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SERIES: The Divine Thief's Regression
CHAPTER: The Divine Thief's Regression, Chapter 1
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The Divine Thief's Regression, Chapter 1
A clear, cloudless night.
A man was running across the rugged terrain, bathed in the pale moonlight.
His figure moved in a straight line, seemingly ignoring the rises and falls of the ground.
To anyone with an eye for Movement Technique, the sight was so beautiful it would have sent shivers down their spine.
However, it seemed even his extraordinary Movement Technique was not enough to shake his pursuers.
*Sssss-*
Cho Muryang, the Divine Thief of his generation, glanced at the tenacious lackeys of the Demonic Cult clinging to his tail, particularly their red-faced Vice-Leader, and muttered.
“What the hell is so special about this scroll?”
He’d gone through hell and back to steal the sacred object, but their reaction was far more extreme than he’d imagined.
Securing an escape route was a thief’s basic principle, but this was their territory.
He was being herded.
“……”
After fleeing for about two hours more.
Cho Muryang finally came to a halt.
Before him lay a cliff of unknown depth.
Even the unusually bright moonlight could not illuminate the bottom of the precipice.
As Muryang quietly exhaled, hundreds of black-clad figures who had been lagging behind arrived, forming a circle around him as if cornering an animal.
“Your talent for fleeing is truly first-rate, Divine Thief.”
The Vice-Leader’s young face twisted into a vile smirk.
He must think he’s finally caught me.
But I have no intention of going down so easily.
Muryang held out the rolled-up scroll and said.
“Listen up, lackeys of the Demonic Cult! I've stolen an erotic painting from your leader's bedchamber. If you don't want every last detail of your leader's taste in women exposed, bring me the head of your Vice-Leader. Now.”
At Muryang’s words, not only the Vice-Leader but all the cultists began to radiate killing intent.
Unfazed, Muryang continued his provocation.
“As a man of the Gangho, and a man in general, I didn't want to go this far, but you've left me no choice. The secrets I am about to reveal are the Cult Leader's most intimate affairs. If there are any loyal followers among you, turn your heads and close your eyes. I will test your loyalty to your leader by seeing who among you can best block their five senses.”
Unable to endure the continued taunts, the Vice-Leader stepped forward.
“Divine Thief. I’ve grown tired of your clownish antics. Let’s end this now.”
His moniker, Divine Thief, spoken by the enemy. He savored it for a moment.
“Divine Thief. Yes, I am the Divine Thief. The greatest thief in all the land, who can steal anything but a woman’s heart and the lifeblood of the common people. And yet…”
Muryang said, shaking the scroll with a swagger.
“Even for me, this scroll was quite a challenge to steal. What in the world is it? My small mind can think of nothing but your leader’s nighttime companion.”
“…I will not tolerate this any longer. You’re going to die anyway, so you might as well go peacefully.”
*Rip.*
“Oh dear, it tore a little.”
“I misspoke. I will open a path for you, so just put the scroll down first.”
Aha, I see.
Judging by the Vice-Leader’s reaction, this must truly be a sacred object.
Its purpose was still unknown, but the mere fact that they valued it so highly gave it worth.
“And why should I trust you?”
*Swoosh-*
Muryang unfurled the scroll and held it up like a hostage.
Strange rocks, bizarrely shaped stones, and a pine tree. The image of a single crane and a long-bearded old man was seared into the minds of several cultists.
Seeing this, the Vice-Leader’s eyes darkened as he spoke.
“…Among the cultists who saw the painting, those of the second rank and below will commit suicide.”
“As you command!”
*Thump!*
The moment the Vice-Leader’s words fell, dozens of black-clad men ruptured their own Dantians, killing themselves.
The empty spaces were immediately filled by the men behind them.
“Did the shock of his foul tastes make you kill yourselves? A pederast with a thing for old men… Truly, a vessel fit to embrace the world. Are there any others who wish to be martyred for the sake of the Cult Leader’s dignity?”
Muryang’s tongue never ceased.
The Vice-Leader looked at Muryang with even more weary eyes, then gestured to the cultists holding their positions.
At his signal, the cultists to Muryang’s left parted, creating a path.
“…Why? Did the Divine Cult declare you a public enemy for you to pull a stunt like this?”
The Divine Thief was a man who walked between the righteous and demonic paths.
He plundered the storehouses of those who had wickedly amassed wealth, regardless of whether they belonged to the righteous path or the demonic sects.
Thanks to this, he had proudly earned a spot on the martial world’s public enemies list, but he had a particularly deep connection with the Demonic Cult.
However.
“The world is full of common folk who have been wronged by you. Why should I be any different?”
He had no intention of explaining himself to the enemy before him.
He was just buying time until the path the cultists made was wide enough—
“When you find out the answer, you can tell your Cult Leader’s husband in the scroll!”
Deciding the time was right, he quickly threw something toward the cliff.
“The scroll!”
*CRASH!*
In that instant, the Vice-Leader and two Elders kicked off the ground and launched themselves forward using Qinggong.
The Vice-Leader moved to block Muryang’s escape, the bearded Elder dove toward the cliff where the scroll was falling, and the remaining young Elder charged at Muryang.
“Got you!”
The bearded Elder threw himself off the cliff.
Even as he fell, he checked the scroll he had recovered, but what greeted him was—
“What, is this…”
Not an old man, but a naked woman.
The bearded Elder’s rage-filled eyes disappeared into the abyss below.
—Divine Thief—!!
“To risk your life for a single erotic painting. Like leader, like follower.”
“You bastard—!”
The young Elder thrust his sword.
Muryang also launched himself toward him with Qinggong.
And, instead of a sword, he thrust the scroll forward.
“Hah!”
“Yes, this is the real one.”
The Elder gasped and tried to retract his sword.
Muryang didn't miss the opening and slit the Elder’s throat with the sword in his other hand.
The Elder, whose internal energy had flowed backward in the process of hastily retracting his sword, couldn't properly defend against Muryang’s attack.
*Pshhhk.*
A fountain of blood erupted from the Elder’s neck where Muryang’s sword had passed.
“Twelfth Elder!!”
“The youngest one, was he? A shame.”
He’d have preferred to take down a stronger one.
As he wiped the blood from his blade with his sleeve, the Vice-Leader charged at him with incredible speed.
The moment Muryang noticed his approach, he dove into the crowd of cultists.
*Whoosh-!*
“Here! It’s your Cult Leader’s husband! No, wait, maybe the Cult Leader is the husband! Who’s the top and who’s the bottom? Go on, take a guess!”
Muryang brandished the scroll and his sword alternately, as if performing a dual-sword technique.
Though his opponents were warriors who would be considered masters anywhere else, the scroll, flapping with profound skill, miraculously blocked their sword paths, leaving them helpless.
“Hahahahaha—!”
Muryang relentlessly cut down the cultists, making his way toward the outer edge of the encirclement.
“If you get married in the future, be sure to invite me! My connection with your leader is not a shallow one, so I’ll bring a child’s toy as a wedding gift!”
“Silence! Shut that mouth of yours!”
The Vice-Leader stomped his foot, letting out a lion’s roar imbued with immense internal energy.
“You’re all in the way! Get lost!”
Had the provocation gone too far?
The Vice-Leader began to indiscriminately cut down the very cultists he had intended to use as a shield as he charged forward.
“The Vice-Leader has gone mad! How dare he harm the pillars of the cult! Kill that apostate at once!”
“Shut up! You will not die a peaceful death!”
*Clang-! Clang!*
The blood-soaked sword swung, and in the blink of an eye, more than twenty exchanges had passed.
‘Hmm. I can’t win.’
As expected of the Demonic Cult’s Vice-Leader.
Muryang was confident in his Movement Technique, but he knew all too well that his martial prowess didn't match it.
Nevertheless, he managed to hold on by using the scroll.
Then, at a certain moment, he felt the hair on his entire body stand on end.
*Shwoook.*
The Elder who had thrown himself off the cliff for the fake scroll was now rushing toward him at an incredible speed.
Muryang once again thrust the scroll forward.
“You think the same trick will work forever!”
The Elder’s arm bent at a grotesque angle and stabbed toward Muryang’s right arm.
It seemed he had learned a demonic art that allowed him to contort his body.
“How disgusting!”
He quipped out of habit, but the situation was quite troublesome.
If he dodged, he would be exposed to the Vice-Leader’s attack, and his posture was not right to counter.
There was only one way out.
Muryang charged straight at the Elder.
*Puk.*
Muryang’s sword pierced the Elder’s heart.
However.
*Thud.*
Muryang himself had to give up his right arm.
As if it were nothing, Muryang sealed the acupressure points on his right shoulder to stop the bleeding.
The Vice-Leader sneered at the now one-armed Muryang.
“Stopping the bleeding in a situation like this. Do you want to live that badly, Divine Thief?”
“Why, will you let me live?”
“If you hand over the scroll quietly.”
“You don’t even mean that.”
Clutching his empty shoulder, Muryang looked up at the moon.
He took in the bright, pale moonlight one last time, and quietly opened his mouth.
“Tell me, Vice-Leader. Why do you think half-baked fools like ‘righteous thieves’ come to exist?”
“…What?”
Nonsense that broke the flow of the conversation.
He continued, ignoring the bewildered Vice-Leader.
“Even with righteous intentions, an evil deed is still evil. But aren't those so-called 'righteous thieves' a joke? They lack the conviction to face the world and risk being broken, so they just scurry around, hiding in the shadows of the night.”
Muryang lightly shook his feet as he continued.
“Therefore, a righteous thief is a coward. A despicable coward who wants to practice his own brand of justice while keeping himself safe. But now that my end has come to this, what a clown I’ve been.”
As if joking with a friend, or perhaps reciting his last will.
A certain mischievous glint flickered in his calm eyes.
“So, give me an answer. In a situation like this, where this foolish clown can neither achieve his goal nor save his own life, what choice do you think he'll make?”
“What nonsense are you spouting!”
*Step.*
“This kind of nonsense.”
Finishing his words, Muryang gathered all the remaining internal energy in his Dantian and unleashed his Qinggong.
With the scroll in hand, he threw himself off the cliff.
“What trick is this!”
The Vice-Leader also leaped off the precipice in pursuit of Muryang.
“Hand it over, now!”
The Vice-Leader’s expression contorted with urgency.
“That expression, I like it.”
Yes, a clown needs an audience.
Facing his final spectator, Muryang began his performance with a joyful expression.
He bit down on the edge of the flapping scroll.
*Riiiiip-!*
And tore it to shreds.
The body of the old man painted on the scroll was ripped in two, scattering in the wind.
“You son—of a bitch—Divine Thief—!”
*KWHAAA-!*
The Vice-Leader’s palm strike slammed into his abdomen.
Blood gushed from his pulverized organs, yet he found even that enjoyable.
Because in the final chapter of his life, he had managed to properly screw over that bastard of a Cult Leader.
If there was just one regret.
“My only regret, Cult Leader… is that I won't get to see your face twist in despair.”
*CRACK-!*
The back of his head smashed against a rock at the bottom of the cliff.
With the gruesome sensation of his skull shattering, Muryang's consciousness faded away.
* * *
*Slap.*
“Get up.”
*SMACK!*
“I said, get up.”
Strange.
Could it be that in death, one is forced to endlessly relive the pain of their life?
“This bastard, awake but lost in thought.”
*SMACK-!*
A viciously sharp slap.
The extraordinary pain snapped Muryang’s eyes open.
He was in a strange space, all white and black.
There, an old man in a white robe was staring intently at Muryang.
“Well watched. You have quite a talent for getting under people’s skin.”
“…It’s one of my few points of pride. So, who are you, old man?”
*THWACK-!*
“The Cult Leader’s husband.”
He’d been struck on the bridge of his nose, but he hadn’t seen the man move.
This old man was a Master.
He didn’t know from what era, but in terms of martial lineage, he was surely a distant senior.
Muryang rubbed his stinging nose and looked at the old man before him.
“Did you wake me, senior?”
“I did.”
He took a closer look at the old man’s face.
Every hair on his body was white, and his half-bald head had hair so long it dragged on the floor.
And it wasn’t just his hair.
His eyebrows and beard were at least five times longer than a normal person’s.
He was the very picture of an immortal sage.
He looked exactly like the old man in the scroll.
As Muryang opened his mouth to ask about the situation—
“The time granted to me is not long. I don’t have time for wordplay.”
The old man didn’t allow any questions and simply looked at Muryang.
“Let me ask you one thing. If you were to start over, could you defeat the Cult Leader?”
In that moment, Muryang knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
A question from an immortal sage. This was a fateful encounter, the kind that appeared in heroic tales.
Muryang nodded once and said confidently.
“I could not.”
“Indeed, you could not.”
Such brutal self-honesty.
The old man, who seemed to possess an insight that matched his appearance, readily agreed.
“Therefore, I shall give you a gift.”
*Swoosh-*
“Wait, why the staff again.”
The immortal sage grinned and continued.
“It’s a gift. Try harder in your next life.”
*CRASH-!*
A star appeared before his eyes. Then two. Then thirty.
As his consciousness faded, he could hear the old man’s hearty laughter.
-Thank you for releasing me from the scroll. If fate allows, we shall meet again.
How many times had his head been smashed in just one day?
It was, quite literally, a skull-splitting day.
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