The area is crawling with Orthodoxy operatives; looks like it’s all over.
This degree of preparation for the Heaven-dragon Net isn’t something they could’ve pulled together in a day or two.
In truth, the wanderlust of the Heavenly Demon is renowned even in the Central Plains.
For more than half the year, without skipping a single year for thirty years now, the wanderings through the Central Plains have continued, so it would’ve been strange if they hadn’t caught us by now.
Even if the New Religion were to strain every resource, that would still be pushing it.
The only reason we managed to evade capture until now was because I was the sole guardian of the Heavenly Demon, and our disguises and impersonations were impeccable.
Since no one could predict when or where the Heavenly Demon would appear while wandering the Central Plains, the Martial Forest Alliance had no choice but to let it be.
But now, it seems it has all gone horribly wrong.
I don’t know where the leak in information came from, but a vast number of martial artists are already lying in wait here, with even more continuing to gather.
By looking at the three figures facing the Heavenly Demon here, one can gauge how serious the Orthodoxy is about this operation.
Sword Lord, Martial Lord, Fire Lord. The three highest-level experts of the Orthodoxy.
The fact that these gentlemen, who don’t see eye to eye with one another, are all gathered here indicates the Martial Forest Alliance has staked everything on this mission.
The Heavenly Demon effortlessly deflects the attacks of the three Lords encircling from three directions.
Judging by this, our Heavenly Demon is indeed a force to be reckoned with, being completely unruffled even against three transcendental experts.
I can perfectly understand why the Martial Forest Alliance is dead-set on not letting the Heavenly Demon’s Central Plains excursion slip through with just one guardian tagging along.
Because this battle is so spectacular, even the Orthodoxy operatives surrounding me aren’t being overly aggressive.
They seem to be sizing things up, knowing their fates hinge on the outcome of this battle.
Had that not been the case, no matter how high my level of martial arts might be, I wouldn’t have had any leisure to observe the Heavenly Demon’s battle.
Still, even if this Heavenly Demon is a super-demon, a figure historically ranked among the best in the New Religion, pitted against the combined might of all three Lords who represent the Orthodoxy itself, victory seems unlikely.
Honestly, in this situation, it would be wise to just run.
“Something seems off…”
There’s no way the sharp Heavenly Demon doesn’t know this already. Why linger here?
Even with all three Lords putting up a fight, the heavenly demon could have easily slipped away.
Moreover, there’s something strange about this encirclement.
I initially overlooked it, but this net seems disproportionately skewed towards me rather than the Heavenly Demon.
It’s as if they’re absolutely certain the Heavenly Demon won’t flee.
Come to think of it, they’ve completely neglected to eliminate me, someone they could easily have dealt with.
Had they done so, they could have concentrated all their power against the Heavenly Demon. Initially, I thought this was due to focusing on the Heavenly Demon, but as the situation progresses, that assumption doesn’t hold.
Could it be…
At this odd moment, the Heavenly Demon’s shadow flickers strangely.
With the decision already made in my mind, I attacked an opening in the encirclement, hurling my body through an all-out application of my power, the “Ixinghuanwei” technique.
Blocking with my body the secret art of the Death King that sprang from the Heavenly Demon’s shadow:
“Ugh…”
“…Siwoo? Why did you foolishly…”
Yes, indeed, it was a foolish act.
The Heavenly Demon must have sensed what I had.
The plan likely was to counterattack at the precise moment the Death King made their move.
But it was also something that had to be done.
For some reason, I feel like I’ve become a hostage of sorts.
In this case, the best option for the Heavenly Demon is for me to disappear quickly.
With the encirclement this complete, there’s no way a half-baked transcendental like me could escape from here.
“Cough… cough…”
The Death King’s weapon is predictably laced with poison; this is quite potent.
My organs are in turmoil, and indeed, it feels as if the end is near.
Already dragging myself around the martial world for fifty years, treated like a dog, there are no regrets in this life, or rather, I don’t even have the strength to question it any further.
I’d like to wrap up my existence by ending things according to my own will.
As a final effort, I’ve already done a lot for the Heavenly Demon anyway, so there’s no shame in absorbing a blow for them once more.
The Heavenly Demon has always owed me a number of favors.
“…Heavenly… Yoo-a…”
Thinking this is the end, I called out the Heavenly Demon’s name with all my remaining strength.
And I voiced a thought that had always lingered within me yet remained unspoken.
“…I… cough…”
Damn, the words won’t come.
I wanted to plead with them to stop wandering.
Seriously, can a person spend half the year roaming around?
Not to mention, always sticking to me—when do I get to live my own life?
Because of this person, I never even got married by this age.
Never mind. The situation’s already decided. Now I truly have no regrets.
As my strength drained and dizziness overtook me, I closed my eyes with a quiet smile.
…And when I opened my eyes again, I was back in my modern day room.
Hmm, if only I had known this would happen, I would’ve ended it long before.
Although I’ve spent fifty years in the martial world and returned, the real world has barely changed.
That’s not entirely true; there is a change.
The 28-year-old aspiring actor, White Siu, is now 23.
Could it be that spending one year in the martial world corresponds to a single year regressed in the real world?
If so, it seems I’ve met a good end at an opportune time.
Had I lingered for another ten or so years, I’d have woken up right back in the military. Even in this modern day, waking back into the army would be a terrifying prospect.
“Hey, you older brother. Did you really get cosmetic surgery?”
“What kind of madness is that? Stop it.”
There’s another noticeable change—my appearance.
Is this body unchanged since the martial world, or is the transformation a result of the “Huangetanta” process?
Though merely half-baked by the Heavenly Demon’s force, the impact of the Huangetanta is apparent; the balance and beauty of my face is slightly enhanced.
Glancing casually, it’s not obvious, but scrutinizing closely causes a subtle head-scratching.
Still, the Huangetanta doesn’t change much beyond making my body a little stronger and leaner.
Without even a speck of internal energy, the true value of the Huangetanta—increasing efficiency in martial arts learning—can’t be tapped.
Indeed, since this world doesn’t have martial arts power, what would be the use of such techniques?
In fact, I confirmed this the moment I returned to the real world.
After over fifty years in the martial world, the absence of internal energy nagged at me.
So, I gave a few things a try, and the conclusion was that this world has no internal energy at all—not a faint gasping for power or anything. Qi simply doesn’t exist in this world.
This could be classified as a significant disadvantage—a “I’m such a fool”-grade misfortune—but it’s also fortuitous that there are no martial artists around to cause trouble.
How could one live peacefully if such thugs existed?
By the way, while all martial techniques failed, except for the basic exercise of the New Religion, “Liantixian Gong,” which seemed rather effective.
Since it doesn’t rely on internal energy, does it operate differently?
Technically called a martial art, it’s more akin to calisthenics. I imagine practicing it would be like a more efficient form of Tai Chi, aiding in physical conditioning and even dieting with continued practice.
It might be good to subtly introduce this to my parents.
Would they join me if I suggested?
Certainly not to my bloodline-mate, my mother, who would absolutely reject it, but that’s fine.
Anyhow,
The bloodline-mate who’s gone slightly off the deep end due to this “Huangetanta” incident, my father, keeps accusing me of surgery.
He’s hoping to use this somehow, to try some surgery himself, but that’s laughable.
Still, each time he makes a fuss, it reinforces the awareness that I’m truly back.
Even something trivial like this is helping me adapt to reality—it’s ridiculous, but true.
“Dad~ This kid is really crazy.”
“Dear, what a thing to say. Our son, it’s alright to cry. Dad’s chicken has soul, you know. It’s not weird to cry when your soul responds to something.”
“Eh, father, I wasn’t that moved…”
“Son, wipe away your tears and then say that.”
“But this…”
Another factor aiding my adaptation to reality has been my dad’s chicken.
Often packing leftovers for me, eating it reminded me that I was truly home.
Previously, I thought it was boringly tasteless, but why does it taste so good now?
The first day I returned, I cried tears eating this chicken and faced a bit of a scene.
Father, as a late word, your chicken has no soul.
While better than the soulless chicken dishes in the Central Plains, it doesn’t quite warrant stirring the soul.
Though it’s impressive that you run everything by yourself without relying on franchises, let’s not overdo it.
“Ta-dah! Son, this is the new garlic sauce.”
“Garlic?”
“I thought a garlic menu might be nice. Customers keep asking for it.”
“Garlic does seem good.”
“Hmm…”
“Why’s that?”
“I feel it’s a fail. If our son doesn’t feel Dad’s soul, it won’t do.”
“…But really…”
“Alright. I’ll work harder. This menu will be on hold.”
Because of all the crying episodes, Dad’s new menu has kept getting postponed.
Dad has a quirk where once he latches onto something, he can’t let go.
He seems to be thinking that he won’t launch a new menu until I cry from the food, and that’s just absurd, as it’s only happened once.
“Let him be. He’ll settle down eventually, right? Your father hasn’t been like this for a day or two.”
“…Yeah, but…”
It’s best to just let it be; my father is an exceedingly carefree person.
Just like Mom.
Seeing my father’s usual demeanor makes me realize I’m truly back home.
This is the everyday life I’ve missed despite spending fifty years in the martial world.
