REAPER SCANS

Chronicles of the Reincarnated Demon God

[Translator – Nano Sashin]

[Proofreader – echo]

Chapter 1 - Yeon Woon-hwi, the Junior Heavenly Demon

A white drape of silken hair cascading to the waist. Languid, decadent eyes. A young man so beautiful that some might even mistake him for a fair maiden.

Yet none in the Tian Shan Mountains dared to voice such foolhardy thoughts.

“Great Sorcerer of the Dark Arts.”

“King of the Wandering Lost Souls.”

“The junior lord of the Divine Cult of the Heavenly Demon.”

His titles and epithets were as countless as the stars.

Yeon Woon-hwi, the Junior Heavenly Demon.

He was the young master of the Heavenly Demon Cult, the single most powerful faction in all of Jianghu. Every martial artist, regardless of affiliation, feared his very glance. The true source of their terror lay deeper, however.

“Is this the best you can offer, Martial Uncle? As your nephew, I’m highly disappointed in your display,” Woon-hwi said, exuding a venomous presence.

He had ingested enough crimson crane poison to kill an ox, yet he remained standing, Will-o'-Wisps flickering bright in his eyes. His cruel sneer chilled all who saw it.

Overturned wine cups and the bodies of a dozen elite assassins, each with a hole through their forehead, lay sprawled around him.

Even in his weakened state, Yeon Woon-hwi could only be described as ruthless and resilient.

Despite being unable to learn martial arts due to his frail constitution, he had seized control of the Cult through preternatural abilities, eventually rising to the position of Junior Lord.

The people’s assessment of him was simple:

“If he smiles, run as fast as you can. His smile is a death sentence.”

“Catch his eye, for he shall provide you with lifelong protection. That is, if you can.”

‘He’s always been like this. Though I don’t know if it’s some innate viciousness or if having a frail body twisted his personality,’ thought Cheon Hajin, the vice-cult leader and architect of the ploy. He clicked his tongue, dissatisfaction settling deep within.

Some time ago, Yeon Woon-hwi had toured the Central Plains.

News of his journey had spread somehow, and a young taoist from the Wudang Sect followed him in dogged, aggravating pursuit.

Woon-hwi’s response? He plucked every strand of hair from the taoist’s head, tossed him into the Shaolin Temple courtyard, and suggested he embrace his new bald life among the monks.

The resulting uproar from the Orthodox Faction, accusing the Cult of inciting war, had been a nightmare to quell.

And that was but one example. Woon-hwi’s path was paved with incidents and disasters.

The pattern was always the same. Woon-hwi sowed chaos, and Hajin cleaned up the aftermath.

However, Woon-hwi’s flamboyant recklessness only garnered him more support from the younger cultists.

Hajin could no longer bear to watch the Heavenly Demon Cult crumble beneath his damned martial nephew's destructive nature.

“Indeed. For the first time ever, I wanted to offer you guidance, my nephew, but it seems that proved ineffective. I apologize for my inadequacy.”

“Were my body not so heavy-footed, your skull would have a matching hole, Uncle. What a pity.”

“I, too, pity that you could not do as you wish,” came Hajin’s reply, his outward composure masking his seething rage.

He couldn’t allow this orphan to continue going unchecked.

The stage was set. Woon-hwi’s guards had long been eliminated. The elders, unwilling to serve a lord who couldn’t even master the Cult’s secret techniques, sided with Hajin.

With the go being given from “above,” only the execution remained.

Splash! Splash!

Hajin crossed the blood-soaked, corpse-littered floor.

Despite his loathing, he still felt that bond of martial family. And Yeon Woon-hwi was, after all, still the proud young master of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

And so, Hajin would grant him the courtesy of personally dealing him the final blow.

* * *

Reaper Scans

[Translator – Nano Sashin]

[Proofreader – echo]

Join our discord for updates on releases! https://dsc.gg/reapercomics

* * *

‘Master, do you see the price of the trust you preached without end?’

‘You are so naive.’

‘See? Just as I warned, the bastard betrayed us.’

Those were the words I longed to tell my master, still slumbering within the Heavenly Demon Palace.

The Divine Sword Heavenly Demon.

Had the once-mighty figure of the Jianghu not succumbed to a ki deviation rampage while researching a technique to heal his useless disciple’s dantian, he wouldn’t be standing here so proudly.

I had been born with a shattered dantian, doomed to a body forever incapable of cultivating martial arts. Even the most basic breathing techniques remained beyond my reach. Yet by a twist of fate—fortunate or unfortunate, I couldn’t say—I possessed a unique ability.

“Reaper Sight.”

I could see the dead.

More than that, actually. I could communicate with beings—what people would call spirits or monsters—that existed on the invisible plane of the world and, at times, even command them.

It was my master who had found me, the child with a bizarre gift.

"You are not strange. You are special."

I would never forget that day. The day Master extended his hand to me, a child beaten and left abandoned beneath a bridge by the other children for seeing what others could not.

"Ever since the ‘Tower’ appeared in the heavens, children like you have been born—those with exceptionally developed upper dantians or unique spiritual roots. Your gift is not a curse. It is a blessing."

Special.

Blessing.

To me, the words were magic, transforming my view of a world that I had never once welcomed inhabiting.

"And such special children always achieve special things. I believe you will too."

"R-really...?"

"Yes. Why don’t you come with me? This old man will help you become more special than anyone else in the world."

Under my master’s guidance, I learned various arts to hone my Reaper Sight.

Yin-Yang Techniques, Fortune Divination, Fangshi Techniques, secret arts of the Unorthodox Faction, astrology of the far Western Regions, Devil Arts, and even the ancient Zoroastrian rituals that sought immortality.

I trained relentlessly, ruthlessly. Harder than anyone else.

Although I couldn’t wield a sword like my master, I was willing to do whatever it took to support his reign. I endured prejudice and scorn, driven by the singular desire to become more like him.

With time, I surpassed the heirs of the “Nine Great Demon Sects” and the “Seventy-Two Evil Clans”—the various factions upholding the Heavenly Demon Cult—all to claim my seat.

But today, it seemed, my reign was meant to end.

“Before I go, Uncle, I have a question.”

The bastard strolled over with a smirk plastered across his face—the smile of a victor.

I yearned to shatter his ugly mug.

“What is it?” Hajin asked.

“Who’s pulling your strings? I know you lack the courage for such a grand scheme. Who’s the rat that set all this up for you?”

Hajin grimaced at my questions. “What are you talking about? Removing you was a joint decision between me and the elders—”

“Cut the bullshit. I know you’re not capable of this.”

“You little—!” Frustration and inferiority warred on his face.

He had always been this way. Back when Master had been in good health, Hajin could barely even meet his gaze like the imbecile he was.

“Who is it?” I demanded. “The Black Bone Ghost Master? The Thunder Blood Clan Master? The Demonic Sanctuary Master? Or... is it a third party I haven’t heard of?”

“......!”

“So it is a third party. I knew there’d be a hidden mastermind. Are they also the ones who crippled Master?”

“Silence!”

KABOOM!

Having had enough, Hajin lunged, his Black Jade Hand homing in to snap my neck.

It was confirmation. Someone had manipulated everything from the shadows, targeting both my master and me.

Their goal? To take over the Heavenly Demon Cult.

Needless to say, I had no intention of going down without a fight.

“You seem to have forgotten what kind of person I am, Uncle.”

Snap!

My neck twisted under his brutal grip. There came a sickening crunch of bone and a searing, intense pain.

But I laughed.

Hajin paled, momentarily stunned at my ability to still verbalize. Then his face turned ashen as realization dawned.

“You’re not about to—”

‘Too late, you bastard,’ I thought.

“The Demon Dragon Sword, our sacred relic, is said to be forged from the remains of the first Heavenly Demon. But did you know that it’s also a supreme magic tool?” I said while reaching for the Demon Dragon Sword at my side.

Master had insisted I keep it close, saying it could one day come in handy. It held so many memories...

I never imagined I’d destroy it with my own hands.

The moment my mystic power flowed from my upper dantian into the sword, its blade broke into pieces, along with its scabbard.

SHATTER!

Countless shards of black metal rained down, reflecting the horrified faces of Hajin, the Demonic Shadow Brigade, and the elders... And my own, grinning like a demon.

“So...” I trailed off.

The Hellfire Soul Explosion Ritual.

It was a mystic technique that burned one’s very soul to unleash the flames of hell. With the Cult’s most powerful magic tool as its fuel, its power was sure to be immense.

It should at least be enough to obliterate Sky-Shattering Peak, where the Junior Lord Hall stood.

I left with a taunt.

“Die. All of you.”

—!

And in that instant, the world went white.

* * *

My consciousness faded.

...

......

I wondered, were they all dead?

Probably.

Anyone who survived that explosion deserved recognition for their skill.

But even if they were all dead, it didn’t mean I could rest in peace.

Master remained comatose in the Heavenly Demon Palace, and the mastermind behind it all had still yet to be revealed. Their sinister claws could strike again at any moment.

So I had to figure out a way. A way to come back to life.

But with my body incinerated, I couldn’t return as “Yeon Woon-hwi.”

Only one option remained.

‘What if I returned in a different body?’

Within the great, ancient Zoroastrian techniques, there was something called the Primordial God's Fate Reversal.

It was created for old or injured Zoroastrian priests to transfer their souls into fresh bodies. However, it almost always failed, and even successful transfers usually resulted in death from incompatibility between the soul and body. Thus, it had been labeled as a forbidden technique.

But I had nothing to lose.

Sure, failure meant death. But success...

It would give me a second chance. A chance to save my master and destroy the mastermind.

Fortunately for me, the Demon Dragon Sword’s residual demonic ki lingered near the explosion.

I took it under my control and reached into the void—or so it seemed to me...

Then, a beam of light descended from the black sky, gracing my fingertips with a lifeline to grasp.

As I lost consciousness, I couldn’t help but think the light reminded me of my name.

Woon-hwi, or “cloud radiance.”

The very same name given to me by my master on the day we met. I, who previously had no name.

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