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Survival Guide for the Reincarnated

Chapter 29 · Oct 14, 2026

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70 Chapter 70 2026-10-14
71 Chapter 71 2026-10-14
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96 Chapter 96 2026-10-14
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99 Chapter 99 2026-10-14
100 Chapter 100 2026-10-14

“You’re absolutely right. In fact, I agree completely.

Open Gate beggars only receive martial arts because they’ve earned the right to do so.

If someone without that qualification dares to take in martial arts... that isn’t just a violation of natural order—it’s treason against the heavens.”

“So you killed him for that.”

“Exactly. He soiled the name of Open Gate.

Not just him—I’ll be heading to Yangnyeong next to clean house there as well.”

Seol Unwi watched him in silence for a moment, then accepted the ledger Cheon Sugang handed back.

“I plan to use this to lessen the burden of responsibility on Open Gate’s side. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes. That’s more than acceptable.”

“And as for some of those numbers listed in the ledger... I can tell a few were probably exaggerated for effect.

But it’s fine. I’ll send the appropriate compensation to Seolap soon enough.

Is that agreeable as well?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Unwi’s mouth.

“I have no reason to refuse.

But rather than immediate compensation, I’d prefer something symbolic—‘a favor in the future.’”

“A favor, in the future... and symbolic at that? Hoho... Fine. Fine by me.

Just be careful who you hand things like this to [N O V E L I G H T] in the future.”

“I gave it to you because you’re someone worth giving it to.”

Cheon Sugang smiled too—strangely, faintly.

“And here I thought we’d just met.”

“We did.

But oddly enough... it feels like I’ve known you a very long time.”

“Hah... So it’s not just me who feels that way.”

It was strange.

Unexplainable, even.

The way Seol Unwi and Cheon Sugang looked at each other—it wasn’t something you could describe with reason or logic.

It felt more like fate.

“Senior. I may be the junior here, but... would it be alright if I offered you a piece of advice?”

“If it’s from you, I’d like to hear it.”

“A brilliant blade is always envied by its sheath.

And the sharper it grows with time, the more that envy turns to jealousy.”

Cheon Sugang’s eyes deepened.

“You know what comes of jealousy.

A dagger in the pocket will eventually poke its way out...

And when it does—”

“It gets pulled out and discarded.”

Silence followed.

Cheon Sugang understood exactly what Seol Unwi was trying to say.

And it unsettled him.

At first, he’d assumed this boy was hiding behind the name of the Everlasting Snow Palace—letting that reputation do the talking for him.

But the more they spoke, the clearer it became.

There was no one standing behind Seol Unwi.

Not the Palace. Not his family.

Only himself.

Unshakable belief in his own path.

A confidence so absolute, it might be called arrogance.

Yet his words carried weight. His presence, command.

“...Then let me ask something in return. Will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course.”

“You... were you really that ‘idiot Branch Lord’ everyone talked about?”

Seol Unwi smiled again.

“Even a foolish tree will eventually blossom.”

“Hah...”

“The wind’s getting cold. Please travel safely, Senior.”

****

– A tree that survived the winter has now met the spring.

That’s what Cheon Sugang said before he burst out laughing—and left.

Under the eaves of the building, Seol Unwi sat quietly, deep in thought, when Commander Seong approached him.

“It was fortune itself that someone like Cheon Sugang backed down so easily.”

Unwi chuckled lightly at that.

“Fortune, huh...”

“Was I wrong?”

“Commander Seong.”

“Yes, Young Master?”

“It seems you don’t quite understand.

I’m not someone who puts their faith in fortune.”

“...What do you mean?”

“There’s a phrase—‘Cheonmyeong Soeung.’

That the heavens respond brightly to the will of man.

But to me, that sounds more like a given than a blessing.”

“Isn’t it true, though?”

“Then let me ask you—where exactly is this ‘heaven-sent fortune’ you’re talking about?

If you just sit and wait, does the sky reach down and save you?”

“Young Master... isn’t that a bit harsh?”

Unwi laughed softly again.

“There’s also ‘Soonrijayeon’—the idea that things flow naturally when aligned with reason.

But even ‘reason’ is just a word created by man.

True reason belongs to those who move.

Not to those who sit idle and pray for heaven’s grace.”

“Then... what do you think of destiny?”

“Destiny? That’s even simpler.

It lives in the footsteps of those who move.

Sitting still, hoping for fate or fortune—that’s nothing more than an excuse.”

“......”

“I don’t wait for fate or fortune.

I take one more step forward—and create my own.”

He smiled faintly.

“The heavens help those who help themselves. Don’t you think?”

“...It’s just hard to process, that’s all.”

“What is?”

“You speak like someone who’s already reached the Martial God Realm...

But you’re still only in the Refined Qi Realm.

The disconnect is... intense.”

Unwi said nothing.

He just smiled.

Cheon Sugang had made the right call.

True, Unwi’s sword still couldn’t reach someone like Cheon Sugang.

And Cheon Sugang’s heart was still made of flesh and blood—no divine barrier shielded it.

But even he sensed it.

Unwi’s spirit was unreachable.

Just like Unwi had sensed his strength...

Cheon Sugang now knew—

Seol Unwi’s neck wouldn’t break easily.

Even if you tried to twist it like a chicken’s.

In truth, whatever became of the Open Gate Sect’s affairs, Cheon Sugang was a man who focused solely on what stood before him.

The reason Seol Unwi had shown him the ledger was simple: because he was someone worth showing it to.

Now, in the campaign to take Yangnyeong, there would be no interference from Open Gate.

And if there was?

It would be on Seol Unwi’s side.

It bears repeating: for an organization to endure, retribution is not optional—it’s a necessity.

A faction that turns its back when its own are struck down has no right to exist.

“The letter we sent to Yangnyeong?”

“Delivered to one of Open Gate’s beggars. It should arrive sometime today.”

****

To the north of Yangnyeong County stood a place called Cheongun Mountain (Blue Cloud Mountain).

At the heart of that mountain sat the stronghold of Juryeong Sword Sect—and at this very moment, four men were gathered before the gates of the Sect Master’s manor.

Who held true dominion over Yangnyeong?

Ask any ten people living in the region, and five of them would answer: Juryeong Sword Sect.

The other five would be divided among the remaining contenders.

There were four factions in total:

Juryeong Sword Sect

Long Sword Sect

Cheongun Blade Sect

Hyuncheon Palace

Of these, Juryeong Sword Sect was the undisputed lead.

The others vied fiercely for second place.

At the head of the group sat Jang Muhwi, Sect Master of Long Sword Sect, a man in his late twenties.

He glanced at the young man seated beside him and asked:

“Excuse me, ‘Vice Sect Master.’ When exactly is your father planning to appear?”

The man addressed—Han Socheon, Vice Sect Master of Juryeong Sword Sect—gave a slow breath before answering.

“I understand your frustration, but my father’s secluded training has no set end.

That’s how these things go, isn’t it?”

“Still, it’s been nearly a year now. Don’t you think it’s about time—”

A voice cut in before he could finish.

It was Do Cheonhaeng, Sect Master of Cheongun Blade Sect.

“What the hell happened to Bingseol Geomhun?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“Disappeared? Didn’t he just leave for Seolap a few days ago? How can a man like that go missing?”

The events that had unfolded in Yangnyeong over the past few days defied all logic.

And the reason these four were now gathered—was a single event that defied explanation more than any other.

Ho Mucheong, Sect Master of Hyuncheon Palace, pulled a sealed letter from within his robe and placed it on the table.

They had all received the same one.

The contents read:

At this time when the will of the Eternal Snow Mountain grows deep, I, Seol Unwi of Seolap, respectfully offer this letter.

In years past, Seolap lost far too much.

The Hanreung Jade Veins of Cheongneung Mine were ours by right.

The profits from Seolhan Mine were meant to be shared equally, as promised.

Has Yangnyeong’s leadership truly forgotten these agreements?

The resources and wealth stolen by Yawoon are not mere theft.

They are an insult—an affront to Seolap itself.

And those insults, as you surely know, were not delivered alone.

The Four Great Sects were deeply complicit.

Yet I have calculated with great generosity.

I priced the jade at its lowest. The spiritual resources and elixirs at minimum market value.

Even the interest was kept to its absolute minimum.

And so, Hyuncheon Palace owes Seolap exactly 9,800 gold taels.

This is not only the price of debt—

It is the cost of our shattered pride.

Upon receiving this letter, a response is expected within a single day.

If no reply is received, we will interpret it as a choice to answer in blood.

As the sages said:

“Greet first with courtesy, and only then with the sword.”

Let this letter be that courtesy.

The laws of the martial world, forged through ten thousand years, remain unchanged.

I await your wise judgment.

—Seol Unwi

This letter has been delivered simultaneously to all Four Great Sects.

Hyuncheon Palace’s Sect Master had received this.

So had the others.

Only the amounts and accusations varied.

But the message was the same across the board:

An invoice.

One written in impossible numbers.

Ho Mucheong crushed the letter in his fist.

“...My decision is made.”

His eyes were filled with murderous intent.

“That bastard Branch Lord of Seolap... I’m going to bury him.”

And he wasn’t the only one.

Han Socheon, Jang Muhwi, and Do Cheonhaeng all wore the same expression.

Hyuncheon Palace owed 9,800 gold taels.

Cheongun Blade Sect owed 10,000.

Long Sword Sect—30,000.

And Juryeong Sword Sect... 2 million gold taels.

These weren’t just steep—they were unpayable.

Unrealistic.

Especially Juryeong Sword Sect’s bill.

Even the wealthiest trade guilds in Zhongyuan would balk at such a demand.

No—even they couldn’t pay it.

Two million taels was a declaration of war.

“...Let’s draft a plan.”

Of all of them, Jang Muhwi, who had lost elite martial artists in the mines, was the angriest.

He wanted to tear Seol Unwi apart then and there—but knew better.

This would take planning.

After all, like it or not, the boy still carried the blood of the Everlasting Snow Palace.

“I’ll reach out to his maternal side’s affiliated sects.”

That was Han Socheon.

“Let’s seize this moment to take full ownership of the two mines.

Tear up those damn agreements.”

That came from Do Unwi of Cheongun Blade Sect.

“If he sent this kind of letter, it means the fool’s been faking it all along.

We need to find out what’s changed behind him.”

“And I’ll mobilize the information network.

We need to find out what really happened to Bingseol Geomhun...

And if Seolap owes us blood for the dead in the mines, we’ll squeeze them for every coin they have.”

Ho Mucheong and Jang Muhwi exchanged looks.

Everyone spoke.

Everyone planned.

Everyone prepared.

Because they all knew:

A storm was coming.

And Seol Unwi was the one bringing it.

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