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SERIES: Return of the Divine Thief
CHAPTER 2: Return of the Divine Thief
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Return of the Divine Thief - Chapter 2
On a dark night, the mountain hut was unusually noisy.
“You crazy bastard, he's dead!”
“What the hell? You're the one who beat him, so why are you bitching at me!”
Three figures were revealed in the moonlight.
One, who looked to be a boy, lay collapsed in the yard with a pale face, while two rough-looking men cursed.
“Damn, if we leave him like this, rumors will spread that someone beat him to death….”
“Why are you making such a fuss over one dead tomb builder?”
A tomb builder, a laborer who builds graves for the dead.
The authorities wouldn't get involved over one missing laborer, but there was another problem.
“You idiot. If the boss finds out about this, it won't end well for us.”
“…True, the big boss is surprisingly particular. Whenever he kills someone, he always has this kid prepare the body.”
“And didn't we skim a little off this kid's pay? If they investigate and find that out, we're dead. Literally dead.”
“This sucks. So what do we do? Bury him?”
“You think burying him will solve anything?”
“Then what the hell do you want to do!”
“…If we're going to do it, we do it right.”
With that, the eye-patched older brother headed for the kitchen.
He brought back a few burning logs from the furnace.
Seeing this, the younger brother twitched his one remaining ear.
“…Are you serious?”
“This bastard died in an accident. Fell asleep like an idiot with the furnace lit, and the fire spread… whoosh.”
The older brother finished speaking.
He nonchalantly tossed the logs into the hut.
Thud.
Fwoosh.
The air was dry, so the fire spread quickly.
“Hey, you grab his legs.”
“…Got it.”
The two men lifted the boy's arms and legs and hurled him into the burning hut.
This tomb builder's end wasn't being beaten to death for demanding his unpaid wages, but an unfortunate accident that claimed his life.
It had snowed last night, so the fire was unlikely to spread to the mountain.
The two men turned their backs on the burning hut and frowned.
“What are you doing? Let's go.”
“…Let's go.”
“Yeah, let's go.”
….
……?
Something was strange.
Two men remained. Three voices were heard.
The older brother's question. The younger brother's answer. Then, who was the third?
“…That wasn't you, was it?”
“It wasn't you either, brother?”
“How very strange. If it wasn't the older brother, and it wasn't the younger brother, who could it be?”
Whip!
The brothers whipped around.
A figure stood with the burning hut at his back.
“The correct answer: the tomb builder.”
The boy they thought was dead was smiling, revealing his white teeth.
* * *
Muryang quickly realized what was going on.
The familiar faces of the two scoundrels.
His small body.
And above all, the burning hut.
This was what had happened in the winter of his fifteenth year, when he had made a living as a tomb builder.
“This small body. I've returned.”
I've come back from death, returning back in time.
To my childhood, a time when I knew nothing of martial arts.
There was only one difference, the person inside this body was a thief well over thirty years old, not a tomb-builder who was fifteen.
Moreover, there was a strange, cool yet warm sensation in his gut.
An unforgettable, impressive energy he had seen only once before.
The same energy as the old man in the scroll had settled within Muryang's body.
Grip-
He clenched his fist.
The internal energy in his Dantian faintly circulated through his meridians.
“Heh.”
Compared to his past life, it was still lacking, but he could glimpse an endless potential whose limits were impossible to guess.
At an earlier age, with incomparably better conditions. Muryang could start over.
Thus, it was clear whose gift this was.
-Try harder in your next life.
“Senior, is this what you meant?”
Even as they watched Muryang muttering to himself like a madman, the brothers couldn't say a word.
And for good reason. They were prostrated on the ground, beaten into a state where one could hardly tell if they were men or lumps of dough.
Shiver, shiver.
The brothers had been holding that position for half an hour now. Their strength was clearly failing, as their bodies trembled like aspen leaves.
Muryang looked at the two of them and spoke.
“Do you know what trouble you are in right now?”
“N-no, sir-r!”
“We don't, sir-r!”
The brothers barely managed to form something resembling human words with their swollen lips.
Seeing their state, Muryang picked up a half burnt branch and drew a picture in the yard.
“Stand up.”
“Ye-s, sir-r!”
“Ye-s!”
The two brothers scrambled to their feet.
“Now, look. This character means 'person' (人). It's drawn to look like two people supporting each other. How could it not be difficult when one person is trying to form a shape that should be made by two?”
“Th-that's right, sir-r!”
“You're right…!”
Muryang glanced at the bloody saliva dribbling from their mouths.
Then he said a single phrase.
“That's a lie.”
“……”
“The character for 'person' (人) was originally just a modification of the shape of a person standing awkwardly. However, someone in the distant past went out of their way to invent that story. And that tale has been passed down to this day. Why do you think that is?”
“……?”
“We don't know….”
Thwack, thwack-!
Muryang struck both their heads with the branch.
"To try and turn bastards like you into human beings."
How on earth did things end up like this?
The brothers simply couldn't understand the situation.
They had only meant to teach the insolent tomb builder a lesson about his place, but the brat came back from the dead an entirely different person.
He had beaten them, who were known as decent fighters, and was now lecturing them as if he were some kind of scholar.
“It seems you still have the energy for idle thoughts.”
“W-we're s-sorry!”
Muryang gave the brothers a pathetic look and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
‘I've returned to the past. This is the work of the white-haired Elder. What did he want from me, and what should I do in this life?’
The senior had asked. If I were to start again, could I stop the Cult Leader?
He briefly looked back on his past.
Muryang's family had been massacred by the Cult Leader.
It wasn't because he was targeted for some secret of his birth he didn't even know about, or some naturally gifted.
It was a simple story.
The young Cult Leader, who would later become the Heavenly Demon, practiced a demonic art called the Simmyeol Daebeop and went mad.
Because only by going mad, achieving great mastery, and then regaining his sanity could he learn the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
Muryang's family was just one of the common folk sacrificed in that process.
‘It didn't have to be me. But there was no reason it couldn't have been me, either.’
That was what drove Muryang mad.
The fact that his family, his friends, his life, were all consumed like ornaments for the sake of completing the character known as the Cult Leader.
And what pissed him off most of all.
‘Why didn't you kill me, Cult Leader?’
When Muryang returned to the village after finishing his work as a tomb-builder, the Cult Leader had looked straight at him from the center of that bloodbath.
His knees went weak. More so than when he had encountered a tiger in the mountains.
But the Cult Leader paid Muryang no mind and simply left.
He had achieved great mastery in the Simmyeol Daebeop and his sanity had returned.
Similar to a farmer who ignores the fallen grains after harvest.
To him, Muryang wasn't even worth an apology, nor was he a target to be eliminated out of fear of future repercussions.
On that day, Muryang was the most insignificant being in the world.
Afterward, Muryang lived for revenge.
Several fateful encounters allowed him to inherit the true legacy of the Divine Thief, but his own power was still lacking, so he took a different path.
He stole precious artifacts from the wicked and gave them to the good and righteous.
In that way, he secretly gained allies who would stand against evil with him.
But the result was disastrous.
The defeat in the Righteous-Demonic War and Muryang's own death.
‘In this life, the goal is the same.’
The Divine Thief cannot forgive the Heavenly Demon.
Neither in this life nor in the previous one does that change.
However, only a madman would cling to a method that has already failed.
In that case.
“…I died once, and I have returned. I've been thinking hard about what that means.”
Gulp
The brothers tensed up, thinking he was talking about how they had thrown him into the fiery pit.
Muryang paid them no mind and chose his next words carefully.
“It seems that in this life, I must become a hero.”
* * *
Late that evening, he entered the village to find that everything was exactly as it had been twenty years ago.
He was in front of an inn he used to frequent because of its cheap prices.
He saw the old owner, who had passed the inn down to his son and daughter-in-law and now sat by the door every day, chatting with people.
‘Was it two years from now? That I buried this old man.’
It felt strange to see someone whose grave he had prepared, alive and well before his eyes.
“Still, it was a peaceful passing.”
“Peaceful passing my ass, you rotten punk. I’m not dead yet.”
“Good to see you’re still spry. It’s been a while, so I got a little confused.”
“Been a while? I saw you this morning, you little brat. First my son, and now you’re testing my memory?”
“Ah, did we?”
It had already been twenty years. He couldn’t remember everything from the past.
He must have met the old man that morning, twenty years ago.
“And what’s with the way you talk? It’s like I’m looking at an old man in a young man’s body. Gives me the creeps.”
“I had a rather long dream, so I’m a bit out of sorts. It’ll sort itself out in time.”
“A young man like you, already like this? What’s to become of you? This is why I told you to eat properly! Come on in and have a meal before you go!”
The men from the Red Bridge Faction caused trouble occasionally, but it was full of warmth.
“I have some business to attend to today.”
“Did someone else kick the bucket?”
“Well, I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? If you’ve got work, it means someone’s dead.”
Come to think of it, he wasn’t wrong.
Muryang of this time was just an ordinary tomb builder.
“I’m thinking of starting a new life myself.”
“You punk. If you start a new life, who’s going to make my grave?”
“I’ll make a special exception and bury you, old man. Don’t you worry, and live a long life.”
“Alright, you brat. By the way, what’s with the faces on those guys behind you?”
At the mention of them, the two brothers flinched and glanced nervously at Muryang.
“We had a little fight.”
“You call that *little*?”
Their faces were in such a state that the old man didn’t even recognize them as warriors of the Red Bridge Faction.
“Men become friends by fighting. Isn’t that right? One-Eye, Lop-Ear.”
At Muryang’s question, the two brothers, each missing a facial feature, shouted at the top of their lungs.
“Y-Yes, sir!”
“Absolutely right, sir!”
Muryang’s lips curled into a smile as he continued speaking to the old man.
“Anyway, I’ll be back for a meal soon.”
After bidding the old man farewell, Muryang headed for the Red Pavilion in the center of the village.
The Red Pavilion was a tavern run by the Red Bridge Faction.
As their name suggested, the Red Bridge Faction had a fondness for the color red.
So much so that the exterior of the Red Pavilion, the tavern they managed, was painted entirely red.
Though it was a dark night, the countless lanterns hanging from the Red Pavilion made the red color stand out even more.
“It hurts my eyes even after twenty years. Honestly, what terrible taste.”
In his past life, this was the place that would soon be burned to the ground by Jo Yangtae, the captain of the Red Pavilion’s guards.
But this time, that wouldn’t do.
‘To stop the rise of the Demonic Cult, I need power.’
The Demonic Cult had sown seeds of discord throughout the martial world.
Muryang knew about many of them, but knowledge alone couldn’t change the future.
What he needed was money. Influence. And personal strength.
In his past life, he had entrusted all of this to others, but in this life, he’d decided to bear the burden himself.
This Red Bridge Faction would be the first step to obtaining all three.
* * *
Jo Yangtae, the captain of the Red Pavilion’s guards.
He was a man with such delicate features that it was hard to believe he was a pillar of martial strength for the Red Bridge Faction, the most prominent underworld group in the area.
However, as Jo Yangtae walked up to his room, his expression was deeply troubled.
It was because he had just had a major argument with the Lodge Leader about how the Red Bridge Faction procured its courtesans.
“But to kill their parents and kidnap them… This is wrong.”
He had followed the Lodge Leader, who had raised him as an orphan, like a father, but even so, there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
“Just when… did they start procuring courtesans like this?”
The Lodge Leader, knowing Jo Yangtae’s soft heart, had kept this fact a secret from him.
But Jo Yangtae, growing suspicious of the situation at the Red Pavilion, conducted his own investigation and discovered the truth. It was right around that time that he was reassigned as the captain of the Red Pavilion’s guards.
‘I was transferred to the Red Pavilion as soon as I uncovered the Lodge Leader’s evil deeds. Was that really a coincidence?’
Jo Yangtae’s instincts, honed by a life in the underworld, were screaming danger.
A purge.
The word spun in his head.
‘…No, the Lodge Leader wouldn’t do that.’
The important thing was how to change the Lodge Leader’s mind.
Not only had they crossed a line, but it was obvious that if they kept this up, they would eventually be caught.
He went to his room to consider this.
“Hey, it’s been a while.”
He was met with an unexpected person.
“……The tomb builder?”
Cho Muryang, eating a meal in his room, though he’d never been invited.
Standing behind him were the two brothers who handled Jo Yangtae’s odd jobs.
But something was wrong with them.
Their faces were covered in dark bruises, and they were trembling like rabbits before a tiger; one look was enough to tell they had been thoroughly beaten.
“…What is this situation? And what happened to your faces? No, more importantly, I locked the door. How did you get in?”
The two brothers didn’t answer Jo Yangtae’s questions, only glancing nervously at Muryang.
“What does it look like? I’m eating. The Red Pavilion makes some damn good dumplings.”
“Hah.”
Jo Yangtae was already in a foul mood from his argument with the Lodge Leader.
He kicked out, intending to flip the table.
But.
*Thud-*
“Where do you think you’re putting your feet? How rude.”
“You…”
“Didn’t the Lodge Leader teach you any manners?”
Muryang’s foot had blocked Jo Yangtae’s kick.
Jo Yangtae’s killing intent flared as he spoke.
“Do you want to die?”
“Eek!”
The two brothers flinched in terror.
In the process, they bumped the table, and a wine bottle fell.
CRASH!
Without even looking at the shattered bottle, Cho Muryang spoke.
“They say you don’t even bother a dog when it’s eating.”
“That only applies when you’re eating in your own home.”
He had no reason to tolerate this punk’s insolence any longer.
Jo Yangtae reached for his sword, intending to slice the table in half.
But his hand, reaching for his waist, found nothing.
As his eyes began to tremble,
“Looking for this?”
The tomb-builder, chuckling, twirled a familiar sword.
“When did you…”
The tomb-builder before him hadn’t moved from his spot.
There couldn’t have been time for him to touch his sword, so how?
“It’s heavy. And big. Doesn’t suit you.”
*Swish-*
Cho Muryang tossed the sword as he continued.
“Take better care of it. If it had been someone less kind-hearted than me, you’d already be dead.”
A cold sweat ran down Jo Yangtae’s back as he caught the sword.
‘He’s a master.’
With that single move, Jo Yangtae realized Muryang was his superior.
Reason suppressed his instinct to draw his sword.
While Jo Yangtae was wrestling with a severe internal conflict,
“Why’d you have to knock over a perfectly good bottle of wine? Lop-Ear, go get more Peach Blossom Wine.”
At Muryang’s relaxed tone, Jo Yangtae also let the tension leave his body.
“Huu… Tomb builder. No, Cho Muryang. What is your real identity? And why have you come here?”
Muryang silently chewed the dumpling in his mouth.
Jo Yangtae glared at him.
“You should fix that glare.”
Swish!
Muryang threw a chopstick at Jo Yangtae, who was staring at him as if to kill him.
The chopstick grazed Jo Yangtae’s earlobe and embedded itself in the wall.
Cold sweat beaded on the forehead of Jo Yangtae, who hadn’t even been able to react to Muryang’s chopstick.
“Sit.”
“……”
Drip. Drip.
Jo Yangtae swallowed tightly, feeling the hot sensation of blood trickling down from his earlobe.
As he stood there with a look of disbelief, Muryang spoke.
“These dumplings are tasty, but the portion is a bit small.”
“What nonsense are you…”
“You asked why I came, didn’t you?”
He looked Jo Yangtae straight in the eye.
“The Red Bridge Faction. I’ve come to take it.”
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