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chapter 00
Prologue
Kang Yu was weak.
He was weaker than old man Dan, who nodded off every day in the village square, and weaker than old lady Hwa, who looked as if she’d break from a light tap.
Kang Yu was also slow.
Slower than bent-backed granny Yoo, and even slower than old man Cheong, who always muttered, “Once I get older, I’ll ascend… I’ll ascend…”
When he was young, he dreamed of becoming the best under heaven.
But as he grew up, he gave up on that dream.
“I can’t even beat the wrinkly old folks in the village. What kind of ‘best under heaven’ is that?”
Just look at him now.
“Uwaaaaaaah!”
He couldn’t even handle a simple quarrel with an old herbalist and was now tumbling clumsily down a hillside.
That herbalist, too, had been an old man.
He was weak. Still weak.
So once again, he made up his mind.
The old grandpas and grandmas of the village had raised him like their own child.
He would live quietly, obediently listening to them—his family in all but blood.
He’d finish the errands they asked him to run.
Maybe, if a chance came, he could even help as a porter.
“Oof.”
Kang Yu steadied himself and brushed the fallen leaves from his pack.
Then, trudging slowly, he made his way down the mountain.
Mount Changbai, Cheongseok Peak
The old herbalist who had just quarreled with Kang Yu walked into a narrow valley between peaks.
An old signpost passed behind him.
<Changbaek Village (長白洞)>
Soon, a small, picturesque village appeared—filled with colorful flowers and trees, fruits of every hue hanging from their branches.
Low thatched cottages dotted the gentle slopes.
The herbalist stopped in front of one.
He bowed deeply toward its closed door.
“It’s Cheon Gyeong.”
Strangely, the door opened on its own.
The herbalist removed his outer robe respectfully and stepped inside.
A young man followed close behind.
Once inside, the herbalist bowed again.
“Have you been well, sir?”
A frail old man looked up and answered curtly.
“What brings you here?”
The herbalist clasped his hands together.
“There’s been bloodshed in Gangdong. I fear the Blood Sect is reawakening—”
“Enough.”
The old man raised a hand, cutting him off.
“Whatever happens in the Central Plains is no concern of mine. You know that.”
“…A great calamity may befall the martial world. Please, just this once—”
The old man snorted.
“Even if Yama himself rose from Hell, I would not meddle in worldly affairs. Go.”
The herbalist bit his lip.
He had expected this answer, but it still tasted bitter.
Since he was not a man to press further once refused, he bowed once more.
“Please take care, sir.”
He turned to leave, but then paused.
“I met a young man while climbing the mountain.”
“Not much of a boy anymore. He’s already twenty.”
“That boy… was it him?”
“Yes. That one.”
“……”
For once, the old man spoke first.
“So? How was he, compared to the one behind you?”
The herbalist gave no reply.
The old man smiled faintly.
“I see. That’s how it is, then.”
The aloofness on his face vanished, replaced by the fond expression of a doting grandfather thinking of his youngest grandchild.
The herbalist seized the moment.
“From the looks of his pack, he seemed to be leaving the mountain.”
“Indeed. We gave him a most important task—one the village elders agreed upon together.”
“May I ask what it is—”
“No need for you to know. You’ve done what you came for, so go. And don’t cause any unnecessary trouble on your way out. Every villager here would tell you the same.”
The herbalist pressed his lips together. That was the end of it.
“Please take care.”
He bowed once more and stepped out of the hut, leaving the village with nothing to show for his long journey.
What in the world was that?
The young man following behind him couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
They had traveled forty thousand li from the Central Plains—only to exchange a few words and turn back?
And yet his grandfather, the leader of the mightiest sect in the martial world, had been so deferential!
Unable to hold back, the youth asked:
“Grandfather.”
“I know what you’re about to say. Let’s just go.”
But the young man refused to let it go.
“No. Please, just one question. Who was that old man? Who could possibly command such respect from someone like you?”
“…”
“You always told me to hold my head high, no matter where I stand—as the future head of our sect!”
“This place is an exception.”
“So we should only be proud depending on where we are?”
The herbalist sighed softly.
“Fine. You deserve to know. My original plan for bringing you here has failed anyway.”
“What do you mean, your plan?”
“If possible, I intended to leave you in that village.”
“What?!”
“But that won’t happen now. There’s no chance.”
“What are you saying—”
The old man stopped walking.
“You wish to know his name?”
“Please tell me.”
“The Demon-Exorcising Soul, Ma Hyang.”
“…!”
That single name made the young man’s eyes go wide with shock.
“T-The Demon-Exorcising Soul… could it be—”
“Yes. The former Leader of the Divine Sect. My own master. And the one who was once the strongest under heaven.”
The revelation struck the young man speechless.
In that instant, his grandfather’s respectful demeanor made perfect sense.
But the surprises didn’t end there.
“And he’s not the only one. The cottage beside his belongs to Dan Heon, the Invincible Gentleman Sword.
The one behind it houses Baek Bu-seong, the Giant Spirit Fist.
Across the road lives Master Cheong Myeong, the Great Luo Sword.
And just up the hill is Lady Yoo Hye-yeon, the Saint of Frozen Heaven.
And there’s more…”
One legendary title after another spilled from the old man’s lips—names that existed only in martial legends.
The Strongest Under Heaven.
No—The Strongest Under Heavens.
The strongest of the previous generation.
And the one before that.
And the one before that… and so on, countless times over.
The young man turned back toward the village, dazed.
“Wh… what is this place?”
“Changbaek Village.”
Just then, the old signpost creaked in the mountain wind.
<Changbaek Village (長白洞)>
“A village where all the retired Strongest Under Heaven live together.”
“…!”
“Ow, that hurts…”
Kang Yu rubbed his bruised arm.
An old man had picked a fight with him while he was leaving the village for the first time in his life.
Kang Yu had fought back with everything he had, fueled by anger and frustration—but he hadn’t lasted fifty exchanges.
He was still weak.
Weaker than the elderly herbalist who climbed the mountain before dawn.
Weaker than old man Dan, who nodded off every day.
Weaker than fragile old lady Hwa.
Weaker than stooped granny Yoo, and weaker than old man Cheong, who always muttered about ascending to the heavens.
Yes—Kang Yu of Changbaek Village was weak.
The weakest in the village.
