Chapter 3: The Demon Punch and the Red-Haired Girl

—How do you want to live?

Once, to that question, I gave the obvious answer: ‘I want to live well.’

I’d become stronger than anyone, crush the noses of those who looked down on me, and live proudly.

Even though I was expelled and rolled through hell for ten years, I never forgot that wish.

Some might call it materialistic, but the feeling of buying a car, owning my building, and slowly filling the voids in my life was so fulfilling.

If I had a better education or overwhelming skill, I wouldn’t have had to struggle so much, but that’s how it is when you live by your body.

Still, in my later years, I had enviable wealth and skill.

So, I didn’t feel the need to keep struggling and thought about taking it easy.

‘Well, the Demon War ruined all that.’

Still, the war pushed my level higher.

Though it ended in death, I became a master I never could’ve dreamed of before.

But human greed knows no bounds.

Even after dying and coming back, I wasn’t satisfied.

Returning to Seondo, the ‘treasure trove of martial arts,’ I wanted to suck up its benefits properly.

‘…In my past life, I got expelled before I could enjoy them.’

This school was a place brimming with masters and talent like nowhere else.

A treasure island where a crazy Immortal poured benefits to rapidly grow his successors.

The perfect place to prepare for the Demon War ten years from now.

With my past life’s experience, given enough time, I was confident I could surpass the top ranks.

‘…The problem is, time is short.’

This damn school—Seondo—expels everyone below first-class after the first semester.

If that’s the case, why even accept first-class students?

Anyway, my current inner strength is 15 years, barely first-class, far from mastery.

Normally, I wouldn’t reach the next level in time, so I’d need another way.

I’d be busy keeping up with classes and struggling to become a master.

But that wasn’t an excuse to slack on what I needed to do consistently.

Click.

Turning on the light, the training room—where I’d spent more time than my dorm—came into view.

Feeling a brief moment of nostalgia, I sat cross-legged on the energy-gathering formation in the center.

Since regressing, I’d suspected it, but now was the time to truly assess how pathetic my body was.

I began circulating the Taiji Art, the technique I’d honed for decades.

Taiji, the martial art of harmonizing yin and yang.

A moment to create my own universe and understand everything about myself.

‘…What?’

As I cycled through the minor circulation, I soon noticed something odd.

Was it because this crazy school poured money into making an insanely efficient training room?

Or was it because, even with a first-class body, I retained my know-how?

Despite the Taiji Art not being specialized for gathering energy, it flooded in like waves.

Whoosh! Countless streams of energy, far beyond my current inner strength, rushed toward me.

I’d worried about my poor muscles and meridians, but this was a better start than expected.

Starting from first-class, this was more than satisfactory.

With joy, I circulated the energy through my body.

—Great Circulation

I drew the Taiji.

“Ah, so refreshing!”

More energy gathered than I expected.
As they say, little by little makes a mountain—I had a feeling I’d reach my goal quickly.

Nodding with satisfaction, I quickened my pace.

It was already 11 p.m.

Considering tomorrow’s school start, it was time to head back and rest.

But the campus was so vast that the distance between the training hall and the dorm was far.

It’d take 20 or 30 minutes on foot.

I’d run here excitedly, but thinking about the return, I regretted not using the dorm’s facilities.

‘Still, the training hall’s room is way better.’

Oh well, no helping it.

Choosing efficiency, I accepted the ten-minute walk.

Planning my future in my head would make it pass quickly.

Yeah, how far could it be?

Nodding to myself, I suddenly caught sight of something strange.

“What the f*ck.”

Someone was lying up ahead.

Not a person.

To be precise, it was a guardian protecting the building’s entrance.

The Sorcery Department, one of Seondo’s faculties, where the professors worked.

Guarded by an autonomous security system from morning to night, jokingly called the [Golem Dungeon], an impregnable research hall.

A golem meant to guard its entrance lay collapsed with a hole in its chest.

‘…How much was that worth?’

A security golem—designed to face master-level warriors, supposedly worth at least an apartment.

So, I was witnessing the scene of the school’s budget, a fortune, being destroyed. Why would a golem break on its own?

“….”

Staring at the sudden sight, I snapped back and raised my terminal.

No need to get involved in trouble—just report it cleanly.

Yeah, that’s smart.

Beep beep beep—beep beep…

Quickly tapping the terminal, before hitting the report button, I recalled how fortress-like this school was.

A school with an Immortal principal and a dragon vice-principal.

Stronger than that Hogwarts next door, right?

You might get hurt in a spar, but no other crime could cause trouble here.

I calculated the odds of the culprit who destroyed this golem being a Demon King-level master capable of evading their eyes.

‘No way, that’s ridiculous.’

If the final boss from ten years later showed up on day one, that’d be shameless, and I would’ve known from my past life.

“…Wait, this feels familiar.”

Crouching down, I examined the large hole in the golem’s chest.

A familiar trace of energy.

The violent, heavy sensation unique to demonic arts or tyrannical martial arts.

“It’s him.”

I quickly thought of a suspect.

—Heavenly Demon Cult

The young cult leader who just enrolled this year, Cheon Yuha, ranked third in the Combat Department.

A classmate back then, and someone I met often during the great war later.

I knew him well.

His nature—charging headfirst into anything interesting or stronger than him.

And then, I recalled what happened tomorrow.

On the first day of school, there was a guy in a wheelchair—a fiasco caused by Cheon Yuha.

Many cadets were shocked and amused seeing the future Heavenly Demon so battered.

Who beat him so badly? Was he all hype, actually weak?

Those who spread such rumors ended up half-dead the next day, spawning endless ghost stories.

It was the most memorable event of the early semester, so why did I only recall it now?

“…Hiss.”

Checking the time on my terminal, it was nearly midnight.

To attend school peacefully tomorrow, I needed to get back to the dorm.

But sensing a faint ripple of energy, I stepped into the research hall.

“Whatever, I’ll hurry.”

If it was within my ability, I could return quickly.

A few minutes to see an old comrade was a worthwhile trade.

Creak—creak—

Entering the research hall, a chilly atmosphere enveloped me.

The lights dimmed, growing darker.

For some reason, the air felt colder, so I zipped up my jacket.

“…What’s with this vibe?”

Still, I passed the main gate and kept moving forward.

Every few steps, I saw golems collapsed, each with a hole in its chest.

Not once or twice, but repeatedly, I was certain Cheon Yuha was here—yet, I realized something.

They were all taken down in one strike.

“…Is this the Heavenly Demon Punch?”

Even I’d need to be cautious with each golem, but he was undeniably strong.
How wide was the gap?

And how much of the school’s budget was destroyed?

While pondering, a loud BANG BANG! of golems exploding came from ahead.

I immediately channeled energy into my legs and dashed forward.

Tap tap tap! Turning the corner, I saw a massive golem, about 5 meters tall.

—BOOM!

Someone threw a punch.

‘…That looks really expensive.’

A combat golem designed to face transcendent warriors.

Enchanted with magic and made of premium materials, its ability and cost were on another level.

Its head flew off like a golf ball with a single punch.

—KABOOM!

The headless golem collapsed to the ground.

The golem-slaying culprit landed lightly with a thud.

“Hmm?”

Noticing me, he turned and cast a sharp gaze my way.

I didn’t avoid it, staring back steadily.

Cheon Yuha, young leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

At fifteen, a transcendent warrior, and in five years, he’d reach the realm of transformation.

Our eyes met.

I tried to view my old classmate objectively.

Extremely aggressive, fearless of humiliating defeat.

Tyrannical martial arts.

Blood-red hair.

A fighting style that prioritized crushing opponents over self-preservation.

Someone once called him the Mad Heavenly Demon.

But that was the future.

So, a bold thought crept into my mind.

I saw him.

Cheon Yuha, third-ranked cadet in the Combat Department, and—

“Who are you?”

—A red-haired, beautiful girl.