Survival Guide for the Reincarnated

The region ruled by Hwa Muryeong was Cheongju County.

The road leading there was silent.

Moonlight spilled faintly across the path, yet her heart was darker than the night itself.

Even now, she wasn’t sure whether the decision she had made after speaking with Unhwi had been the right one.

Ten days...

Halting her light-footed movement, Hwa Muryeong descended onto the thick branch of a great tree. Far away, the lights of Cheongju flickered faintly. The wind blew past, scattering strands of her hair.

If that child really is alive...

Unhwi’s speculation had been correct.

Hwa Muryeong belonged to the Soul Demon Flame Palace, yet she harbored the will to destroy it herself.

That resolve had begun with the death of Dong Yuseong—and now, his youngest son was said to be alive, living under a different family name?

But she had seen the corpse with her own eyes.

She had even watched the cremation.

And now she was to believe that it had been a fake?

Her thoughts tangled.

Who? Who could have spirited him away?

Dong Murin’s body—she had personally overseen its recovery. If he was truly alive, then someone had moved in the shadows to protect him.

She turned her attention not only outward but inward—toward the Soul Demon Flame Palace itself.

She’d had a plan. Now everything was off balance.

Still, if Dong Murin truly lived, she was ready to change everything.

So long as he lived.

At that moment—

“It’s been a long time, Muryeong.”

Her entire body stiffened.

It had been eleven years since she’d heard that voice, and yet it was one she could never forget.

When she slowly turned her head, a man emerged from the shadow beneath the tree.

Flame King Hwa Munyeom.

Clad in crimson robes, he looked much the same as he had eleven years ago. But his eyes were deeper, and his expression bore a clear weariness that hadn’t been there before.

Leaping down from the tree, Hwa Muryeong spoke.

“You never sent word—I thought you were dead.”

Her voice trembled with a tangle of emotions.

Hwa Munyeom stayed silent. He knew full well that among those emotions, resentment burned strongest.

“So it’s true then—what that man said earlier. What exactly have you been doing all this time?”

Her tone grew rougher by the second. Everything she had swallowed down for more than a decade came bursting out at once.

“I found a new purpose.”

At that curt answer, her brow tightened in frustration.

“And what purpose is that? What’s so important that the man who once washed his hands of the world suddenly crawls back into the murim?”

“Your tone is rather aggressive.”

A faint note of reproach colored his voice.

“Shouldn’t it be?”

She shot back, eyes glistening with unshed tears, fury blazing behind them.

Hwa Munyeom drew a long breath. He knew her anger was justified.

“I understand your feelings. But—”

“Understand?”

The interruption silenced him again.

“You knew how deeply I loved him. So why didn’t you show yourself then?”

“......”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You knew that Yuseong and my sister were slaughtered—that his children, every last relative, were beheaded. You knew, didn’t you?”

Her voice shook.

That day’s memory was still vivid—the man she loved collapsing, coughing blood, and no one coming to save him.

Though he hadn’t chosen her, she had loved him for years. She’d tried to move past it, had even prepared a gift to apologize, to start over.

And that was the day Dong Yuseong died.

Her emotions were a storm of grief, guilt, and regret.

After a long silence, Hwa Munyeom finally said, quietly:

“I didn’t know.”

“...That’s an easy answer.”

Hwa Muryeong let out a hollow laugh.

“Maybe you didn’t then. But now you do. So why are you still silent? Shouldn’t you be destroying the Soul Demon Flame Palace? Why did you break your seclusion—what have you been doing, that you met that man before even meeting me?”

Hwa Munyeom stepped closer, slowly, as if afraid to startle her.

“Muryeong, listen to me—”

“Listen? To what? Another excuse?”

She stepped back.

With a sigh, Hwa Munyeom spoke softly.

“Murin is alive.”

Her eyes widened.

“...What did you just say?”

“You heard it yourself inside. Seol Unhwi was right. His subordinate, Han Murin, is Yuseong’s son.”

Her pupils trembled violently. She had thought it impossible—yet it was true?

“...Since when... did you know?”

“From the beginning.”

At that answer, she laughed again—dry, bitter.

“Ha... You never fail to amaze me, Father.”

It made sense now.

On that day of catastrophe, only one man could have hidden away Dong Yuseong’s bloodline.

Flame King Hwa Munyeom.

Even in retirement, had he rushed to the palace upon hearing the news, he could have saved at least one life.

A man capable of clouding Shin Jueon’s perception and obscuring the eyes of the palace’s warriors.

A master who had already reached the level of Transcendent Enlightenment even back then—he could have done it.

Her laughter carried despair and rage alike.

“You knew. So why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was waiting.”

He paused before continuing.

“Waiting? For what?”

“I watched Murin live under the name Han. I watched you endure contempt within the palace, dreaming of revenge. But it wasn’t the right time.”

Her fury erupted.

“Not the right time? Do you have any idea what I went through? Scum like Woorin taking the Striking Division’s command, weaklings becoming elders—”

“......”

“I was expelled from my elder seat, reduced to a drill instructor for over ten years! Ten years of bowing to lesser men, of swallowing humiliation every day while biding my time for revenge—and now you say it wasn’t time? I—”

“It’s time now.”

She froze.

“...Now?”

“Muryeong. The true hand behind Dong Yuseong’s death wasn’t only Shin Jueon. The roots run deeper.”

Her expression hardened. Until now, she had believed Shin Jueon alone was her enemy.

“You must judge for yourself. As a martial artist, choose what is right.”

“...You keep talking in riddles. Why won’t you ever just say it plainly?”

“It’s for your sake.”

“Don’t give me that.”

He shook his head.

“Meet Han Murin. If you wish to protect him, then step into the board.”

“...Choose—to know the root?”

He nodded silently.

She stared at him, wondering—

“What do you think of Seol Unhwi?”

His reply was firm.

“Dangerous—but necessary.”

Hwa Munyeom’s gaze turned toward the distant Celestial Dragon Hall.

“That man will overturn the entire murim. And in that chaos, you’ll be able to seize what you desire.”

“And you, Father?”

“Well. I can’t be sure I’ll achieve what I broke seclusion for—but at least, I’ll have my revenge on the Soul Demon Flame Palace.”

The wind rose, tugging at their robes. The gulf of more than ten years between father and daughter couldn’t be bridged by a single conversation, yet at least they were now looking in the same direction.

“Murin... he’s truly alive?”

Her voice trembled with desperate hope.

“Yes. And you’ll meet him soon.”

At his confident words, Hwa Muryeong gave a small nod.

“I’ll be going now.”

“...Just like that?”

After a brief pause, Hwa Munyeom said quietly,

“I’ll return soon.”

***

Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.

Deep within Mount Seongrim, a place usually ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) devoid of people, several figures had gathered today.

Between the steep ridges, a strange energy pulsed outward—and at its source yawned a faintly glowing tear in space.

It was the entrance to the Secret Realm.

A man stood before it, arms crossed. Sword Emperor of Myriad Transformations, Jang Icheong.

The same arrogant smile still curved his lips, though his eyes were cold as ice.

“You’re not late,” he murmured.

His gaze was fixed down the mountain slope.

Around him stood a dozen others.

All were renowned in the murim, though none affiliated with Cheonrim or the Mukse Society.

Two, however, stood out above the rest.

Jeok Yeonik, Sect Master of the Evil Star Sword Sect—already a Divine Transformation Stage expert despite being only in his mid-forties.

Five elite disciples of his sect stood behind him. A short distance away was In Hwarang, Vice Lord of the Bloodflame Demon Palace, likewise at the Divine Transformation Stage. The man in crimson robes radiated danger merely by standing there, five subordinates arrayed at his back.

Then—

A lone figure approached through the mountain path.

Unhwi.

Jeok Yeonik let out a short laugh.

“Well now, Master Jang, is that the one you insisted we wait for? Don’t tell me we’ve been waiting for that corpse?”

Though Unhwi was clearly alive, calling him a corpse wasn’t far off.

Even Jang Icheong had nothing to say at the sight.

Unhwi’s body was gaunt, his skin pale as paper. But what shocked them most was his hair—once ash-gray, now nearly pure white.

He looked as if ten years had been stolen from him overnight.

Jang Icheong sneered.

“So you managed not to run, even looking like that.”

Mockery edged his tone; disdain filled his eyes.

“Coming here in that state—some fools might call it courage, but to me it’s the height of stupidity. And without Seong Yangho, that leech who clung to your side—what exactly are you planning to do here?”

Unhwi gave no reply. Instead, he glanced slowly around and spoke in a calm, even voice.

“I had much to prepare, so I was delayed. But I didn’t expect quite this many people.”

“......”