame. It looked pitiful.

Kang Oh found himself seeing Woo’s face for the first time. It was disfigured. The skin twisted and uneven, as if burned. The features buried beneath the scarring were difficult to read. Something about it made people instinctively recoil.

But Kang Oh did not turn away. He did not show disdain. His expression simply stiffened.

He had felt nothing but duty when he believed the servant was just another abused underling. But now, a question tugged at the edge of that certainty.

Heukcheon was not a place that employed just anyone. Even among servants, there were standards. Most of them were chosen for their clean faces and decent conduct. A place like that would never tolerate a body like this without reason.

It made no sense.

But the man who claimed to serve the Lord of Heukcheon stammered when he spoke. His face was scarred beyond recognition. That alone would have been enough, but there was more. His gait was uneven, his posture awkward, his back slightly hunched.

“What is your name?”

The question dropped without warning, as if it had only just come to him. Kang Oh might have asked without thought, but to Woo, it felt like stepping onto a bed of coals.

Was it safe to speak?

“Wo… Woo. My name is Woo.”

The answer came haltingly. Kang Oh nodded.

“I see. I’ll remember it.”

There had been no plan behind it. Asking the name of a servant was nearly meaningless. Yet the way the man’s eyes widened in surprise made Kang Oh pause. There was something in that look. Not fear. Something quieter. Like recognition.

Kang Oh’s instincts were rarely wrong.

But this time, he was not sure. He had no memory of this servant. If the man truly worked under his master, they should have crossed paths at least once. Yet the face before him was entirely unfamiliar.

He was not someone who paid close attention to others. Still, a man who walked with such a limp should have left some trace in his memory.

Woo caught the weight behind Kang Oh’s silence and shrank in on himself. He could not help it. Every glance, every pause set his nerves alight. If Kang Oh were a stranger, it would not be this difficult.

His chest tightened even though he had eaten nothing. His body felt heavy. He kept his eyes forward and resisted the urge to look back. It had been years since he was this aware of his limp. The pain had not worsened, but he was slower now. Too slow.

Kang Oh said nothing and adjusted his pace. Though he was strong and could have walked far ahead, he stayed beside him. He never sighed. Never complained.

Woo could feel it. Yae Jinrang had raised him well.

No. Kang Oh had always been gentle.

The memory crept in, quiet and persistent. Woo’s steps slowed.

Kang Oh spoke again, this time from behind him.

“Does your leg hurt badly?”

“What? Ah, no. If my pace is too slow and frustrating, I can walk faster.”

Woo nearly bowed again, as if expecting punishment. Kang Oh frowned slightly.

“No. I only asked because it seemed like you were struggling to keep up with me.”

And he was right. Beads of cold sweat were beginning to gather along Woo’s neck. Kang Oh had slowed his pace unconsciously, only to realize he might have been pushing someone already in pain.

“I’m fine. This lowly one has disturbed your peace of mind. I apologize deeply.”

Woo bowed his head low. It was true that his body was not in good condition. But years of enduring pain had made this level of discomfort manageable. Pain had become a constant companion, something that lived quietly beside him.

Even so, something unsettled Kang Oh. The way the servant spoke. The way he moved. He found himself wanting to lift him off the ground and carry him. That thought alone was out of character.

The third disciple of Heukcheon was not someone who paid attention to others. Let alone felt moved by them.

At least they were nearly at their destination.

The courtyard of Yae Jinrang’s residence came into view. It was filled with rare flowers and exotic plants, blurring the line between the mortal realm and the immortal. But even in that beautiful landscape, nothing stood out more than Yae Jinrang himself.

He did not wear the face of the greatest demonic master in the world. There were no scars. No signs of cruelty. He was breathtaking. His features were flawless. Only the sharpness in his eyes hinted at the nature behind the mask.

With his hands folded behind his back, Yae Jinrang strolled through the courtyard. He lifted his gaze the moment Kang Oh approached.

“Kang Oh. It’s you.”

That smile was almost too beautiful to look at. For a moment, it was difficult to tell whether the blossoms or the man were the more radiant. Though aging slowed as one rose through the martial ranks, Yae Jinrang looked more than just well-preserved. He looked like a youth who had never aged at all.

Knowing he was well past fifty made it even more surreal. He seemed closer to a myth than a man.

“Master.”

Kang Oh bowed, but before he could complete the motion, Yae Jinrang stepped forward and lifted him by the arm.

“I told you, there’s no need to bow like that.”

Yae Jinrang spoke gently. Though he was known across the martial world for his sharp temper, he made a point to treat his youngest disciple with rare warmth. He often told Kang Oh not to bow, not to act with such formality.

But Kang Oh always did.

His place in Heukcheon was not ordinary.

He was the third disciple and that title came with weight. One day, Yae Jinrang had brought home a wounded boy, and declared that he would become his disciple. Not only that, he gave the boy a name and even passed on his own surname. Considering that Yae Jinrang’s other two disciples came from respected noble houses, this act was shocking.

Even the First Disciple, a man hailed as a genius, had never received such favor. He had never been offered the Yae name.

But Kang Oh had.

There were many who believed this meant he would one day become heir to Heukcheon. The rumors had never stopped.

To Kang Oh, who had no interest in succession, the rumor was troubling. He tried his best to act as someone who knew his place. The First Disciple always appeared the picture of a virtuous gentleman, but who could truly say what lay beneath? Regardless of how freely his master treated him, Kang Oh could only continue to carry himself with humility.

Yae Jinrang’s gaze drifted from him and settled on the servant standing nearby.

“You brought Kang Oh?”

“Y… yes.”

Woo dropped to the floor the moment Yae Jinrang appeared, forehead pressed flat to the ground. His voice trembled. He stammered so badly it almost hurt to listen to. He seemed deeply rattled by the presence of Heukcheon’s master.

But Yae Jinrang knew that look.

This fear was not directed at him.

It was directed at Kang Oh.

“So even a worm found a use today. You may go.”

“Th… thank you.”

Kang Oh’s brow twitched. He had known Yae Jinrang was blunt, even crude, but he had never seen him speak to a servant like this. As Woo backed away, Yae Jinrang turned his attention back to his disciple. There was a flicker in Kang Oh’s eyes that he caught immediately.

“Is there a problem? If that one has been impertinent toward you, say the word. I will deal with it at once.”

“There is no problem. I only wanted to thank him for helping guide me here, despite his poor condition.”

“That is his job. It is not something you need to concern yourself with.”

Though Yae Jinrang was generally kind to his youngest disciple, he made a point of showing no interest in Woo. It wasn’t subtle. With the kind of power he held, Yae Jinrang never needed to disguise his intentions. What he felt, he revealed. That was simply his nature.

Kang Oh sensed that his master’s attitude toward Woo hadn’t developed overnight. The Lord of Heukcheon was not someone who tolerated discomfort. If he disliked someone, he eliminated the source without hesitation. Yet that man was still alive. And more than that, if everything Woo had said was true, he even served directly under Yae Jinrang.

That alone made him unusual.

“Is that so? Met him by the stream. His body was covered in wounds.”

Kang Oh rarely questioned his master, but his continued concern over the servant made Yae Jinrang’s expression harden. After a short pause, he seemed to recall what Kang Oh had said earlier and brought it up again.

“You said you wanted to thank him. What do you intend to do?”

“This disciple thought to send a dose of Golden Essence Tonic and allow him to rest until he’s recovered.”

“Very well. Do that.”

Yae Jinrang nodded without resistance. He had no desire to send medicine to the servant, nor did he care whether the man recovered. But right now, it was more important to draw Kang Oh’s attention away from him.

“Master not going to ask?”

Kang Oh’s voice was soft, almost to himself. A quiet murmur, but Yae Jinrang caught it. His ears missed nothing when it came to this disciple.

“Ask what?”

“Your servant was hurt badly enough to need Golden Essence Tonic. Yet you haven’t asked how it happened. That struck me as strange.”

“That…”

Yae Jinrang bit down lightly on his tongue.

In his obsession with removing Woo from Kang Oh’s sight, he had slipped and shown more cruelty than usual in front of his youngest disciple.

“May this disciple be the one to investigate who harmed your servant?”

Yae Jinrang gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Then I will take my leave.”

Kang Oh bowed and withdrew.

Yae Jinrang waved him off. He had allowed the investigation into the servant’s wounds, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside him. What unsettled him most was the fact that the paths of those two had crossed again.

How much effort had he spent these past ten years to ensure that never happened?

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TN

Heukcheon (흑천) is the name of a major demonic-path sect in the story. The term literally means Black Heaven or Dark Sky, but to preserve the tone and cultural nuance, I’ve chosen to keep it in its original romanized form. It will consistently appear as Heukcheon throughout the translation.