3. First Birthday Banquet Bombardment
Traditionally, China holds a total of three banquets to celebrate a child's birth. The Full Moon Feast, the Hundred-Day Feast, and the First Birthday Feast.
In medieval China, where infant mortality was common, a baby that had lived for only one month was not yet considered truly alive. Thus, the Full Moon celebration—marking survival through the first month—was held in a relatively quiet, family-only atmosphere.
At that time, I had not yet possessed the body, so pass.
The Hundred-Day Feast carries the same meaning as Korea's baek-il celebration. The significance and the rituals are almost identical. It would have been a modest family gathering with a small banquet.
Naturally, I still hadn't possessed the body then either, so pass.
And then came the long-awaited First Birthday Feast, the Zhuazhou Feast .
By this point, the child had grown enough that people could finally breathe easy, believing sudden death was no longer a major concern. It marked the baby's first true birthday.
Aside from the minor difference that they scrape together every relative, acquaintance, business partner, and even random villagers passing by, it carries exactly the same meaning as a Korean first birthday.
You receive birthday gifts, perform the grab ceremony, stuff the guests full of food, and open the granaries to distribute rice to the village—putting the family's power and wealth on full display.
The reason there are so many people staring at me right now is surely because of all that.
"Hwi-ya! Go! Show them your spirit!"
No—are you people insane?
"Hehehe, what a beautiful child, Young Lord. How did the Paeng Clan produce such a boy?"
"It must all be thanks to my wife's virtue! Hahaha!!"
This happened during the doljabi, when the banquet was in full swing.
"…Wait. Is the concept of doljabi a little different here from Korea?"
In Korea, China, and Japan alike, the birthday grab ceremony has survived as a tradition. It is so old that it is difficult to determine which country it originated from. And generally, regardless of culture, the objects placed before the child tend to be similar—items that are easy for a baby to grab.
For example:
A spool of thread to wish for longevity.
Colorful cloth to pray for health.
Money or notes to wish for wealth.
A brush or books to hope for scholarly success.
And now, laid out right in front of me, was—
"Just grab one! Just one!"
"Ppueya (I can't grab two anyway) ..."
Saber (川).
Next to it, a saber (刀).
Another saber (刀) beside that.
A short saber, a small saber, a throwing saber, a Japanese-style saber, a tiger saber, a great saber...
The edges had been dulled, but they were made of heavy iron.
All kinds of sabers (刀) were lined up before my eyes.
"Muahaha! Any descendant of the Paeng Clan must become a saber wielder, no matter what!"
Where exactly do you report child abuse in medieval China?
3. First Birthday Banquet Bombardment
In despair, my hand—no, my entire body—crawled between blades that were, at the very least, larger than my head. Either way, I had to pick one.
At times like this, what would a normal Paeng Clan baby choose?
Something that looks interesting?
Something flashy?
Something small and easy to grab?
Then what should a possessor choose?
I sharply examined the shapes of the sabers.
"It's impossible to infer the meaning from shape alone anyway."
They had laid out a bunch of differently shaped blades, so each one must have been assigned its own meaning. That's how first-birthday grabs work.
Even if I come from one of the three Northeast Asian cultures that share similar sensibilities, it's unreasonable to predict every detail of a tradition like this. Distinguishing the meaning of a birthday grab based solely on the form of a blade is impossible.
Then, if a possessor wants to leave a deep impression here—
They have to transcend common sense.
Squirm.
With a body I could barely control at last, I stood up.
Toddle.
Wobble.
Step by step, struggling to keep my balance, I walked.
That's right. The age for first steps is around nine to twelve months. Being able to toddle at the time of a first birthday banquet hardly qualifies as genius-level.
But—
What if I went just one step further?
"The farthest one."
I ignored the small, flashy, novelty-looking sabers—the short toy-like blades that were obviously placed there to be grabbed.
My target was the farthest one.
– Wobble, wobble.
Step by step, toddling forward.
"Uh… u–uh…!!"
"Y-Young Lord!! Th-that child is—!!"
Ignoring the adults' shock, I flashed them a small smile.
Walking toward the saber that was the farthest away, the largest, and looked the most brutally imposing.
"Ppyaa!"
I grabbed it.
A heavy, cold sensation. Lifting it up with my current strength was impossible. If I had hoisted it overhead, people would have called me a once-in-a-generation prodigy—but there was no need to go that far.
Cradling the hilt, I slowly turned and smiled at my brothers, my family, the elders of the clan, and the countless guests invited to my first birthday.
"U… uoooo…!!"
"Waaaaaah!!"
"Young Lord, this is truly…!!"
Confusion. Shock. Awe.
I absorbed those gazes with my whole body, trembling hands clinging desperately to the saber's hilt.
I saw my father rushing toward me with a beaming grin.
My mother, eyes glistening as she tapped the corners with her fingers.
My brothers applauding and cheering.
"Pppye (I tore it up)."
Ten months after descending into this body.
I think it's fair to say that the Paeng Clan's superstar blew up his first birthday banquet.
If I were to—summarize—what I gained from this first birthday banquet, it would be the following.
"Even producing just one person like this would be enough to call them a pillar of the realm—how is it that the Paeng Clan keeps producing nothing but heroes?!"
"Hoho, you can't steal bloodlines. Where else would the Paeng Clan's outstanding talents come from?"
"Truly an auspicious day, Young Lord!"
I learned that my father was the Young Clan Head.
Which meant that my current position was roughly that of the Young Master of the Paeng Clan—the son of the Young Clan Head. In other words, the Clan Head, whom I had yet to even see, was my grandfather.
And one more thing.
"You said I grabbed the saber at my own first birthday, right?"
"Liang grabbed a short blade, didn't he?"
"Haha, but this one grabbed a great saber. I'm really looking forward to seeing how he grows."
I have siblings.
Older brothers, to be precise.
"Of course—whose younger brother do you think he is? By the way, where's Jeong? Isn't he coming along?"
"He insisted on finishing up his work first… He's probably running here as we speak. He said he couldn't possibly come empty-handed to his little brother's first birthday. Haha!"
"Mmm, I hope he's not too late. The Clan Head will be arriving soon… Oh dear, look at me rambling. Go on and greet your father properly."
"I already paid my respects as soon as I arrived. Father told me to go see the youngest right away. Hahaha."
Apparently, I have more older brothers.
Noticing my gaze, my eldest brother grinned and walked over, gently ruffling my hair.
"You're going to become the clan's greatest treasure someday. Grow up strong and help shoulder some of your older brothers' burdens, all right?"
"Ehe… hehehe."
"Look at that smile. Once you walk down the streets of Beijing later on, it'll cause an uproar."
He hugged me warmly once, then left the room.
"…Let's reflect."
He's a good person.
Well, of course he is—this is the Hebei Paeng Clan, after all.
The household that plays the role of the orthodox faction's strong, good-natured brute—the reliable supporting cast. People from this family aren't the type to be bad at heart.
And with this kind of age gap, a succession struggle would be nonsense. From my eldest brother's perspective, I'm not even competition.
In that case—
"…I can relax a bit."
A succession struggle among people this decent? Looks like I'd been overdosing on modern fiction tropes.
Let's reflect.
Maybe I'd been carrying too much prejudice about medieval China.
I mean, when you think about it, the Liu–Guan–Zhang brotherhood that went down in history—weren't they Chinese too?
"If I'm the youngest of the Five Great Orthodox Clans, I could coast through life just by being moderately competent."
Come to think of it, wouldn't sticking close to the family as the youngest son be far more comfortable and safer than actually shouldering the burden of becoming clan head?
That warm, content thought was wiped away—completely—within what felt like ten minutes.
—DEEEEEEEEENG—!!
I'd been caught completely off guard.
As I flinched, the once-raucous banquet hall fell into silence.
From my mother, who was holding and soothing me, I heard a quiet whisper.
"He's here."
"…Here? Who…?"
—DEEEEEEEEEEEEENG!!!
The guard atop the gate tower was striking the bell.
A bell on the gate tower only rang in times of foreign invasion.
Foreign invasion…?
Here?
At the Hebei Paeng Clan estate, right next to Beijing, where more than half the people present are martial artists—now of all times?
As I darted my eyes around in confusion, a shout came from beyond the gate tower.
[The Sama Alliance Lord arrives!!!]
What the f*ck.
Why is he arriving?
Why would the Sama Alliance Lord show up at the first birthday banquet of the youngest son of the Paeng Clan's Young Clan Head…?
Are they trying to pull off an attack because all the nearby orthodox factions are gathered here?
—DEEEEEEEEENG!!!
[The Huabei Saber-Dragon Alliance Lord arrives!!!]
At the loud flap! of fabric snapping in the air, I hurriedly turned my gaze.
Two black flags had already been planted inside the venue, fluttering violently.
Black Dao Sama Alliance .
Jet-black silk, dyed pitch-dark, bearing a demonic face painted in blood-red pigment—alongside the clearly written character 邪 (evil).
Huabei Saber-Dragon Alliance .
Likewise black silk, but this time painted in white: a torn, mangled dragon. Its mouth, stretched open as if screaming, seemed to be staring straight at me.
I shuddered, letting out a small hiccup, and my mother began gently stroking my back.
"There, there, Hwi-ya. Don't be scared."
…Is my mother part of a martial family too?
How is she not afraid when the unorthodox faction has come crashing into a birthday banquet?
Looking around, I realized I wasn't the only one like this.
Everyone had gone stiff, rising to their feet and staring toward the gate tower.
The tension was sharp enough to cut flesh.
Not just mine—
It was pouring out of every single martial artist in the hall.
Damn it.
So this really is a revenge story?
Am I seriously destined to make killing the Sama Alliance Lord my life's goal?
Then my mother whispered softly.
"He's your grandfather, you know."
"…Eh?"
[The Head of the Great River Hebei Paeng Clan arrives!!!]
—KWAAAAAANG—!!
The gates of the tower burst open as if about to shatter.
A monstrous pressure surged outward, kicking up a cloud of dust that swallowed the gate tower whole.
And then—
—Step.
…Step.
Footsteps echoed.
A black silhouette wavered into view. Then more appeared, growing in number, forming a group.
I recognized some of their faces.
They were the clan elders—the ones who would occasionally come by to smile at me and coo whenever the wet nurse took me out for walks.
Now they were dressed in black martial robes, their faces stiff and hardened, sharp killing intent spilling from them.
—Step.
The warriors in black martial robes walked straight across the banquet hall.
No one stopped them.
No—no one could stop them.
Whenever they drew close, people would flinch in alarm and hurriedly clear a path.
Even the hulking brutes covered in scars.
Even the sinister-looking men who had been cackling moments ago.
Not a single exception.
—Step.
The elders reached the front of the platform and, all at once, turned and dropped to their knees.
And then—
Following the path opened by the kneeling elders,
A giant walked forward.
—Step.
A giant .
He was towering in height, and the muscles visible even beneath his worn garments were unmistakably formidable—but beyond those physical traits…
The man himself felt enormous.
And yet, he was also an old man.
Snow-white hair was roughly tied back, strands spilling loose, and his short beard had grown coarse and thick, giving it a hardened look.
With eyes brimming with killing intent, he swept his gaze across the hall and took another step forward.
—Step.
Everyone present willingly knelt and held their breath.
My mother.
My father.
My brothers.
Every member of the household.
All of them knelt on one knee, welcoming the giant's arrival.
As that overwhelming presence crossed the banquet hall, as the shadow drew nearer, my lips cracked and my eyes grew painfully dry.
From the pressure of just one man's aura alone…
"Yan."
The giant, who had come right up to me at some point, looked down at me and let out a breath.
"Eh...?"
Think. Think.
Damn this baby brain—this is not the time to space out!!
"The Hebei Paeng Clan Head is the Sama Alliance Lord..."
Good. Keep going. Faster—faster!!
"My father is the Young Clan Head. Which means the Sama Alliance Lord is my grandfather."
That much is confirmed. So what do I do now?
"If I were a newborn, I'd burst into tears in this atmosphere. Should I act like a newborn?"
Idiot. That's not it. Again—think!
"If I were a child—no, even an adult—I'd be tense and on guard in front of someone like this. Should I show nervousness?"
No way! I'm a possessor. And on top of that, I'm this man's direct grandson. There's only one thing to do!
"A possessor, at a moment like this—"
"Ebehe—!"
Smile.
Wide.
Stretch both arms out and act cute toward the terrifying old man.
"Ehehe—!"
Suppressing the corners of my mouth that had gone stiff and were twitching uncontrollably, I smiled with everything I had.
"…There hasn't been a single child who didn't cry when Father appeared."
A strange light flickered in the old man's eyes as he looked down at me.
"The Paeng Clan of this generation is truly blessed with sons."
A massive hand pressed down on my head.
A hand that could probably crush my skull into pieces with a casual gesture moved—slowly.
It patted.
Gently.
"Instinct, is it…? Excellent. If one is born a tiger's cub, one must always know when to hide the claws—and when to bare them."
The old man smiled and turned away.
The pressure that had been weighing down on my entire body vanished in an instant, like smoke.
"…He… smiled…?"
I heard my brother's shocked voice.
"D-did he smile at Liang too? Did he?"
"No way."
"My goodness..."
My parents' whispers went back and forth.
As if he'd heard them, the old man—already nearing the end of the platform—let out a low chuckle.
When his laughter spread across the banquet hall, only then did the guests finally exhale in relief.
"The Hebei Paeng Clan is unorthodox…?"
Everyone was smiling sincerely. Praising my courage. Congratulating the old man.
The only one not happy was me—completing a thoroughly unhappy world.
"What kind of world did I even get dropped into…?"
"Hwi-ya?"
"He's fallen fast asleep. I guess he was very tired."
"That's understandable. You worked hard as well."
Listening to my parents' voices, I lay there with my eyes closed, organizing my thoughts.
This is a murim world, and I have fallen into a version of the Hebei Paeng Clan that belongs to a side-path / semi-unorthodox faction.
At the very least, in all the novels, games, movies, dramas… whatever medium I had seen in my previous life, there was nothing like this. Maybe such a case existed somewhere, but I had never encountered it.
"So this isn't a book-possession or game-possession story. Did I really just fall into a world with no context at all?"
Possession itself is inherently contextless, so it's not that strange—but if that's the case, then most of the knowledge I possess has just become useless.
The moment I possessed this body, I scraped together everything I knew from all the murim novels I had read so far, but it seems the very first button was already fastened wrong.
"Damn it. Of all places, Hebei…"
If the Paeng Clan is a side-path faction, then this can no longer be called a Super Bowl.
It felt reassuring when I thought they were one of the Five Great Orthodox Clans—but now, whether it's the imperial court, civilians, or the orthodox faction, everyone must be treated as a potential hostile force.
The Hebei Paeng Clan is, as the name suggests, located in Hebei.
Hebei means north of the Yellow River—Huabei, the heartland of China. And Beijing sits right there.
And no matter the era, Beijing almost always houses the Chinese imperial court.
From the imperial family's perspective, this means there is a fully armed warlord sitting right on their doorstep.
The fact that the Paeng Clan has survived this long means some kind of collusive relationship must have formed—but historically, collusion with the Central Plains imperial court tends to fall apart at least once every generation.
"I need to figure out what era this is."
The Paeng Clan is Han Chinese.
And for a Han Chinese power to exist in Beijing, this rules out the Song Dynasty—and it's unlikely to be the very beginning of any dynasty either.
It would have to be either the late Yuan or around the Ming Dynasty for a Han warlord to establish itself in Huabei.
The problem is… the Ming Dynasty.
The last Han dynasty liked to overhaul its policies every time the emperor changed.
More precisely, it had the power to do so. The Ming Dynasty had the strongest imperial authority in Chinese history.
Tch…
My mouth tastes bitter.
If I had started out somewhere like the Namgung Clan in Anhui or the Sichuan Tang Clan, I wouldn't have needed to care about central politics at all.
But of all places—right next to Beijing.
Traditionally, China had strong regional decentralization. Because administrative power couldn't reach everywhere, local hegemonic clans were generally left alone as long as they paid their taxes and didn't attempt rebellion.
If I had started my possession life in an orthodox murim alliance sect responsible for public order, I could have lived a fairly comfortable life.
But the Hebei Paeng Clan—
Even to my one-year-old eyes, they are currently walking a tightrope.
They must stay just within bounds so as not to draw the imperial court's ire, while remaining strong enough that side-path factions can't dare attack them, and solid enough that orthodox forces can't encroach.
From the imperial court's perspective, they are an armed warlord straddling the line between legality and illegality.
From the side-path factions' perspective, they are a juicy prize ruling over the prime Huabei region of the Central Plains—tempting, yet dangerous. The kind of fruit that ignites fierce ambition the moment it shows even the slightest opening.
From the orthodox factions' perspective, if they could just push the Paeng Clan out, they would gain control over the Huabei region—centered on the Yellow River—along with its inland civilian waterways, and earn the prestige of having crushed the strongest side-path power.
"Everything's a mess."
The fact that the Paeng Clan has maintained prosperity on this scale at all is close to a miracle.
And since I wasn't born into a wealthy household just to die young, that miracle has to last at least through my generation.
"Surely the elders of this clan have thought of things even a baby can figure out… right?"
That was my one consolation.
If I could grasp the Paeng Clan's geographic disadvantages and the tangled political situation after only ten months of possession, there's no way the elders—who were born and raised here—would be unaware of it.
I didn't learn what the Paeng Clan's actual survival strategy was until six years later.
"Most problems can be solved if you're strong enough."
"Won."
…Come to think of it, this is the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Not very bright, absurdly strong, and fiercely loyal to their own—the quintessential "good-hearted brute" type.