A Swordsman’s Stream

Sometimes memories of a past life comes flooding to my mind. It’s something that I didn’t even wish for, yet it happens.

“Child, won’t you come with me?”

A cloth with red flowers embroidered on the sleeves caught the child’s eye. Although the cloth fluttered in the wind, it was unrumpled, and the smile of the middle-aged man was full of playfulness to reassure the child.

In the tranquility of the night. The middle-aged man approached the child bound in chains and slowly reached out their hand. In response, the child stumbled backward, touching the floor. The rough stone floor that touched the child’s bu*t was cold.

Here in the black market that only opens during the full moon, an item at the very last, was none other than the child.

“Hahaha. Don’t worry. I have come to take you home.”

The middle-aged man wore a kind smile and patiently waited with their hand outstretched. As time passed, the child realized that the person standing in front of him did not pose any threat, and he lifted his head. But, the child wouldn’t look directly at the middle-aged man.

Seeing this, the man thought that the child was avoiding eye contact due to long term mistreatment, so he turned his gaze to the merchant-turned-corpse.

To the middle-aged man, the eyes of the child that had seemed blurry held a clear reflection of something profound.

The child was looking not the outstretched hand, the kind smile, or the red plum blossoms, but at the sword hanging at the waist of the middle-aged man. The child was looking at the sword.

And in that moment, Seo Jun realized that he was the child looking at the sword.

Seo Jun woke up from his sleep.

“Ah…”

The morning sunlight, streaming through the curtains, naturally created a sense of arrogance in him. But it wasn’t only because of the silky morning sunlight.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a dream.”

Jin Seo Jun.

He didn’t know why, who, or how, but at a young age, he recalled memories from his past life.

This dream, in particular, was a glimpse of the past of a prodigy who was saved by a passing monk. The child witnessed the efforts of the highly anticipated and admired late-stage disciple, and the responsibility of being the pillar supporting the sect.

And he, from his past life, was the Sword God. That’s what he was called.

“What would you do if you were the Sword God in your past life?”

Seo Jun chuckled and began to pull back the curtains and tidy up his bed. The autumn of his twentieth year. It was the start of an ordinary day, just like any other. No, that’s what he thought until now.

Ting!

Until a message arrived.