I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell - Chapter 47

Returnee IV

“Work? What are you talking about?”

“Hehe. I have plans of my own. Just watch, brother.”

Sword Marquess then suddenly walked out of the rest area.

As for me, Undertaker, had I been one to just sit idly by when told to stay put, I would have given up on being a regressor long ago. Naturally, I followed Sword Marquess. The old man glanced back at me once but didn’t try to stop me.

Even though the Sword Marquess had been terrible with directions before we reached Mount Hua, it was as if a navigation system had been installed and updated in his brain; he expertly navigated the mountain trails.

Just when I thought I should ask where exactly we were going, Sword Marquess squatted down.

“……?”

At first, I thought he was just tired from the climb and was taking a rest. But I was mistaken.

Sword Marquess was pulling something out of his pocket. As I approached and peered over, I saw that he had taken seeds from his pocket—a bag of seeds he must have treasured since leaving Ulleungdo.

He began placing the seeds into the soil within the crevices of the rocks.

“……?”

A question mark popped into my head. What exactly was he doing?

“Elder brother. What are you doing right now? Please explain this to me.”

“Hehe. Reconstruction.”

“Reconstruction?”

“Or restoration, if you want to add a poetic flavor, you could even call it regression.”

Reconstruction. Restoration. Regression.

These were truly enigmatic words strung together.

But to my questions, Sword Marquess just chuckled and stroked his beard, not giving a clear answer. Instead of calming down, his response only fueled my curiosity, and I followed him relentlessly.

But following him felt fruitless as he continued the same actions repeatedly. He climbed the mountain trails, planted seeds, covered the sparse soil over the rocks, and gently patted down the small mounds of earth with his wrinkled palms.

The next day, and the day after that, he continued without end.

Really, what was he doing?

‘He can walk well now!’

That was what baffled me the most. He had relied on my back while crossing the Central Plains, but now that we were at Mount Hua, he suddenly seemed full of energy and climbed the mountain too well. Had this old man been pretending to be weak all this time?

‘Could he have been deceiving me…?’

It was not easy to lead an old body up and down a rocky mountain. Yet, Sword Marquess was up from dawn to dusk, walking nonstop.

He didn’t even complain of muscle pain. As if the air of Mount Hua were gasoline for him, Sword Marquess moved around vigorously.

Curious, I even tried sitting cross-legged and practicing something akin to internal energy meditation, but whether it was the air of Gangnam or Mount Hua, my scientific experiments concluded neither contained any mystical ether.

-Roar!

“Ah, brother! Help me! A wicked demon from the Demonic Cult is trying to capture the sect leader of Mount Hua!”

And it certainly didn’t look like ‘weak cosplay’ from any angle. Sword Marquess was truly, utterly frail. He couldn’t even fend off a monster the size of a boar and always ended up running to me.

Like someone who had a strength stat of 99 in stamina but only 10 in combat, Sword Marquess’s capabilities were extremely unbalanced.

“It’s really strange…”

In the end, I had no choice but to continue following Sword Marquess and acting as his bodyguard.

After a while, I grew so tired of this routine that I simply eliminated all the monsters around Mount Hua.

I also went around the areas of Chang’an and Guanzhong, which is modern-day Shaanxi, hunting down other creatures. Thankfully, the locals were grateful and gave us plenty of food and clothes.

One week, two weeks, three weeks.

It was around the time when I began to be known among the people of Guanzhong as the “Taoist of Mount Hua,” almost like a black comedy.

At each spot where Sword Marquess had planted seeds, sprouts began to emerge. Their growth rate was notably fast. It was clear that the ability that made Sword Marquess a grade-S Awakener, known as [Plant Growth], was at work.

“What kind of sprout is this?”

I muttered to myself since asking Sword Marquess would yield no proper answer.

It was clear—they weren’t just any grass or flowers but ‘trees.’ However, my encyclopedic knowledge stopped there.

Even with my experience as a regressor, which meant I could recognize most plants, I wasn’t knowledgeable enough in botany to identify the species just from these small saplings.

“Hey. What exactly are you?”

The sprouts, of course, offered no answer.

As late summer passed.

Sword Marquess’s peculiar activities continued into early autumn and winter.

White snow settled on the ink-colored rocks of Mount Hua. In this ruined world, winter seemed to serve as a funeral rite for all life. As an undertaker ages, so does winter silently conduct the world’s funerals.

Winter’s touch was cold yet gentle. Life and civilization quietly bowed under its gaze. Rumors spread like snowflakes that a million civilians were buried under snow in Guanzhong within just a fortnight.

My range for hunting creatures gradually expanded. Not just in Shaanxi, but also to Henan.

‘Tutorial dungeons’ weren’t just a phenomenon on the Korean Peninsula but occurred worldwide. Just my luck that an epic dungeon appeared in Yongjing in Henan.

Here, pseudo-sectarian terrorists from Taoist groups were also involved, making it feel like the end of an era.

What choice did I have? I had to help.

…Surely when I started the 108th cycle, this cycle was supposed to be a vacation. Somehow, even on vacation, I ended up working. Is this what they call being a workaholic?

To make an excuse, I had business in Henan anyway. There was an Awakener who ran a guild called ‘Baekwha’ back on the Korean Peninsula, and their family originated from this area.

Thanks to that, I managed to gather some good information about them. I’ll talk about that in a later episode.

Anyway.

Spring.

While all life bowed under winter’s gaze, only the sprouts cared for by Sword Marquess stood boldly upright. The lives touched by his hands knew neither the season nor the climate; they grew even in adversity.

When the snow ceased, the small saplings that had once been tiny seeds had grown to my waist height. The trees bid farewell to winter a bit earlier than the rest of the world and greeted spring a bit sooner.

Their etiquette towards the seasons was to bloom in red, to dye the world crimson.

“Ah.”

Only upon seeing this red did I realize the name of these plants.

Plum blossoms.

“…….”

The old man had been planting plum blossoms on Mount Hua.

Residual snow still whispered, and Mount Hua’s rocks were white.

The surface of the rocks, like white plates, neatly divided themselves half in red and half in pink as the plum blossoms modestly plated themselves.

This giant mountain served as a dish for a colorful, red feast prepared by a single shabby old man.

“It’s time to start grafting.”

The shadow of the old man delved into the mountain’s shadow. With each step he delved deeper, the snowy mountain bled red.

Familiar with his movements, the old man broke off twigs from the plum trees. Then again, he planted them among the rocks, in the rugged depths of the valley, in the scarce soil. Amidst the harsh rocks, the plum blossoms spread like moss, but red moss.

“…….”

After that, I limited my outings and spent more time with Sword Marquess.

The terrain of Mount Hua was rugged. Even though my physical strength seemed to have become boundless after arriving here, it was still difficult for the frail legs of the old man to cross the gaps and voids of Mount Hua. I willingly lent my back to Sword Marquess.

Crossing from cliff to cliff, Sword Marquess planted trees.

In the first spring, plum blossoms bloomed near the rest area.

The following year, red blossoms dyed the western peak of Mount Hua.

The giant was massive. The time it took for him to die, and thus the time it took for his blood to fully blossom, was endlessly slow compared to a human life.

Sword Marquess regulated the giant’s time. He dictated not only his death but also the manner of his dying. Sword Marquess did not permit even nature’s law of living in spring and dying in winter.

The blood shed by the giant flowed over three years, passing Jinshaiguan to the northern peak. His wounds bled for four years toward the central peak and then surged to the eastern peak the following year. All the directions of death and life were determined by Sword Marquess’s footsteps and handprints.

Our 6th year on the mountain.

“…….”

I stood on the roof of a pavilion on the southern peak of Mount Hua, looking down.

The heavens and earth were filled with plum blossoms.

Mount Hua had become a mountain of flowers.

Red and white flowers shyly intertwined down every sliding mountain ridge. The dark trunks of the plum trees languidly rested on the stones. The giant finally held its breath, and in front of its majestic blood-red death, people could only hold theirs.

Thus, without any metaphor, without any interpretation or explanation.

Plum blossoms bloomed on Mount Hua.

“It is done.”

A single human had turned a proposition into truth.

To make a proposition bloom, it took six years of an old man’s life and several hundred years of a regressor’s.

And that proposition was beautiful.

“It is now done.”

It was a foggy day.

When fog descended on Mount Hua, the rocks vanished from sight. The fog lived and moved. Only the bright red flowers barely managed to poke their heads above that opaque surface.

I too woke up and lifted my head.

The rest area where I had mostly eaten and slept over the past six years.

The Sword Marquess was not there.

“Elder brother?”

When no one responded to the call of ‘brother,’ I felt a premonition. I didn’t even wash my face; I immediately got up and followed the traces of Sword Marquess.

The old man was far away, atop the southern peak, beyond a sea of fog.

And then I witnessed something unbelievable. At first, I thought Sword Marquess was rowing on the rocks because the thick fog spread out beneath his feet made it seem so.

But it was impossible for a man to row on a mountain. Looking closer, I saw that what Sword Marquess was stirring was not an oar but a sword—a wooden practice sword.

The old man was dancing a sword dance.

“…….”

It was a sword dance because of the dance-like movements with the sword, and also a sword mist because the mountain’s fog twisted and whirled with every movement of the sword. The dull blade of the practice sword, like the old man’s wrinkled hands once dyed the giant red, seemed to control all the mountain’s fog.

The old man whirled the world’s fog as if it were his own sleeve.

In that moment, I knew I would never forget this scene.

“…….”

Rustle.

Somewhere, the sound of snow sliding down was faintly heard.

Was it the Sword Marquess stepping on the snow? Maybe. The whole world was wrapped in fog, making it hard to see ahead. Only the sounds and smells distinctly touched the skin.

In the fog, the flowers chattered, and this chattering breathlessly exhaled the scent of plum blossoms into the sky. Or, perhaps, just maybe, the scent of plum blossoms spread from the tip of the old man’s sword.

The wind blew. Vast waves of fog enveloped the peak entirely.

“Elder brother?”

Slower than the flow of the tide, the fog rolled in and out.

The white rocks and red plum blossoms revealed their forms again.

But the Sword Marquess was nowhere to be seen.

“Elder brother!”

No answer came back.

Only the echo of ‘brother – brother – brother’ resounded, soon buried by the chatter of the plum blossoms.

“…….”

Suddenly, the world became still.

From the swept-away Mount Hua, only the scent of plum blossoms flowed and spread far into the distance.

Should I call this an epilogue?

There remains one somewhat strange story.

After Sword Marquess disappeared, I naturally set out to look for him. However, I ultimately failed to find him.

If he had fallen and died somewhere in the mountains, there should have been a body, or at least some trace of it. Even if wild animals had scavenged it, there should have been some remains, but no matter how much I searched Mount Hua, no trace of Sword Marquess was found.

An utterly absurd disappearance.

‘…Could he really have ascended to immortality?’

For a moment, I even entertained such a suspicion.

But it was impossible. Sword Marquess was just an old man who had never learned any martial arts. If he had truly reached a transcendent state as he claimed, I would have recognized it. Hadn’t I carried him on my back for over 60 days during our time together, not to mention the six years we spent together?

Later, when I returned to the Korean Peninsula, I even obtained documents to confirm it. Sword Marquess was definitively, undoubtedly born in Ulleungdo, Korea.

People from the same neighborhood as Sword Marquess didn’t have very detailed memories of him.

“Oh, that old man?”

“I’ve seen him occasionally. What? He was in our neighborhood decades ago? I don’t remember that far back…”

“He seemed to come and go, appeared and disappeared, you know?”

In any case, Sword Marquess was born in Ulleungdo. Various certificates and records proved this.

If Sword Marquess really had been the next sect leader of the Mount Hua Sect and had finally become an immortal and ascended, then—there would be too much to explain.

First, he would have had to travel to China from Ulleungdo no later than when he was 15 years old. Then, during his childhood, he would have become a direct disciple of the sect leader of Mount Hua.

Sword Marquess was over sixty-five at the time of his disappearance. He had testified before we crossed over to China that Mount Hua Sect was attacked by the Heavenly Demon 45 years ago.

At the time of the Demonic Cult’s attack on Mount Hua Sect, Sword Marquess had to have been maintaining his status as a direct disciple of the sect leader. So, by no later than 15 years of age, he must have been receiving the expectations of the sect’s disciples as the next sect leader… Was that even possible?

What percentage of probability would one have to defy for such a miracle to occur?

Why would a young Korean child born on Ulleungdo end up at Mount Hua Sect in China in the first place?

I had never heard of Mount Hua Sect, a staple in martial arts novels, actually existing in reality during my time as a regressor. Let alone the Heavenly Demon? The Demonic Cult?

It was an absurd hypothesis. There was no need to consider it; it was merely a ludicrous tale. I decided to discard the theory of ‘Sword Marquess = Mount Hua Sect Leader’ under a very rational judgment.

However, later on, past the 200th cycle, a very strange incident occurred.

“Sir.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry to ask, but could you spare some food?”

At this time, I was walking through Incheon’s Chinatown with the Sword Marquess.

The person who called us ‘sir’ and asked if we had any food was Chinese. He probably mistook us for fellow Chinese because of Sword Marquess’s long white beard.

“Ah-”

As revealed during our travels in the 108th cycle, I was the only one among us who spoke Chinese. I thought about how to answer without embarrassing the other party, hoping to respond in Chinese before the old man next to me could create an awkward situation.

And then it happened.

“Of course.”

Before I could even open my mouth, fluent Chinese came from beside me.

Shocked, I quickly turned my head. There was the Sword Marquess, naturally speaking Chinese, responding to the young man who had approached us.

“I don’t have much, but how could I not fulfill a simple request from a passerby?”

“You mean ‘sect leader’?”

“I just happened to be buying dumplings over there. It’s not much, but take this and quench your thirst.”

“Ah… Thank you, sir! I will never forget this kindness!”

“…….”

My mouth hung open, refusing to close.

The astonishment continued until the Chinese young man who had taken the vegetable dumplings from Sword Marquess disappeared from sight. I barely managed to collect myself and grabbed Sword Marquess’s slender shoulder.

“Wait a minute, Sword Marquess. Just a moment.”

“Hmm?”

“Sword Marquess, did you know how to speak Chinese?”

Sword Marquess blinked.

“Chinese? What are you talking about?”

“What? Didn’t you just speak Chinese! With that young man earlier!”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

Sword Marquess blinked in genuine confusion, as if he truly didn’t understand.

“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden, Undertaker? I didn’t say anything. I just handed him the dumplings.”

“No. Wow. No.”

As if I, Undertaker, would fall for such a trick.

I immediately dragged Sword Marquess around Chinatown, trying to find the young man we had just seen or to strike up a conversation with other Chinese people, but it was all in vain.

Sword Marquess seemed genuinely unable to understand Chinese, complaining loudly.

“Ah! To think that a young martial brother would oppress me like this! There is no nationality in chivalry. Even if my language skills are lacking, my level is higher than anyone else’s!”

“…….”

In the end, not a single word of Chinese came from Sword Marquess’s mouth. He wasn’t lying.

Really, wasn’t it enough to drive a ghost to despair?

To this day, I am not sure whether Sword Marquess really became an immortal and left this world in the fog of Mount Hua, whether he fluently conversed with a Chinese man in Incheon’s Chinatown, or whether it was all just my illusion and hallucination.

I only learned one fact.

The martial world is indeed full of extraordinary and eccentric characters.

Footnotes:

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