On that day, which was both the last and the first, snow began to fall in the late afternoon.
As the snow fluttered down like soft feathers, Baekpyo, who was with me, spoke in an excited voice.
"Lord! It's the first snow!"
Baekpyo was one of the two people I trusted the most and the head of the guards at the Lord's Pavilion. Even in his forties, he was someone for whom the word pure still fit perfectly.
"They say seeing the first snowfall of the year brings good luck."
He said it casually, but beneath his words was a desperate hope to survive another year in peace.
Who would've known? That the greatest guard of the Martial Alliance, the man who once held off the combined assault of the Seven Demon Fiends of Black Sky Palace, had such a sentimental side.
"Yes, it really is the first snow."
"Yes, it really is the first snow."
I forced myself to sound impressed and looked out the window, but honestly, I felt indifferent.
The word first snow no longer made my heart flutter.
I'm seventy years old this year.
The excitement of "firsts" had long since fossilized, far beyond the reach of anything that might stir my emotions.
When I see snow… all I can think about are the people I've killed in snowy fields.
Those who died bleeding on pure white snow.
Whoooosh.
The gentle snowflakes began to grow heavier.
The Chief of the Astronomical Bureau, who confidently claimed the weather would be clear today, would probably avoid me for the next few days.
He said the first snow wouldn't come until next month.
"Myeong's probably bouncing around in excitement right about now."
Myeong was Baekpyo's child.
"He's three this year, right?"
At that, Baekpyo looked slightly flustered.
"He's six this year."
I was genuinely surprised.
The reason I was shocked was because I couldn't even remember the age of his youngest child, whom he had so late in life after marrying at an older age.
It wasn't because I couldn't remember.
What startled me was the sudden recollection of having had this exact same conversation just a few days ago.
Even then, I had asked if the child was three.
I'm not some senile old man—how could I make the same mistake again?
"He's grown that much already, huh. My apologies."
Rather than looking disappointed, Baekpyo's face was filled with concern for me.
"It's all right, sir. They say you realize how time flies when you watch other people's children grow up, don't they?"
Baekpyo had said something similar that day, too.
Now I remembered it clearly.
What's wrong with me these days?
Lately, I've been forgetting things from the past more and more often.
Especially recently, the symptoms have grown worse, and my stamina isn't what it used to be.
My body frequently feels light and ungrounded, as if I've caught a severe cold.
I even suspected poisoning at one point and circulated my inner energy to examine every part of my body thoroughly—but nothing seemed wrong.
I considered consulting a divine physician, thinking maybe it was some illness I wasn't aware of.
But in the end, I decided to wait and observe a little longer.
If word got out that the Lord of the Martial Alliance was in poor health, not just the Alliance, but the entire martial world would be shaken.
"I'll take my leave now."
"Go ahead."
Regardless of my condition, I felt sorry toward Baekpyo.
He was always by my side, guarding me—and yet I kept making these careless mistakes.
I should at least buy his child some clothes.
But… was the child a girl? Or a boy?
Damn it. I can't remember.
Frustrated enough to curse, I turned my gaze back out the window.
The snow was falling heavier now, covering the world in white—just like my fading memories.
"…Is it my time to die?"
Me? The greatest martial artist in the world?
Me, who held the top seat for over forty years?
Later that afternoon, the chief strategist, Gal Saryang, came to the Lord's Pavilion to deliver his report.
As usual, he went over the various matters concerning the Alliance, but none of it reached my ears.
I simply stared out the window, letting his words wash over me.
Sensing that I was not in the best mood, Gal Saryang finished his report quicker than usual.
"…The rest is in the written report."
"Good work."
"Then, I'll take my leave."
As he turned to go, I called out to him.
"Strategist Gal."
"Yes, my lord?"
"What kind of person am I?"
"…I beg your pardon?"
"Just as I said. In your eyes, what kind of person am I? Try giving me a definition."
I turned toward Gal Saryang.
I was genuinely curious to hear the evaluation of the man who had helped me achieve the great unification of the Central Plains.
"What I think hardly matters, does it?"
Gal Saryang looked around before replying.
"You are the greatest person in all the martial world."
The walls of the Lord's Pavilion were lined with records of my past.
The fifteen most important battles of my life—each a defining moment that had now become part of the martial world's history.
At the age of twenty-nine, I claimed the title of the strongest under heaven.
That year, the Sword Emperor, the Blade Emperor, and the Fist King all knelt before me, one after another.
Martial God Cheon Hajin.
That was the name I earned at the end of my twenties.
Seven years later, at the age of thirty-six, I rose to become the Lord of the Martial Alliance.
They said I was the first person in the history of the Alliance to attain that position in their thirties.
The pride that came with being the first—I was intoxicated by it.
And riding that pride, I lived as the Martial Alliance Lord for thirty-four years.
My life was fierce—and glorious.
After becoming the Alliance Lord, I spent many years on the battlefield, striking down the evil sects of the world.
There were countless times when I brushed past the edge of death.
But in the end, I achieved the long-held dream of the Martial Alliance.
I crushed the Black Path Thirteen Alliances, a union of the dark sects, and destroyed the Blood Heaven Divine Sect, the successor to the Demonic Cult.
Even after securing peace in the martial world, my life remained busy.
For enemies didn't exist only outside.
Once the external threats disappeared, internal ones emerged.
Those who desired absolute power poisoned my food, and sent assassins in the night.
But I didn't die.
I cut down every single one of those who dared dream of rebellion.
I had wanted to remain an elegant and dignified absolute ruler—
But reality rarely bends to one's will.
If I hadn't killed, I would've been the one killed.
The martial world called me the Iron-Blooded Alliance Lord,
And because I showed no mercy to traitors, I was also known as the Lord of Retribution.
No one dared even breathe too loudly in my presence.
"You, my lord, are the absolute ruler of this martial world—the very embodiment of chivalry and martial strength. You are, in every sense, the martial world itself."
Yes… That is who I am.
So why does my heart feel so heavy today?
Gal Saryang added, concern flickering in his voice.
"Are you feeling unwell, sir?"
As someone who had observed me for many years, he could tell something was off.
"I'm fine."
"Then please get some rest."
With that, Gal Saryang stepped out of the main hall.
Left alone, I sank deep into the grand seat of the Alliance Lord.
The martial world itself, he said.
Yes… As someone born into this world of martial arts, to hear such words… What more could I possibly wish for…
"Ghk!"
As soon as I sat down in the grand seat, my breathing suddenly grew labored.
A helplessness washed over me—like I could no longer control my own body.
It felt as though all strength had been drained from my limbs, leaving behind only a heavy, hazy lethargy.
Just… rest for a bit, and think afterward…
I had no idea.
That this would be the final moment of my life.
I never imagined that the end of the greatest martial artist in the world would come so meaninglessly, so quietly, so suddenly.
I thought—
A few petals falling wouldn't mean the flower was gone.
I thought I'd meet my end surrounded by traitors, fighting like a madman, and dying gloriously in battle.
But as if the world had declared, "Your life ends here,"
everything faded into pitch-black darkness.
***
When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
Where… am I?
Then, a strong scent of herbal medicine hit my nose.
A medical ward?
Did I collapse?
It seemed that way.
Gal Saryang would probably scold me for not taking better care of myself.
As I tried to sit up, a strange sense of unfamiliarity struck me.
What is this?
Instinctively, I activated Cheonmu Hoshimgyeol—my unique inner energy technique.
Normally, the energy stored in my danjeon would spread out to protect my entire body...
But this time, nothing happened.
The danjeon, which should have been overflowing with decades of cultivated internal energy, was completely empty.
No—there was something there, but calling it "energy" would be generous.
It was a pitifully weak presence, barely even worthy of the term.
What in the world is going on?
It's possible I collapsed due to illness.
But for my inner energy to be gone—that was absolutely impossible.
San Gong Poison?
No, that couldn't be it.
The Cheonmu Hoshimgyeol I practiced was the greatest heart-protecting internal technique in existence—
designed to defend my body under any circumstance.
There was no way some scattered-energy poison could've worked on me.
This hollow sensation of an empty danjeon and an inactive heart method—
It felt worse than having my flesh and bones torn by steel.
I slowly sat up.
Even the way my body moved felt entirely foreign.
Where… am I?
This wasn't the medical ward of the Martial Alliance.
It was a small room—not even a tenth the size of the treatment chamber reserved for the Alliance Lord.
Then, a quiet voice spoke from beside me.
"You're awake."
I turned my head toward the sound and saw a middle-aged man and woman standing side by side.
The woman stepped forward and gently took my hand.
"Are you all right?"
Of course I wasn't.
I had no idea what was going on or where I was.
"Who are you?" I asked.
Even my voice—it was one I didn't recognize.
The woman smiled.
"Did you just look at me and ask who I am?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Yes?"
Her lips curled upward more and more as if she were holding something back.
The middle-aged man behind her quickly stepped in.
"Please, calm down, my lady."
But before he could even finish his sentence, the woman smacked the back of my head—hard.
Smack!
"After everything, you dare ask who I am? When you should be groveling on your knees?! Fine, I'll tell you who I am. The poor woman who stayed up all night worrying about you—this wretched soul right here—is your mother, you ungrateful brat! Is that any way to speak to your own mother?!"
Whoosh.
Her fist came swinging again, barely missing my face.
If the middle-aged man hadn't rushed over and pulled her back, I would've taken that punch head-on.
"Please, calm down! He must've hit his head when he passed out—he clearly isn't in his right mind yet!"
"Then he might as well die! You idiot! You fool! You brainless dolt!"
Ordinarily, I would've shouted something like, "How dare you speak to me that way?"
But I was still in a daze.
Had I ever in my life been hit on the back of the head by anyone?
No—forget that.
What was this situation?
It was so absurd I didn't even have the presence of mind to be offended.
Is this a dream?
But it felt far too vivid to be one.
My head throbbed from where she'd smacked me just moments ago.
Then, without thinking, I turned my head to the side—
And the moment my eyes landed on the small mirror hanging on the wall, my breath caught.
I thought my heart had stopped.
Inside the mirror was a young man I had never seen before, wearing a dazed expression.
That's supposed to be me?
Ah—so it really was a dream!
Relief washed over me, only to be quickly followed by confusion.
What kind of absurd dream feels this vivid?
The next moment, a wave of dizziness struck me, and I collapsed again.
The woman's scolding voice echoed faintly in my ears, slowly fading into silence.