The Wastrel Prince Becomes Ruthless-Chapter 1

Chapter 1
“…I will not forget what you have done for the Tang Clan. Do not resent me—no, do not resent us too deeply.”
Puk—!
It felt as though cold fire had been driven into his heart.
The sensation of the blade piercing his chest was chillingly vivid.
“Keuk, keo-heok…!”
The dagger in the hand of the man he trusted most split Yuwon’s heart in two.
After a long pursuit, he could barely stand as it was.
That dagger, buried deep in his heart, was the final nail that sealed Tang Yuwon’s death.
Rain poured through the bamboo forest as crimson blood trickled down, dyeing the raindrops red.
Yuwon was dying.
At the very moment death reached for him, time seemed to slow to an impossible crawl.
‘So this was all planned by the Clan…?’
He had thought it strange—such a simple escort mission.
But all of it had been a trap, laid for him.
And the one who had set that trap was none other than the Sichuan Tang Clan, the very clan to which he had devoted his life.
The betrayal was so deep that even pain could not reach him.
‘So you realized quickly, huh… I knew Tang Heochang hated me, but… this much?’
Though born with nothing, Yuwon had been recognized solely through his own ability.
To Tang Heochang, the wayward young heir, Yuwon had been nothing more than a thorn in his eye since childhood.
Whatever excuse Heochang had used, it seemed his long-cherished wish had finally come true.
‘You slandered me for ten years straight… Did you really hate me enough to want me dead?’
The jealousy and spite Yuwon had long ignored had grown over a decade—until it finally strangled the life from him.
‘I should’ve killed you ten years ago.’
Would things have changed if he had struck him down under the guise of a sparring accident?
It no longer mattered.
Yuwon’s vision dimmed, and his hearing faded.
Even the fierce pain that proved he still lived was now slipping away.
‘Damn it… Is this how it ends…?’
At the edge of life, Yuwon ground his teeth.
Ironically, his rage was not directed toward the Tang Clan that had stabbed him in the back, but toward himself—for living so foolishly.
‘Idiot. Pathetic fool. You clawed and scraped to live, only to die so meaninglessly?’
As a snot-nosed child, he had been abandoned early and forced to survive on the streets.
At around thirteen, Elder Tang Gye-ung found him and told him that his father had been of the Tang Clan.
From that day, Yuwon had been taken in.
Afterward, his belatedly blooming talent had drawn attention—but he became one of the Clan’s shadows, living solely for their sake.
‘I thought that was how I’d keep my life longer…’
But that had been a mistake.
It wasn’t a lifeline—it was a leash.
The more faithfully Yuwon lived as a shadow, the tighter that leash strangled him.
For a bastard son to surpass the pampered heir was only ever a matter of time before trouble followed.
In the end, the genius without backing became nothing more than a hound—taking on the dirty tasks the Tang Clan could not be seen doing.
And his reward?
Cast aside when no longer useful.
A miserable life.
‘Idiot… worthless bastard…’
Only in the face of death did he feel the crushing weight of regret.
‘I was a fool. Instead of blaming my blood, I should’ve fought—to seize even a handful more. If I had, I wouldn’t be dying like this… so pathetically.’
Would it have been different?
Now, all the dying Yuwon could do was speak in “what ifs.”
‘In my next life…!’
Already at death’s door, the dagger in his chest devoured the last remnants of his life force.
‘In my next life, I won’t live like a fool!’
As the flame of life flickered out, a new fire—the desire to live—ignited in its place.
‘I want to live. No—live again!
If such a chance were given… in my next life, I’ll die fighting, not hiding like a coward! I’ll fight like a demon walking the path of carnage!’
Even if his bones broke and his body shattered, he would rather die fighting than live as a coward.
‘No matter who stands in my way—I’ll tear them apart, rip their throats out, and take what’s theirs!’
He had lost too much blood. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
Beneath those sinking lids, Yuwon’s eyes blazed like molten lava.
At the brink of death, he yearned for life more fiercely than ever before.
To Yuwon, the moments stretched endlessly.
To the elder beside him, they passed swiftly.
Watching and waiting for Yuwon’s last breath, Elder Tang Gye-ung was shaken to his core.
‘Even as he dies, that gaze…! If he survives this somehow, the Tang Clan will be in danger.’
It was said a man’s gaze could kill—and at that moment, he believed it.
The elder, who had lived nearly a century, felt a kind of terror he had never known before—terror from another realm.
‘He’s not just a genius…! A Heaven-Slaying Star—yes, that’s what he is! Now I understand the dreadfulness of that talent!’
Though he was the cold-hearted master of the Tang Clan’s shadows, he was still human.
Striking down one of his own with his own hand had never been easy.
That was why he had always left a trace of mercy in his actions—but faced with Yuwon’s burning gaze, like the fires of hell itself, he steeled his heart.
‘I cannot let Tang Yuwon live. If I end him here, perhaps I’ll save thousands of martial artists’ lives in the future.’
Even the elder’s body trembled under Yuwon’s killing intent—a rage so vast it could consume the world.
A dying man had managed to make a master of the Sichuan Tang Clan shudder.
Such boundless terror!
At that moment, Elder Tang Gye-ung saw himself as a righteous man, uprooting the seed of a future calamity—the Heaven-Slaying Star that would one day bring disaster upon the martial world.
Whether that was true, no one could know.
But the elder believed it—his century-honed intuition told him so, powerfully.
He gripped the dagger still buried in Yuwon’s chest.
Puuuk—!
The blade sank deeper.
The crimson flower blooming on Yuwon’s chest spread its petals wider.
Between bloodied teeth, Yuwon twisted his lips into a sneer.
He tried to speak, but only the faint hiss of air from his punctured lungs escaped.
Giving up on words, he left only a silent smile.
Soon, blood welled up and spilled from his mouth.
“Kuh… keuk.”
Death fully embraced Tang Yuwon.
At age 28, the bastard son of the Sichuan Tang Clan, Tang Yuwon, died.
And only then did the silent bird cry out—a sharp, mournful trill.
---
In the blink of an eye, Yuwon’s eyes flew open.
“Huh-eok—!”
Half rising from the bed, he instinctively clutched at his chest, searching for the wound.
“Huh…? What? Wait—why…?”
The gaping hole that should have been in his left chest was gone—as if it had never been.
To survive such a wound was a miracle; for it to have healed completely was beyond comprehension.
It truly felt as if he had died and come back to life.
Panicking, Yuwon tore open the clothes he was wearing and checked his heart.
The unfamiliar clothing and frail, muscleless body didn’t even register in his mind.
“It’s… fine.”
To his astonishment, his left chest was perfectly healed—without even a scar.
He could hardly believe it.
He knew he had been impaled, and yet, not even the faintest mark remained.
Just then, a woman’s voice came from beyond the door.
“Fifth Prince Yurion, I heard an unfamiliar sound. Have you perhaps awakened?
If Your Highness does not respond, this lowly one will have no choice but to enter and confirm that Your Highness is unharmed. May I proceed?”
A voice as polite as could ever be.
‘Fifth Prince?’
The words Fifth Prince stirred something—strange and yet familiar—within Yuwon.
‘I’ve heard that before… Fifth Prince… Fifth Prince… Wait—Fifth Prince?’
Bang!
As the title echoed in his mind, a bolt of lightning struck his thoughts.
“Do not come in!”
Yuwon shouted sharply toward the entrance.
Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
‘Weird. Something’s definitely wrong.
That woman’s words—what language was that? And how did I understand it? Even the words that just came out of my mouth—what language was that!?’
Both the woman and Yuwon were speaking in a tongue he had never heard in his life—and yet he understood it perfectly, replying just as naturally.
Only then did he tear his gaze away from his chest and take in his surroundings.
An unfamiliar room.
And suddenly, an unthinkable realization crept into his mind.
Startled, Yuwon searched frantically for a mirror.
‘A mirror… Where’s the mirror?’
The moment he thought of it, the image of a mirror’s location appeared clearly in his mind.
To know where something was in a place he’d never seen before—how could that be possible?
Ignoring the confusion, Yuwon followed the instinct and stood before the mirror.
“Ah…!”
Reflected before him was a boy he had never seen.
Snow-white hair and eyebrows, as though dusted with frost.
Skin as pale as jade, untouched by sunlight.
Eyes like the winter sea—blue, lifeless, and dry.
A frail, twig-like body that looked as if life itself was clinging by a thread.
None of it was his.
It all belonged to Yurion.
“As I thought…”
But within Yurion’s body now resided the soul of Tang Yuwon—the bastard of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
No need to pinch his cheek or doubt reality.
He knew instantly—this was not a dream.
It was real.
The hound of the Sichuan Tang Clan, discarded after a lifetime of service, had taken over another man’s body.
As realization struck, fragmented memories began piecing together faster and faster.
Something within Yuwon’s hazy mind began to clear.
The unfamiliar yet familiar face reflected in the mirror—
Eyes wide in shock, Yuwon stared into those blue irises and murmured quietly:
“I am Tang Yuwon… and also Yurion Aphahiel, Fifth Prince of the Aphahiel Empire, son of Emperor Yulaios.”
The bastard son of the Tang Clan was reborn as a prince of another world.
The wastrel prince, Yurion Aphahiel, had been reborn.
The wastrel prince had become ruthless.