The moon hung low and pale in the night sky as Tikshn stumbled through the dense forest beyond the master's courtyard. Starved and injured, his breath ragged, every step was agony—but still, he clutched his sword tightly, unwilling to surrender to weakness. The path he had chosen was one of solitude, forged by his own will.
Behind him, unseen and silent, the master followed at a measured distance. For decades, countless disciples had begged for his teachings, but none had refused like this. The master's curiosity burned quietly. What strength did this young man possess to reject all that he could offer?
Suddenly, from the shadows, a wild beast lunged—eyes crazed, teeth bared. The animal's frenzied attack was merciless. Tikshn barely had time to raise his sword, his arms trembling from exhaustion, wounds aching, hunger gnawing at his resolve. The clash was brutal, steel against fang and fury.
Pain seared through his side as the beast's claws raked him, but Tikshn gritted his teeth, gripping his sword with trembling hands. He refused to fall—not now, not after everything.
With a fierce cry, he drove his blade deep, forcing the animal back. It snarled, then fled into the darkness, leaving Tikshn bleeding but alive.
The master watched silently from the ridge above, a flicker of respect crossing his ancient eyes. "Such resilience... Such unyielding will. To survive alone in the murim, this is the first and greatest lesson."
As dawn broke, Tikshn collapsed against a tree, sword still in hand, body battered but spirit unbroken. The master's shadow loomed nearby, following, learning, waiting to see where this path would lead