01
#1 A Funeral for the Central Plains
July, Hainan Island.
Normally, the southernmost tip of the land would be sweltering, suffocatingly hot.
Whoooosh—
A cold wind blew.
The sting in the nostrils confirmed it was truly winter.
“Even the weather’s gone mad for the finale,” muttered Cheol Gun-ak, the Invincible Martial Emperor, as he dragged his leg through the sandy beach. His clothes were little more than rags, his hair a wild tangle—testaments to the battles he’d survived. In his hand, he clutched a liquor bottle and two cups.
Swoosh—
The icy waves lashed at his ankles. Corpses and shattered flags littered the sand, swaying weakly. The banners bore colors and crests of factions that, in peacetime, would never stand side by side—a desperate union of the Central Plains’ last defenders.
Too bad they were all torn to shreds now.
Cheol Gun-ak paused before a tattered black flag. Splish— He poured a cup of liquor onto the banner embroidered with Heavenly Demon Sect. This was his solitary funeral rite for the Central Plains’ final stand, now reduced to corpses on Hainan’s shore.
“No matter what calamity strikes, we will prevail with our own strength.”
“You could’ve tried prevailing,” he scoffed. “Then I wouldn’t be suffering like this.”
The Heavenly Demon Sect’s leader, Jin-hyeok, had been the strongest single force in the Central Plains. But even he was no match for the Dark Emperor. A flick of the Emperor’s wrist had split Jin-hyeok in two.
Splish—
Next, Cheol Gun-ak poured liquor onto a violet banner.
“If the Central Plains truly faces peril, we will intervene.”
The Hermit Grove—a legendary coalition of reclusive masters. They had emerged, but only when the Plains’ defeat was already inevitable.
“A little earlier would’ve been nice. What’s the point of showing up after everyone’s dead?”
By the time the Hermits joined, the Dark Emperor’s cult had already overwhelmed the Plains. Cheol Gun-ak trudged onward.
Whoosh—
He stopped before a white banner, shredded to ribbons.
“We understand your desperation, but this defies the natural order.”
Baek Gi-tae, the Martial Alliance Leader. A man who postured as a noble sage but had always looked down on Cheol Gun-ak.
“I’d spit on you, but since we fought together… have a drink.”
He poured a final cup and continued toward the sea. Step by step, he carried out his lonely memorial.
Crash—
When the seawater reached his knees, he found a rickety table and two chairs. Beside them leaned the largest banner of all—a golden flag emblazoned with Emperor, nearly toppled.
Thud.
Cheol Gun-ak sat and poured a drink. “Old man,” he said, “do you finally see now? There’s no such thing as ‘absolute’ in this world.”
The banner fluttered in reply.
Grand Preceptor Man Jeung—the Emperor’s mentor, overseer of all civil and military officials, a man second only to the throne.
“So you’re that reckless fool from the North.”
Before the Dark Emperor descended upon the Central Plains, he had first erased the Northern Provinces. Cheol Gun-ak, a son of the North, had witnessed it all: his clan’s annihilation, the death of his grandmother—his only family. Even in her final moments, she’d worried only for him.
“A man of the North fights to the end.”
Those words had dragged him from despair, propelling him to the Central Plains. He’d screamed at sects, alliances, and even the Hermits: “March north and kill the Dark Emperor now! This is our only chance!”
No one listened. But his stubbornness and desperation eventually earned him an audience with the Grand Preceptor.
Even that hope had been crushed.
“The Central Plains could never fall like the North.”
Cheol Gun-ak had begged on his knees, forehead bloodied, throat raw. “Strike before the Dark Emperor recovers! Once he heals the wounds the Northern Lord inflicted, it’s over!”
Only when the Grand Preceptor’s robes were stained with Cheol Gun-ak’s blood did he reveal it:
The Imperial Jade Seal—one of the Seven Treasures of the Central Plains. A relic said to reverse time while preserving the user’s memories.
“Even if this ‘Dark Emperor’ is as mighty as the North’s destruction suggests, the Empire will endure. With this seal, the Emperor can return to the past and protect us.”
The Seal’s radiant glow had smothered Cheol Gun-ak’s fury. Light, after all, is eclipsed only by greater light.
“Grandma told me to fight to the end… but I gave up.”
When the Dark Emperor marched south with his cult, the Empire sent a million elite troops.
“Ten days.”
That’s how long they lasted. Ten days to mark the Central Plains’ doom—the start of the Ten Nights War.
“You missed your chance to fight.”
The martial artists of the Central Plains awoke too late. The glorious capital froze under the Dark Emperor’s touch; golden farmlands turned to tundra.
“I thought it could still be undone.”
Cheol Gun-ak had clung to the Jade Seal’s promise. Surely the Grand Preceptor or Emperor would turn back time and save them.
“I’m sorry… you were right.”
But no salvation came.
Swoosh—
Hainan’s frigid waves coiled around his legs, carrying the Grand Preceptor’s final words. Cheol Gun-ak opened the pouch at his waist. Inside was the Jade Seal, now dull and cracked. Once dazzling, it pulsed with a sinister gloom.
“Still useless, huh?”
The Seal had dimmed the moment the Dark Emperor slaughtered the million-strong army. Cheol Gun-ak had begged it to work, but hope was ash.
“Can’t reverse time, but I’ll crack your skull open with it.”
He hid the Seal in his sleeve—a habit forged in war—and stared north.
White night. Black snow.
And the Dark Emperor.
Creeeak—
The sea froze. Colors bled from the world. The Dark Emperor was winter itself, erasing all hue, reducing the Central Plains to the Eight Hells with each step.
‘Winter, huh?’
Cheol Gun-ak smirked at the approaching apocalypse.
Crunch—
The Dark Emperor walked across the frozen sea. Long black hair fluttered in the glacial wind; obsidian eyes gleamed with eerie beauty. At a glance, he resembled a peerless femme fatale—yet undeniably male.
Boom—
Behind him marched the last surviving generals and Heavenly Kings of the Ten Nights War. An army seethed on the horizon, advancing to exterminate the Central Plains’ final survivor.
“Hey—! Dark Emperor!”
Cheol Gun-ak roared. Those jewel-like black eyes locked onto him.
Creeeeak—
The sea froze solid—except for the patch where Cheol Gun-ak stood, his table untouched.
“Have a drink before the end.”
Clang—
He struck the table with the liquor bottle, the sound reverberating like a funeral bell.
“We’re old acquaintances, aren’t we?”
Most cultists and even Central Plains survivors now worshiped the Dark Emperor as a god. A walking apocalypse in human form.
Crunch—
The Dark Emperor sat across from him.
Glug—
Cheol Gun-ak filled a chipped cup and slid it over.
“Do you even drink?”
Up close, the Emperor’s porcelain skin, delicate lashes, and haunting eyes made him seem fragile.
Clink—
The Dark Emperor drained the cup in one motion.
[It’s been a while.]
Was he referring to the liquor or their last meeting? Cheol Gun-ak snorted and poured himself a drink.
“Feels like forever.”
[You’ve changed.]
The Emperor took the bottle and refilled his cup.
“Didn’t think you’d remember me. Should I be honored?”
Cheol Gun-ak gulped the cheap liquor—harsh and bitter, just like his current existence.
[You’ve come far.]
The abrupt remark was clearly about him.
Swoosh—
The Dark Emperor’s index finger drifted toward Cheol Gun-ak’s heart.
[That flame.]
“The Chukrong Demon Art?”
Cheol Gun-ak frowned. The demonic technique had transformed him from a weakling into the “Invincible Martial Emperor,” but it hardly warranted the Dark Emperor’s attention.
[Why do you oppose me?]
“You killed my grandma. She was the only reason I clung to this damned world.”
[I see.]
Silence heavier than death settled over the frozen sea. Cheol Gun-ak’s eyes narrowed—a warrior gauging his foe’s weakness.
[Then—]
As the Emperor spoke—
‘Now!’
Cheol Gun-ak lashed out.
Swhiiish—!
The Jade Seal in his sleeve hurtled toward the Dark Emperor’s skull.
“DIE—!”
CRACK!
The Seal struck. Black blood splattered as the Emperor’s head snapped sideways.
Snick—
A blade sprang from Cheol Gun-ak’s knee guard. He vaulted onto the table, driving the dagger toward the Emperor’s temple.
Clang—
The blade shattered against skin.
‘Monster. Only the Seven Treasures can wound him.’
The Seal, then! Cheol Gun-ak gripped it with both hands and swung again—
[Is this the last of the Central Plains’ treasures?]
Snap—
The Emperor caught the Seal.
Crumble—
It disintegrated like dust.
Time slowed as the Emperor reached through the debris.
—A man of the North… never retreats.
His grandmother’s voice.
—So bite down when you die. Or tear yourself free and become a nun.
Cheol Gun-ak grinned.
The reason he’d once lived. The reason he now fought.
‘Watch closely from the afterlife.’
Roar—!
The Chukrong Demon Art erupted. Crimson flames—superheated divine power—exploded from his dantian, surging through every meridian.
‘I’ll show you!’
Ting—
He snatched a falling shard of the Seal and slashed at the Emperor’s cheek.
Sizzle—
His palm burned—the shard had pierced bone. But only a thin scratch marred the Emperor’s face.
‘MORE!’
Whoosh—!
Flames engulfed Cheol Gun-ak, transforming him into a fire god.
[Pathetic.]
Swipe—
The Emperor’s hand cleaved the world—and Cheol Gun-ak’s body—in half.
[Had you awakened this flame sooner, you might’ve been dangerous—]
Cheol Gun-ak didn’t wait for the end of the sentence.
Crack—
Even bisected, he wasn’t dead.
“A MAN OF THE NORTH…”
He rallied his final breath.
“NEVER RETREATS—!!”
For Grandma. To face her in the afterlife without shame.
He burned his last embers of superheated divine power, lunging—
Chomp—
His teeth sank into the Dark Emperor’s neck. Cold black blood flooded his mouth.
‘Grandma…’
He drank deeply, refusing to let go.
‘I dragged this bastard down with me. Worthy of the North, right?’
As the Dark Emperor’s blood mingled with his flames, the shard embedded in Cheol Gun-ak’s left hand began to glow.
A miracle.
Translation: Philia Scans