The World's Greatest is Dead

The World’s Greatest has died.

The news spread suddenly across the Central Plains.

No one wanted to believe it—yet it was true.

It had been thirty years since the Great War of Righteous and Demonic Forces, when the Heavenly Demon, the master of the Demon Cult, had set the land aflame.

It was the swordsman who struck down that Heavenly Demon, Jang Cheon, and preserved peace—Sword Saint Yoo Cheongil, acclaimed by all as The World’s Greatest.

And now, that very man was dead.

The Martial Alliance itself confirmed it. There could be no denying it.

One day, The World’s Greatest simply passed away.

They said it was due to a long, incurable illness. ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) That his final moments were watched over by the Alliance’s own strategist, Zhuge Jin.

Born the third son of the ruined Yu family of Guangdong, he had risen to become a hero who stopped the rivers of blood.

The light of an era dimmed into darkness, and those whose lives had been saved by his sword wept for days unending.

And so it was.

Years passed. More than ten.

****

I still remember what my father once said to me:

“Son, you are the hope of our house.”

I’d been hearing that endlessly since I was about ten years old.

Ten. Just a child. Too young to even know what the world truly was. Too young to carry such words.

Yet my father never stopped saying it.

“There is no one but you.”

“That’s not true, Father. You still have two other children.”

I could never understand him.

I had an older sister and an older brother.

There was a legitimate heir, and I was nothing but a bastard son—born of a concubine.

Even in a family with no wealth, no prestige, a bastard like me had no chance in the struggle for succession.

And honestly? I had no desire to be head of the house anyway.

What was there to inherit from a family already collapsing into ruin?

Not that my father ever cared.

“Do you say that even after looking at your brother?”

At his thunderous voice, I fell silent.

“He wastes his days chasing women, gambling away everything we have. He’ll ruin us all! And that’s supposed to be my heir?!”

“Didn’t you do the same in your youth, Father?”

“...What did you just say, boy?”

The words slipped out before I could stop myself. His furious gaze fell on me, and I barely dodged a cuffing.

My father was infamous throughout Liaodong for his appetites. They even called him Fang Tianho, the Lecherous Sword.

A nickname so embarrassing I could hardly say it aloud. And the worst part was—it was true.

He was such a lecher that he fathered three children by three different women.

Was it any wonder my brother grew up to be a wastrel and a fool, when raised by such a man?

And that was why my father placed his damnable hopes on me.

“Only you. You must raise this house from the ashes!”

“That’s your duty, Father. You’re the head.”

“If I could have done it, would we be in ruins now?”

Spoken with pride, as if incompetence were a badge of honor.

I truly had been born to the wrong parents.

I could only sigh.

If only I had played the wastrel like my brother. Maybe then I wouldn’t be trapped by my father’s expectations.

But I couldn’t.

Because I had a problem.

...Damn it. I wish I could reroll this life.

That problem was this: I had the memories of my previous life.

Because I remembered, I couldn’t just play the fool. And because I wasn’t a fool, I caught my father’s eye.

What a curse.

If only I’d seemed more brainless...

When was it? Around the age of nine.

One day I opened my eyes, and all the memories of my former life came flooding back.

They said I’d fainted after being dumped by my childhood sweetheart, Young Sun. The shock had knocked me out cold.

When I heard that, I couldn’t believe it.

“What kind of dumbass faints from heartbreak at nine years old?”

Apparently, I had.

And because of that, I remembered.

And because of that, I was in this mess.

****

“Bastard! What did you just say?!”

“You son of a bitch! Don’t take it out on me just because Hwa Seon dumped you for being small!”

“You—what did you—!”

“Come on, gentlemen! Please calm down!”

I grabbed at the man’s arm, but he swung wildly, nearly taking me with him.

He was strong. Too strong. This man was no ordinary drunk.

“Mr. Jang! Didn’t Hwa Seon say herself? That you were too small to feel anything?!”

I had never in my life wanted to know less about another man’s private life.

I didn’t care if his cock was small. I just wished he would shut the hell up.

But from the look of his reddening face, I knew something bad was about to happen.

“You bastard—! Then let’s die together!”

Crash!

As expected, Broker Jang—the man with the small cock—smashed his wine bottle on the table.

Shit.

This was about to get ugly.

“Sir! If you swing that weapon around here, you’re finished!”

“Who the hell are you?! Get out of my sight!!”

Wham!

“Oof!”

He swung an arm and sent me flying across the tavern, overturning tables in my wake.

“Cough!”

The serving boy cried out in despair.

He ran toward me, but I waved him back, coughing.

“I’m fine! Don’t—”

“Oh nooo! That was the innkeeper’s favorite teapot!”

“...”

Goddamn life.

I hauled myself upright, and the serving boy pleaded through tears.

“Young master, please do something! If the boss comes, I’ll be dead!”

As if I wasn’t trying.

What am I supposed to do? That bastard’s waving a broken bottle around—and he’s a martial artist, for God’s sake.

They told me he was just a regular man. Bullshit.

Ordinary men don’t toss full-grown men across taverns with a single swing.

That took internal energy.

Damn it. Where the hell is backup?

The whole squad was busy, so they’d sent me alone. And now look where we were.

“You bastard! Come here!”

“Eek!”

The broken bottle flashed.

“...Hah.”

I sighed. There was no choice.

With a steely rasp, I drew my sword.

“Freeze.”

At my tone, the man faltered.

“What?”

“Another move, and I cut you down.”

He sneered, his fury boiling—then his eyes flicked to my blade. For a moment, he flinched.

Good. That got through.

“I’ve been lenient, but if you keep this up, I’ll slice off your arm.”

“...”

Finally, he seemed to calm—

Whoosh! Smash!

“Argh!”

—or not. The bottle smashed against my head before I could even deflect it.

Embarrassingly, I hadn’t even managed to cut it.

“You little brat! Who do you think you’re talking to?!”

He roared and charged at me.

I tightened my grip, ready to counter—

But then.

A shadow swept between us.

Spin—CRACK!

A flying kick slammed into Jang’s face, sending him sprawling.

Crash!

Before he could rise, a cold blade kissed his throat.

“Don’t move.”

The voice was sharp, ringing like steel.

“Move—and you die.”

Even I shivered at that voice.

Jang, who moments ago had been raging like a beast, froze stiff.

And to be honest—I did too.

...Scary as hell.

I knew who this was. Only two people in this town had a face like that.

One was him. The other—me.

“...What are you doing?”

“...Sir?”

His cold voice was aimed at me.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Ah.”

I snapped to my senses, darted forward, and clapped iron shackles on Jang’s wrists.

Clang.

“Grgh...”

Jang groaned, subdued at last.

“I should’ve... killed those filthy bastards...”

I ignored his mutterings.

The arrest was done. Time for the formalities.

“You... don’t exactly have the right to remain silent. Not that you’d use it. If you’ve got family to contact, now’s the time—”

But before I could finish—

“Target apprehended. Jang So-cheol, the Lust Demon.”

“...What?”

I froze and looked up.

Lust Demon?

My eyes swept the room, unease prickling.

And then I saw them.

Figures had slipped inside, clad in blue martial uniforms embroidered with the Martial Alliance’s crest.

The same uniform I wore.

At their head, a man smiled at my savior.

“Well done, Agent Yeon. Perfectly executed.”

Slick words, oozing praise.

I turned to him.

“Commander... what the hell is going on here?”

He looked at me with thinly veiled contempt.

“Tch.”

He clicked his tongue before answering.

“What do you think? This was an operation.”

“...An operation?”

“Yes. A search-and-capture mission. To bring down the Lust Demon. You did your part. Though of course, most of the credit goes to Agent Yeon.”

“What the actual—”

“But are you alright? You’re bleeding quite a lot.”

“What?”

I wiped my brow. My palm came away slick and red.

Blood. All of it blood.

“...Shit.”

The dizziness hit at once. I collapsed where I stood.

My name is Fang Sungyeon, eighteen years old.

A direct descendant of the Fang family of Liaodong.

Currently serving as a lowly agent of the Martial Alliance’s Anhui Branch.

And today was yet another miserable fucking day.