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EPISODE 1
Scarlet blood dripped from a pale jawline, splattering onto the ground.
The body, limp and broken, refused to move as it should.
“You can’t lose consciousness, Master. P-Please… please, just hold on a little longer.”
A desperate voice, soaked in sorrow, reached Manyugang’s ears.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
“Rang-ah…”
But each attempt to speak drove the blade deeper through his abdomen,
tearing at his insides with unbearable agony.
‘It hurts…’
He knew at once—
If left alone, this sword would drain what little life-force remained.
And when that happened, his strength would be misused.
Acting without hesitation, Manyugang wrapped trembling fingers around the blade piercing his stomach—and pulled it free.
“N-No! Master, Master!”
Blood surged, cascading down his torso.
Cheonrang’s face turned ashen, his hands pressing against the wound,
but the torrent showed no sign of stopping.
With his fading consciousness, Manyugang locked eyes with his disciple.
“Cheonrang…”
“P-Please don’t talk. You have to save your strength. Just… just hold on.”
“Never… fall… for the Cult’s… cough… schemes…”
His breath trembled, each word weaker than the last.
Yet Cheonrang only shook his head violently, choking on grief.
“You promised! You promised we’d leave together once this war ended! So why… why now?!”
Even as enemies swarmed from all sides,
Cheonrang’s eyes never left his master.
I have to send him away.
If he stays here, he’ll be gravely injured.
Gathering the last of his strength, Manyugang tried to push him back.
But Cheonrang gritted his teeth and lifted him instead,
as though determined to carry his master to safety.
It was useless.
Manyugang’s fate was already sealed.
The shredded flesh and the gaping wounds were merely details.
Death was always written in his future.
“Once we leave Mount Cheon, we’ll head straight to Sichuan.
Stay there for a while… then leave the Central Plains.”
Cheonrang spoke as if clinging to a dream,
but Manyugang’s knees buckled with every step.
Only Cheonrang’s strength kept him from collapsing.
“And I’ll buy you all the things you like…”
Strange.
Cheonrang’s voice sounded far away,
as though echoing from beneath water.
‘…So this is the end.’
And as his body surrendered to death,
Manyugang remembered the one thing he had always feared—
‘Someone… was after Cheonrang… here…’
Fighting to hold on, he forced his eyes open.
Past Cheonrang’s shoulder,
a man in black crept closer, blade glinting in the dark.
“…Rang-ah.”
“Yes, Master. I’m listening.”
Even in a whisper, Cheonrang responded immediately.
Manyugang grasped his disciple’s collar, smiling faintly.
“Be… happy.”
And with the last of his strength,
he shoved Cheonrang aside—
just as the assassin’s blade cut through his own body.
“Master!”
Cheonrang’s cry rang out,
but Manyugang could only smile faintly as darkness claimed him.
It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, dying…
But if this was the end,
it wasn’t so bad either.
Finally… it’s over.
Now I can go home…
And his world dissolved into pitch-black silence.
Awakening
Drip. Drip.
Cold droplets fell on his face.
Manyugang frowned, shifting slightly.
‘…Tired.’
His vision blurred, his thoughts foggy,
as though he were still drifting inside a dream.
But then—
Wait. Didn’t I… die?
Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead.
“…Why am I still alive?”
He sat up sharply, patting his stomach.
No pain.
No scar from the blade that had sliced him apart.
Something else was off.
“…Did I… ever own clothes like these?”
A green robe, unfamiliar to him.
And at his waist—an elegant jade plaque engraved with the character 唐 (Tang).
Panic set in.
He knew this feeling.
He’d experienced it more than ten years ago—
the day he first possessed the body of Manyugang.
“…No. No way…”
He stumbled to a pool of water inside the cave, peering at his reflection.
The face staring back was pale, delicate, with soft features
and striking green eyes that caught even the faintest light.
A stranger’s face.
There was no mistaking it—
“I… I’ve possessed someone else?!”
And not just anyone—
but a background character who didn’t even appear in the original novel.
Resolve
Sitting cross-legged, Yu-gang held his aching head.
The only clue about this body?
It belonged to someone from the Sichuan Tang Clan.
But what did that matter?
It’s been over a decade since I read “Descent of the Heavenly Demon.”
No way I’d remember side characters…
The plot, however, he remembered well enough.
Cheonrang’s misery.
His endless misfortunes.
And the tragic death of Song Jeokrim—the man who was supposed to bring him happiness.
‘…This story was never kind.’
Yet, despite knowing this,
Yu-gang had followed the original plot—
believing that dying as Manyugang would end it all.
But it hadn’t.
So why obey the story anymore?
“…Wait. I don’t have to, do I?”
His fist tightened.
“Then I’ll destroy it.”
No more suffering for Cheonrang.
No more tragic ending.
This cursed tale would burn.
And as that fierce resolve took hold—
“Dang Baekseon.”
A low, familiar voice sounded behind him.
He turned—only for a large hand to clamp around his throat.
“—Khhk!”
