“You know the head of the Moyong Clan has been bedridden with illness for nearly two years. The world says it’s a chronic disease—but haven’t rumors also been spreading, little by little, that he’s actually been poisoned?”
“Yes, exactly. No matter how deeply we investigated, no physician could identify the cause, leading me to suspect an obscure poison from Xinjiang.”
“Both assessments are correct,” Cho Yoon confirmed. “The foreign substance drawing ripples through Moyong Jeong’s body is indeed poison. It shattered the harmony between his internal organs, triggering a cascade of fatal complications that rapidly deteriorated his condition into an uncontrollable state. Left untreated, he would undoubtedly perish in less than a year.”
“Then…”
Hui’s rouged lips parted in silent, stunned realization. Not one to betray such high expectations, Cho Yoon continued his explanation.
“The three rows of bottles bound with red, yellow, and green cords are the cure to save Moyong Jeong. First, the red-corded medicine will eradicate the toxins. Next, the yellow-corded medicine will regenerate his failing organs. Finally, administering the green-corded medicine will restore his internal equilibrium and return him to health.”
“…Heavens. Are you saying this medicine can literally fish the Moyong Clan Head out of the Sanzu River?”
“Yes. However, a body this severely ravaged cannot completely return to its former prime,” the master cautioned. “His remaining lifespan has likely been slashed by more than half, and utilizing potent elixirs to artificially extend it will only invite disastrous consequences. One requires a robust vessel to digest potent medicine.”
“That makes perfect sense…”
“I have attached precise written instructions for the dosage,” Cho Yoon added.
Overwhelmed by this unfathomable windfall, Hui failed to conceal his bewildered elation, his gaze darting erratically across the collection before finally landing on the final row Cho Yoon had strategically omitted. Lined up perfectly on the right side of the wooden box stood five bottles, each sporting a blue knotted cord around its neck.
“And this… what is this? Are you gifting these to me as well?”
“Ah, those…”
Cho Yoon trailed off deliberately, lightly scratching the bumpy ceramic surface of the bottle with his fingernail. Uncharacteristically, Hui swallowed dryly, hanging onto his every word.
Sure enough, the revelation that slipped from Cho Yoon’s lips not only shattered Hui’s expectations but threatened to instantly overturn his entire understanding of the martial world’s political landscape.
“This is the cure to eradicate the Gu parasite currently nesting inside the brain of Moyong Dan, the eldest son. Administering one bottle a week will thoroughly annihilate the parasite without triggering a single side effect or lingering consequence.”
“Moyong Dan… You mean the Seven Star Sword? Are you saying the Seven Star Sword has a Gu parasite in his brain?!”
“Yes. Currently, it is smaller than half a fingernail, likely causing nothing more than chronic headaches,” Cho Yoon explained mildly. “But by next year, it will begin its rampage in earnest. Since Moyong Dan is an exceptionally brilliant young man, you should pull this problem out by its roots early on and firmly bind him as your person.”
Locking his gaze onto the medicine bottles, Hui interlaced his fingers and sank into profound contemplation. Though his furrowed brow and slightly twisted lips evoked the delicate beauty of the legendary Xi Shi, his mind was viciously churning through a maze of shrewd, calculating schemes.
Soon, Hui voiced the most glaring obstacle.
“Moyong Jeong’s visible symptoms are undeniable, and since they have no other recourse, they would administer your cure the moment I delivered it. But Moyong Dan is an entirely different story. He has suffered from chronic headaches for quite some time, yet absolutely no one has deduced that a Gu parasite is the cause. It must be an exceedingly insidious method, undetectable by anyone lacking the divine medical prowess of the Immortal Healer.”
“…”
“The problem is… people only believe what unfolds right before their eyes. No, the vast majority refuse to believe even what they can see,” Hui reasoned sharply. “Unless the dead parasite physically pops out of Moyong Dan’s mouth, rumors will absolutely spread that we fed him poison instead.”
The Moyong Clan was an exceptionally upright and unpretentious faction.
Though their geographical distance from the Central Plains kept them out of daily power struggles, they acted as a sudden, lethal blade piercing the hearts of anyone who strayed too far from the righteous path.
In fact, the only reason the Namgung Clan’s sky-piercing tyranny had ultimately failed to swallow the White Chivalry Alliance whole was the formidable presence of the Moyong.
However, after their patriarch, Moyong Jeong, fell bedridden to an unidentified poison two years ago, a suffocating veil of anxiety had settled over the clan. They had only narrowly avoided collapse because the eldest son, Moyong Dan, maintained an iron grip on the family alongside his mother, Yeo Jang-won.
With nearly all the clan’s authority concentrated in Moyong Dan’s hands, suddenly approaching him to spout nonsense about Gu parasites and the Immortal Healer while force-feeding him five mysterious bottles?
Hao Sect would have to prepare to be violently chased out of Liaoning.
Unless the Immortal Healer himself—or a physician of equal, mythical standing—personally accompanied them to Liaoning to unequivocally prove the parasite’s existence, these blue bottles were nothing but a poisoned chalice.
If they simply waited until the Gu began its rampage to prove its existence, they might save the ‘person’ named Moyong Dan, but his ‘talent’ would be permanently destroyed.
A brain violently ravaged by a thrashing demonic insect could never remain intact.
Reaching his conclusion, Hui stared at the blue-corded bottles with a remarkably conflicted, bitter smile. The medicine to save Moyong Jeong was already an astronomical payment, but this… it was an agonizing dilemma.
Too precious to discard, yet too dangerous to utilize—an item that bred only insatiable greed.
Such treasures inevitably became the stone that shattered the surface of a tranquil lake, inciting absolute chaos.
Just then, Cho Yoon, who had been quietly watching Hui’s rapid calculations with lowered eyes, asked an abrupt question.
“Do you happen to know exactly how old the youngest son of the Moyong Clan… turns this year?”
“You mean Moyong Seo? That mischievous young master should be six,” Hui replied, blinking in surprise. “He was born exactly seven days before New Year’s Eve, so there are still a few months left until his birthday.”
“If, starting precisely on that day, Moyong Seo suddenly begins acting like an entirely different person—or wakes up spouting inexplicable nonsense—you need not worry.”
You’re the one spouting inexplicable nonsense right now, Hui thought, tilting his head in sheer bafflement. The ornate ornaments dangling from his hair clinked together musically.
Ignoring the silent judgment, Cho Yoon continued in a perfectly serene tone.
“They will likely send a missive to you first, Sect Leader, desperately begging you to find a cure for the Gu parasite. Before that happens, simply cure Moyong Jeong and pave a natural path to easily contact Moyong Seo.”
“…I don’t quite understand. Are you implying that Moyong Seo already knows his older brother is afflicted by a Gu parasite?”
“He does not know now. But when that time comes, he will suddenly know it as if it were the most obvious truth in the world,” Cho Yoon stated. “He will act as though he possesses absolute certainty, despite never having studied medicine and possessing only meager martial arts skills.”
Despite stringing together seemingly contradictory nonsense, Cho Yoon practically radiated bizarre confidence.
Naturally, this was an absolute truth that no one could possibly comprehend unless they, too, possessed the meta-knowledge of a transmigrator.
Since the original novel officially begins the moment Moyong Seo turns seven, the soul residing in that body will be the Moyong Seo who died well past the age of thirty.
The foundational bedrock of this world was the original webnovel, ‘The Returned Hero’—and its genre was a martial arts regression tale.
***
Moyong Seo, the youngest son of the Moyong Clan who barely survived his family’s unjust extermination under false charges, chased his own brand of justice through a martial world deeply corrupted by the Demonic Cult, only to meet a miserable, agonizing end. Every single person he loved was slaughtered, and his own corpse was torn apart by wild dogs until nothing remained.
He thought he had truly died…
“…Hyungnim? Is it really you, Hyungnim?”
“Did you have a nightmare? Please calm down.”
When he finally regained his senses, he realized he had returned to two years before his clan’s annihilation—back when he was nothing but an innocent, ignorant child.
—I will absolutely protect them this time. I won’t lose anyone. Those who dare touch my people will pay the ultimate price in blood!
The martial epic of the Moyong Clan’s youngest son, who regressed through the power of a divine artifact.
True to the volatile ecosystem of webnovels, ‘The Returned Hero’ was a product of the sudden explosion in popularity of the martial arts regression genre, hastily blending various trending tropes together.
The basic plot followed the protagonist, Moyong Seo, who lost his entire family and faction, survived utterly alone, died miserably, and abruptly regressed to his seven-year-old self.
Utilizing his encyclopedic future knowledge from his previous life, he saved his family from imminent destruction, rescued his brother who was fated to die, snatched up legendary treasures destined for others, and brazenly plundered the secret bases of the Namgung Clan and the Demonic Cult.
Through this relentless growth, he ultimately evolved into the supreme hero who saved a chaotic martial world.
Like most serialized long-form fantasy or martial arts regression-possession-reincarnation growth webnovels on major platforms, the early chapters were genuinely thrilling.
Watching the protagonist exploit his future knowledge to amass power, brilliantly conceal his overwhelming strength, effortlessly dispatch arrogant fools who looked down on his family, and deliver utterly cathartic, blindsiding blows to the villainous factions was highly entertaining.
It was only when the protagonist matured and the overarching narrative began to roll forward that the author’s glaring limitations and questionable mindset abruptly surfaced.
Recalling the female characters whose intelligence mysteriously evaporated the moment they entered the protagonist’s orbit, and Hui—who constantly needed to be piggybacked through emergencies, only to suddenly spring up during a critical crisis and display the martial prowess of a thousand warriors—Cho Yoon offered a faint, wry smile.
Regardless, the most crucial fact remained that Cho Yoon had transmigrated into a novel that was already a regression story. Furthermore, he had thoroughly snatched up the story’s final boss and was currently raising him with loving care.
To the protagonist, who would surely be rejoicing over his miraculous regression with all his past memories perfectly intact… Cho Yoon felt slightly… no, quite apologetic.