Avatar of the Absolute Martial God

After joining Jang Pae’s unit, Jang-il was given an entire large barracks to himself.

This happened because Jang Pae had only recently been promoted to Hundred Man Commander and had not yet filled his ranks with new soldiers before Jang-il joined. Of course, this was also due to Jang Pae’s consideration.

If Jang-il were placed in the existing barracks, his space would be far too cramped. Additionally, it was to prevent the nosy subordinates from bothering him.

After all, despite his great achievements, Jang-il was still just a sixteen-year-old boy.

“……”

That consideration helped Jang-il in more ways than one.

The long silence of the night allowed him to properly mourn his late master.

As a result, he only managed to fall asleep very late that night.

And that night, Jang-il had a strange dream.

❃

—Clone.

The dream was unusually vivid, and its beginning was just as peculiar.

It started with him awakening from death—just as he had before.

Upon waking, Jang-il wore a puzzled expression for a long while.

“Where is this?”

Not only was it hard to believe that he had been resurrected, but the unfamiliar surroundings also left him feeling confused.

Unlike when he had previously revived—waking up on a battlefield three days after his death, amidst the disorder and stench of corpses—this time, he found himself in a dense forest.

Fortunately, thanks to his heightened awareness, he did not fall into a state of panic.

Jang-il began to move, trying to assess his situation.

“Yu Nation?”

Before half a day had passed, Jang-il discovered a small fortress and was shocked to realize that it belonged to the Yu Nation.

It was only natural for him to be confused.

After all, the Yu Nation was an ancient kingdom that had long ceased to exist.

Jang-il knew this because the Yu Nation was the predecessor of Kang Nation, the country to which he belonged.

The Yu Nation had been a vast and warlike empire, founded by the Kang tribe—once considered mere barbarians.

War was their way of life, and necessities such as food and supplies were produced by the slaves they captured in battle.

During its early days, the number of slaves was so immense that the ratio of commoners to slaves was 1:10. This alone showed just how dedicated they were to warfare.

“What in the world…!”

Realizing that he was in the Yu Nation, Jang-il instinctively rejected the notion with all his might.

Falling into the past was even more unbelievable than being resurrected.

But that wasn’t the issue.

For Jang-il, who had watched his widowed mother struggle after his father’s death, this was something he could never accept.

“This… it’s real…”

Yet, before a day had even passed, he had no choice but to accept reality.

Everything was far too different from his time—the streets were filled with countless slaves, a defining trait of the Yu Nation.

Despite his deep sorrow, there was at least one piece of good news: the value of silver was significantly higher in this era compared to his own.

Jang-il currently had two nyang of silver.

He had saved this money over the course of a year, intending to send it home. In his time, it was enough to buy four sacks of rice (one sack being 80 kg). If he purchased mixed grains instead, he could buy up to ten sacks.

However, in this era, things were different.

The value of silver was ten times greater than in his time.

In other words, he was now holding enough money to buy a hundred sacks of mixed grains—a small fortune.

This was due to the Yu Nation’s outdated military policies and primitive mining technology.

The same applied to metal refining. Even his standard military-issue weapons and equipment were considered high-grade in this era.

Naturally, the sword he had received from his master—being exceptionally well-forged—was treated as a legendary blade.

Having enough funds to sustain himself brought Jang-il a small sense of security.

Of course, his grief was so overwhelming that he wandered aimlessly for a while. However, by the fourth day, he was able to set a new goal.

“I need to find a martial sect.”

Even with his heightened awareness, Jang-il was still just a young boy who hadn’t yet come of age.

Seeking a new martial sect to belong to—one that could replace the family he had lost—was perhaps only natural.

Without hesitation, he sold his military equipment, purchased a horse, and set off on his journey.

❃

Jang-il’s master, Oh Mun, had been an unusually silent man. He had only two reasons for taking Jang-il as his disciple.

First, he did not have much time left to live.

Second, Jang-il had extraordinary physical potential.

If one were to classify innate talent into lower, middle, and upper grades, Jang-il was unquestionably in the upper tier.

Unfortunately, malnutrition and a late start in martial arts training had dulled much of his potential.

Yet, Oh Mun had never hesitated to take him as a disciple.

His own body was failing due to an old internal injury, but that didn’t matter. Finding someone with Jang-il’s talent within the military was as rare as finding a needle in a haystack.

Jang-il, on the other hand, had accepted Oh Mun as his master simply to survive.

Oh Mun had been a strict teacher, but not once did Jang-il resent or dislike him.

Beneath his stern exterior, Oh Mun possessed a warmth that was impossible to ignore—a quiet but profound kindness.

That warmth had been enough to soothe the burdens Jang-il had carried as the eldest son of his family.

“…Yes. That’s how it was.”

Perhaps that was why, as he searched for a sect, he often found himself reminiscing about his master.

Among the many memories he recalled, one was of immediate importance.

He remembered that Oh Mun had once mentioned an ancient sect—one that had supposedly perished long ago.

Its name was Thousand Swords Sect.

And there was a high chance that in this era, the sect still existed.

Moreover, he recalled that the sect had been located in Dobongsan.

❃

By sheer luck, after gathering information, Jang-il found that Dobongsan was indeed within the YuNation’s territory.

After a grueling journey, he arrived at the mountain two months later, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“…I never expected that Thousand Swords Sect had only been founded three years ago.”

If he had fallen into the past just a little further back, he would have lost his goal once again.

At the time, the Thousand Swords Sect was not a renowned sect.

It was so obscure that it was only known within the Dobongsan region. In such turbulent times, there were over ten sects like this in the area.

Yet, Jang-il did not feel discouraged.

Because he had heard a story from his master.

“The name ‘Thousand Swords Sect’ was given in honor of its founder, who shattered a thousand swords in battle. If that legend is true, then he deserves to be called a Sword Demon (Geomgwi).”

It was a remarkable evaluation.

In the martial world, titles were incredibly important. Many warriors roamed their entire lives without ever earning one.

But to have the title gwi (鬼, demon) attached?

That meant the individual was so powerful that they were considered one of the nation’s top warriors in their field.

If even a fraction of the legend was true, then the Thousand Swords Sect was not what it appeared to be.

Beneath its humble facade, it was a tiger’s den—a sect that concealed a monstrous power.

Jang-il suppressed the intense anticipation that made his heart pound wildly and rode toward Thousand Swords Sect.

But… had he expected too much?

The appearance of the Thousand Sword Sect that Jang-il found was far from the image of a tiger’s den. In fact, it seemed even less developed than the average small sect.

Moreover, the martial arts skills of the current sect leader were inferior to his master’s.

However, since Jang-il had not come in search of great power in the first place, he pushed aside his disappointment.

“You want to become a disciple?”

Mun Chu, the current leader of the Thousand Sword Sect, looked at Jang-il in confusion upon hearing his sudden request.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“Yes. Please accept me as a disciple of the Thousand Sword Sect.”

“Well, this is unexpected…”

Mun Chu found himself in a difficult position as Jang-il insisted on being accepted.

The sect’s current situation made it difficult to take in new disciples.

Realizing this, Jang-il quickly pulled out a pouch filled with money.

“It’s not much, but I hope it can help the sect.”

“Wait, why would you—huh?”

Mun Chu had initially intended to refuse out of politeness, but when he instinctively took the pouch and looked inside, he was rendered speechless.

Inside were two nyang (silver coins) along with five hundred mun (copper coins). The total value was equivalent to two and a half nyang of silver.

Considering that it only took one nyang per year to maintain the sect, this was an enormous sum.

Only then did Mun Chu notice what had been hidden behind Jang-il’s rustic appearance.

His physique was more impressive than expected, and the sword at his waist—despite being sheathed—emitted a sharp aura, proving it to be of high quality.

Moreover, he had arrived on horseback, making it difficult for Mun Chu to see him as an ordinary person.

Though it was a misunderstanding, this misconception worked in Jang-il’s favor.

Mun Chu immediately made his decision.

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I can accept you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, yes. Ahem. I’ll accept this as a sign of your sincerity.”

Blushing slightly as he pocketed the pouch, Mun Chu suddenly brought up a surprising topic.

“Before formally accepting you as a disciple, I should introduce you to my father. He should be awake around this time.”

“???”

Jang-il’s eyes filled with confusion at this unexpected development.

But Mun Chu, appearing somewhat hurried, took a medicinal decoction from his plump wife and led Jang-il to the innermost room of the sect.

Jang-il had expected to see a frail old man inside, given how Mun Chu was bringing medicine.

Instead, he found an elderly man who resembled a starved tiger.

The moment their eyes met, Jang-il instinctively swallowed hard. The sheer force of the man’s gaze was overwhelming.

The old Jang-il might have frozen in fear, but he was different now.

Although he didn’t meet the old man’s gaze head-on, he was able to withstand its intensity.

Perhaps because of this, the elderly man drank the decoction in large gulps without taking his eyes off Jang-il.

Concerned that his father might scold the boy, Mun Chu quickly explained why he had brought Jang-il.

“You fool!”

“Ow!”

Mun Chu flinched and immediately bowed in submission at his father’s sharp reprimand.

However, his father’s attention had already shifted away from him.

“No matter how many times I look, this boy is top-tier! A talent like this came to our doorstep asking to become a disciple, and instead of prostrating in gratitude, you’re worrying about formalities? What a useless idiot!”

“I am grateful for the praise.”

“Ha-ha-ha!”

The old man laughed in satisfaction.

Though Jang-il’s physique was impressive, what pleased the elderly man even more was his temperament.

A martial artist’s temperament was crucial.

The higher one’s level of mastery, the more important it became.

While it was possible to refine one’s temperament through extensive training, the best warriors were those who were naturally gifted.

Jang-il’s temperament was so exceptional that it was hard to believe he hadn’t been born with it.

Despite suffering from a severe internal injury, the elderly man had once been among the strongest swordmasters in the world.

His son, Mun Chu, struggled under his presence not because he was weak, but because he simply couldn’t endure his father’s overwhelming aura.

Yet Jang-il, who had barely begun his martial journey, remained unshaken.

It was nothing short of miraculous.

“Cough, cough. To think that heaven would send me such a gift in my final days…”

His eyes glowed with an intense light as he looked at Jang-il.

“My son is not strong enough to handle your potential. I want to take you as my disciple.”

In an instant, Jang-il found himself becoming the disciple of someone who should have been his master’s junior.

But he accepted without hesitation.

The sheer intensity of the elderly man’s presence made him believe that his master’s words about the Thousand Sword Sect might be true after all.

“I am Jang-il. I will now pay my respects.”

He then performed the formal nine-bow ritual his former master, Oh Mun, had taught him.

Watching him, the elderly man’s eyes trembled with emotion.

“My name is Mun Kang. From this day forth, I will dedicate the rest of my life to building the foundation of your swordsmanship.”

“……”

Mun Chu watched the scene unfold with concern.

He was glad to see his father so full of passion again, but what if he pushed himself too hard and his condition worsened?

However, his worries were unfounded.

Surprisingly, after accepting Jang-il as his disciple, Mun Kang’s illness—though not improving—ceased to worsen.

❃❃❃