The air was different here.
Thicker. Heavier.
Qi pressed against my skin like a second gravity, seeping into my lungs, coating my tongue. Every breath tasted of steel and pine.
Before me stretched a staircase carved from mountain stone, rising higher and higher until it disappeared into clouds.
And above, faint but sharp, came the sound of training.
Blades clashing. Feet stamping. Voices shouting in rhythm.
A sect.
Murim's marrow.
✦
Arjun's ember stirred weakly in my arms, pulsing faint light. His voice trembled.
"…Ishaan… this place… dangerous…"
I smiled faintly through blood on my lips.
"Everywhere's dangerous. At least here it's honest about it."
The ember flickered, as if sighing.
The Inkblade purred, shadows curling up my wrist.
"…honest? No. This place is discipline wearing the mask of honor… but cut deep enough, and you'll find hunger like anywhere else…"
"Good," I muttered. "I'm hungry too."
✦
The first figure appeared halfway up the stairs.
A young man in gray robes, hair tied neatly, blade sheathed at his side. His steps were precise, posture rigid.
He stopped when he saw me—blood-soaked, staggering, carrying a faint ember and a shadow-wrapped blade.
His eyes widened. Then narrowed.
"Outsider."
The word wasn't a greeting.
It was a judgment.
✦
He drew his sword in one clean motion.
Steel sang against its sheath, qi shimmering faintly along the edge.
"You should not be here."
I coughed blood, grinning crookedly.
"Story of my life."
✦
He moved first.
A blur of gray and steel, qi cutting the air. His blade swept low, fast enough that even my fractured body barely twisted aside in time.
The Inkblade screamed in my grip, shadows flaring to intercept. Sparks erupted, qi clashing against ink.
The impact rattled my ribs, sent blood spraying from my mouth.
But I didn't fall.
I pushed him back, shadows lashing outward.
✦
The disciple staggered, eyes widening.
"Demonic art—"
I lunged before he could finish, blade cutting arcs of shadow. He parried once, twice, his movements precise, trained.
But Fracture Sense revealed the strain in his stance—the white cords around his footing stretched taut.
I cut them.
His balance snapped.
My blade slammed into his side, shadows devouring qi, tearing his strike apart.
He collapsed, coughing blood, his sword clattering against stone.
✦
I staggered forward, chest heaving, blood dripping into the cracks of the staircase.
The Inkblade hummed with satisfaction.
"…a child of Murim, cut down before his mountain… how many more until the peak?"
"Enough," I rasped, pressing Arjun closer.
The ember pulsed faintly, whispering, "…they'll… come in numbers…"
"I know."
I raised the blade again, shadows curling around me.
"Then let them."
✦
From above, more figures appeared.
Dozens of gray-robed disciples, blades at their sides, qi shimmering faintly in the air around them. Their eyes locked on me, widening as they saw the fallen one at my feet.
Whispers rippled among them.
"An outsider?"
"Carrying demonic arts?"
"He reached this far wounded?"
Their voices hardened.
"Kill him."
✦
The staircase shook as they descended together, blades gleaming, qi humming.
I coughed blood, grinned through split lips, and whispered:
"Finally. Some exercise."
The Inkblade screamed in delight as the disciples rushed me.
And the mountain echoed with the clash of prey that refused to die.
The disciples came like a tide.
Dozens of gray robes sweeping down the stairs, blades humming with qi, footsteps pounding stone in unison. Their voices rose in one sharp cry:
"Kill the outsider!"
Steel shimmered. Qi surged.
The mountain itself seemed to lean forward, eager to see me swallowed whole.
✦
Arjun's ember flickered faintly against my chest. His whisper trembled.
"…Ishaan… run…"
I spat blood, smiling crookedly.
"Run? From a staircase?"
The Inkblade screamed in my hand, shadows boiling outward.
"…yes… bleed them, fracture… let discipline drown in ink…"
✦
The first blade came from my right, fast and precise. I twisted, shadows intercepting, sparks hissing as qi clashed with ink.
A second blade swept low. My ribs screamed as I leapt back, blood spraying from the strain.
The third disciple lunged straight for my throat.
Fracture Sense lit the cords of fate around him—two threads taut, one trembling.
I cut the weak one.
His footing snapped.
The Inkblade tore across his chest, shadows devouring qi. He collapsed, blade clattering against stone.
✦
The others didn't falter.
They pressed harder, qi weaving together, movements sharp and rehearsed.
Each strike wasn't just a blade—it was a piece of formation.
A living script.
And I was inside it.
✦
Steel bit my arm. Blood sprayed, hot and thick.
A kick slammed into my ribs, snapping bone with a wet crack.
I stumbled, vision blurring.
The system's cold pulse burned my skull.
[ Warning: Vital stability dropping. ][ Current endurance exceeds scenario baseline. ]
Even the system sounded confused I was still standing.
✦
The Inkblade hissed, almost gleeful.
"…they write their story with blades… and you cut it apart with fractures… keep going, Ishaan… keep breaking…"
I roared through blood, swinging wide. Shadows flared, tearing across three disciples at once.
One staggered back, coughing blood.
One's blade snapped in half.
The third screamed as ink crawled up his arm, eating away at his qi.
I pressed forward, ribs grinding, every step agony.
But I pressed.
✦
The staircase became a slaughter.
Steel clashed, sparks burst, blood spattered against stone. Disciples fell one by one, their perfect formations unraveling under my cuts.
But for every one I broke, two more came.
Their numbers were endless.
Their training relentless.
And I—
I was breaking.
✦
Arjun's ember pulsed faintly, whispering, "…you can't fight them all…"
"I know," I rasped, coughing blood. "So I won't."
✦
Fracture Sense burned brighter, threads screaming across my vision.
The disciples weren't just individuals—they were tied together.
Their cords linked.
And at the center—
One thread pulsed faintly gold.
The formation's spine.
I grinned through blood, raising the Inkblade.
"Found you."
✦
I cut.
Shadows screamed. Threads snapped.
The golden cord tore.
And the entire formation collapsed.
The disciples staggered mid-strike, their rhythm breaking, their unity dissolving.
And in that moment of chaos—
I cut them down.
✦
Blood soaked the stairs, pooling in cracks, running down stone like ink spilled from the sky.
Dozens of bodies lay broken.
The mountain was silent again, save for my ragged breathing.
I stood barely upright, drenched in blood, ribs shattered, vision tunneling.
But I stood.
✦
The Inkblade pulsed violently, drunk on carnage.
"…yes… YES… more… more marrow, more scripts to break…"
I shook my head, pressing Arjun's ember close.
"No. Not more. Not yet."
The blade hissed in disappointment but quieted.
✦
Above me, the staircase still stretched higher, vanishing into clouds.
And from somewhere near the peak, a faint gong sounded.
Not alarm.
Acknowledgment.
The sect had noticed me.
And they were waiting.
✦
I coughed blood, staggered forward, and placed one foot on the next step.
"Fine," I rasped. "Let's see how high this mountain really goes."
The Inkblade purred eagerly.
Arjun's ember flickered faintly, whispering, "…don't… stop…"
I smiled faintly through blood.
"I won't."
And step by step, I climbed.