Chapter 3. I Got Younger. And Lost Weight Too.

Jegal Hye walked slowly. There was no need to rush. After all, if she told him she had prepared delicious food, he would surely get up with a hearty laugh.

But when she arrived in front of the Alliance Leader’s bedchamber, Jegal Hye frowned. The scent of blood hit her before she even opened the door. She immediately opened the door and went inside.

The scene inside the bedroom was gruesome.

Dark red blood had hardened around the Alliance Leader’s prone, massive body. And by his head, a blood-stained dagger. Jegal Hye slowly looked around the entire room. The windows, the walls, the ceiling, and even the door she had just entered. There were absolutely no signs of an external intrusion.

Only then did Jegal Hye regain her composure.

“I can understand why the maid was so startled. The Turtle’s Breath Grand Art, of all things. Uncle, your prank went too far today.”

The Turtle’s Breath Grand Art.

It was a profound and secret art that allowed one to stop their breathing and heartbeat for a certain period, even feigning a death-like body temperature. She was at a loss for words, thinking that he would use the Turtle’s Breath Grand Art for something as trivial as pretending to be dead.

“Uncle, you can get up now.”

Jegal Hye knelt on one knee by his head and looked down.

In that instant, Jegal Hye was horrified, falling backward and scrambling away. Her eyes grew as wide as lanterns, and her breath caught in her throat, making her gasp and choke.

The wound on his neck was deep, and the flesh, split open by the blade, had turned black. Blood was still welling up from the gap.

“Uncle, this can’t be. This can’t be happening. Why, why did this have to happen…”

Her cries were so loud and sorrowful that people came rushing, but she didn’t even notice.

***

The Alliance was thrown into great chaos.

The Alliance Leader was dead.

The Strongest Under Heaven was dead.

It was the death of a Martial God, a title that would not have been an exaggeration to call him the greatest of all time.

But the shock and confusion were not just because of his death.

There were no signs of external intrusion.

Among the outsiders staying at the Alliance, there was no one with the ability to assassinate the Alliance Leader. No, that wasn’t even a point of discussion. Who, whether from the outside or inside, could possibly kill the Alliance Leader?

The Alliance Leader was a being whose victory even a god could not guarantee. On top of that, faking a suicide was an impossible feat.

Poisoning was not even mentioned.

Not only was no poison found in the Alliance Leader’s body, but even a type of poison that would evaporate after death would be meaningless.

In the first place, the Alliance Leader’s body was immune to all poisons.

He was an Alliance Leader who would even recommend adding poison if it could enhance the flavor. He had once said that the poison of the Blue Mamba, a single drop of which could kill a thousand men, was the best as a seasoning.

He said the tangy taste was exquisite.

There were no witnesses to this death.

The Alliance Leader did not keep any guards around his quarters.

The reason was, who would be protecting whom?

No one could refute it.

If an opponent could break through the Alliance’s defenses and approach, the guards would not be able to handle them, and far from protecting him, the Alliance Leader would have to protect them as well.

Suicide was out of the question.

Wasn’t he the Alliance Leader who got excited every day about what delicious food to eat?

Just half a month ago, he had visited the Green Forest Stronghold and tasted the beef raised by the Green Forest.

The Green Forest King had grilled the meat by the Alliance Leader’s side.

Hugong had marveled, praising him, “You rascal, why are you so good at grilling meat?” and the Green Forest King had jumped for joy like a puppy.

Therefore, only questions remained.

An unkillable person had died, and the Strongest Under Heaven was found as a corpse in an unkillable place.

And it was a suicide.

Nevertheless, this was reality.

***

But Hugong was alive.

It was just that his body had been swapped.

On the night someone had joyfully slit his throat, Hugong was lying in some place and noticed the change in his body.

‘What on earth is this body? Hah, was breathing always this difficult?’

Even while lying in bed, he could tell several things had changed.

The new body was a mess, and this place was not the Martial Alliance.

First of all, the softness of the bed was different.

The feel of the blanket was unfamiliar, and the flow of the air was heavy.

The body was cumbersome, and it was hard to breathe.

He was in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar body, not the Martial Alliance.

He barely managed to get up and out of bed.

When he looked in the mirror, a frail young man was visible, and he pouted.

‘I got younger. And lost weight too.’

He couldn’t just be happy about it. It wasn’t his own face from his youth.

It wasn’t a dream either.

There was no need to pinch himself; just the few steps from the bed to the mirror left him out of breath. No, let’s be honest. The moment he took one step, his legs gave out, and he almost fell. If it were a dream, he would have woken up then.

Is this the reincarnation joke that’s so popular these days?

Not long ago, Jegal Hye had also made such a joke, having heard it somewhere.

– If you were reincarnated, when would you want to go back to?

When he asked back if he would be reincarnated with his memories, Jegal Hye, who hadn’t thought that far, had just blinked her eyes in contemplation. Well, whatever the case, the current situation was not reincarnation. No matter how many times he looked, it wasn’t his face. No matter how much weight he had lost, there was no resemblance.

Possession?

To call it possession, there was no one else residing in the body.

Soul Transmigration?

If not that, then hell?

It couldn’t be hell. Hell with a bed?

Could it be another world? No, before that, what era is this?

There was nothing he could know yet.

He was starting to get annoyed.

It could be a prank of the gods, a work of heaven and earth.

He couldn’t praise them for a job well done.

How dare they change my life as they please. I never even wanted it. How charming my original body was…

‘Damn it…’

Looking at the mirror made him even angrier.

This new body’s face was a skull.

A face that looked like it had lived on nothing but water for a whole year.

The flesh was barely spread on the bones.

There was no such thing as firmness or muscle.

Was that all?

Hollow eyes and sunken cheeks were one thing, but what was more serious was his wrist. On his delicate and slender wrist, which looked like it would break just by lifting a water glass, there were many scars from a blade.

There were knife marks on his neck too.

The furniture in the room was luxurious and elegant, suggesting a well-to-do household, but why the shabby appearance and the numerous self-harm marks?

‘Huh?’

Hugong’s thoughts were cut short. He heard the sound of footsteps.

They were getting closer. For a brief moment, Hugong hesitated.

‘Should I pretend to be asleep? Or should I face them?’

The hesitation was not long.

No, there was no choice.

To pretend to be asleep, he had to quickly get to the bed and lie down, but with the current state of his legs, it was obvious he would fall in the middle if he hurried.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door.

Then the door opened.

The one who entered was a white-haired old man.

A tall, skinny body,

His white beard reached his chest.

His complexion was dark and he looked sickly and emaciated.

A peculiar feature was the two moles on his forehead.

‘Moles?’

It wasn’t a question of why there were two moles on his forehead. Hugong knew this old man.

It was Beomcheon, the head of the Cheonhwa Library.

About four or five years ago, Hugong had met the old man.

Although he looked different from his healthy appearance back then, the old man was undoubtedly Beomcheon, the head of the family. He had an appearance where the moles looked strangely stylish.

One thing became certain.

It was the same era, not the past or the future, but the present.

‘Is this the work of the Cheonhwa Library?’

Cheonhwa Library.

A family of geniuses, and one of the three great libraries of the Central Plains.

They were well-versed in ancient documents and artifacts, and the knowledge of the family head, Beomcheon, was so outstanding that it made the contemporary scholars look foolish.

“My child, you’re awake. That’s good.”

“…”

Hugong was so surprised he almost widened his eyes.

Normally, it should have been,

– Alliance Leader, are you surprised?

And the answer,

– Not really. But it seems an explanation for this situation is needed.

That should have been the sequence.

But, my child?

Beomcheon didn’t know about the soul transmigration. He thought he was his grandson.

There was no pretense in his sorrowful eyes. The air in the room also grew heavy as he entered.

‘Sorrowful eyes at dawn…’

He couldn’t make any sense of it.

Hugong knew very well what to do in such situations.

Hugong remained still.

“Your wish has become my wish. Come here.”

Beomcheon sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned.

Hugong hesitated for a moment but then took a step.

Hook, as he took one step, his knees buckled, and he staggered awkwardly, and after a few steps, he was out of breath. He sat down next to Beomcheon like that.

“Swallow this.”

It was a small pill.

Hugong looked at the pill and then down at his own body.

To be precise, it was his wrist. There were more than one or two scars from a knife.

What kind of medicine could it be?

Considering his frail body, it should be a spiritual medicine to nourish the body.

But probably not.

Looking at the self-harm marks on his body, Beomcheon’s sad eyes, and his words about granting a wish, it was probably poison.

He couldn’t help but lean towards the poison side.

“Is it poison?”

There was no answer to his question.

Instead, Beomcheon narrowed his brows.

“…”

“…”

Only their gazes met.

Hugong tasted bitterness in his mouth.

‘This is awkward.’

The problem that had just arisen was not whether it was poison or not, but something else.

The tone of his speech. The way he had just spoken was not the way a grandson would speak to his grandfather.

“Ahem… so.”

It should have been something like, “Is it poison?” But Hugogen couldn’t bring himself to use honorifics.

“Poison?”

He asked like that, finding a compromise of sorts.

Perhaps because his words were short, the answer was also short.

“Eat it.”

No, now Beomcheon seemed to not care about the tone of speech at all.

Seeing that he didn’t deny it, it was poison.

Beomcheon nonchalantly handed him the poison.

Hugong had no intention of accepting it.

“Before that, there’s one thing I’m curious about… sir.”

“If you’re asking if you’ll die right away, don’t worry.”

He knew that. It would be a deadly poison.

“Who is the current Alliance Leader of the Martial Alliance?”

Hugong wanted to be sure. Whether Beomcheon was involved in the soul transmigration, and whether the era was the same.

“What are you talking about.”

Beomcheon growled in a low voice.

“It’s an important matter.”

“Shut up!”

“…?? “

“A brat who struggled to die and begged to be allowed to die every day suddenly asks who the Martial Alliance Leader is! Is dying not enough for you! How far are you going to humiliate this old grandfather!”

Beomcheon’s eyes blazed.

Hugong calmed his heart.

Further conversation in this situation was impossible. First, he had to calm him down.

“I don’t know what this body has been through, but hmm… I have no intention of dying, so please leave for now. Let’s talk calmly when the sun rises. Ahem.”

Hugong stood up from his seated position.

He looked towards the door, meaning for him to leave.

What kind of story was there?

Why did the grandson, the original owner of this body, struggle to die, and why did the old man come to give up on his grandson? It was impossible to understand right away.

‘I’ll have to take my time and find out slowly…’

Hugong’s thoughts were cut off there.

“You brat!”

Beomcheon lunged at him like a hawk.

Hugong instinctively raised his hand to shoot a finger wind.

Just sealing the blood points. That much was easy.

But reality was harsh.

No finger wind came out.

No, in the first place, finger wind or not, his arm wouldn’t even lift.

By the time Hugong remembered that this was a body that panted just from walking, he was already pinned under Beomcheon’s body.

“Ugh…”