The training field reeked of iron and sweat. Disciples paused their sparring, blades lowering as they turned to watch the newcomer step into the ring.
Seo Jin could feel their eyes. Judging. Mocking. Waiting for his death.
The fox on his shoulder wiggled nervously. "Host, they all look like hungry wolves. Can you even fight with this body? You barely survived walking up the mountain!"
Seo Jin cracked his neck, smirking faintly. Yeah, my body's trash. But a trash body doesn't mean a trash brain.
His gamer instincts were already working—scanning opponents, judging reach, speed, weaknesses. He had done this a thousand times in competitive arenas. The only difference now was that dying meant permanent game over.
A scarred disciple—the one with the jaw scar who had spoken earlier—stepped into the ring first. His hand rested on his sword, his smirk dripping with disdain.
"This is the Lord's choice?" the man sneered. "I'll end him in three strikes."
