Survival Guide for the Reincarnated

The blood-soaked white stones on the board began to sing a song of victory—an anthem of the soul that had risen through agony.

And then...

Kang Cheonwoo could make no further moves.

Unhwi slowly lifted his head.

His face was stained with blood and sweat, but his gaze remained clear and profound.

Kang Cheonwoo stared at the Go board for a long while.

On his face flickered awe, reverence, and deep admiration.

At last, he spoke.

“...I lost.”

Unhwi had won—by five and a half points.

Kang Cheonwoo’s voice held not bitterness at defeat, but a heavier weight of respect.

A vessel vast enough to hold the world.

A man as if sent by heaven.

A Heaven-Sent One.

Despite internal injuries and blood flowing from every inch of his body, he had never once groaned—and in the end, he had seized victory.

This—

This was something no ordinary man could do.

Kang Cheonwoo was deeply moved.

He had held back his strength to a degree, yes, but certainly not to a level that a Tri-Harmony Purification cultivator should have been able to endure.

A master of the Ogijo realm would have coughed blood and been carried off. A cultivator at the Harmonization stage would have fainted outright from the pressure.

And yet this boy—without faltering even once—had taken victory?

This wasn’t something just anyone could do.

In nearly a hundred years of life, Kang Cheonwoo had never seen a man like this.

He stood from his seat.

And Unhwi stood as well. He staggered, but he stood. That was what mattered.

“...It’s perfectly clear to me now. Becoming your enemy—whether as an individual or as the Lord of the Sichuan Alliance—would be the worst possible mistake.”

“Your praise is far too much.”

“Is that what you truly think?”

Unhwi gave a dry smile.

“Honestly, I think it’s a very accurate assessment.”

“Hah... hahahah! You bastard... You really are something else.”

Kang Cheonwoo’s gaze shifted to Unhwi’s waist.

Then to the waists of those around him.

Five swords in total. They were certainly decent weapons, but by Kang Cheonwoo’s standards, none of them were ‘legendary.’ Frankly, they were closer to ordinary swords than anything else.

“So the Lord of the Snow Palace is more frugal than I thought.”

He casually glanced up at the sky, where his eyes met Seol Jungcheon’s—who was frowning faintly in disapproval.

Kang Cheonwoo’s eyes curled into a smile.

He had made his decision.

Silently, he unhooked the long sword from his own waist—still sheathed—and tossed it to Unhwi.

Unhwi caught it and looked at him, puzzled.

“Do you know the name of that sword?”

Even without unsheathing it, if one called themselves a warrior and didn’t know this sword’s name, they had no right to live.

“Isn’t it the Heavenshaking Spiritblade (Jinhwa Cheonryeonggeom)?”

“You know its origin, too?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“It’s one of the Ten Legendary Swords of the World—a blade ranked among the highest tier of Martial Gods. It’s one of the two swords forged by Jinwu, the protagonist of the Three Blades Clash with Heaven incident four hundred years ago. He imbued it with his final will in a lightning storm, allowing it to absorb the power of thunder and become a legendary weapon.”

“You know your history.”

“It was the last of the Ten Legendary Swords to remain unaccounted for, but it’s said you found it at the depths of Sky Thunder Peak.”

“You know even that?”

“Even if this is a remote land, I haven’t lived with my ears closed, Lord Kang.”

The Heavenshaking Spiritblade was extraordinarily long.

Normally, a longsword measures about four cheok (roughly 120 cm) including the blade. This one exceeded even that.

Its blade alone was four cheok, and its hilt was two—making the total nearly six cheok in length. An absurd, monstrous sword.

But there was a reason it was ranked among the top of the Martial God class.

Though long, the blade wasn’t thick. Its body was black, with golden lightning patterns etched upon it.

It looked like a flash of lightning across the night sky, and when swung, it summoned the roar of thunder and bolts of lightning.

True to its title as one of the Ten Legendary Swords of the World, it was not a weapon anyone could wield. Its value? Incomparable.

Unhwi was about to ask why such a weapon had been given to him when—

“Keep it. It’s yours.”

Kang Cheonwoo was a man who did things decisively.

“I witnessed a new era today. As a man of the old world, consider it a gift to the one who will open the next.”

Unhwi, quietly running his hand over the sword, finally spoke.

“...In truth, I had something I hoped to extract from the Sichuan Alliance today. From you, Lord Kang.”

“Is that so.”

“But giving me this sword goes far beyond burying old grievances. It means something more.”

Not long ago, in this very place, Unhwi had shared a profound conversation with the Black-Faced Spear King, Gwanghan, regarding legacy and transcendence.

At that time, Unhwi had made his stance clear:

No matter how great a weapon might be—it was still just a weapon.

The mindset of the person wielding it mattered far more.

And he had lived by that philosophy for decades.

But that didn’t mean he placed a legendary sword on the same level as a common blade.

On the contrary, he understood the true value of a weapon more than anyone else—and he knew just how precious this one was.

Kang Cheonwoo gave a slight grin.

“You seem deep in thought. I only gave you a gift.”

“...”

“A mere sword—how could it ever be worth more than a person?”

A sect leader might be extraordinary, or they might be a fool.

But a leader of a coalition of dozens of sects must, without exception, be brilliant and shrewd.

Kang Cheonwoo had something beyond that.

The heart of a true warrior.

“Tell me. What else were you trying to get out of me?”

“Money. And legitimacy.”

“Money and legitimacy... for what purpose?”

“To exert pressure.”

“Pressure, huh... Interesting. Pressure on what?”

Once, assassins from the Viper Valley—a branch of the Main Blood Sect—had invaded Snow Mountain.

At that time, Unhwi had exterminated them and purged spies from the White Falcon Guard. Among the exposed spies had been a warrior from the Sichuan Alliance.

Kang Cheonwoo was a perceptive man. He immediately asked:

“Are you talking about the Sichuan Alliance °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° operative who died inside the White Falcon Guard?”

“Yes.”

“Bringing that up here and now—are you implying there’s something behind it?”

Unhwi nodded.

“It’s true the spy was sent on my orders.”

“...”

“But who knows—whether he worked for me... or for someone else entirely.”

Unhwi studied Kang Cheonwoo’s expression, pouring every drop of his past life into it.

Spying?

Understandable.

An organization as large as the Sichuan Alliance had to monitor potential threats. That was basic.

He didn’t want to dance around it.

“So you weren’t working with the Main Blood Sect?”

Kang Cheonwoo chuckled.

“If you’d seen that crazy old man in person, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

That was true.

The Celestial Elder was a brilliant, mischievous figure.

But Unhwi wasn’t thinking of him right now. He was thinking of the Vice Lord—Yu Cheong.

“I’d ask that you refrain from planting spies from now on.”

“Hmm...”

“If you need something, come to me directly. I’ll help you get it—without the middlemen.”

“Of course, by ‘help,’ you mean only in ways that benefit you as well.”

“Yes.”

Kang Cheonwoo burst out laughing.

“I always wondered how you managed to win over that sly bastard Song Hak. Now I see. Very well. Let’s do that. No need to tire ourselves unnecessarily.”

He truly was enjoying this moment.

“But you know... talking global politics is fine and all, but every matter has its time.”

“You’re right. Every matter has its time.”

“In my eyes, it’s clear you’ll be the one to usher in the new era—but you’re still young.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“In both this match and the ‘last one,’ your victory was absolute—but never forget: the higher you rise, the more you’ll draw resentment.”

Resentment had already begun to gather. In droves.

“The little ones aren’t worth worrying about, but if you ask me... I doubt that worthless sack of filth in Gongneung will take kindly to you.”

By that worthless sack of filth, he meant Gun Mugyeol, Lord of the Martial Alliance.

The blunt insult made Unhwi chuckle aloud.

“You’ll handle it well, I’m sure... I’ll be going now. You look exhausted. Go rest.”

The Overlord of Sichuan, Kang Cheonwoo.

Unhwi bowed deeply in martial salute.

“I will repay Lord Kang’s kindness in full someday.”

“No need. I only gave you one of the two swords I had. Also—have them take down those Iron Pavilion disciples’ heads you posted out front. We’re not ‘enemies’ anymore, are we?”

Unhwi nodded.

At this point, it was fair to say they had reached a peaceful resolution.

Kang Cheonwoo had come in person, shared a game of minds, and handed over one of the Ten Legendary Swords.

Whatever the motive—what mattered was that he had given it, and Unhwi had accepted.

Of silver and resentment, the resentment had now been cleared.

Only grace remained.

“I’ll be going.”

“I won’t be able to see you out. My body is...”

Kang Cheonwoo smirked and threw back a reply.

“Wasn’t expecting it, you brat.”

The moment he finished speaking, his physical form dissolved like smoke and vanished on the spot.

At the same time—

Unhwi’s body collapsed.

***

High above the clouds, dozens of ri above the earth, Kang Cheonwoo reappeared.

He faced Seol Jungcheon and Hyunshim, who were already waiting for him.

Kang Cheonwoo gave a crooked grin.

“You watched closely, didn’t you, Lord Seol?”

“It was touching, watching a low-hand struggle to defeat a master. That’s all, Lord Kang.”

Naturally, the two men didn’t get along. They weren’t quite at the level of drawing swords on sight, but the animosity between them was real.

“I believe you claimed the spy in the White Falcon Guard wasn’t acting on your orders. Was that true?”

“It was.”

“Then I suppose I should be investigating below before I look above.”

At that, Kang Cheonwoo’s eyes glinted.

“And are you investigating?”

“I’m looking into the things I’ve let slip.”

“...I see. Still, you managed to raise quite the son. Mind telling me your secret?”

Seol Jungcheon’s gaze turned downward.

He could see Unhwi—unconscious, being carried away by Seong Yangho back to his quarters.

In that moment, pride and worry crossed Seol Jungcheon’s face.

He lifted his chin and answered.

“Even if I told you... could you replicate it?”