The Regressor Can Make Them All-Chapter 328

“I should have hit him a few times while I was at it... tsk.”

Recalling Sung-Ha fleeing the moment he charged at him, Se-Hoon, despite his grumbling, allowed a slight smile to creep onto his face. Sung-Ha’s words were somewhat annoying, but him running away implied he knew he had done something wrong.

If it were the Mad Dog, he would have argued and fought back right away, claiming he wasn’t wrong.

Compared to the Sung-Ha he knew before he regressed, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say Sung-Ha had turned over a new leaf.

With such thoughts in mind, Se-Hoon climbed the mountain path and arrived at his workshop before long.

Hmm. Looks like he got here first.

The workshop’s lights were on, and he could clearly feel someone’s presence that they didn’t even try to conceal. And just as he thought, when Se-Hoon opened the door and stepped inside, he saw Li Kenxie staring intently at the central furnace.

“...”

Yet even though Li Kenxie had clearly noticed him entering the workshop, Li Kenxie didn’t even glance at him, gaze fixed solely on the flames of the furnace. Thinking he might be in deep thought, Se-Hoon decided not to interrupt.

I don’t think I would hear anything pleasant if I talked to him right now.

There were preparations to be made for the forging session, anyway. Walking past Li Kenxie, Se-Hoon began pulling materials one by one from the void box on one side of the workshop.

Let’s see... Flameweed, Blueflame Jade, Dragon Firestone...

Soon enough, materials were piled up in a corner of the workshop. The variety was impressive, ranging from plants and gemstones to ores and even monster byproducts. However, all of them had one thing in common: they were infused with some amount of fire mana.

Hmm. This is quite a collection now that I’m looking at it.

There were plenty of Advanced-tier materials that were easy to obtain as well as rarer Hero-tier materials that were scarce in supply. It was all thanks to Ludwig’s help that the collection had grown to nearly a hundred items.

It wouldn’t hurt to have more, but this should do...

Se-Hoon began organizing the materials and reviewing the forging process in his mind, and as he was doing so, Li Kenxie broke his silence for the first time, still staring at the furnace.

“This flame... what’s its name?”

“It’s called the Flameheart.”

“Flameheart... I see,” muttered Li Kenxie softly.

He lifted his gaze and looked at Se-Hoon.

“Is this what you used to restore the life of the iron?”

During the demonstration at the Hall of Martial Arts, Li Kenxie had immediately realized the difference between his forging technique and Se-Hoon’s—his swords were lifeless, while Se-Hoon’s swords were alive. Just that single difference had increased the performance tens of times, despite them using the exact same materials.

“You recognized it right away... impressive,” Se-Hoon remarked.

“...Are you mocking me right now?” freewebnσvel.cøm

“Not at all. I mean it sincerely.”

Shaking his head, Se-Hoon met Li Kenxie’s gaze.

“It was just surprising, because this isn’t exactly your area of expertise.”

“...”

Li Kenxie narrowed his eyes. On the surface, it sounded like Se-Hoon was mocking his skills, but there wasn’t a hint of malice in Se-Hoon’s expression.

He’s already figured out that much...?

Realizing what Se-Hoon was implying, Li Kenxie glanced at the pile of materials behind Se-Hoon.

“Are you ready yet?”

“Yes. We can start right away.”

“Then ‌proceed.”

Since Se-Hoon had claimed he would prove himself through blacksmithing, Li Kenxie considered no further words were necessary and immediately stepped away from the furnace.

“Understood.”

Taking off the top of his workwear and tying it around his waist, Se-Hoon grabbed several materials from the pile using Shadow Thread.

Let’s do this slowly in order.

Having already checked the amount of fire mana in each material earlier, Se-Hoon kept the entire process in mind and began placing the materials into the furnace separately.

Fwoosh!

As soon as the first material entered, the Flameheart roared and flared up, its mana swirling and colliding inside. Even though the Flameheart was a flame in nature, it was far different from ordinary ones in terms of the temperature, character, and the materials it consumed.

And that was vividly apparent from the scene of the Flameheart pulsing and dancing within the furnace in front of them.

Boom! Rumble! Crash!

But then, all of a sudden, the rhythmically pulsing Flameheart suddenly grew unstable, spewing heat and energy in all directions. It looked like a precarious situation where even a slight misstep could cause the furnace to explode, but Se-Hoon didn’t even blink. He simply continued adding materials without hesitation.

Rumble!

Absorbing the fire mana from over twenty materials one at a time, the Flameheart became increasingly turbulent, fracturing into vivid colors as if it would shatter at any moment.

The Flameheart had now reached its limit and had just started breaking apart when—

“Hmph...!”

Se-Hoon summoned a translucent flame, the Sacred Flames, in his right hand and struck the furnace with all his strength.

Bang!

Just like that, the chaotic Flameheart stabilized in an instant, caving inward. Seeing that, Se-Hoon began enveloping it with the Sacred Flames. Clenching and unclenching his fist rhythmically, he manipulated the flames.

Thump... Thump...

In sync with Se-Hoon’s clenching, the Sacred Flames compressed and released the Flameheart, gradually restoring its steady pulse.

“Mhm. That should do it.”

Confirming the Flameheart was back to its normal state, Se-Hoon extinguished the Sacred Flames and resumed his work.

Meanwhile, having watched the entire process, Li Kenxie was in deep thought, his expression curious.

A flame modeled after a heart, huh?

From the perspective of an ordinary blacksmith, what Se-Hoon was doing was utterly insane. He was using materials that were considered highly hazardous when combined and throwing them into the furnace all at once.

Under normal circumstances, the workshop would have exploded dozens of times already. In fact, the only reason such a disaster hadn’t struck was because of the characteristic of the Flameheart.

Its efficient energy circulation structure minimizes the pressure on the flame, and when it reaches its limit, he forcibly resets and reactivates it.... This is beyond absurd.

By all logic, such a flame should have been impossible to create. Yet, here it was, right before his very own eyes. It was an unbelievable sight that piqued Li Kenxie’s curiosity more than anything else.

How did he come up with such a flame? It’s not like an insane heart like that could actually exist...

As Li Kenxie fell into deep thought, Se-Hoon frowned while managing the Flameheart.

Hmm... why does it seem a bit lacking?

Se-Hoon had modeled the Flameheart after his own heart, the most advanced furnace he was aware of. Therefore, the Flameheart should have been able to handle the fire mana with ease, but its performance was disappointing.

It’s not like I made a mistake.... Is the issue with the Sacred Flames?

That could be the case, since he had only used fire mana that was perfectly attuned to himself before. In a sense, using the Sacred Flames derived from Li Kenxie’s power was like suddenly switching fuel, so some hiccups were inevitable.

But I can’t use a different flame for this.

The key to the forging process was the Sacred Flames. Keeping that in mind, Se-Hoon continued adding materials to the furnace.

And after a while, he spoke up, breaking the silence that had been hanging in the workshop. “May I ask you something?”

“...What is it?”

“Do you have a name for this power of yours?”

Though Se-Hoon had figured out what kind of power Li Kenxie had, he hadn’t learned its name.

“...” At the question, Li Kenxie paused. Then he responded indifferently as he looked at the flames inside the furnace, “It’s the power of Anatta.”[1]

“Anatta... I guess that sort of suits it.”

The Sacred Flame was a transcendent flame that burned away the countless thoughts one had and... even the sense of self. In terms of liberation, it felt like a blessing, but its ultimate conclusion—death—made it a curse for others.

And it’s actually known as an incurable disease out in the world.

Recalling how the power of Anatta was publicly perceived as spontaneous combustion syndrome, Se-Hoon’s expression turned complicated. What did Li Kenxie think of his own power? And what had happened to Li Fei’s mother in the past?

They were personal questions, but they were also necessary to fully understand Li Kenxie's power.

In the end, the power of Perfect Ones reflects their synesthetic mindscapes.

The more he understood who they were, the better he could comprehend their power.

At that moment, while Se-Hoon was considering how to go about asking, Li Kenxie began speaking in a calm tone. “That child was gifted.” And with a matter-of-fact tone, he continued. “My son, aside from his looks, inherited nothing from me. But Fei... she inherited my power and could wield it naturally, even from a young age.”

Li Kenxie stared into the furnace.

“Ever since she was in her mother’s womb,” he added, his voice almost a whisper.

“...!”

Se-Hoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t turn around. He knew that if he moved or interrupted now, Li Kenxie would stop telling his story.

“Fei’s mother... Luo Mingmei was my second disciple. Though I disowned her when she fell for my son... I considered taking her back because her skills weren’t bad.”

“...”

“But when Fei was five months along in Mingmei’s womb, the Sacred Flames began emerging from her belly. It wasn’t Mingmei—it was Fei who created them.”

An unborn child wielding the Sacred Flames—though it sounded unbelievable, it wasn’t entirely impossible considering that Sacred Fire was derived from the power of Anatta. That was a power intertwined with the immutable laws of the world itself. In other words, if one could comprehend its essence, even a child could wield it.

And judging by the nature of the Sacred Flames... the younger the person, the easier it would be to wield it.

A young, unformed life—not yet burdened by ego—had unlocked her grandfather’s power through an innate gift. But that same gift had cursed her mother with the disease that the world called spontaneous combustion syndrome.

That was the hidden truth behind the Li family.

“You’ve experienced it yourself, so you should know how it goes. The Sacred Flame is not something others can extinguish. At best, it can be suppressed temporarily, but as long as it remains within you, it will inevitably ignite again.”

“...”

“I explained that to Mingmei and told her to give up on Fei. There was no guarantee that both of them would survive until birth. Even if the child were safely born, she still might burn away at any moment.”

Li Kenxie paused once again, before continuing in a detached tone briefly after.

“But that fool was hopelessly stubborn.”

Fwoosh!

The flames of the Flameheart surged, and amidst the growing shadows, Li Kenxie reminisced about the past.

“Did you forget whose disciple I am? Don’t worry about it.”

Without hesitating for even a moment, Luo Mingmei declared she would carry and protect Li Fei. And that resolve was why Li Kenxie didn’t stop her.

After all, she was the same woman who had knelt before him for six months, begging to become his disciple, and later defied him by marrying his son despite being disowned. She was someone who, once she made a decision, never backed down.

“As time passed, the intervals between the Sacred Flames outbursts grew shorter. Mingmei’s synesthetic mindscape grew increasingly unstable, unable to bear the fear that either of them could perish at any moment. Near the end, it was even impossible to tell where the fire originated—from the mother or the child.”

The Sacred Flames, born from Li Fei, spread to Luo Mingmei’s unstable synesthetic mindscape, triggering seizures that threatened to engulf them both. During that time, Li Kenxie tried everything, but nothing worked.

And eventually, the inevitable day of Li Fei’s birth arrived.

“The moment Fei was born... Mingmei began fading away.”

Perhaps it was the relief of surviving the grueling months of pregnancy, or perhaps it was her longing to embrace the liberation promised by the Sacred Flames.

No one could know what Luo Mingmei felt in her final moments, but in the end, she couldn’t resist the Sacred Flames’ release and surrendered to its enlightenment.

However, just before her sense of self completely disappeared, she had left behind a whisper with a faint, peaceful smile.

“It’s a relief...”

The medical staff believed those words expressed relief at saving her child. But Li Kenxie had never thought the same.

“If she had truly attained anatta, even such maternal love would have vanished. So what was that ‘relief’ for? It’s something I’ve been pondering ever since that day.”

Even as the wielder of the power of Anatta, Li Kenxie couldn’t fully understand what had happened. So to uncover the truth, he brought the only trace of Luo Mingmei left behind—Li Fei—to Huangshan.

“...But why did you keep this secret from your son?”

Having realized the story had reached its conclusion, Se-Hoon felt it was alright to pose a question.

“Mingmei requested it during the pregnancy. She knew my son would never allow such a dangerous situation to unfold,” Li Kenxie explained, without hesitation.

“And after the birth? Was it your decision to keep quiet?”

“Yes. If Fei grew up under my son’s mediocrity, she might have lost her talent for the power of Anatta.”

From his words, Li Kenxie seemed to have sacrificed his familial bonds for his ambitions, a truly selfish act. Yet Se-Hoon wasn’t entirely convinced.

“That’s... unexpected.”

“What is?”

“I thought you kept Li Fei away to protect your son, in case she lost control of the Sacred Flames and harmed him, too.”

“...Tsk.”

Li Kenxie clicked his tongue in irritation, yet neither affirmed nor denied the statement. However, that reaction, in itself, was telling.

So it was true...

Before the regression, Se-Hoon had befriended an adult Li Fei and had heard bits and pieces of her family’s story.

“My grandfather isn’t as cold as he seems. He just doesn’t know how to express himself properly.”

At the time, Se-Hoon had dismissed her words as a granddaughter’s attempt to defend her cantankerous grandfather. But now, seeing Li Kenxie’s response for himself, he started believing that the old man truly did care for his son.

And maybe Li Fei stayed by Li Kenxie’s side because of that incident.

Even if it wasn’t intentional, Li Fei might have felt responsible for her mother’s death. That guilt, combined with the mystery of her mother’s final words, potentially explained why she remained in Huangshan.

A silence fell as Se-Hoon connected the dots, and it was Li Kenxie who broke the silence.

“What’s your take on it?”

“...You mean her last words?”

“Yes. Why do you think she said that? Do you have any guesses?”

Se-Hoon turned his gaze to the violently blazing Flameheart before him. The emotions of those consumed by the Sacred Flames were a mystery even to him. By the time one could fully comprehend them, it would already be far too late.

That was why all he could do was make educated guesses based on what he knew about the nature of Sacred Flames and the power of Anatta.

What does the power of Anatta truly burn away?

If it really burned away everything, including one’s sense of self, Li Kenxie’s current personality wouldn’t make sense. The man Se-Hoon knew was a stubborn, narrow-minded old coot—a Perfect One completely detached from the world with his own unique personality.

And judging by how he wouldn’t reject his own power, his personality must be shaped by it.

That was something Se-Hoon had pondered deeply after waking from the dreamscape. The clue had come from Meirin’s words then.

“Why would I need to merge with such a foolish flame? I’m already perfect as I am.”

When the power of Anatta raged around her, Meirin dismissed it effortlessly. Initially, Se-Hoon thought it was because her use of Soul Honing prevented external interference. Yet the truth turned out to be even simpler.

There was no reason for her to be affected.

Meirin was already a complete being, untouched by external forces—the pinnacle of Soul Honing, and also the final form that the power of Anatta helped one aim for.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I never met her, so I can’t say what kind of person she was.”

“...”

“So, I’ll show you something instead, to help you find your answer.”

Turning around, Se-Hoon placed the final material into the Flameheart as Li Kenxie watched with a raised eyebrow in curiosity.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The Flameheart, now fully stabilized, absorbed every ounce of fire mana from the materials, creating a powerful vortex within. And although the force was already overwhelming, Se-Hoon wasn’t finished. He activated the sigil on the back of his hand, commanding the Vermillion Bird in the room below.

“Fire.”

“Okay...”

Rumble!

The workshop shook.

An immense blaze surged through pipes connected to the furnace—the flames of the Vermillion Bird that were supplied to the entirety of Babel.

Hiss-

The heat was intense. Even the magic barrier around the furnace began melting. Yet Se-Hoon didn’t even blink.

“It’s still not enough...” he mumbled.

To fully handle the final material—the Blooming Flame, the raw ingredient for the Fire Heaven Greatsword—he needed more. Resolved, Se-Hoon reached for the one more material and pulled out a dull, impurity-riddled ore, the Tainted Ore. It was his own Fatestone.

“...Wait.”

Li Kenxie’s voice halted him. It seemed the old man had realized something from his narrowed eyes.

“Don’t put that in. I’m afraid it’ll become too uncontrollable if it comes in contact with the Sacred Flames.”

The Tainted Ore, with its unknown and murky nature, would amplify the Sacred Flames’ power severalfold. It was a reasonable warning, considering the potential disaster it could cause.

“No, that’s exactly why we should be doing it.”

With those words, Se-Hoon tossed the Tainted Ore into the furnace without hesitation.

And the instant the Fatestone melted into the flames...

BOOOOM!

The workshop went up in a burst of flames.

Flames touching the realm of the mythical erupted outward.

1. A buddhist term which, fun fact, has no way to describe it. Wiki ☜