The wind howled through the mountain passes like a starving beast.
From the eastern ridge, the snow parted—not by footfall or blade, but by presence. A red-robed figure walked alone, yet every tree bent slightly away from him as if unwilling to share the path.
His name was Fang Commander Ru Lan—third commander of the Iron Fang's elite Howling Division.
He had crushed sects. Flattened villages. Dragged elders by their beards across battlefields and strangled them with their own qi. His reputation was not built on strength alone—but on his obsession with silence.
"Silence belongs to the Iron Fang," he often said. "No other path may claim it."
When the scouts returned half-dead with news of Voidstyle—his orders were instant.
"I will go myself."
🩸 Ghost Sutra Outpost – Dawn
The bodies of the assassins were gone.
Jin Mu-Won had buried them beneath the roots of an old pine, hands numb from cold and blood. The old monk didn't help, only watched.
"You honor your enemies?"
"No," Jin replied, "I honor what they could have become if they'd walked a different path."
The monk smiled faintly, but said nothing.
Then—
A wave of qi pressure hit the valley. Sudden. Violent. Commanding.
Every bird scattered. Every stone trembled.
The trees themselves leaned away from the approaching force.
The monk's eyes sharpened. "He's here."
"Who?" Jin asked, standing from the grave.
"Ru Lan. Fang Commander. Beast of the North. Slayer of Ash Monks."
Jin exhaled slowly.
Good, he thought. I need a real test.
🐺 Arrival of the Commander
Fang Commander Ru Lan stopped outside the ruined outpost. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't shout. He simply stood—and the air stopped moving.
The snow did not fall. The wind did not cry. The world paused.
Then he spoke.
"You're not a disciple of the Ghost Sutra."
Jin stepped forward. "Not anymore."
"You're not a survivor of the Silent Void Sect."
"I'm not sure yet."
Ru Lan's eyes narrowed.
"Then who taught you the First Form of Voidstyle?"
Jin raised his hand.
Open palm. Relaxed. Fingers barely curled.
"No one. I remembered it."
Ru Lan's expression changed. Not fear. Not rage.
Reverence.
Then cold fury.
"You shouldn't exist."
⚔️ Duel of Intent
Ru Lan raised one foot.
A single stomp. The courtyard cracked in half, throwing stone and snow in every direction.
He was on Jin in a breath—fist like an avalanche, elbow sharp enough to split mountains.
Jin didn't move.
He waited.
Just before the strike—
"Still Fist."
A single, perfect counterpunch met Ru Lan's wrist.
The shockwave cracked the trees. Ru Lan's eyes widened—not at the power, but at the purity.
He didn't block. He erased the motion itself…
Jin flowed into Breathless Step, slipping behind him, palm raised.
"Second Form—Weighted Silence."
He struck the air. Not Ru Lan—the space around him.
Ru Lan dropped to a knee, knees cracking as if gravity had multiplied.
"What is this technique?" he gasped.
Jin said nothing.
He moved again. A third strike forming.
But Ru Lan grinned.
"So that's how it is."
The commander's skin turned red. His muscles expanded. His breath came out like steam.
"Blood Howl—Second Stage."
His body ignited with aura. His qi screamed.
Jin's Hollow Pulse responded. But it pulsed quieter, deeper—like an ancient bell beneath an ocean.
🧘♂️ Internal Surge
[Combat Push Engaged.]
+2 Hollow Pulse Flow
Qi Pressure Adaptation Initiated.
You have stepped into the Boundary of the Second Form.
[Echo Fragment Approaching: Fragment 73 – The Day I Died Without Regret]
The clash resumed—one forging power from blood and noise, the other from stillness and memory.
And the old monk, watching from above, whispered:
"This boy… He's not just walking the Hollow Path. He's remembering how to shape it."