[Prologue]
Inside the press conference room, a crowd of reporters was bombarding questions.
"Mr. Kang Sang-hyuk, is it true that you're retiring from mixed martial arts?"
"Fans are shocked by the sudden news of your retirement. What's the reason behind it?"
"Do you have any plans for the future you can share with us?"
Standing at the center of the podium, the man facing their barrage of questions didn't flinch in the slightest despite the reporters' frenzy. He had expected this from the moment he decided to leave his fighting career and relinquish the champion's title. It would be a lie to say he didn't feel any regret.
But he had a reason that left him no choice.
"Is this related to the rumors about your deteriorating health?"
At that pointed question from one reporter, his poker face nearly cracked.
'I was going to explain everything here anyway.'
As the man, known as Kang Sang-hyuk, raised his hand, the flood of questions gradually subsided.
Moments later, the long-awaited words finally came from his mouth.
"It is true that I have decided to retire."
His statement caused another wave of murmurs among the reporters.
But he wasn't finished yet.
"The rumors about my declining health are also true. After noticing something wrong with my body, I underwent a medical examination and was diagnosed with a severe complication."
"What exactly is this complication you're suffering from?"
At that, the doctor seated beside him stepped in to explain.
"Judging by the symptoms that started a few weeks ago, it seems the years of intense training and competition have rapidly accelerated his physical aging."
"Ah…"
Soft groans of sympathy echoed throughout the room.
"Well, he is getting up there in years…"
"Even though he'd long passed the usual retirement age, he was still actively competing."
"He beat out a whole generation of rising stars and held the champion's title longer than anyone else… What a shame."
"Is this the end of 'Mr. Perfect'?"
Mr. Perfect.
That was the nickname of the living legend who had carved an unprecedented legacy in the world of mixed martial arts. From a young age, he felt a natural talent for fighting and trained in modern martial arts such as boxing, Muay Thai, jiu-jitsu, taekwondo, wrestling, judo, capoeira, karate, and more for over a decade.
After debuting as an MMA fighter, it took only three years for him to sweep through his opponents and claim the championship belt. Continuing to boast an overwhelming win rate, he created a string of legends and became the living embodiment of mixed martial arts.
"He's been fighting for over 30 years, so it's no surprise."
"And in a brutally demanding sport like MMA, no less."
He had fought long enough to earn a place in the Guinness Book of World Records, but even he had to bow his head before the passage of time.
'Empty… That's what this feels like.'
He muttered bitterly to himself.
To him, fighting was everything.
The thrill he felt when throwing himself into a brawl with everything on the line was an addiction he could never give up. Though he retired while the crowd still applauded, in his heart, he still stood in the ring as a fighter.
But now, he no longer had a body that could fight, even if he wanted to. His condition had deteriorated beyond repair, making perfect combat impossible.
'Maybe I should just die…'
A bitter sense of despair and emptiness.
Without the rush of battle, life no longer felt like life at all.
'Now that I've lost the one thing that mattered most, there's no meaning in going on.'
He had reigned as the MMA champion for years, enjoying fame to rival any superstar. He had enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his days without lifting a finger. But neither fame nor fortune could fill the void inside him. He was, through and through, a warrior born to fight. Being unable to fight any longer was no different from a death sentence.
"I've lived my life alone anyway, so leaving it alone won't be a problem."
Despite his fame, he had always been lonely. While others praised him as a genius, that very praise isolated him from ordinary people. In a way, he had been forced into isolation.
His parents had passed away long ago, and he had never married, even at his age. Now, even if he wanted to start a relationship, every woman who approached him only seemed interested in his wealth or fame. That had been proven true time and again.
As he muttered, he was thoroughly alone.
Fighting. Struggling.
Only within that intensity could he feel truly alive. It was the one thing he had clung to throughout his life. But now, with even that stripped away by fate, he had no reason left to live.
A faint chuckle.
Kang Sang-hyuk smiled weakly and nodded to himself, as if making a decision.
He walked into his study with heavy steps.
And the next day, in the newspaper headlines…
[1] The Youngest Son of the Geumho Merchant House
Long ago, the world was in an age of chaos, plagued by constant wars and invasions between nations. It was not until the Jun (濬) nation unified the eastern continent that the chaos began to subside.
Compared to the many powerful nations that had vied fiercely for control, Jun had been relatively weak. The secret to its victory lay in a unique policy: they embraced and supported martial sects born from the development of martial arts and inner techniques spread by the great master Bodhidharma of the Western Heavens.
While other nations suppressed and feared the growing power of these martial sects, the king of Jun, Jusang, realized that their strength was essential for victory in continental warfare. He enacted policies of active assimilation and support.
His successor, Juseong, carried on this vision, further empowering the martial world. After the unification of the continent, he made a pact to maintain non-aggression between the government and the martial world. It was this harmony that enabled Jun to emerge as the final victor.
Thus, the martial world of Zhongyuan (Central Plains) entered a golden age—though that prosperity was later disrupted by the rise of the Ming Cult, the state religion of certain minority tribes, sparking a prolonged conflict between orthodox and demonic factions.
—From A History of the Martial World in Zhongyuan by Zhuge Jin
"Martial world, huh..."
A young boy, who looked no older than ten, read the book with serious eyes. Though his demeanor might have seemed precocious, for the boy—Yeon Hwi-tae—it wasn't mere affectation.
Every morning, he would wash his face right after coughing, then pay respects to his father. After breakfast, he'd sneak into his father's study to find and read books. He had been doing this for a month already.
Of course...
"Sigh, Young Master! You're here again? We get in trouble if you come in here without permission."
A maid, who had been cleaning the Geumho Manor, caught him once again and scolded him like always.
"You could just ask us to bring you the books. There's no need for you to come all the way here."
"Sorry. I just wanted a quick look. I didn't want to bother anyone."
"It's no bother! Just tell us, and we'll bring you whatever you need. That's our job, you know."
Yeon Hwi-tae calmly stepped away from the study, maintaining an unusually mature composure for a child.
"You'll go outside now, right?"
"Yeah. I'm going out to play for a bit. I might be a little late, though."
"Don't stay out too late!"
He ran out through the main gate, leaving the maid's call behind. The servants, maids, and guards of the manor smiled as they watched him go.
Geumho Manor.
It was the lowest-ranking among the ten major merchant houses that held great influence in the Central Plains' commercial world. Though last in rank, it was known for its generosity and adherence to honest trade, earning it a favorable reputation.
The head of Geumho, Yeon Chae-ho, had taken only one wife in his life, and the couple was known for their strong bond. After having two daughters, they finally had a son in their later years—Yeon Hwi-tae.
Yeon Hwi-tae had been exceptionally intelligent from a young age, earning him a reputation as the pride of the manor and a prodigy. He was also known for his manners and thoughtfulness, making him beloved by his parents and his two older sisters.
But no one knew the secret he carried.
"Whew... Shall we begin today, too?"
A quiet, empty field. This was Yeon Hwi-tae's secret training ground.
He began with a simple warm-up routine—one that didn't exist in this era. Push-ups, horse stance, jogging. All movements were precise, almost textbook in their execution. Without anyone instructing him, he constantly practiced strange exercises and stretches alone.
Then, he began to move with intensity. Extending his left foot, slightly lowering his torso at an angle, swaying left and right—he launched his left fist repeatedly while stepping in a distinctive rhythm.
These were techniques impossible to find anywhere in the martial world of Zhongyuan—footwork and punches that resembled boxing.
"Jab, jab, one-two, one-two, hook, upper."
No, it wasn't just similar.
It was unmistakably precise boxing technique.
As he moved, Yeon Hwi-tae spoke boxing terminology aloud. His movements grew faster, and his form became more refined. Naturally, he transitioned into shadow boxing. Though he fought an imaginary opponent, his intensity showed this wasn't mere training—it was a fight for life and death.
Whoosh—
Each punch sliced the air with a sharp whistle as it flew past his ear.
He fired off a series of jabs, then tilted his upper body to one side.
"Got you."
Then, immediately bending his upper body, he launched an uppercut.
He faked a move to provoke a counterattack from his opponent.
In the moment he dodged and delivered the uppercut—
'…Damn!'
He realized he had walked right into a trap. The imaginary opponent had seen through his feint and responded with a feint of their own.
As he raised the uppercut, he exposed a gap, which the opponent exploited to strike back. That was where the shadowboxing ended. Yeon Hwi-tae flopped onto his back.
His entire body was drenched in sweat, but he didn't mind. He sighed and caught his breath.
"Hoo… 648 matches, 283 wins, 101 draws, 264 losses, huh?"
Muttering this to himself, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood up again.
He murmured that he hadn't even really started yet.
This time, he used not only his fists but also kicks and knee strikes. He was now practicing Muay Thai. Just like before, the punches, kicks, and knees became rapidly faster. Simultaneously, their destructive power increased.
After dedicating himself to this training for a while, he naturally transitioned into shadow Muay Thai rather than just shadowboxing.
Using feet and knees added significantly more power than punches alone.
Still, he didn't use exaggerated, careless movements that might leave him open.
On the contrary, his form was built on countless calculations and feints layered upon feints.
Finally, a punch disguised as a feint landed on the opponent's side.
The imaginary opponent twisted their body, revealing another opening.
Yeon Hwi-tae confidently launched a low kick.
As the opponent staggered and crumbled, he followed up with a flying knee to finish.
Thud!
"…Huh?"
Snapping back to reality, he saw a tree had been toppled, its trunk snapped cleanly. It seemed his knee had struck the tree while he was moving around, caught up in the imaginary fight.
The astonishing part wasn't just that the tree had broken—it was that this level of power came from a mere nine-year-old. Even if the tree had a slender base, the destructive force was still beyond comprehension.
Yet Yeon Hwi-tae only nodded nonchalantly.
"The power of internal energy really is incredible."
Internal energy (naegong).
It was the foundation of martial arts, the very basis of all techniques.
Having a lot of internal energy didn't guarantee strength, but anyone considered a master had to have a decent reserve.
There were various ways to accumulate internal energy: martial arts methods, true energy guides, or elixirs. But unless one possessed an extremely rare and powerful martial arts manual, the first method was inefficient. The second depended heavily on the caster's level and posed risks even to the user. As for the third—elixirs—they were extremely difficult to acquire.
Fortunately for Yeon Hwi-tae—or rather, Kang Sang-hyuk in his previous life—he had been very lucky.
Born into a family that, while last among the Ten Great Merchant Houses of the Central Plains, was still prestigious, he had grown up wealthy. This made it relatively easy to obtain high-quality martial arts manuals. Thanks to family wealth and connections, he had undergone vein cleansing (beolmo sesu) from an early age, clearing his meridians.
And that wasn't all.
His family's support allowed him to take various elixirs—not excessively, but enough. As a result, he had far more internal energy than his peers.
In fact, at his age, there were hardly any other children who had even formed a dantian (the energy center). Only the top young prospects of the Nine Great Sects or direct descendants of the Five Great Families could claim such a feat.
Even compared to those elites, Yeon Hwi-tae's internal energy was on another level—an anomaly.
"To be born into the martial world with memories from a past life… Honestly, that sounds like something out of a novel…"
He had memories of his past life, and he was exceptionally gifted. He had learned how to handle internal energy as early as age three by leveraging his previous knowledge and his family's resources.
Moreover, one day he had stumbled upon the Samjae Martial Arts Manual, and while studying it, he discovered a hidden secret within the technique. This caused his internal energy to grow even further. If he went into detail about the process, it would take too long, but suffice it to say, he had already accumulated about half a "gapja" (roughly thirty years' worth) of internal energy.
"When I think about it, it's absurd—but in another sense, this reincarnation might be the greatest stroke of luck."
Why had he committed suicide in his past life?
Wasn't it because he could no longer fight—the one thing that gave his life meaning?
But here, in this world, was the vast martial world—Murim—a stage of endless struggle and battle. And this wasn't about sanitized sport; it was a battleground where life and death were on the line.
That very fact sent shivers down Kang Sang-hyuk's—no, Yeon Hwi-tae's—spine.
Truth be told, even back when he competed in UFC, he often felt a gnawing thirst he couldn't quench. All the rules and restrictions felt suffocating. He had always craved no-holds-barred combat, like in Vale Tudo. He even considered joining illegal fight circuits, but his fame made it impossible.
His innate talent and hunger for battle continued to burn, but reality's constraints forced him to make do with sporadic fights.
But now, such worries were a thing of the past. All he had to do was train until the day he could spread his wings.
With that mindset, he resolved to become a true martial artist and trained diligently ever since.
Of course, asking his parents for proper martial arts training would have been the standard route—in fact, probably the most appropriate in this world.
But Yeon Hwi-tae chose a different path—one he believed in.
'What exactly is martial arts, anyway?'
He came to a conclusion: martial arts were structured techniques combined with internal energy and philosophy.
This wasn't far off from the conventional wisdom of Murim. Martial arts required defined forms (techniques), powered by internal energy cultivated through martial methods, and to achieve true mastery, one had to understand the unique philosophical underpinnings of each technique.
So then, what was there to hesitate about?
He already had a vast repertoire of modern martial arts from his past life, and an abundance of internal energy thanks to his noble background.
'Then all I have to do is combine internal energy with modern martial arts.'
However, while this sounded simple in theory, it was a risky and reckless idea in practice.
The internal energy used in martial arts varied depending on the movement, and every motion required internal energy to travel through specific meridians. If the energy flow clashed, it could cause Qi deviation (juhwaipma), a dangerous and sometimes fatal condition.
Creating a new martial art wasn't just difficult—it required years of experimentation.
Every established technique had a long history of trial and error behind it. That's why martial arts manuals were passed down as precious secrets, and why only the greatest of martial masters—true legends—ever succeeded in inventing new styles.
Yet, ignorance can be bold.
Unaware of these dangers, Yeon Hwi-tae had begun, from a very young age, experimenting with merging internal energy into modern martial arts.
Was it sheer luck?
Divine intervention?
Or perhaps Yeon Hwi-tae's exceptional talent?
Most likely, it was all three.
Thanks to early meridian cleansing, his young, unblocked energy channels, the stability of the Samjae Martial Arts, his unique instinct and intuition, and a series of fortunate events, he suffered no major setbacks.
On the contrary, he began to gradually find his rhythm—and even started to see real results.
Now, that work was finally approaching completion.