Chapter 159
Regression has existed as a phenomenon since ancient times, and regressors, though rare, have always appeared now and then.
What I learned through Gakjeong was quite shocking—but the shock didn’t last long.
After all, I’d already suspected that regression wasn’t just a coincidence when I realized the existence of the mental restriction.
Even back when I visited the Zhongnan Sect, I’d heard stories—not of regression, but of Taoist arts from the past that would be unthinkable today.
So regression could be a legacy of that distant past, from a time when Taoist magic still existed and immortals occasionally descended to the mortal world. Or perhaps it’s one of the many miracles recorded in Buddhist scriptures.
The reason this truth remains unknown is likely because of the very restriction I’m now suffering from.
What concerned me wasn’t the principles of regression, nor who in the past might’ve been a regressor.
What caught my attention was what Gakjeong found in the scripture from Tianzhu: a phrase that urged one to seek help from “one who walks toward yesterday, not tomorrow.”
Doesn’t that mean someone who isn’t a regressor recognizing one and helping them?
So, either they’ve freed themselves from the restriction, or they have a method to see through it regardless. If that’s true... maybe, someday, I’ll be able to share my story with someone else.
Because I know—those I knew before regression are not the same people they are now. Even knowing that, I still want to talk about everything.
...Because living with this weight alone, trapped between who I was before regression and who I am now, has been exhausting.
After the conversation about regression, I mostly talked with Gakjeong about martial arts.
As the saying goes, “All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin.” Shaolin’s martial arts were deep and vast, and Gakjeong was someone who had penetrated that depth.
Though we didn’t spar directly, even his brief advice and philosophical exchanges broadened my understanding noticeably.
I got so carried away that we ended up talking until the sun had completely set.
Despite saying his night vision had worsened with age, Gakjeong made his way down the mountain path just fine. After parting ways with him, I headed back to my lodging.
The weather had started to grow chilly. A sigh escaped me before I even realized it.
“Hoo…”
I looked up blankly at the sky.
Night had fallen. The faint light of a crescent moon made the sky seem even darker.
Maybe that’s why the stars, scattered across the sky, shone even more brightly.
Perhaps... I’m just a little tired.
Since my regression, I’ve lived relentlessly, and I’ve accomplished a great deal.
But I couldn’t be satisfied here—I didn’t want to stop, and I couldn’t.
Gripping the creeping weariness of my heart, I resumed walking at my usual pace back toward the building that had been assigned to me.
“Mn?”
Sitting on the wooden floor of the porch, her shoes neatly removed, was Seol Lihyang, gazing absentmindedly up at the sky.
She was humming a tune and lightly swinging her feet.
Maybe because of her snow-white skin, her figure stood out clearly even under the faint moonlight.
Was it because I had just been thinking about regression? Or because the grown Seol Lihyang now looked more and more like the one from my memories?
Without realizing it, I paused and looked at her.
It was as if there was an invisible wall between us—one I couldn’t cross.
I stood there watching for a moment, then Seol Lihyang noticed me, her eyes widening.
“Cheon Hwi!”
Her cheerful voice rang out as she leapt to her feet. She was about to run over, but paused when she noticed her bare feet.
Instead of putting her shoes on, she started patting the floor beside her with enthusiasm.
“Here! Hurry, come sit here!”
“What’s with all the urgency?”
I laughed dryly and approached the porch. Lihyang beamed and brushed off the spot where I was to sit.
I gave her a slight nod of thanks and sat down. She immediately leaned her body toward me, her gaze so overt it was almost overbearing.
Was it the sparkle in her black eyes? For some reason, it reminded me of the night sky I had just been looking at.
And just like that, the image of the pre-regression Seol Lihyang I’d been unconsciously envisioning vanished without a trace.
The Lihyang from my past life was never this bright, never this openly expressive.
“So? What’s the matter? You called me so happily that you left your stargazing behind.”
“Stargazing? I wasn’t doing anything like that.”
“Mn?”
“I don’t have the time to sit around doing that.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Obviously, I was waiting for you.”
She said it with a giggle and leaned even closer, resting one hand on the floor.
Our faces were now suddenly close. Her black hair spilled forward slowly, carrying a clean, subtle fragrance.
More precisely, it was her natural scent blended with the yin chill of her Pure Yin Physique that made it feel that way.
Seol Lihyang had been showing a fairly bold attitude ever since getting Tang Sowol’s tacit approval, but this time, it felt different.
There was no calculated intent—just pure excitement bringing her closer.
And as always, it’s those unexpected strikes that are the most dangerous.
As I stared blankly at the Lihyang right in front of me, she tilted her head slightly.
“Cheon Hwi? What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face...?”
“No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about what got you so excited.”
“Ah! Right! That!”
She took a big step back with a cheeky grin, not giving me time to feel disappointed.
“I won my sparring match!”
“Oh?”
“I fought a monk who had also just reached the Peak Stage like me. He was really sturdy. Even when I tried injecting yin energy with my whip, it just bounced off!”
“Shaolin’s martial arts are based on robust inner strength and tempered external skills. Not exactly a favorable matchup for someone like you.”
“Yeah, I totally felt that.”
“But you said you won? How did you turn the tables?”
“Remember when I fought the Bloodflame Fist Demon?”
Of course I remembered. Back then, the intense heat of the Heat Yang Arts overwhelmed her abilities, so she forcefully countered with yin energy to neutralize the heat.
That yin energy, which might’ve frozen the area solid had the Bloodflame Fist Demon not been present...
She had projected her internal energy not just around herself, but into a distant space. That experience, requiring energy far beyond her level, likely became the seed for her breakthrough to the Peak Stage.
Still, while a flash of insight can elevate your level, mastering it takes time.
That’s why newly advanced martial artists tend to meditate alone—to understand themselves better.
“Don’t tell me…”
“I think you guessed it. I pulled a bit of a trick, but I managed to control a similar amount of internal energy. I just overpowered him. Doesn’t matter how—it worked!”
“Skill includes capacity as well as technique. You should be proud.”
To think she could now wield energy equal to what she had used against a Sub-Perfection-level opponent like the Bloodflame Fist Demon...
Her Pure Yin Physique gave her the innate energy, but controlling it was another matter. That was all her effort.
“But what was the trick? Shaolin monks aren’t exactly vulnerable to tricks.”
“It’s not a big deal... remember that new Sound Art technique you got from Lord Paeng and Lord Yeon?”
“Oh, that. Right.”
Sound Art involves embedding internal energy in one’s voice, then weaponizing it through various skills.
It requires mastery of sound control and deep understanding of energy manipulation. It’s hard to block, hard to dodge, and allows for irregular combat—disrupting senses or causing internal injuries.
But it’s incredibly difficult to learn, which is why its secret manuals are so rare.
“I doubt even you mastered it in such a short time.”
“Yeah, I didn’t. I just learned one technique—One-Heart Sound Focus. It concentrates sound at a single point.”
“Focusing power is fundamental to everything.”
That’s the foundation of proper swordplay—transmitting power directly and precisely.
The Three Talents Swordplay was designed to train the body in that very discipline.
“But it must’ve been hard to focus that much yin energy into one point?”
“Yup. So I made multiple points.”
“...What?”
“Basically, the sound comes from here and there at the same time... Want me to show you?”
She cleared her throat, imbued just a bit of energy, and then—
“Oh—”
“Huh...”
Though she had clearly spoken right in front of me, the sound came from above my head and from my left ear.
...Honestly, that sounds way harder than she made it out to be.
“If done properly, it would be hard. But I just brute-forced it with internal energy. If you listen carefully, each point has different volume. It wasn’t on purpose—it just turned out that way.”
So, she could mimic it, but not finely control it yet.
“Then wouldn’t it lack combat practicality?”
It’s like swinging a fancy sword that never actually hits.
But she solved it simply.
“Yup. That’s why I swung my whip.”
“Your whip?”
“When you swing a whip, it makes sound too, right? When that sound mixes in, it disrupts the concentration, causing the focused sound to scatter in all directions, like it’s bursting outward.”
“Hm—”
Only then did I understand how Seol Lihyang had won her duel.
As she herself said, strictly speaking, it wasn’t like when she fought the Bloodflame Fist Demon and wielded an overwhelming amount of internal energy in full control.
Instead, she focused her internal energy into multiple points along with her sound, and then used the cracking noise of her whip as a trigger to simultaneously release it all.
Boom.
It’s impossible to focus sound with perfect precision at a specific point. But since the concentrated energy explodes regardless, it didn’t matter as long as it was in the general vicinity.
She couldn’t press forward with pure sound and overwhelm the opponent directly, as she had when unleashing it all at once, but the power of the exploding internal energy would have increased substantially.
In the end, sound imbued with energy burst forth from unexpected directions—at a level comparable to when she fought the Bloodflame Fist Demon—something even Seol Lihyang hadn’t anticipated.
Even for a Shaolin monk, the only way to defend against such a technique would be to concentrate their energy on one spot for defense.
But unlike conventional weapons whose trajectories are bound by physical limitations, Seol Lihyang’s sound-based techniques had no such constraint—meaning the monk failed to respond properly.
It was slightly different, but in the end, she had applied the same concept from her previous enlightenment: filling the entire space with her Yin energy.
“That doesn’t sound like a trick to me. Maybe it was a bit rough, but it’s a proper application. If you refine it, I’m sure it’ll become a solid technique.”
“Right? I did pretty well this time, didn’t I!”
Apparently pleased with herself, Seol Lihyang lifted her chin slightly and shrugged her shoulders in satisfaction.
There was something about her that resembled Seomun Hwarin—perhaps she was picking up some of her habits, since the two had been spending more time together lately.
As I chuckled quietly, Seol Lihyang scooted even closer to me—much closer than before.
One hand rested on my thigh, while the other pressed lightly on my shoulder. Her face drew close, her breath brushing against me, and her sparkling eyes locked onto mine.
“Hey. Didn’t you say that if I won, you’d give me a reward?”
“I… did say that.”
“Then doesn’t that mean you’ll do whatever I say?”
“???”
I blinked in confusion at her sudden turn of phrase, but her black eyes were still full of expectation—not with the innocent excitement from earlier, but something subtly different.
Maybe it was due to the overflowing Yin energy, but her smile carried a faint seductive charm.
“What should I make you do, hmm? Cheon Hwi, what do you think I should ask for?”
Her gaze was like that of a beast who’d completely captured its prey—confident, assured.
I recognized that look. It was the same expression Seol Lihyang used to make in my past life, whenever she handed me a single pear she’d gone out of her way to buy.
But the situation now was different from back then.
Swallowing hard, I opened my mouth calmly.
“We shouldn’t be doing this within the temple ground—d-hehk…!”
Ah, I bit my tongue.