Regression of the Yong Clan Heir

Chapter 2: To the Past (2)

“This is regrettable, Chairman Yong. We bear you no personal grudge. We are merely carrying out a commission. So, don’t resent us, and may you find peace in the afterlife.”

The assassins raised their swords high, their intent clear.

Yet, even as he watched the scene unfold, the Demonic Master found himself powerless to intervene.

‘Is there no end to this wretched fate?’

At the moment their blades began to descend, the consciousness of Yong Hwarin flared like a blazing beacon.

‘No, I can’t die like this!’

Such defiant resolve consumed the Demonic Master’s spirit, and in the same instant, the three-centuries-old energy within his body erupted into a rampant frenzy.

In that fleeting moment, as the assassins struck down, a burst of light radiated from Yong Hwarin’s body.

* * *

Yong Hwarin frowned as a sharp pain throbbed in his head.

Opening his eyes cautiously, he felt his body burdened with heaviness as if it weighed a thousand catties (1 catty is approximately 500 grams or 1.1 pounds).

Parched with thirst, Yong Hwarin looked around for water. However, the unfamiliar surroundings made him sit up with a sense of unease.

‘Where is this?’

The room felt both vaguely familiar and disconcertingly foreign.

‘I was fleeing in a carriage…’

He tried to recall his last moments. A clearer memory surfaced—an old man had appeared and launched an attack on him.

Spotting a bowl of water on the table, Yong Hwarin grabbed it and drank it down in one gulp, assuming it had been left there for him.

‘A physician’s quarters?’

He had no idea who had brought him to this place, but for the moment, he was grateful to be alive.

Then, his gaze fell upon the hand holding the water bowl.

Slender, pale fingers gripped the bowl.

A strange sensation washed over him, and he dropped the bowl.

Crash!

His hands were no longer the plump, roughened ones of someone who had lived through countless battles. Instead, they were lean, smooth, and long, with skin that appeared delicate.

His forearms, which had once carried layers of muscle and fat that jiggled with movement, now seemed frail and thin.

“What… is this?”

A growing sense of unease crept up, urging Yong Hwarin toward a mirror in the corner of the room.

His body felt so light, unnaturally so.

Upon examining himself, he realized that the layers of flesh and muscle he’d once carried were gone, replaced by a gaunt frame that revealed his ribs.

‘Could I have been unconscious for months?’

He wondered if prolonged starvation had caused his body to waste away.

But that assumption was soon shattered.

Yong Hwarin collapsed to his knees as he stared into the mirror hanging on the wall.

The face staring back at him was not the weathered visage of an experienced martial artist but his own face from his early twenties, a time when he had only just stepped into adulthood.

For a moment, Yong Hwarin could do nothing but stare blankly at the reflection. Then, abruptly, he stood up.

“Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?”

It was the only explanation Yong Hwarin could come up with for what was happening.

“Or maybe… this is just a dream.”

Slap!

Yong Hwarin struck his cheek hard.

His vision blurred momentarily with flashes of light, but he didn’t wake up. That alone proved this wasn’t a dream.

“This can’t be… I’ve returned to the past.”

After pondering for a moment, Yong Hwarin realized he had been transported back to his younger days, just after reaching adulthood.

Seated in a chair, he looked around the room and recognized it as the one he had lived in during his youth.

No wonder it had felt familiar.

“This isn’t a dream.”

Yong Hwarin walked to the door with heavy, deliberate steps and flung it wide open.

Bang!
Crash!

The force of his action caused a young maid who had been about to enter to stumble and fall onto her backside. The bowl of medicinal decoction she had been carrying shattered on the floor.

“Ack! Young Master!”

The young maid looked up at Yong Hwarin, her face on the verge of tears.

“Yeonhwa… It’s been so long.”

How could Yong Hwarin ever forget this maid? She had spent more time with him than anyone else in his life.

Even when he married as a live-in son-in-law, Yeonhwa had followed him, serving by his side. Yet, in his fortieth year, she had fallen ill and passed away.

Seeing her now, Yong Hwarin spoke warmly, his face filled with delight. Yeonhwa responded with an awkward smile.

“But I just saw you yesterday, Young Master.”

Looking at the freckles dotting Yeonhwa’s nose, Yong Hwarin couldn’t deny it any longer—he had truly returned to the past.

For the moment, it didn’t matter why or how he had come back. All he felt was joy at being given a chance to relive the days he had regretted the most.

Yong Hwarin lifted his gaze to the sky.

‘The heavens must have pitied me and given me one more chance.’

It was a comforting thought.

‘If not, then perhaps I had an impossibly long dream last night.’

Otherwise, there was no way to explain this situation.

“I’ll go prepare another bowl of medicine,” Yeonhwa offered hurriedly.

“No, there’s no need.”

Those medicines had played a significant role in making his body so bulky.

Since childhood, Yong Hwarin had been frail, consuming countless tonics and elixirs in the hope of improving his health. While they had indeed strengthened his body, they also had the side effect of making it overly large and unbalanced.

Recklessly consuming potent medicines had pushed his body beyond its limits, disrupting its natural harmony.

Because of that, Yong Hwarin had to live his entire life enduring people mocking him behind his back by calling him a pig. Although the expensive medicinal herbs were purchased by his father for his health, he had no desire to return to that overweight body.

“It’s fine. I’ll go see Father. I need to pay my respects.”

At his words, Yeonhwa stared at Yong Hwarin with wide eyes.

Her expression seemed to say, “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“It’s just surprising to hear that you’re going to see the Sect Leader, Young Master. And paying your respects, no less. Is the sun rising in the west today?”

Yong Hwarin’s mind flashed with a memory he had forgotten until now.

Because of his frail health, he had confined himself to the house and, after his mother passed away, had never forgiven his father for remarrying so quickly. That resentment had driven him to leave the family and become a live-in son-in-law in another household.

Even up until the day he left, Yong Hwarin had avoided his father, ignoring him entirely whenever they crossed paths within the manor.

Now, for him to voluntarily visit and pay respects to his father was such an uncharacteristic action that Yeonhwa couldn’t help but express her disbelief. In all the time she had served Yong Hwarin, she had never heard him say such a thing.

She didn’t know, but Yong Hwarin had his reasons.

A few years after he left to become a live-in son-in-law, his father was assassinated by hired killers.

Though he had harbored hatred, his love for his father had been just as deep.

Yong Hwarin had spent years living in regret, overeating to numb the pain, which only worsened his already obese condition.

Now, Yong Hwarin walked toward the pavilion where the Sect Leader resided.

The mere thought of being able to undo one of his greatest regrets filled him with gratitude for this incomprehensible reality. If this was a dream, he wished never to wake. If it was an illusion, he hoped it would last forever.

As he crossed the garden, a middle-aged man strolling nearby spotted him and looked startled.

That man was none other than Yong Hwarin’s father, Yong Biyang, the Sect Leader of the Heavenly Central Sect

The Heavenly Central Sect was a martial household located near Heavenly Central Mountain in Henan.

Several clans had taken their names from Heavenly Central Mountain and operated in the ten nearby counties. Among them, the Yong Family’s Heavenly Central Sect had unified the area and was highly regarded.

Locals of Henan used to call it Heavenly Dragon Sect or Heavenly Dragon Clan. However, such grand names had faded into obscurity with the sect’s decline.

Now, it was simply known as the Heavenly Central Sect.

The reason for its decline was straightforward: in the past twenty years, it had failed to produce a martial artist strong enough to represent Henan.

Whenever the martial households of Henan were discussed, the Heavenly Central Sect was always included in the conversation. However, since Yong Gosang, the “Supreme Dragon of Henan” from thirty years ago, no apex-level martial artist had emerged from the sect, leading it to be regarded as a declining household.

“What brings you here?”

Yong Biyang asked as he noticed his son visiting early in the morning.

“I’ve come to pay my respects.”

At these words, Yong Biyang’s face registered shock, as though he hadn’t anticipated such a reply.

“Paying respects? It’s been nearly ten years since you last did that, and now, out of the blue, you’ve come to pay respects?”

Still finding it hard to believe, Yong Biyang stared quietly at his son, unable to bring himself to ask, “Have you forgiven me?”

Regardless of his son’s intentions, Yong Biyang was genuinely happy that Yong Hwarin had visited him to pay his respects. Even if it was only for today, he was satisfied.

For the first time in a long while, he felt the wall of misunderstanding between them might finally begin to crumble.

“You don’t look well. Go back and rest.”

As his son had always been frail, Yong Biyang didn’t even suggest coming inside for tea. In the past, even when Yong Hwarin appeared fine, it was common for him to collapse suddenly and lose consciousness.

Because of this, Yong Biyang didn’t dare keep him standing for long.

“I will, Father.”

Yong Hwarin, looking at his father, felt an overwhelming surge of joy. The regret of never resolving their misunderstandings had weighed heavily on him all his life.

But now, having returned to the past, he vowed never to do anything he would regret again. Of course, he intended to change gradually to avoid alarming those around him with his sudden transformation.

As Yong Biyang watched his son walk away, he murmured to himself, “Father… It’s been such a long time since I’ve heard that word.”

Though others might hear it often, to him, hearing his son call him “Father” made his chest tighten with emotion. It was a word that deeply moved him.

“Father… Father…”

Yong Biyang repeated the word to himself, a smile spreading across his face.

* * *

As Yong Hwarin left his father’s pavilion and headed back to his quarters, he stopped in his tracks upon hearing a woman’s voice.

“Orabeoni!” (Older brother!)

The girl approaching him with a bright smile was another person who had left a deep mark of regret on his life.

She was Yong Seollan, his younger half-sister, born to his father and stepmother after the remarriage.

In his previous life, Yong Hwarin had never liked her, nor had he ever shown her any kindness.

She was the catalyst for the downfall of the Heavenly Central Sect. Yong Seollan had gone out to play one day and was murdered by someone. Her father, Yong Biyang, personally investigated the incident.

Not long after, he was assassinated.

“Seollan…”

As Yong Hwarin spoke her name, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. The emotions he had barely managed to suppress while meeting his father surged violently within him.

He couldn’t believe he had been so cold and indifferent to such a beautiful and kind sister in his past life. Overcome with regret, tears began to flow from his eyes before he even realized it.

“Brother… Why are you crying?”

Yong Seollan was taken aback, surprised for two reasons.

First, Yong Hwarin had actually called her by her name. Second, he was crying as he greeted her, his expression full of warmth.

Until now, Yong Hwarin had never acknowledged her as his sister. He never called her by name, nor did he give her more than a passing glance.

For him to now call her name affectionately and shed tears of joy left Yong Seollan so moved that she too began to cry without realizing it.

To others, the sight of the siblings shedding unexpected tears in the morning might have seemed odd. But beneath the surface was a natural eruption of emotions, stemming from years of love and resentment tangled together.

Yong Hwarin had always ignored her when she called him “Orabeoni,” breaking her heart each time.

Still, Yong Seollan never stopped smiling and calling him “Orabeoni” whenever she saw him. She believed it was the only act of kindness she could offer him.

Despite the cold treatment, Yong Seollan had always genuinely admired and followed her older half-brother.

“No, it’s nothing… I just… It’s been a while.”

Yong Hwarin smiled faintly, trying to regain his composure.

“I’ll head back now. Let’s talk another time.”

Feeling awkward, Yong Hwarin quickly turned away.

Even he thought it must have seemed strange for someone who had ignored her for so long to suddenly act affectionate and even shed tears.

TL/N: Orabeoni is a formal, respectful term used by a younger sister to address her older brother in traditional Korean settings.