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Cheong Myeong wouldn't lie: he didn't notice it right away.
The first time he died, it was on a battlefield, it was a victory too much like defeat, it was a demon's severed head and what he thought was his last dawn.
Then he woke up in another body of some kid, and the first thing he got was a beating from some beggar that even made him pass out.
Or rather, he thought he did.
He died of internal bleeding.
Then he beat up everyone who tried to touch him in a weak desire for revenge, and found out what happened to Huashan. So he ran, creating a core too fast. Then, he thought, his eyes briefly went dark. He died from the abrupt opening of the meridian. And he ran through mountains and forests and cold nights; one day he woke up later than he should have, he tried to get up with the dawn even though he was incredibly cold. He died of the cold. He was bitten by beasts that in another life were afraid to even come near him, he died of sepsis, and his weak stomach ached more than usual at such times, he died of poisoning.
By the time he reached the walls of Huashan, he hadn't thought about anything else.
Even afterward, he couldn't relax, sizing up the brats and making plans, angry at himself for what his mistakes had cost his sect.
And hating everyone who had contributed to it.
It seems that the first time he noticed something was wrong was only when he could remember the pills in his favorite place to hide from jangmun-sahyeong. On the side of the mountain. And he, cursing himself, had climbed down those rocks, through the raging wind, nearly tearing down.
Until the rock broke beneath him.
And he didn't realize he was falling.
He cursed himself, his past self, and everyone he could remember as he flew downward for moments; he didn't think he would survive this, even if he sacrificed his core to strengthen his body; what a stupid end, — he thought.
And he died, crashing to the ground.
"А?"
Cheong Myeong opens his eyes, the sky is still blue, but the sun has moved a couple of hours; he sees birds flying by, he hears the rustling of leaves and tastes blood on his tongue; but he feels no pain.
Cheong Myeong lies for a moment longer, listening to himself and the world, waiting for anything.
Cheong Myeong jumps up, finding his body perfectly intact.
Except for his bloody clothes and a stain on the ground.
Yun Jong can say that their saje — intimidating. In every way. From his thuggish attitude to the hellish training he subjects them to.
And he knows that Cheong Myeong is strong; stronger, probably, than any living person in the world today, regardless of their age, position, or influence; if his saje lacks something, he'll just steal find it. Over the past few years, Yun Jong has come to realize and accept this very well.
Not just him, all of them, all of Huashan and everyone associated with them.
Except for one.
"I'm fine!" shouts Cheong Myeong at Tang Soso, even though he's been stabbed in the back with a sword when they weren't there to cover him (they'll blame themselves, Yun Jong knows it; he already blames himself), close to the heart, no less. "Help those who need it most!"
"Sahyeong!" yells Tang Soso back at him, furious and adamant.
"I'm fine!"
If there was anything that drove them to greater despair than... everything about Cheong Myeong, his blatantly frightening lack of self-care deserves a special place. The Divine Dragon Huashan is known not only for his strength, but also for his recklessness, which has long since crossed the line into something remotely resembling anxiety. The truth is that Cheong Myeong fought as if every fight was his last and there was no tomorrow, as if there was nothing and no one who could hurt him, as if the wounds on his body wouldn't even leave scars (that's not true, their saje have more scars than anyone), and no one's pleas, whether sincere and tearful or loud and stern, ever reached Cheong Myeong to take care of himself.
Not them, not the elders, not the allies.
Cheong Myeong goes into battle as if he doesn't know death.
And we were all wrong, — Yun Jong thinks, when, at the end of the war, the Heavenly Demon rises up and Cheong Myeong's heart is ripped out, his head flies off, his arms, his legs, come off, over and over, and... he rises up.
And fights every time after that, waving off death habitually enough that he doesn't get lost in the space of the battle.
Cheong Myeong seems to know death better than any of them.