Splash! Dirty water splashed against the stone floor of the pavilion. Joon Woo wrung out his filthy rag for the hundredth time that morning. His hands, covered in old scars, trembled from the cold and exhaustion.
"You filthy trash! Are you going to clean or keep daydreaming like a little girl?"
The student's foot slammed into Joon's ribs. Crack! Pain exploded in his chest, but he didn't flinch. Fifteen years of humiliation had hardened his heart more than his body.
"Forgive me, Master Jung," he whispered, bowing deeply.
"Master?" The student burst out laughing. "You're calling me master? I'm just a third-rank disciple!"
Clack! A slap cracked across Joon's cheek.
"That's your problem, scum. You live in a dream. You think you're someone?"
Joon lowered his head, gritting his teeth. The other students chuckled around him. Their voices merged into a cruel buzz that drilled into his ears.
"Look at that face..."
"Even stray dogs have more pride..."
"My mother says he brings bad luck, that monster..."
Thud! Another blow—this time to the stomach. Joon doubled over, spitting out a thread of bloody saliva.
"Come on, get up! The pavilion won't clean itself!"
Their footsteps faded in a chorus of vulgar laughter. Joon remained alone, kneeling on the cold tiles. The silence weighed heavier than the insults. He picked up his rag again, mechanically.
Scrub... scrub... scrub…
The repetitive sound soothed him. It had been his life for the past eight years. Cleaning, cooking, carrying, serving. Being invisible. Never answering back. Never crying in front of them.
"Joon?"
That voice... gentle, worried. He looked up. Han Seok stood in the doorway, his pristine blue robe fluttering in the breeze. At nineteen, he was already respected by all the masters. Handsome, intelligent, powerful. Everything Joon would never be.
"You're bleeding again," Han Seok said as he stepped closer.
"It's nothing."
"Don't give me that crap."
Han Seok knelt beside him, pulling out a silk handkerchief. His movements were precise, delicate. Like everything he did.
"Why are you doing this?" Joon whispered. "If the others see you…"
"Screw them."
Han Seok's smile was genuine. Joon felt his throat tighten. In this shitty world, this man was his only light.
"I brought some bread," Han Seok said, slipping a small bundle into Joon's hands. "And Soo Rin made rice cakes. You know how good she is at cooking."
Joon's heart leapt. Soo Rin... That girl who laughed like a bell, who never looked at him with disgust. Who sometimes smiled at him—shyly—when no one was watching.
"She... is she doing okay?"
"Yeah. She sends you a kiss."
Liar. But Joon preferred to believe the lie. It was warmer than a cold truth.
"Han Seok..."
"What?"
"Why aren't you like the others? Really, I mean. You've got nothing to gain from me."
Han Seok stayed silent for a moment. His eyes stared at the horizon beyond the sect walls.
"You know what my father told me before he died?"
Joon shook his head.
"He said, 'True strength isn't crushing the weak. It's protecting them.'"
Thump thump. Joon's heart beat faster. Those words... they thawed something frozen inside him.
"You're not weak, Joon. You're just... different."
"I can't even cultivate. I'm trash, man."
"No." Han Seok's voice was firm. "You're my brother."
Tears welled up—hot and painful. Joon swallowed them down. Crying was even more pathetic.
Clap clap clap!
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Han Seok stood up instantly, slipping back into the mask of a model disciple.
"Master Gong," he said with a bow.
The man who appeared was tall and gaunt, with eyes like a serpent. Master Gong, an elder of the sect, known for his cruelty and ambition. His gaze landed on Joon as if he were an insect.
"What are you doing here, Han Seok?"
"I was checking if the slave was cleaning properly, Master."
"Hmm." Gong stepped forward, his boots clicking against the floor. Click click click. "You. Filth."
Joon immediately bowed low.
"I'm hungry. Go make me some pork stew. With seasonal vegetables. And make sure it's edible, or else…"
He didn't finish the sentence. His fingers cracked menacingly. Crack crack.
"Yes, Master Gong!"
Joon rushed toward the kitchens, heart pounding. Behind him, he could hear Gong scolding Han Seok. Their voices faded into the distance.
The kitchens reeked of rancid grease and spoiled spices. Joon lit the fire beneath the large cauldron. Woosh! Flames licked the blackened metal.
He chopped the meat, sliced the vegetables, seasoned everything with care. His movements were precise despite the exhaustion. He had learned to cook out of necessity—but also for survival. A failed dish meant beatings. A good one meant a few hours of peace.
Chop chop chop. The knife kept a steady rhythm on the cutting board. The aroma of the stew began to fill the room. Joon tasted it. Not bad. Gong wouldn't have any reason to complain.
He turned his back for a moment to fetch the bowls. Behind him, a shadow moved. Soft footsteps. The faint rustle of cloth. Then, nothing.
When Joon returned to the cauldron, it was still quietly steaming. He served the stew in a fine porcelain bowl—the kind reserved for the sect's elders—and carried it toward the dining hall.
Master Gong was sitting alone at the table, flipping through a martial arts manuscript.
"Finally," he grunted without looking up.
Joon placed the bowl in front of him and stepped back respectfully. Gong took his spoon, blew on the steaming broth, and brought the first bite to his lips.
Slurp.
He chewed slowly, thoughtful.
"Not disgusting for once," he admitted.
Joon barely dared to breathe. Gong continued eating, absorbed in his reading. Everything seemed normal.
Then...
"Argh!"
Crash! The bowl shattered against the wall. Gong clutched his throat, eyes bulging. His skin was turning purple.
"What the… POISON!"
He staggered, knocking over his chair. Bang! His breath rasped like a broken bellows.
"Master Gong!" Joon rushed toward him, panicked.
"STAY BACK!" Gong spat between fits of bloody coughing.
His body convulsed. Black veins appeared beneath his skin, snaking toward his heart. And suddenly—
ROAAAAR!
A bestial roar tore from Gong's throat. His eyes rolled back, turning white. A violet aura burst from his body, making the air vibrate.
"No… not now…" he groaned in a distorted voice.
The aura thickened, taking shape. Joon could see outlines—claws, fangs. A spirit beast. Ancient. Corrupted. Gong had once absorbed it to gain power, but it had never fully merged—and now it was devouring him from within.
The poison had shattered the fragile balance.
CRACK! Gong's body broke from the inside. The violet essence spewed from his mouth like a putrid geyser.
"AN HOST..." hissed an inhuman voice. "I NEED... A HOST…"
The thing turned toward Joon. Eyes like burning coals locked onto him.
"YOU..."
"No!"
Joon ran toward the door, but the essence was faster. It surged into his open mouth, sliding down his throat like molten lava.
AAAAARGH!
Agony exploded in every cell of his body. He rose from the ground, lifted by an invisible force. His eyes, ears, and mouth spewed violet light. The beast's essence was merging with his own, trying to take control.
But something resisted. Deep within Joon, an invisible barrier pushed back against the intrusion. The scars on his body lit up briefly, revealing intricate patterns etched into his flesh since childhood.
IMPOSSIBLE! the beast howled. WHAT ARE YOU?!
THUD! Joon crashed to the ground, coughing up black blood. The essence, unable to fully possess him, dispersed into the air. But part of it remained—mixed with his blood, forever changing his nature.
He opened his eyes. Gong's corpse stared back at him, mouth agape, eyes glassy.
"Shit... shit, shit, SHIT!"
He staggered to his feet, his head spinning. What had just happened? Why was Gong dead? And that thing inside him... he could feel it, lurking, waiting.
BANG!
The door slammed behind him. He ran through the halls, breath ragged, heart pounding in his chest. He had to find Han Seok. He had to explain. He had to—
"Joon!"
Soo Rin appeared around the corner, her pale yellow robe floating around her like petals. She was smiling, but her expression changed when she saw Joon's state.
"Oh my god, what happened to you? You look so pale!"
"Soo Rin... where's Han Seok?"
"He's coming. But answer me! You look terrified!"
"I..."
Tap tap tap. Footsteps on the stairs. Han Seok appeared, as elegant as ever. But when he saw Joon, his mask of serenity cracked.
"What happened?"
Joon looked around. They were alone in this part of the pavilion. He took a deep breath.
"Gong is dead."
Silence fell like a stone.
"What?" Soo Rin whispered.
"He ate the stew I made and... he died."
"What do you mean dead?" Han Seok's voice was dangerously calm.
"Poisoned. Well, no… not exactly. There was a spirit beast inside him. It woke up and…"
"Damn it, Joon!" Han Seok ran his hands through his hair. "Do you realize what you're saying?"
"I know it sounds insane, but…"
"No!" Soo Rin stepped back, eyes wide. "You didn't actually kill him, did you?"
"I didn't do anything! Someone must have poisoned the stew while my back was turned!"
Han Seok and Soo Rin exchanged a glance. Joon saw fear in their eyes, doubt. But also... something else. Determination.
"We'll help you," Han Seok said finally. "We need to clean this up before—"
DING DONG DING DONG!
The sect's alarm bell rang out, shrill and piercing. Then the amplified voice of an elder echoed through every pavilion:
"GENERAL ASSEMBLY! ALL SECT MEMBERS TO THE MAIN COURTYARD! IMMEDIATELY!"
The three friends looked at one another, pale as death.
"Too late," Han Seok murmured.
The main courtyard was swarming with people. Disciples, elders, officials—even servants were present. Joon stood at the very back, crushed beneath the weight of suspicious stares. Soo Rin and Han Seok had blended into their respective groups to avoid drawing attention.
At the center, on a marble platform, the five elders of the sect sat like judges. Their combined auras pressed down on the crowd like a suffocating shroud.
The Supreme Elder rose. Eighty years old, his piercing eyes seemed to peer into the depths of one's soul.
"My children," he said, his voice effortlessly carrying over the crowd. "A tragedy has struck our sect. Master Gong has been murdered."
Shocked murmurs rippled through the gathering.
"SILENCE!"
BOOM! The elder's aura exploded outward, shaking the ground. Instantly, everyone fell silent.
"The culprit is among us." His gaze swept over the crowd. "If this person does not step forward within the next ten minutes, EVERYONE will suffer the Punishment of the Gods."
A cold shiver ran through the crowd. The Punishment of the Gods... Joon had heard of it. Steel chains soaked in cursed Qi, piercing flesh and bone, slowly draining one's life force until madness or death.
"However," the Elder continued, "whoever reveals the culprit will receive an exceptional reward."
He gestured. Another elder stepped forward, holding a jade box. Inside, a stone shimmered with a golden light.
"The Divine Dragon Spirit Stone. It can amplify one's cultivation and grant access to the rank of Spirit Master."
Greed instantly twisted every face. In this cruel world, it was the promise of absolute power. The murmurs returned—louder, more vicious.
"It's probably one of the servants!"
"Yes! They have access to the kitchens!"
"We should torture them all!"
Joon felt the stares turning toward him. His heart pounded so loudly, he was sure everyone could hear it.
"SILENCE!" the Elder roared. "We will proceed in an orderly fashion. Those with accusations, step forward!"
Several disciples stepped out of line, pointing fingers at different servants. Hysteria rose. Joon shrank back, trying to disappear.
And then—
"I have something to say!"
That voice… No. No, no, no.
Han Seok was stepping toward the platform, his face calm and composed. Joon felt his world collapse.
"Speak, child," said the Supreme Elder.
"Venerable Elder, I witnessed something today." His voice carried perfectly—clear and firm. "I saw the slave Joon Woo pouring a suspicious powder into the stew meant for Master Gong."
No...
"When I confronted him, he admitted he wanted revenge for the humiliations he had suffered."
NO!
"And there is something else, Honored Elder." Han Seok lowered his head, feigning shame. "Master Gong... had improper intentions toward disciple Soo Rin. He threatened her. Joon Woo, who harbored feelings for her, acted out of vengeance."
The crowd erupted in shocked outcries.
Joon couldn't move. Paralyzed by betrayal.
He scanned the crowd, searching for Soo Rin.
She was pale, eyes brimming with tears.
"Was the girl complicit in this?" the Elder asked.
"I'm afraid so, Honored Elder. She provided him with information about Master Gong's habits."
SLAP!
Soo Rin stepped forward and slapped Han Seok with all her strength. A red mark bloomed on the traitor's cheek.
"LIAR!" she screamed through her tears. "YOU LYING BASTARD!"
But Han Seok didn't flinch. He simply looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
"Seize them!" the Supreme Elder commanded.
Guards rushed toward Joon.
He didn't resist.
What for? His world had already collapsed.
The one he'd called brother had stabbed him in the back—for a damned stone.
"Why?" he whispered as Han Seok passed by him.
But the other said nothing.
His head was bowed, avoiding Joon's eyes.
The cell stank of piss and death.
Joon was chained to the wall, body broken from torture.
His right eye was a bloody socket.
His left arm hung limp and useless.
Drip… drip… drip…
His blood splattered on the cold stone floor.
Each breath was agony, but he clung to life.
For her.
For Soo Rin.
Clang!
The door creaked open.
A guard entered, followed by two executioners.
"Time's up, scum."
They unchained him and dragged him through the corridors.
His bare feet scraped against the stones.
Scrape… scrape… scrape…
Daylight blinded him.
The main courtyard was packed with people.
All had come to watch the execution.
Their faces were twisted with sadistic glee, bloodlust barely contained.
At the center stood two wooden crosses.
On one of them—
"SOO RIN!"
She was there, tied up, her clothes torn.
Her angelic face was bruised and swollen from the beatings.
But she was still alive.
"No!"
Joon thrashed like a madman.
"Let her go! I'm the one to blame! ME ALONE!"
The executioners lifted him onto the second cross.
The ropes bit deep into his raw flesh.
"LISTEN TO ME!" he screamed at the crowd.
"GONG DIED BECAUSE OF A SPIRIT BEAST! A CORRUPTED ESSENCE HE FAILED TO ABSORB! I..."
But the crowd booed, howled, hungered for blood.
No one listened.
The Supreme Elder raised his hand.
A magic circle lit up beneath Joon—black as ink.
Black flames erupted, licking at his feet.
The pain exploded.
Worse than anything he had ever known.
The fire crawled up his legs, devouring his flesh.
"AAAAARGH! SOO RIN!"
On the other cross, she burned too.
Her screams merged with his in a symphony of agony.
"YOU'RE ALL FILTH!" Joon roared between spasms.
"EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
The flames reached his chest.
His vision blurred.
In the crowd, he saw Han Seok…
Holding the Dragon Stone.
His former friend refused to look at him.
A coward to the end.
"HAN SEOK, YOU LYING TRAITOR! YOU BASTARD! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO SOO—"
"Soo... Rin..." he whispered.
She no longer answered.
Her charred body hung limp and lifeless.
A cold rage filled Joon's heart.
Stronger than pain.
Darker than the flames.
His screams tore through the silence like invisible blades.
He screamed again—like his very soul was being consumed.
"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!!"
"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!!!"
And then…
BOOOOM!
A burst of black light tore through the air. Joon's body vanished in a whirlwind of pure energy. The crowd recoiled in terror.
When the light faded, nothing remained. Not even ashes.
Never in the entire history of the sect's executions had such a thing occurred.
The disciples turned pale. Some instinctively stepped back, mouths agape.
Even the executioners froze, the chains still burning in their hands.
The elders rose to their feet in shock, pupils constricted, hearts pounding.
"Was that... suicide?" one of them murmured, still stunned.
"No... that wasn't a normal death."
Click clack... click clack...
Thousands of kilometers away, wagon wheels creaked along a bumpy road. The merchant, a weathered man in his fifties, whistled a cheerful tune. He had just returned from a northern village where he'd sold his goods.
Then he saw the body.
"Holy shit..."
He pulled on the reins. His mule stopped with a nervous whinny.
Lying by the side of the road was a young man, his skin charred and blistered from first-degree burns. Miraculously, he was still breathing.
"Hey, kid! Can you hear me?"
No answer. Just a weak, ragged breath.
The merchant hesitated. This boy could be a criminal. A fugitive. But...
"Damn it!"
He climbed down from his cart and loaded the limp body onto the back. His wife would scold him again for being too soft-hearted. But whatever.
He didn't know that by saving this boy, he had unleashed a storm that would one day sweep through the entire martial world.
Inside Joon Woo's unconscious mind, a pure hatred was crystallizing. No more fear. No more love. No more hope.
Only an all-consuming thirst for vengeance.
The waste had died.
Something else had been born.
Something terrible.