The gates stood taller than Blue remembered—wide enough to march an army through, yet etched now with characters that did not belong: Martial Alliance. The name Chengdu had been scrubbed from its face, replaced by unity forged through desperation.
He paused just before crossing, staring up at it.
The last time he came through these gates, he was a child, escorting So-Yeon to her first day at the martial academy.
Now he returned a man—one no one recognized.
Two warriors who had accompanied him from the village stopped at his side. One gestured to the massive gate."You'll find what you're looking for here—or you won't. But if you're searching for someone in Murim, they'll be here. Most of Murim is now in Chengdu. Few clans or noble families remain in the outskirts."
The other clapped Blue's back. "We'll take you to an inn. Pay for a few nights. It's the least we can do."
They escorted him into a modest but clean inn tucked between two merchant shops and above a noodle house. The innkeeper greeted them with a nod, accepted payment for three nights in advance, and took Blue's travel-worn pack.
At the counter, one of the warriors handed Blue a small pouch. "Spending money. Nothing fancy. Good luck, stranger. We'll be around. Maybe we'll meet again. Maybe not."
They left with no more ceremony than they arrived.
Blue followed the innkeeper up creaking stairs to a small, neat room. Wooden floors. A straw bed. A low table beside a window overlooking the bustling street. The smell of broth drifted up from the noodle shop below.
He dropped his bag beside the bed—clothes and travel food packed by the woman who had cared for him in the village—and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress.
His hands rested on his knees, steady despite the storm brewing inside.
It's gone, he thought. The world I knew... gone. Rebuilt. Rebranded.
The change wasn't just in the signage. The very identity of Chengdu—his home—had been rewritten.
He stood and approached the window, watching martial artists flow through the streets below in robes and armor. Some laughed, others argued. Many practiced techniques that no longer belonged to any particular clan or sect. His jaw tightened. "If this is all that's left," he muttered, "then where is she? Where are my siblings?"
Night fell as Blue walked the streets of the city that used to be Chengdu.The city was louder than he remembered. Bars brimming with warriors. Marketplaces illuminated by spirit lanterns. Storytellers recounting battles with flair and embellishment. He listened as he walked.
"The Tang Clan's matriarch is back in the city.""Did you hear about the tryouts?""There's a drunk bandit from the west who took out three guards in the Wastelands last month. Shows up to the same bar every Thursday, they say."
Blue followed the trail of gossip to a nearby bar. The place was packed. Low tables. Sharp eyes. Warm rice wine. He took a seat at the counter.
"Would you like some wine, young man?" the barkeep asked.
"Sure. Why not," Blue replied.
He sipped quietly, the warmth settling in his stomach. I could get used to this, he thought.
In the far corner, two old men sat at a quiet table. One wore the layered robes and distant calm of a Wudang elder—Wu Cheng. The other, in somber Tang garb, sipped his tea in near silence—Tang Yeol, elder of the Tang Clan. Their presence was barely acknowledged by the other patrons.
Then, the bandit entered. Broad-shouldered. Loud. Flanked by two brash companions. The kind of man who enjoyed the sound of his own legend. They shoved a server aside and claimed a table in the center of the room. Moments later, a chicken leg flew across the bar and smacked into Blue's chest, splashing his freshly poured wine down the front of his clothes.
The room went quiet. All eyes turned to him. The bandit sneered. "My bad, beggar. But I do think that wine made your clothes look better." His friends roared with laughter. Blue exhaled. Alone again. No one stood up for him.
He rose slowly, calmly. "You should apologize," he said, "and pay for my next round."
The bandit blinked. Then laughed—and swung.
Blue ducked, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. A spark ignited within him. Something old. Familiar.
His footwork shifted. His weight flowed like water—then struck like a viper.
His qi pulsed.
[Warning: Poison Qi detected]
His palm struck. Precise. Subtle. The bandit dropped, clutching his chest. Blue moved again. A strike to the throat. A kick to the ribs. Finished before it began. The bar went silent.
At the corner table, Tang Yeol froze mid-sip. His eyes widened. Wu Cheng leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "You saw it, right?" he asked, voice low. Tang Yeol's tone was sharper. "That qi. That form. Only our bloodline carries that poison." Wu Cheng nodded. "He's unaffiliated, by appearance. But that was no ordinary movement." Tang Yeol's grip tightened on his cup. "It should be impossible. I've never seen him at the Tang Clan. I don't know this man... so how?"
Wu Cheng's gaze stayed locked on Blue. "Then either the impossible stands before us… or a ghost has returned."
Blue turned back toward the bar to order another drink.
Wu Cheng rose. Most mistook him for a beggar. Some avoided him on purpose. He crossed the room and sat beside Blue.
"That was restraint," he said casually. Blue eyed him, said nothing, and returned to sipping his wine.
"You're not looking for a fight. Which means you're looking for something else."
Still, Blue said nothing.
Wu Cheng smiled. "If you are looking for something, the Martial Alliance is holding tryouts saturday. West gate. 10 a.m. You might find what you're looking for there—or you might not."
Blue turned slightly. "Who are you?"
"Just an old man who watches," Wu Cheng said, chuckling. He patted Blue's back and disappeared into the crowd.
Later, Blue made his way back through shadowed alleys to the inn. He climbed the stairs to his room.
Unseen, Tang Yeol crouched on a nearby rooftop. Wu Cheng stood casually near a lamppost below.
Inside, Blue sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at his hands.
Then—light.
[System Booting... Initiating CoreIdentification]
User: Tang Jiung Lineage: Tang Yoryeon, Direct Descendant
Status: Awakened (Qi Detected)
Awakening unsuccessful on Earth due to qi-dead environment.Awakening successful upon return to Murim.
Blue's breath caught.
Wait... the system? I've awakened?It wasn't that I wasn't strong enough... it's that Earth was never real enough for qi. Is That why the gate called to me?
[Poison Qi: Identified]Tang Clan Forms: Basic Sealed Arts Recognized
He clenched his fists. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with purpose.
"Grandfather Yoryeon… I remember everything you taught me. I'll use it all. I'll become strong enough to fight these monsters. I'll kill that god-awful black figure that cut my head off."
His voice hardened.
"I will drive them out of Murim. And I will find So-Yeon... and my other siblings. I promise."
Tang Yeol's breath caught. "Yoryeon." he whispered. "Your father right?" The wudang elder asked. Yeol nodded slowly. "That boy…could that be my nephew!" His voice faltered. Doubt gnawed at him-not because of what he felt, but what he saw. Jiung was dead. He had seen Jiung's head on the ground when he saved So-Yeon. But only Jiung would speak those names like that. But this one...he doesn't look like him. And yet, that poison qi...it's unmistakable.
The next morning, in a secluded courtyard near the western gate, Tang Yeol stood with arms crossed, watching Wu Cheng pour tea into sun-warmed cup.
"You've arranged for him to fight Mu Gyeol?" Yeol asked quietly.
Wu Cheng smiled, unbothered. "Third young master of the Heavenly Demon Cult. If he can't handle pressure now, he never will."
"That's not pressure," Tang Yeol muttered. "That's cruelty."
Wu Cheng sipped his tea. "He needs to be tested, not coddled. Besides—So-Yeon will be there."
Tang Yeol's voice trembled. "She'll recognize him." "No, she won't," Wu Cheng replied, face unreadable. "Not as he is now."
At that same hour, in a heavily guarded compound on the east side of the city, another meeting was taking place—one that would soon converge with the elders' plans.
A dark figure sat in silence within the Crimson Veil Corps' command hall. Hood drawn low. The red-and-black trim of the cloak the only indication of rank. The back of the commander faced the door, attention focused on a brush painting on the wall.
A rustle of cloth preceded the entrance of her aide—a young woman in field armor, breath shallow from haste.
"Commander," she bowed. "A new name has surfaced for tomorrow's tryouts."
"Another heir?" the commander asked without turning.
"No, Commander. He's unaffiliated. No clan. No sect. Appeared two nights ago at a bar. Beat a second-rate bandit so decisively the story spread by nightfall."
"And?"
"One of the Wudang elders bypassed the preliminaries on his behalf. Rumors say the elder saw the fight himself and requested he be placed among the successors and prodigies. He also requests your presence."
That earned a shift in posture. The commander straightened, arms folding beneath her cloak.
"His name?"
"No known background. He calls himself Blue."
The commander was silent for a long breath.
"Blue…" she echoed softly.
"Yes, Commander."
"I've never heard the name," she said. "Very well. I'll attend."
The aide hesitated. "Is that wise? He could be a fraud."
The commander's voice was stern and final. "If he stands among my people today, I'll see for myself whether luck favors him—or whether he is something more. Now leave me."
The day of the tryouts. The western courtyard overflowed with anticipation. Martial artists gathered under their sect banners. Hundreds of hopefuls—many already trained—waited in formation.
Thousands of ordinary warriors with dreams of fighting under a prestigious corps waited to prove themselves. Among them stood the successors and prodigies. Their robes bore the sigils of the Mount Hua Sect, the Jaegal family, and other ancient powers. "Mount Hua's heir," someone whispered. "He can make plum blossoms bloom with a single stroke." "There's the Jaegal genius. He memorized the Thousand-Point Formation when he was eleven."
Blue stood apart, dressed in the same weathered robes as before. Whispers followed him like shadows."That's the 'dark horse'?" someone scoffed. "Looks more like a stray dog." He ignored them, but his jaw clenched. Arrogant heirs. Spoiled sons. Born into power and wealth. He had nothing but grit, pain, and memory. We'll see who the stray dog is, he thought. Why am I even lumped in with them? That old man…He sighed. If this was your doing, you better be watching.
Then came the trumpets. A sharp fanfare that silenced the crowd. A low tremble followed. A small cavalry unit approached under crimson banners. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight. Soldiers sat atop majestic horses. And leading them—A figure cloaked in red and black. Hood drawn low. Commanding silence with every step toward the platform.
Blue noticed the change in the air. Fear in some eyes. Awe in others. Even hatred. One of the Crimson Veil officers stepped forward and barked:
"Attention! The Commander of the Crimson Veil Corps will now address you trash hoping to join the Martial Alliance!"
A slight nod from the cloaked figure. Then the hood fell. Long, flowing purple hair. Amethyst eyes. An aura that crushed the air from the lungs of the arrogant.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"I am So-Yeon," she said. "Commander of the Crimson Veil Corps. Matriarch of the Tang Clan."
Blue froze.
That voice—it was hers.
She's alive.
It hit him like a strike to the ribs. He staggered, barely able to stay upright. Tears stung his eyes, but he bit the inside of his cheek until blood trickled down his chin. Every part of him screamed to call her name. To run to her. To tell her the truth. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not yet.
So-Yeon stepped to the edge of the platform. Silence rippled out from her like a shockwave.
"You stand here today not to show us your strength," she said. "Strength can be taught. Power can be honed. But character... integrity... loyalty—these are earned. Or lost."
Her amethyst gaze scanned the crowd, lingering on a few of the more arrogant heirs.
"You may come from noble families. You may carry the names of great sects. None of that matters here. The monsters outside these walls don't care who your father is. And neither do I."
She paused.
"Today is about worth. And worth is not found in techniques or titles. It's found in what you choose to stand for when everything else is stripped away."
She turned from the podium.
"Fight if you must. Lose if you must. But prove that you are worth the air you breathe. Or step aside for someone who is."
No applause followed. No cheers. Only the heavy silence of realization.
Blue stood among them, her voice still echoing in his chest. She's alive, he thought again. But she's not my little sister anymore. She's something greater—and further away than ever.
Then a name was called: "First match: Mu Gyeol of the Heavenly Demon Cult... versus Blue!"
The courtyard shifted with murmurs. "That's the dark horse, right?" "Why is he facing the third young master?" "He's not even from a sect!" Blue exhaled slowly and stepped forward. Across the platform, Mu Gyeol grinned with casual arrogance. "So, you're the mystery man?" Mu sneered. "Try not to die too quickly."
Blue's eyes flicked toward the platform—toward So-Yeon, who now sat with arms folded. And then—it happened. His qi surged.
[Qi Spike Detected – Host Danger Identified]
Tang Lineage Signature Recognized: Activating Full Suppression.
[No Confirmation Required]
[This is what's best.]
Blue felt his core seize. His qi collapsed inward. Poison sealed. His weight shifted out of rhythm. His stance faltered.
What—what's happening?
Mu Gyeol moved fast. A feint. A flash of steel. Blue blocked, but too late—his arm opened with a shallow cut. He stepped back. Tried to counter—slower than usual. Another gash, this time across his cheek. The crowd leaned in. A few scoffed. Laughed.
So-Yeon's gaze narrowed.
"No internal rhythm. No structure," she muttered. "Is this the one they whispered about?" She tilted her head slightly. "Is he holding back? Or just another over hyped nobody?"
Mu Gyeol lunged. A rising slash halted just shy of Blue's throat. "Not even worth killing," he whispered. The official stepped forward. "Match concluded. Winner: Mu Gyeol!"
Blue dropped to one knee, blood trailing down his arms and face.
[Suppression Successful]Tang Identity: Protected
[You did the right thing.]
So-Yeon turned away. "Another disappointment," she said, voice cold. As she stepped from the platform, she passed by Wu Cheng. Their eyes met for an instant. She scoffed silently. This is the warrior you vouched for? But deep within, a discomfort lingered. Why did that boy look at me like that? Why did it feel like… something I lost was watching me?
Behind her, Wu Cheng stroked his beard and chuckled. "She noticed nothing," he murmured to Tang Yeol, who stood just out of sight. "But I did."
He looked again toward Blue, now standing alone and bloodied."That's not what I saw yesterday." Blue stood motionless. The sting of cuts forgotten. Only the ache in his chest remained. She didn't even look at me.
He glanced down at his trembling hands. Not from pain—but from restraint. So-Yeon had passed him without a glance. No recognition. No pause. Nothing in her amethyst eyes to suggest she knew who he was. "Another disappointment." The words clung to his ribs like venom. He clenched his fists, jaw tight, forcing back a scream.
I wanted to tell you. I wanted to run to you and say your name. But I can't. Not yet.
Laughter rose in the distance. A scoff. A snort. To them, he was no one. But he knew who he was. And one day—she would too.
Let them think I'm nothing, he thought. I'll show them all. Just not today.
He drew a slow, painful breath, then walked off the platform.
Alone. For now.