I Became the Tyrant of the Cheon Clan@Baekmong
Prologue
"They say people never change."
Only after a blade was buried in my back did I truly understand those words.
Puhk!
The sword pierced straight through my spine.
"Guhk!"
A fountain of blood burst forth.
I sneered at the hollow end rushing toward me.
I had devoted my entire life to the clan.
And the reward I received—
was a sword through my back.
'Is this all the loyalty I gave worth?'
My past life flashed before my eyes.
Nameless.A man without a name.
Taken in by the head of the Cheon Clan, I was never given a name—only called Nameless.
『Protect this child. That will be the reason for your life.』
I trained relentlessly.
Everything I did was to become the bodyguard of the Cheon Clan's eldest young master, Cheon Muryang.
'Why didn't I realize back then… what a complete madman he was?'
Cheon Muryang was a brute.
The clan head only ever oppressed and pressured him harshly.
Perhaps it was rebellion against that treatment—
but Cheon Muryang became a tyrant.
Even after becoming the clan head, that nature never changed.
'Clan Head… are you watching? You should have abandoned that madman instead.'
By the time I became his bodyguard, it was already too late.
His twisted nature had long been complete.
At first, it was barely tolerable.
Because the clan head was still alive.
But then—
the clan head suddenly died.
'After that, Cheon Muryang became the clan head…'
Amidst the chaos, Cheon Muryang ascended as clan leader.
Yet nothing changed.
The clan's fortunes rapidly declined, and those who had served the Cheon Clan with loyalty were all driven out.
In the end, only flattering jackals remained.
'I should have left back then…'
I should have.
And yet, I stayed by Cheon Muryang's side.
I tried to support the collapsing Cheon Clan by any means possible.
But what I could do was painfully limited.
Then, Cheon Muryang made an irreversible choice.
'He brought in the Demonic Cult.'
I still didn't know why.
But Cheon Muryang joined hands with them.
'Something that should never have been done.'
By the time I realized it, the Demonic Cult had already revealed its true colors.
In an instant, the Cheon Clan was engulfed in flames.
The clan I had tried to protect my entire life fell into annihilation so absurdly easily.
"The reward for my devotion… was this blade, was it?"
The visions ended.
Time flowed once more.
Clang.
The sword fell to the ground.
I turned my head toward the one who had stabbed me and let out a hollow laugh.
Tremble. Tremble.
There stood Cheon Muryang, the clan head of the Cheon Clan—shaking in fear.
"I did everything to save you, Young Master… yet you're the one who kills me. Did they promise to spare your life if you brought them my head?"
I understood.
He wanted to live.
That was precisely why I couldn't understand him.
I smiled coldly.
"Do you truly believe that's how one survives?"
If he truly wanted to live—
he should never have brought them in.
"You are mistaken."
Cheon Muryang didn't know.
To them, all of this was nothing but amusement.
Slash.
Cheon Muryang's head fell.
It was a predetermined end.
The end of the young master I had devoted myself to—
was pathetically meaningless.
"How foolish."
I sneered.
That mockery was directed solely at myself.
"From the very beginning…"
I never should have served him.
Cough!
I spat out a mouthful of blood.
Perhaps even my blood had already died—it was pitch-black, devoid of any red.
"No… who is there left to blame…?"
In this state, who could I blame, and who could I resent?
"It's just regret."
Regret that I never fulfilled my lofty ambitions.
That I never became a master of the martial world.
And regret for the innocent lives dying here today.
Surrounded by dark shadows, I gave one last sneer.
"In my next life… I'd rather not be born nameless."
Puhk!
Dozens of swords pierced my body.
Drip—
Blood flowed.
And so, the man without a name died.
Chapter 1 – Reincarnation
Cold.
Death was cold.
I thought that was the end.
Trickle, trickle.
Yet suddenly, I heard the sound of running water—and felt something cold against my feet.
"Ah! That's cold!"
I opened my eyes.
This didn't seem like the afterlife.
"Am I… alive?"
The sword through my back.
The sensation of dozens of blades piercing my flesh.
They were still vividly etched in my mind.
So then—what was this ticklish sensation?
"My, my lord?"
A strange voice came from below.
I naturally lowered my gaze.
An unfamiliar young maid was washing my feet.
"W–What?!"
"P-Please forgive me! I-I'm sorry, my lord!"
"N-No, it's fine. I just felt dizzy for a moment…"
I quickly steadied my racing heart.
This feels familiar.
Even my voice didn't feel unfamiliar.
And the maid washing my feet—
she was someone I clearly recognized.
"You're Wolyeong, aren't you?"
"Yes, my lord. That's correct. If I made a mistake, please forgive me."
Wolyeong was the personal maid of the eldest young master.
And also a girl who was constantly abused by him.
Tremble.
Though she tried to speak calmly, her trembling hands betrayed her fear.
Seeing this, doubt filled my mind.
She's different from the Wolyeong I remember.
In my memories, Wolyeong was cold as ice.
A woman who showed no emotion no matter how much abuse she endured.
She's still young.
Now, she was nothing more than a frightened young maid.
Her fear was plainly visible.
What in the world is going on?
I asked her.
"Then why do you call me 'my lord'? Where is Young Master Cheon Muryang?"
"…Pardon?"
Fear vanished in an instant.
Replaced by confusion.
"But… you are Young Master Cheon Muryang, aren't you?"
"W-What?"
Instinctively, I looked at the basin at my feet.
Reflected in the water—
was the face of the coward who stabbed me.
Cheon Muryang.
"This… this can't be…!"
It was impossible.
I wanted to dismiss it as a dream—
but I knew better than anyone that this was reality.
"Wolyeong."
"Yes?"
"How old am I?"
"You are fifteen this year, my lord."
"…I see."
Fifteen.
When I died, Cheon Muryang was barely thirty.
That meant—
I had gone back fifteen years.
'This makes no sense. How did I become the young master?'
Impossible.
I wanted to call it a dream—
but I knew it was real.
So I asked one more question.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Is there anyone in the clan known as Nameless ?"
Wolyeong hesitated for a moment.
No matter how hard she thought, such a name did not exist.
"No. There isn't."
"I see… is that so."
His existence had vanished.
Nameless felt a strange sensation.
'I became Young Master Cheon Muryang… and because of that, I—Nameless—disappeared?'
A hollow laugh escaped him.
'I did say I didn't want to be born nameless again… but still.'
How could he possibly be reborn as the very master he once served?
Crunch.
Cheon Muryang clenched his teeth.
The life Nameless had lived was far too vivid to be dismissed as a mere dream.
In the future that was supposed to come, the one who led the Cheon Clan to annihilation—
was Cheon Muryang himself.
'I couldn't stop it.'
Nameless had failed to stop it.
The chilling sensation at the moment of death was still painfully clear.
'Yes. Perhaps this is a chance.'
It might be an opportunity.
A chance to correct the Cheon Clan that Cheon Muryang had ruined.
'I don't know why this happened. I don't know how it happened. No—none of that matters.'
Regardless of the reason.
Regardless of the principle by which he was reincarnated.
It didn't matter.
'I will protect the Cheon Clan.'
That was the same as protecting himself—
and protecting Cheon Muryang, the eldest young master who had once been Nameless's duty.
'I must accept it.'
Nameless was dead.
And Nameless had to accept that he had become Cheon Muryang.
'I am Cheon Muryang.'
With that thought, Nameless's consciousness fully shifted into Cheon Muryang.
Wolyeong cautiously called out as she watched him.
"Y-Young Master?"
"Yes, Wolyeong."
Cheon Muryang smiled at her.
Wolyeong had endured countless hardships because of the tyrant eldest young master.
And yet, she never left the clan, even at the very moment the young master died.
Knowing this, Cheon Muryang could trust her.
"Let's get along well from now on."
With a smile, he gently patted Wolyeong's shoulder as she stood there, unable to hide her confusion.
"…?"
Wolyeong froze, utterly bewildered.
Before she could even compose her expression, Cheon Muryang began thinking about what he needed to do next.
"The martial attire?"
"Oh—yes, it's here."
Wolyeong opened the wardrobe.
Inside, crisp and neatly arranged martial robes were packed tightly together.
Seeing them, Cheon Muryang clicked his tongue.
They looked as if they had never once been worn.
"Tsk."
"Should I prepare something more comfortable?"
"No. There's no need. From now on, I'll probably only be wearing martial robes."
The Cheon Clan was a martial clan.
Martial attire should be no different from everyday clothing.
Cheon Muryang then told Wolyeong their destination.
"I'm going to the Cheonryong Library."
"…The Cheonryong Library?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"N-No! Of course not."
"And bring another set of martial robes."
"…Pardon?"
"I'm planning to go to the training grounds after the library. It'd be nice to have a change of clothes."
"Ah… yes!"
Wolyeong nodded.
She remembered how other maids always carried spare martial robes.
"I'll prepare right away."
"Good. Thank you."
After Wolyeong left—
Cheon Muryang removed his clothes.
Then he examined his body.
"Hmm…"
Cheon Muryang had been born with a silver spoon.
From birth, he had undergone muscle tempering and marrow cleansing, and had been fed countless elixirs.
"And that was the problem. For a reckless brat like this, those blessings were poison…"
He gave a bitter smile.
Despite being born into an environment blessed by martial standards, this foolish tyrant had squandered everything.
Whether elixirs or body refinement, once external energy was absorbed, it had to be made one's own through relentless training.
"I should have refined the elixir energy through cultivation… but because I didn't, I had to give up so much."
Each elixir carried a different type of energy.
Naturally, conflict between them was inevitable.
To prevent this, one had to refine the energies using internal cultivation methods—
but Cheon Muryang never trained at all.
As a result, his body began collapsing from the inside.
"Haa… So the signs were already there at this age. It must have been quite painful…"
As he examined himself—
multiple elixir energies were clashing in dense clusters.
The side effects had already manifested.
His bloated physique was proof of that.
"Tsk."
Perhaps his increasingly violent behavior over time had been an attempt to forget that pain.
"Eldest Young Master, I have no intention of living the same life as you."
He did not want to see the Cheon Clan fall.
Nor did he wish to meet such a miserable end.
This wasn't just about himself.
'The countless people who died for the clan.'
Wolyeong included.
So many members of the Cheon Clan had lost their lives.
'I will protect them—including myself.'
To do that—
he had to become strong.
Clench!
He wanted to grow stronger.
"So please, do not think this unfair. I am merely walking the path you should have taken."
His gaze shifted.
A sword entered his field of vision.
The Cheongwang Sword, bestowed upon the Cheon Clan's eldest young master, was a famed blade.
But because of its owner, it had once been mocked as pearls before swine.
"Don't be sad just because your master has changed."
Huuung!
Cheon Muryang grasped the sword.
For the first time, a clear and pure resonance rang out—
a sound he had never once heard before.
The sword's will flowed into him.
"Thank you. I should clean you first."
Before heading to the Cheonryong Library,
Cheon Muryang carefully cleaned the Cheongwang Sword, which had been left neglected and covered in dust.
Once its brilliance was restored, he strapped it to his waist and stepped outside.
"Ah…"
Sunlight poured down.
A sensation he had thought he would never feel again tickled his skin.
"So I really have been reborn…"
There was no time to dwell on sentiment.
Cheon Muryang headed straight for the Cheonryong Library.
"Young Master!"
Wolyeong was already waiting there.
"Yes. Only I can enter the library anyway, so rest nearby."
"…Pardon?"
Wolyeong's eyes widened.
She had thought the tyrant young master was acting strange since morning—
but now she was certain something had truly changed.
"Y-Young Master."
"Yes?"
"Did… the stir-fried mushrooms you had yesterday not agree with you?"
In other words—had he eaten something wrong?
Cheon Muryang shrugged.
"You might not believe me, but it seems those mushrooms are what allowed me to be reborn."
"…What?"
That made even less sense.
Leaving the confused Wolyeong behind, Cheon Muryang moved to enter the library—
Clank!
—only to be stopped by the guards.
"What is this?"
"Unauthorized individuals are not permitted to enter the Cheonryong Library, Young Master."
"Do I lack the qualification?"
"You do. The Clan Head revoked your access. Have you forgotten?"
"Ah… right."
Only then did he remember.
Because he had shown no interest in martial arts, the Clan Head had stripped him of even his right to enter the library.
The intention had been to make him realize his mistakes and seek forgiveness—
but how could a once-in-a-generation tyrant understand that?
'He probably celebrated and went drinking instead.'
But things were different now.
He intended to see the Clan Head first—
to apologize and regain his access.
"The Clan Head has gone on an outing."
"When will he return?"
"We do not know."
Nothing could be done.
Cheon Muryang lightly acknowledged the guards' efforts.
"Very well. Keep up the good work."
"…!"
He pretended not to notice their surprise.
Did they expect me to throw a tantrum?
The label of tyrant clinging to Cheon Muryang was stronger than he'd imagined.
He returned to Wolyeong.
"They say I'm not qualified."
"Ah…"
Wolyeong quickly grasped the situation.
She expected him to demand alcohol and return to his quarters.
"Well, until the Clan Head returns, I'll train. I already know the basic martial arts."
"…Pardon?"
The only martial arts Cheon Muryang had ever been permitted to learn were the Cheon Clan's basic techniques.
And even those alone had been enough for Nameless to become an elite bodyguard.
"Did you mishear me? We're going to the training grounds. You're coming too."
"Ah—yes!"
Wolyeong had no choice but to follow after Cheon Muryang as he strode ahead.
Please… let nothing happen.
She prayed for peace.
The Cheon Clan had many training grounds.
The one closest to the library had once been reserved solely for Cheon Muryang—
but even that privilege had been revoked and turned into a communal ground.
Whoosh!
Whoosh, whoosh!
Countless trainees swung their swords, honing themselves relentlessly.
Day and night, they trained to become official warriors of the Cheon Clan.
To them, Cheon Muryang was nothing more than—
the clan's eldest son, yet a tyrant they refused to acknowledge as their lord.
"Is there any space?"
Freeze.
At the arrival of the infamous tyrant Cheon Muryang, all movement stopped.
Every gaze gathered in one place.
Whether he noticed or not—
Cheon Muryang settled into a corner of the training ground.
"Sit there and rest."
"Y-Yes!"
Cheon Muryang drew the freshly cleaned Cheongwang Sword from its scabbard.
"Hm. As expected, a famous blade is different."
Compared to the cheap iron sword Nameless once wielded, this was in a league of its own.
"No more excuses about a bad sword."
Clench!
He gripped the hilt.
Not the calloused hands of his past body—
but a rough, unfamiliar sensation.
'It's been… how long since I could feel a sword's weight?'
Holding a sword in this new body—
it felt strange, yet thrilling.
'I…'
Huuung!
Under the clear sky,
the Cheongwang Sword soared upward.
'…can become strong.'
Carrying that resolve—
the blade plunged straight down toward the earth.