Ten Thousand Changes (萬變).
It was the epithet of my third eldest brother and, very rarely, a name given to a weapon itself.
Mujin's ability was simple and clear.
A weapon that could change into any form I desired when infused with magic power.
It could become a sword, a spear, or even a bow.
Even as the same weapon, its weight could be made heavier or lighter, and its length, hardness, and countless other properties could be freely adjusted.
I carefully infused my magic power into Mujin as I gazed at it.
As it absorbed my energy, its form slowly began to shift.
Sweat started to bead on my forehead.
This is my limit.
My whole body burned with heat.
My magic circuits had overheated.
I watched Mujin writhing and transforming with a sense of regret, then abruptly cut off my magic flow.
"Haha…"
A hollow laugh escaped me.
The hilt and appearance remained that of a dagger, but the blade had awkwardly lengthened by about a handspan, throwing off its balance. Moreover, some parts of the extended blade were sharp, while others were dull and uneven.
I was trying to create a properly sized short sword, but…
I lacked both the necessary magic power and the skill to control it properly.
But those were problems that could be solved with time.
Only one thing truly mattered.
Mujin is now mine.
I recalled the way my third brother wielded it with absolute mastery.
A spear for mid-range combat.
A sword when the enemy closed in.
A bow and throwing daggers for long-range attacks.
He adjusted its weight, length, hardness, and strength at will.
Every motion was as fluid as flowing water—swift and natural.
With his overwhelming versatility and unpredictability, my third brother was revered by countless warriors.
I can do the same. Perhaps… even surpass him.
There was no weapon better suited for me—someone who could read the memories of all weapons.
Then, I suddenly caught myself.
Surpass my third brother? …I've really changed, haven't I?
I stared blankly at Mujin.
If it were the past me, drowning in helplessness and defeat, such a thought wouldn't have even crossed my mind, consciously or otherwise.
In my past life, I felt like I was plummeting endlessly into a bottomless abyss…
But now, I felt like I was walking on an endlessly stretching road.
That same overwhelming uncertainty remained—but its nature had changed. It was no longer despair, but something closer to expectation.
"…Ahem."
I felt my nose heat up. Awkwardly, I cleared my throat a few times and picked up Mujin from the ground.
After much more struggling, I managed to return it to its dagger form with my magic.
Forget about surpassing my third brother—I need to learn how to handle this thing first.
A helpless chuckle escaped me as I felt my magic reserves completely drained.
Just then, I heard the sound of a door opening near the entrance.
"Young master, your time is up."
Hurriedly, I tucked Mujin into my chest.
Then, I pulled out the item I had hidden in my inner pocket.
"Young master? Where are you?"
"I'm here."
As I spoke, I placed the item naturally onto its stand, as if I were simply returning it to its original spot.
It was a dagger identical in appearance to Mujin—except it had never rusted.
This should be enough.
In the underground archives of Bigo, items whose true nature was never uncovered often ended up sealed away and forgotten, eventually becoming mundane objects.
I had asked my nanny to procure one based on my past life's knowledge. The appearance differed slightly, but it was close enough.
"It's time to leave. Your time is up."
"Yes, I understand."
I straightened my clothes and walked out at a leisurely pace.
There was no need to worry—I would leave without a body search, and even if there was one, it wouldn't matter.
Mujin had already changed its form, and without my magic, no one would recognize its special properties.
I might get scolded a little, but I could always claim it had been mine from the beginning.
Despite being just a small dagger, it felt surprisingly heavy in my arms.
But it wasn't a bad weight.
***
The Martial Training Hall
As always, no one ever came here.
Even the patrol officers and the staff in charge of the training grounds avoided entering, as they were not allowed to interfere with the direct descendants' training.
Thanks to that, I could focus entirely on my practice.
One week had passed since I obtained Mujin.
I had spent that time training a single move, over and over again.
"Hoo…"
I steadied my breathing and opened my eyes.
In my mind, I visualized the figure of a certain man.
Slowly, I stepped forward.
At the same time, I swung my sword down in a single, clean stroke!
Swish!
The magic-infused slash cut deep into the training dummy's torso.
But that was as far as it went.
In the end, the blade stopped just a handspan short of slicing all the way through.
"Another failure."
I ruffled my sweat-drenched hair and flopped onto the ground.
"Sigh."
As I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight, a black ring on my finger caught my attention.
It was Mujin, transformed into a portable form.
'…What was that back then?'
Rolling Mujin between my thumb and forefinger, I recalled the moment I first acquired it.
What I was training now was the sword technique of the man I had seen through Mujin.
No, could I even call it a memory?
I had experienced that horrific scene with my entire being.
It was so vivid, yet at the same time, it felt disturbingly unreal. And in that vision… the man had recognized me.
'That never happened again after that.'
I had tried to read Mujin's memories several times, but the phenomenon from the first time never repeated. Instead, as usual, fragmented and unfamiliar memories replayed erratically.
And from those images, I had deciphered a single sword technique.
'A sword technique? It's just a skill.'
A hollow laugh escaped my lips.
I had thought I was getting better at using this ability, but apparently, I was nowhere close.
Just one stance.
When I read the memory, I had only managed to extract a single stance from the man's swing.
The technique's name was Chakma (刺魔).
As if to tell me I wasn't ready yet, the dark energy had shown me only a single stance and its name.
'It's just one stance, but it's the real deal. I only tried to obtain it because of Mujin's abilities, but this was an unexpected gain.'
Excitement bubbled in my chest.
Before my regression, I hadn't even been taught the basic techniques of my own family.
Even if it was just a single technique, this was my first encounter with high-level martial arts.
"Let's try again."
I steadied my breath and picked up the training sword once more.
Whoosh!
A gust of wind, too heavy to be produced by a mere nine-year-old, swept through the air.
Mana Arts, First Stage—Steel Body (剛體).
I had already unlocked the first gate of mana arts, absorbing mana and strengthening my body.
Carefully channeling mana, I attempted the technique again.
"This isn't right."
It felt completely different from the sword strike in my memory.
The man's movements had an almost artistic fluidity, but no matter how much I tried to imitate them, I kept failing.
At this point, my joints ached as if I had been working out with incorrect posture.
Once again, I recalled Mujin's memories.
A mere ten-second fragment.
The man's downward slash, executed the moment he stepped forward.
I focused on the flow of mana and the movements that followed.
Once. Twice. Three times…
Until I had no strength left in my heart.
'Focus. I can do this.'
It wasn't my body, but in the man's memory, I could feel how he moved his body better than anyone else.
Then—
Pause.
A thought flashed through my mind.
'…This isn't my body.'
Slowly, I looked down at myself.
For a nine-year-old, I was sturdy, but my body was still incomplete.
'I'm not a fully grown adult. I'm a nine-year-old child.'
Even after nine years since my regression, there were still moments when my body felt unfamiliar.
Especially when my short limbs failed to do something.
'How foolish. How did I not realize this?'
The man's movements had been effortless.
As if every fiber of his being was under his complete control.
Neither excessive nor lacking.
I picked up the training sword again and assumed my stance.
I focused on my body's coordination.
I accepted my body as it was.
There was no need to swing hastily.
Slowly, naturally, I adjusted my movement to fit my own body.
And then—
Paaang!
A different sound rang out.
A sharp, piercing resonance cut through the air.
It had changed.
My stance had definitely improved.
I clenched my fist.
'I think I've got a feel for it.'
Until now, I hadn't even known where to begin, but I was finally seeing a path forward.
Yet, another problem remained.
'Mana.'
I let out a bitter chuckle.
Was it because my knowledge of mana arts was lacking? Or was there another issue?
No matter how much I tried to mimic the man's mana control, it felt like something crucial was missing, making it impossible to replicate.
'In the end, I just have to keep trying.'
I twirled the training sword and assumed my stance once more.
Hard work was second nature to me.
If effort was a talent, then at the very least, in that regard, I would never lose to anyone.
THAT TIME.
"Dear child."
Flinch—.
Unconsciously, I took a step back, assuming a defensive stance.
A woman stood before me.
In her forties? No, at first glance, she could easily pass for her early thirties.
Her hair was unkempt, covering more than half of her face, and she was barefoot, without even a pair of slippers.
Her appearance was far from normal, making me instinctively frown.
"Who…?"
Who are you? That was what I intended to say, but then I noticed her pale brown eyes, partially hidden beneath her thick black hair.
"…are you?"
Thick black hair and pale brown eyes—traits that only appear in the direct lineage of the Sungmuiga family.
This woman was a direct descendant of Sungmuiga.
"Me? You don't know me?"
"No, this is our first meeting."
She suddenly pouted, then nodded.
"Yeah, I suppose you wouldn't know me. Actually, this is my first time seeing you, too."
"…Excuse me?"
"I don't show my face very often. But now that you've seen me, you know me, right?"
I had no idea what she was trying to say.
'Her behavior… is she perhaps lacking in some way?'
She tilted her head in a dazed manner, as if puzzled.
"So, what's your name? I thought only family members could come here."
"…My name is Yeong."
"Yi Yeong? That's a strange name."
"It's my childhood name. I haven't had my official naming ceremony yet."
"Oh, so you're family! Which brother's son are you?"
Brother?
Did my father have a younger sister of her age?
My father had many siblings, just as I had many brothers. But as far as I knew, only three uncles and one aunt were still alive. And that aunt was much older.
'Wait, hold on.'
A long-buried memory flashed through my mind.
'The youngest aunt. There was a youngest aunt.'
A daughter born late to the previous family head, a person hidden away by the family.
'Her name was… Yi Gyeong… Yi Gyeonghwa, wasn't it?'
I recalled my uncle mentioning her once.
It was before he left the family, and he had only spoken briefly about her when I asked about our relatives.
—"That child, your aunt, was a little different. Your grandfather couldn't accept that. He couldn't even acknowledge me, a concubine's son, so imagine how much worse it was for her."
"Hehe."
Spin, spin.
My aunt giggled as she circled around me, observing me from various angles.
I had no idea how to react.
"…My father's name includes the character 'Shin'."
"So, you're the eldest brother's son. My, you're quite eloquent for someone so young. But I remember my brother's child being a daughter… Did your gender change?"
It was an absurd remark, yet she didn't seem to be joking.
She must simply be unaware.
I calmly explained,
"I came from outside. I am the ninth son."
"Oh, just like our little brother!"
Coming from outside—meaning, I was an illegitimate child.
Even upon hearing that, my aunt showed no change in expression.
It had been a while since I met someone besides my uncle who didn't treat me differently for being a concubine's son.
"Aga, my name is… Oh, what was it again? Ah! That's right! Yi Gyeonghwa! Nice to meet you!"
She beamed as she extended her hand toward me.
I stared blankly at her hand, and she suddenly pouted.
"You're supposed to shake hands when you greet someone!"
"Oh… Yes, of course."
As soon as our hands met, Yi Gyeonghwa enthusiastically shook mine with an almost violent vigor.
'Ahh! My arm's going to pop out!'
My shoulder screamed in protest.
The moment she let go, I clutched my shoulder, stifling a groan.
"Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"Hmm, you're weak-bodied, huh?"
Grit—
I nearly ground my teeth out of reflex.
"Oh, by the way."
For a while, Yi Gyeonghwa had been smiling as she chatted, but suddenly, she took a step closer as if she had just remembered something.
"Yes, Aunt?"
"Where did you learn that?"
Her transparent brown eyes fixed on me.
My reflection was visible in her pupils.
"Why do you ask?"
"That's ancient martial arts. I really, really love old fighting techniques."
"…What?"
"You see, back in the old days, there was no magic, no awakening abilities, no special powers, no advanced science… And yet, ancient monsters still roamed freely. And back then—"
She had randomly asked a question and now had launched into a bizarre monologue.
All I could do was nod absentmindedly.
"…So that means it's quite an impressive sword technique. That's why I find it fascinating. I really like it. By the way, what was your name again? Ah, right! Yeol!"
"…It's Yeong, Aunt."
"Same thing, same thing."
Yi Gyeonghwa grinned mischievously.
Then, tilting her head in confusion, she murmured,
"Hmm… But why did I come here again? Do you know?"
"Even if you ask me, I have no idea."
Talking to her was exhausting.
"Ah, I remember! I saw you swinging your sword while passing by, so I came to take a look. But why did I return home again? Hmm…"
She furrowed her brows, deep in thought.
And then—
All of a sudden, she snapped her head to the side, staring blankly into thin air.
"Ah, Brother is calling me. That's right, I came to see Brother. I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, nephew. And here's a gift. Keep it safe for me! I'll come back for it!"
Yi Gyeonghwa shoved a thick, leather-bound notebook into my hands.
The notebook was old and tattered, with post-it notes and scraps of paper sticking out haphazardly.
I glanced at it for a moment and then looked up again.
'Wait, when did she—?'
In that brief instant, my aunt had completely vanished.
I turned my head quickly, searching for any trace of her. But no matter where I looked, she was nowhere to be found.
She disappeared like a ghost.
All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.
"A gift, huh? What even is this?"
Without much thought, I flipped open the notebook.
And then—
My grip on it tightened.