Location: China – The Private Training Grounds of Liu Zhigang
A warm wind stirred across the high-mountain plateau, brushing past the jagged rocks and scorched terrain of the training grounds. It was a place designed for monsters in human form — where mountains had been leveled, valleys carved, and rivers evaporated by sheer force of will. This was the personal sparring arena of China's strongest Hunter: Liu Zhigang, National Level Hunter, the blazing sun of China.
And standing across from him now was Korea's Sword Fiend — Kang Taejin.
-----
It had been one full year since Taejin's reawakening — since his body had broken, his spirit sharpened, and his soul reforged in battle.
He had since risen to S-Rank. The Hunter's Guild, with three S-Ranks among its roster now — Choi Jong-In, Cha Hae-In, and Taejin — had become an undisputed powerhouse. Globally recognized, feared, and respected.
Yet despite the accolades, Taejin had chosen China. Chosen the forge of battle. Chosen Liu Zhigang.
He'd been here three months now — fighting, losing, growing. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to become better.
In the center of the field, Taejin stood, calm, back straight, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of Enma, the demon blade forged after his reawakening. It rested in a simple sheath, unassuming yet regal, a blade known only to cut when killing intent willed it.
His eyes were closed, as always during a fight. Something he'd picked up during this year to hone one of his new abilities.
"Liu Zhigang is faster. Stronger. But he always swings wide. That's his nature — explosive, direct. If I keep the draw angle tight, I can push him… just a little further today."
Liu Zhigang Laughs Across the Field. The Chinese Hunter cracked his neck, cloak fluttering as golden light shimmered faintly around him.
"Still keeping your eyes closed, Taejin? You know, most people would call that suicide."
Taejin gave a soft smirk.
"Then call me suicidal."
"Hah! I like you, man. You're more than just a blade now. I can feel it. Let's see how much sharper you've gotten."
With a boom, Zhigang vanished — the ground exploded beneath his feet.
Taejin didn't move — not until the last second.
His fingers twitched. Enma hissed from its sheath.
A flash.
Steel sang.
Taejin redirected Zhigang's overhead strike with a single parry from the sheath itself, pivoting under the follow-up and delivering a cut so close it sliced a strand of Zhigang's long black hair.
"Damn! That draw speed again! You keep this up, I'll go bald before you ever win!"
But Taejin was already moving, feet gliding over the broken earth, blade dancing in tight arcs that left lines of red mana in their wake. Enma's aura was subtle but sinister — each slash whispered of finality.
Zhigang struck back with wide, forceful arcs that tore through the air like cannon blasts — even held back, each one could flatten a building. But Taejin slipped between them, the Minds Eye guiding him like a second soul.
For a moment, Taejin's expression shifted. He tightened his grip, and Enma hummed with dark resonance.
"—Enma Style: Triple Boundary Slash."
The first strike came — impossibly fast, a horizontal arc that circled Zhigang like a halo of death.
The second followed milliseconds later, vertical, cutting down like divine judgment.
The third — slower, heavier, a diagonal slash to trap even a breath of movement.
Zhigang's eyes gleamed.
"There it is… that demon slash."
He deflected the first and second — but the third landed, a shallow cut across his torso. His cloak fluttered apart at the seam.
"Hell of a move."
He responded with a burst of speed — and Taejin, exhausted, felt his blade knocked skyward.
BAM!
Taejin hit the ground hard, dust billowing around him.
Zhigang walked over and offered a hand, eyes glowing but expression warm.
"Still not strong enough to beat me, Sword Fiend. But damn if you're not getting close."
Taejin smirked, taking the hand.
"I'm not trying to surpass you... just trying to surpass myself."
"That's the kind of talk I like. Come on. Let's hit the hot springs. My shoulders are sore from blocking your demon blade all day."
Taejin exhaled, finally opening his eyes — a calm gray mist behind stormy lashes.
"Let's go, friend."
-----
The rising steam hissed softly around the granite edges of the hot spring, curling lazily through the air and catching the soft glow of lantern light. Taejin exhaled a long, tranquil breath, eyes still closed, his muscular frame submerged to the shoulders in the mineral-rich waters of Zhigang's private mountain retreat. The scent of sulfur and pine mingled pleasantly. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, muffled by the mist.
This moment—still, quiet, unshaken by duty or combat—was a rare luxury.
The only sound now was the gentle ripple of water as he shifted slightly to rest his head back against a smooth stone.
"This place is paradise," Taejin muttered under his breath. "Too bad I can't stay forever."
A sharp knock echoed from the wooden sliding door. Taejin didn't open his eyes.
"Enter."
A young servant in white robes stepped inside respectfully, eyes cast downward. "Forgive the intrusion, Master Taejin. There's a call for you."
Taejin's golden eyes opened slowly.
"Who is it?"
"It's Guildmaster Choi Jong-In, sir."
A brow quirked upward. Taejin stood fluidly from the water, droplets streaming down his frame. "Of course it is."
Moments later, dressed in a loose black yukata with his signature crimson and gold cord tied loosely at the waist, Taejin took the offered phone from the servant and pressed it to his ear.
"Jong-In."
"You're alive. Good. I thought you might've died soaking in those damn mountains."
Taejin laughed softly, running a towel through his damp white hair. "I'm hard to kill. You know that better than most."
"Yeah, but you've gone radio silent for a whole month. I was starting to think you'd finally lost to Zhigang and he chopped you up for hotpot."
"He tried." Taejin smirked. "Didn't succeed. Yet."
There was laughter on the other end of the line—familiar, deep, and warm. A sound that brought back memories of their earlier days, when they both climbed the ranks together before Taejin's reawakening.
"Still chasing perfection with the sword, huh?" Jong-In said. "You've changed, Taejin. I hear it in your voice."
Taejin looked out over the mountain view, the stars gleaming high above. "And you're still stuck in the Guild's paperwork and logistics. Who really changed here?"
"Touché," Jong-In chuckled. "Still, I've got something that'll pull you back in. An A-Rank gate just opened here in Seoul. Massive mana signature. Bigger than normal for its class."
"...You worried?"
Jong-In's voice lowered slightly. "Yeah. Something feels off about this one. I'd rather be paranoid than stupid."
"I assume you want me there."
"Tomorrow morning. I need every heavy hitter on deck. That includes you."
Taejin closed his eyes, nodding faintly. "I'll be there."
There was a pause. Then:
"How's Kihoon?" Taejin asked.
"Still picking fights he can't finish," Jong-In said with a small sigh. "But he's grown a lot. Took the second team under his wing while you've been gone."
"Did he stick to the training regimen I left him?"
"Religiously. Might've even taken it too seriously. Told me he was hallucinating after a week of trying to copy your water-pressure meditation routine."
Taejin chuckled. "That one's a killer. But it forges warriors."
"Well, the squad respects him. They still talk about you like you're some wandering sword demon."
"Not too far from the truth."
A silence stretched between them. It wasn't uncomfortable—just heavy with unspoken respect.
"Thanks for calling," Taejin said eventually.
"You know I'd never leave you out of something big," Jong-In replied. "Get some rest. We've got a dungeon to crack."
"See you at dawn."
The call ended. Taejin handed the phone back to the servant, then looked up at the moonlight streaking down from above.
"Back to the battlefield," he murmured. "Let's see how much stronger I've really gotten."
He turned to walk inside, crimson cords swaying against the black of his robes, a thin mist trailing after him like an omen.