MDR 03

Chapter – 03

How much of a trash body do I have?

It took me two whole days to wake up.

I had so many things I wanted to say to Moyonghyeok, but the moment I saw his face upon waking, I couldn’t bring myself to feel any anger.

Maybe because I overexerted myself, my body could barely move, and even speaking required great effort.

Still, I wasn’t exactly bored.

Ever since I woke up, Moyonghyeok had been telling me about the Moyong family, so I had something to occupy my mind—even if he went on at length, starting from the very origins of the Moyong clan and the scholar tribes.

The problem was how exhaustively he explained everything.

The Moyong clan was noble to its core, and very capable.

How many “years” had he been repeating this?

It wasn’t until the faint chirping of crickets at night—signaling the arrival of evening—that the piece of information I truly wanted to hear finally came out of Moyonghyeok’s mouth.

“Our Moyong clan suddenly fell when your father was about your age. That was roughly thirty years ago. At the time, our Moyong clan was still growing in strength and prosperity, surpassing even the Nangong clan, which was the strongest among the clans in every respect. We became far too complacent. We were like puppies unaware of the danger of a tiger. And at that time, the supreme martial master of the world—the Martial Alliance leader—was incredibly strong. People in the Central Plains both revered and feared his strength.”

Indeed, he was talking about me.

Cheerfully, I thought to myself: I am pretty strong.

“And that fear grew so great that the Gu Palibang and the Five Great Clans gathered for a grand meeting at our clan. At that meeting, all the Martial Alliance leaders—except the supreme master—planned to eliminate him, and our clan joined the plot as well. Shamefully, we thought it was the best choice, given his overwhelming strength. But as a result, our clan fell. We were utterly crushed by the hands of the Martial Alliance leader.”

Ah… ahhh?!

Hearing it, memories began to surface.

“The Moyong clan.”

This was definitely the clan I had toppled at that time.

I didn’t have any particular reason for it.

I just happened to strike down the Moyong clan because they had lured me there.

So the conclusion was… because of me, this clan had fallen? And now, I was born as the son of the clan I had destroyed?

“The problem came afterward. The day after our clan’s headquarters was demolished, he came again. This time, he brought a dozen or so subordinates and began to utterly annihilate the Moyong clan. It was truly horrific. There was no mercy in him. He seized all their wealth, slaughtered all the soldiers and even the household servants. We call that day the ‘Moyong Massacre.’ We gave it that name so it would never be forgotten. The only survivors were my teacher’s uncle Moyonggang, the clan head Moyongcheon, and my younger brother and me. We fled to Hebei Pengjia, living for our lives. But soon after, he tracked us down, and eventually the clan head and my uncle were torn apart by that cruel, ruthless man, sacrificing themselves to save us children.”

Huh… Me? That’s talking about me, right?

I tried to recall my past life, but I had no such memory.

No, seriously.

I never did anything like that, and I swear, I never used my name, Cheon Girin, in such a way.

I had only lightly split their main hall in two—I never brought subordinates, and I never massacred anyone.

“It was only thanks to Hebei Pengjia that my younger brother and I survived, living under their protection while borrowing their family name for a while. But when I turned twenty, the True Martial Battle occurred, and the arch-enemy of our clan, the Martial Alliance leader, died during the battle.”

If Moyonghyeok was around twenty then… that was roughly seventeen years ago. So the world he described was one where Cheon Girin had been dead for seventeen years.

Quite odd. Seventeen years—not twenty, not thirty.

It felt like yesterday, yet seventeen years had passed since I died. I could hardly believe it.

“Jina, although that man is dead, never forget this. The name of our clan’s eternal enemy is Kwangma Cheon Girin. Remember it and live with the resolve to take revenge, even if you die.”

That’s definitely me.

Me.

Kwangma Cheon Girin.

Damn it… but seriously, it’s unfair…

It’s not me.

“Ugh…”

I wanted to shout that it wasn’t me, but my body was too weak to produce any sound.

Who dares impersonate me and destroy the Moyong clan?

I had a new goal for my new life, fueled by sheer injustice:

“Catch the Kwangma impersonator.”

The rest of Moyonghyeok’s story was predictable.

He had taken refuge in Pengjia, reclaimed the Moyong name after Cheon Girin’s death, and learned martial arts under Pengjia’s guidance in Hebei.

He then established the “Moyong Academy,” teaching martial arts to children, and got married.

However, the only child born in that time was me, Moyongjin. The cost of my treatment devoured all the support funds from the Alliance, leaving them to live in this shabby place.

Fortunately, the academy was still running—though I doubted that claim. I could tell just by his expression.

I remained bedridden, recovering, for another ten days.

Once my body healed a little, I secretly resumed training in external circular cultivation.

Even while bedridden, I recited the Jearakmyeong manual, which likely saved my life.

“Never thought I’d have to thank a former demon.”

I thought of the previous demon and chuckled while continuing the Jearakmyeong exercises.

I trained in external cultivation, collapsed, recited the manual, and repeated it over and over.

Days passed, then a month, summer arrived with the sound of cicadas, fall came with rustling leaves, winter with its piercing winds, and finally a vibrant spring returned.

A year later, I finally reached my first goal.

“This should be enough.”

My goal was internal energy.

Though my body was still frail, it was filled with energy—though “filled” is relative.

Due to severe Gu-Yang blocked meridians, my dantian could barely form, so my energy was barely being held within my flesh and organs.

“Gathering even a speck of internal energy over an entire year… but things will change starting today.”

After making sure my father was away, I sat cross-legged, placing my left hand over my heart and my right over my lower abdomen, where the dantian should be.

“Inhale…”

I drew a deep breath, closed my eyes, and focused.

My consciousness penetrated through my skin, twisting my organs, seeking out the internal energy hidden within.

What I attempted now was dantian regeneration.

Ordinary people are born with three dantians: upper, middle, and lower.

I, too, had all three at birth.

But due to Gu-Yang blocked meridians, the lower dantian had been crushed by the immense energy from the middle dantian, rendering it almost nonexistent.

Without a usable lower dantian, it was as if I had none.

I scoured my body and eventually found it—collapsed to the brink of extinction.

Finding it alone was incredible, but normally, even if one found it, it was useless—after long disuse, a shrunken dantian could not harness internal energy.

Moreover, all meridians connected to it were broken.

But who am I?

The former Martial Alliance leader and the infamous Kwangma.

Nothing is impossible.

Only forward.

I began operating external circular cultivation with my left hand over my heart.

The cultivation stimulated the middle dantian, causing tremendous energy to surge toward my fingertips and travel through my right arm.

The energy crushed my meridians, bringing immense pain, but I merely bit my lip and remained still.

The energy gathered at my right hand, then was violently sent toward the lower dantian I had located.

What I was attempting was pure madness.

I called it using one enemy to defeat another.

I intended to push out the energy suppressing my lower dantian using my own energy.

Easier said than done—if the two energies collided, the lower dantian would be crushed, and I could die.

Even if successful, the clash would create immense shock and unbearable pain.

Slowly, the energy from my right hand approached the lower dantian and collided with the oppressive energy inside.

To my astonishment, the two energies didn’t mix.

External circular cultivation and the internal energy scattered in my organs formed a barrier, and the spinning energy began to push the oppressive force away.

“Ugh…”

Sweating profusely from the agony, I didn’t stop.

I moved my internal energy throughout my body, steadily forcing it toward the lower dantian.

Since the meridians were broken, my internal energy moved slowly, from flesh to flesh.

Hour after hour passed.

By the third hour, nearly collapsing, I finally saw it: a faint light.

The energy gathered, and the tiny lower dantian began to expand.

It slowly returned to its original form.

And at that moment, I realized:

“Ah!”

A single exclamation, and my eyes blazed with white light.

Moments later, the light dissipated, and I rose slowly.

Where once I should have groaned in pain, I now stood effortlessly and stretched.

“Kkkuuuuaaaap! Ha… as expected of me. This is the way I should be.”

A radiant vitality filled my face—like I had never felt before.

“Kwangma Cheon Girin! Reborn.”