Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
Guided along by his father’s grip as they made their way toward the Baek Estate, Yanghwi finally came to terms with his present state.
Reversal of Heaven’s Mandate, Return to the Rightful Current, Return and Fulfill Your Wish.
Those uncanny words had reverberated from the firmament the very second his consciousness traversed the boundary of time.
They proclaimed that because a predestined path had been twisted in defiance of providence, the warped tides of heaven required restoration.
Had some decree descended from the immortal realm or the highest heavens?
If so, no clear mandates followed, save for the instruction to journey back and see his yearning realized.
As matters stood, deciphering what had truly transpired lay entirely beyond him.
Even so, a bright, genuine smile crossed Yanghwi’s lips.
He might not grasp the underlying mechanics or how such an absurdity could occur, yet one truth remained indisputable.
I have journeyed back into my bygone days.
Undeveloped sinew. Frail, miniature hands of a small child.
Yanghwi’s frame proved so diminutive and featherlight that Baek Muryang could easily shoulder him and maintain a flat-out sprint.
When the Baek family took him in as a foster child, he had been merely eight years of age, which meant he had leaped three entire decades into the past.
Put plainly, fortune had handed him an unprecedented opening.
A stroke of sheer, monumental luck.
Though he had roamed the jianghu for well past a dozen years without ever crossing paths with a single fateful blessing, dying had unexpectedly gifted him a windfall beyond imagination.
My deepest gratitude to the Lord of the Primordial Beginning and the Grand Supreme Elder Lord.
Then again, given how closely this mirrored the cycle of rebirth, perhaps offering thanks to the Buddha made more sense?
Regardless of whose divine intervention had wound back the hands of time, he resolved to seek out a Daoist priest or a Buddhist monk at the earliest opportunity to present a generous offering.
While Yanghwi remained absorbed in these musings, Baek Muryang traversed the highway with swift strides and reached Ak’an County in Muju, the very seat of the Baek family.
Though Muju’s Ak’an County fell short of rivaling Nanchang, the provincial capital of Jiangxi Province, it remained a vibrant settlement vast enough to sustain dozens of sects alongside the Baek family.
“Here we are, Hwi. You can see our household grounds just ahead.”
Resting in the center of Ak’an County stood an expansive manor—weathered by decades, yet impeccably maintained.
Further up, their entryway came into view beneath a horizontal board carved with four distinct characters: Baek noble house.
Curiously enough, rather than utilizing standard timber, it had been fashioned from dense black ironwood, displaying an elaborate engraving of hundreds of rolling clouds.
“A rather peculiar gate, isn’t it? Our founding ancestor carved and assembled it with his own hands.”
Curiosity was not why he stared, however.
His gaze had merely lingered to contemplate the grim ruin awaiting that exact doorway in just a few heartbeats.
“I am aware.”
“Oh? Have your travels brought you here in the past?”
“How could I not recognize it? The charity of the Baek family has spared hundreds of vagrants from starvation, and I walked among them.”
He spoke no untruth. Even prior to being embraced as an adopted heir, Yanghwi had sought meals outside the Baek Estate on multiple occasions.
“Is that so? It seems the threads of destiny bound us even then. Come, let us step within.”
No guard stood watch outside. The resources of the Baek family hardly permitted the luxury of stationing an idle gatekeeper during hours without callers.
Baek Muryang pushed the heavy portal aside and entered the compound under his own power.
“My dear! Steward Han! I have returned!”
The moment Baek Muryang shouted toward the courtyards, the front doors of the central hall parted, and the household members emerged one after another.
A sole steward, Baek Muryang’s wife, a pair of blood-related children, and a modest gathering of roughly a dozen retainers.
Such was the full count of the Baek clan.
“You have arrived safely, Lord of the House? Might I ask who this small youth behind you is?”
A faintly self-conscious grin touched Baek Muryang’s lips.
Clan patriarch though he was, he knew full well the declaration on his tongue would provoke deep unease among his people.
Nevertheless, Baek Muryang had no intention of wavering; placing a reassuring palm upon Yanghwi’s shoulder, he announced:
“From this hour onward, he is my boy. His name is Baek Yanghwi!”
Surprise swept through the assembled retainers, every pair of eyes fixing upon the youth clad in soiled, tattered clothes.
Yanghwi met their collective scrutiny, studying each familiar figure with deep, warm recollection.
His mother, Jeong Inhwa. His younger brother Baek Heonso and younger sister Baek Yeonyeon. Steward Han Seok’eon, alongside the dozen loyal retainers.
Amid the prevailing quiet, Han Seok’eon, who oversaw the clan’s domestic matters and public dealings, stepped forward to represent the household.
“Grant me leave to inquire, Lord of the House. By addressing him as your son, are you declaring an intention to formally take him in as an adopted heir?”
Baek Muryang shifted his eyes slightly to the side as he answered.
“That is correct, Steward Han.”
“……”
Steward Han’s brow furrowed with deep reservation.
His posture made it plain he feared his master’s soft-hearted nature—which had repeatedly invited trouble upon their household—had led him astray once again.
All the same, Steward Han held Baek Muryang in high esteem and honored his standing as head of the family, choosing to voice his misgivings with measured restraint.
“Lord of the House. If your aim is formal adoption rather than simply providing charity and shelter, should such a resolution not be deliberated with the lady of the house beforehand?”
Finishing his plea, Steward Han turned his attention to the matriarch of the Baek household, Baek Muryang’s lifelong partner, Jeong Inhwa.
Her physical constitution was clearly frail, bundled in heavy layers despite the oppressive heat of midsummer.
“My husband must, cough, possess an earnest reason.”
Though interrupted by a raspy cough, Jeong Inhwa offered a soft, tranquil smile. Just as the ancient adage went, the husband leads and the wife follows; Jeong Inhwa shared the exact benevolent disposition of Baek Muryang.
“Madam! This is hardly a development to be greeted with simple laughter!”
“Cough, an occasion where our household gains a fresh life is cause for celebration. Surely tears would be improper, Steward Han?”
Baek Muryang’s countenance brightened instantly, standing in sharp opposition to Steward Han’s steadily souring expression.
Even so, Steward Han refused to yield his ground.
Entrusted with the stewardship, guarding the rules and reputation of the clan remained his bounden duty.
Releasing a weary exhalation, Steward Han clasped his hands and bowed formally toward Baek Muryang.
“The Han lineage, having served as loyal stewards through hundreds of years of the Baek clan’s deep history, must humbly inquire: Lord of the House, what righteous cause do you present to warrant adopting this child?”
“To meet his direst need.”
“It is my conviction that every word and deed of the family head must rest upon logical justification and clear principle. I grasp your virtuous heart, yet what rightful cause exists to bind him by blood rather than merely housing him as a household retainer?”
“That would be…… his gaze made it plain to me. They conveyed that his greatest need stems from standing completely forsaken under heaven.”
“Then in place of the Lord of the House, someone else could—”
Baek Muryang offered his reasoning, and Steward Han promptly countered with further inquiries on behalf of the gathered clan.
Yanghwi stood in place, observing the protracted debate unfold without uttering a sound.
It appears I truly have journeyed back into my past life. The household’s widespread reluctance toward my adoption matches my previous life to the letter.
To be fair, their apprehension was entirely reasonable. Baek Muryang was no common vagabond; he stood as the lord of a martial clan, modest though it was.
Moreover, his care was already divided between his eldest son, Baek Heonso, and his younger daughter, Baek Yeonyeon.
Back then…… I merely cowered behind my father’s frame, leaving him to weather the discord alone. Even following that day, the clan looked upon my presence with bitter resentment for a long while.
He had no intention of allowing events to repeat the same course as before.
Steeled by that resolve, he planted his feet and strode boldly into the open.
Drawing the collective gaze of the courtyard, Yanghwi raised his hands and executed a crisp, dignified cupped-fist salute.
“Ancient records state that the dawn of any true bond begins with trading names, yet my courtesy has arrived late. I am a wanderer whose ceiling was the canopy of the sky and whose mattress was the wild grass.”
Yanghwi turned slightly to deliver another deferential cupped-fist salute toward Baek Muryang before picking up his thread.
“To an orphaned boy of no account, the Peerless in Chivalry, Hero Baek, bestowed the title of Yanghwi. Thus, you may call me Yanghwi. Steward Han, would you grant this child leave to voice a brief thought?”
“Speak your piece, young master.”
“Steward, you maintain that absent a justifiable premise, I cannot be received as the son to the Lord of the House. In that case, would it answer your concerns if I forged that justification myself?”
A look of sheer perplexity washed over Steward Han’s face.
“Forge a justification? By what method?”
“What if I were to deliver a benefit of such magnitude that not a single soul in the Baek house could dispute it?”
Steward Han came within a hair’s breadth of crying out in triumph and slapping his thigh.
Right when he stood at his wit’s end trying to temper the master’s bullheaded pity, salvation had dropped straight from the skies.
The youth understands proprietary shame! What a stroke of fortune!
“Should such a great service be rendered, every member of our clan will gladly concur. Lord of the House, let us proceed under the youth’s terms.”
Baek Muryang lowered his eyes toward Yanghwi with quiet warmth.
“Hwi. Claiming you as my flesh and blood was born entirely of my own conviction. There is no call for you to bend to the air of the room and pull back out of polite humility.”
It seemed both Steward Han and Baek Muryang assumed Yanghwi had conceived this condition purely as a graceful pretext to decline the fosterage.
Yet, just as he had done in his former days, Yanghwi had every intention of walking this life as his father’s son.
They ought to be arriving right about this moment. Ah, right on the mark.
A harsh clamor thundered beyond the perimeter, and without warning, the grand gate of the Baek Estate went flying inward.
CRASH!
Constructed from unyielding black ironwood, the timber avoided splintering, yet the panel was wrenched clear off its mounting hinges.
Crossing the broken threshold were a dozen dark-path ruffians, spearheaded by two grim figures.
Blood Butcher Gu Ak. Black Specter Buk Aksin. Just like my past life.
At the head of the raid, Blood Butcher Gu Ak let loose a deafening roar that shook the yard.
“Peerless in Chivalry Baek Muryang! We have stepped foot here to claim a debt of blood!”
A clan’s grand entrance served as the ultimate emblem of its ancestral pride.
Even with his entryway ripped apart, Baek Muryang did not fly into a wild rage; instead, his features turned to stone.
The suffocating aura surging from the pair at the vanguard matched his own depth of cultivation step for step.
“Are you Blood Butcher Gu Ak?”
“So my humble alias has reached your ears. You see correctly.”
“My actions have never infringed upon the Honggyo Gang, so on what grounds do you commit this outrage?”
“Outrage? You dare raise your hand against the mighty Honggyo Gang and think you can walk away without this greeting?”
Baek Muryang’s jaw tightened noticeably.
“Raise a hand against the Honggyo Gang? What madness is this?”
The Honggyo Gang. A ruthless dark-path sect armed with sufficient clout to rank comfortably within the top three factions of Muju’s Ak’an County, the very domain surrounding the Baek family.
They were infamous across the territory for their predatory expansion.
Their reason for descending upon the Baek Estate out of the blue was plain.
“The Nahak Gang you butchered earlier today were brothers sworn to our banner! You know full well what that transgression entails!”
Baek Muryang swallowed down a grimace. The Nahak Gang on their own had been nothing more than third-rate scum he could dispatch single-handedly, yet the Honggyo Gang represented a far deadlier beast.
Weighed plainly, the martial might of the entire Baek family did not amount to even a tenth of what the Honggyo Gang commanded.
“I simply brought judgment upon beasts who threw aside every shred of basic humanity. Were you unaware that the Nahak Gang peddled illicit narcotics, to say nothing of trading in human captives?”
“Whether they tossed aside their conscience or trampled heaven itself, they marched under our colors. If retribution was to be delivered, our own organization held the sole right to mete it out! Peerless in Chivalry, you overstepped your place.”
His argument held water. If the Nahak Gang indeed operated beneath the umbrella of the Honggyo Gang, striking them amounted to lighting the first spark of war.
“I merely adhered to the code of righteous virtue. Witnessing villainy in broad daylight, how could I look the other way?”
“Spoken with the hollow vanity typical of the Peerless in Chivalry.”
The moment Gu Ak spat those words, Buk Aksin, flanking his side, doubled over in mocking laughter.
“Peerless in Chivalry! So the talk that you cannot stomach a passing injustice was genuine truth after all, BWAHAHA!”
“Hold your tongue, Aksin.”
“Forgive me, Big Brother. Watching him live up to being unmatched under heaven when it comes to parading his chivalry, just as his moniker boasts, I simply lost my composure.”
Observing Buk Aksin casually shrug his shoulders as he mocked the patriarch, Yanghwi quietly ground his teeth.
Arrogant little swine, you dare.
Peerless in Chivalry Baek Muryang. Master of the Baek house and an expert dwelling within the second-rate realm.
The character for bestow (施) carried the dual implication of showing off as well as giving.
Buk Aksin was deliberately deriding him, sneering at him as a clown who flaunted moral superiority despite possessing mediocre martial prowess.
I was mulling over which path to choose, but this falls into place splendidly. Black Specter Buk Aksin. Your life ends here today.
Anchored by that intent, Yanghwi performed a martial exercise that should have been utterly impossible for a youth his age prior to his temporal return.
“Inhale, exhale.“
Drawing a single measured breath, his awareness latched onto the atmospheric qi saturating the four directions of heaven and earth.
In that fleeting second, reality altered. His inner qi sense had unlocked.
The underlings hold around ten years of inner force on average, Buk Aksin commands roughly thirty, and Gu Ak possesses near forty.
Had any observer witnessed this, the martial world would have reeled in shock.
Regardless of how pristine an individual’s senses might be, gauging the scale of an adversary’s dantian without employing an esoteric scanning art remained an unachievable feat.
An extraordinarily sharp qi sense. It stood among the singular natural talents heaven had granted Yanghwi when it denied him everything else.
Measured against their ranks, our people…… the retainers possess negligible inner cultivation, and Father holds only thirty years. As I feared, our household lacks the raw power to drive these invaders out.
Circumstances left them little choice. Scraping together enough silver to keep the household fed left scant hours for martial refinement.
Though they bore the title of a martial lineage through ancestral inheritance, in truth they were a minor household falling well shy of the name.
The clan leader stood merely in the second-rate realm while the retainers barely scraped the third-rate—literally a third-rate martial clan (三流武家).
Such was the reality of the Baek noble house, a compound far more commonly referred to merely as the Baek Estate.
On this exact afternoon in my past life, our family was dealt an agonizing, indelible wound.
In that earlier timeline, Baek Muryang had suffered brutal trauma that confined him to bed for months on end, while the manor was ransacked of its meager financial stores.
To be clear, stripping a penniless clan of its meager coin was carried out purely to humiliate them in the eyes of the Honggyo Gang.
It served as a calculated demonstration to warn every wandering pugilist across the region: never lay a hand on an affiliate of the Honggyo Gang.
As if I would ever allow my father and our household to swallow that degradation a second time.
Providentially, nestled within Yanghwi’s thirty years of accrued experience lay crucial intelligence regarding the Honggyo Gang.
Among those fragments was a specific secret he could deploy without delay.
Leaning close, Yanghwi whispered urgently into Baek Muryang’s ear.
“Father.”
“Hwi, remain behind me.”
“I possess a scheme that can steer us out of this crisis.”
“What nonsense are you uttering?”
“Explaining would take too long, but I mean to leverage a secret I caught while drifting through the alleys of the market.”
Every fleeting heartbeat mattered. Disregarding the bounds of standard etiquette, he dashed forward into the clearing before anyone could forbid him.
Drawing to a halt before Gu Ak, he raised his clasped hands in a courteous cupped-fist salute.
“Brother Gu! Have you been keeping well?”
A look of total, dumbstruck shock froze across Gu Ak’s scarred visage.
Not just Gu Ak, but every soul gathered inside the courtyard froze in sheer disbelief.
“Brother…… Gu……?”
After all, Gu Ak was older than Yanghwi by at least twenty years.
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