Kang Jinhyuk crouched behind a boulder, eyes scanning the valley below. From here, he could see the Black Fang encampment in all its chaotic order: tents pitched on uneven ground, sentries pacing with blades in hand, recruits training in tight circles under the sun.
This was a world apart from the peaceful village he had once called home. Yet, here, amidst the stone and the mist, he felt the stirrings of purpose, of survival... and most importantly of a nascent family bound by blood, loyalty, and ambition.
Heo Cheol-Ung, the Black Fang's leader, stood at the center of the training grounds, his massive frame casting a long shadow. Scarred across face and arms, his eyes seemed carved from obsidian, cold but piercing. A legend among bandits, he had survived betrayals, ambushes, and countless battles an embodiment of brutality tempered by cunning.
Listen well, Cheol-Ung called, voice low, resonating like distant thunder. Strength alone will not make you survive here. Skill alone will not make you feared. Loyalty… cunning… and the willingness to do what others will not… these are what define a Black Fang.
The recruits shifted nervously. Jinhyuk's hands curled into fists at his sides. Loyalty, cunning, ruthlessness… I will master them all. I have no choice.
Over the next days, Jinhyuk met the other members of the Black Fang. Each carried their own marks of survival, their own tragedies and ambitions, and each was a living testament to the harsh law of Murim's shadows.
First was Baek Ryun, a wiry man with eyes like black ice. His fingers moved with the precision of a master thief, and his tongue was just as sharp as his knives. He laughed rarely, but when he did, it was like the crack of a whip, sudden, cutting, and unforgettable.
You're the new one, right? Baek Ryun said one morning, testing Jinhyuk with a subtle flick of his wrist that sent a dagger spinning dangerously close. Don't get cocky. Around here, a single misstep will cost more than your pride.
I don't intend to misstep, Jinhyuk replied, eyes tracking the dagger's path. I intend to survive and to thrive.
Baek Ryun raised a brow, a small smirk forming. Good answer. We'll see if it sticks when things get… uncomfortable.
Then there was Goh Hyun, a towering man with arms like iron cables. While Baek Ryun relied on speed and cunning, Goh Hyun relied on raw power, carrying twin axes that could cleave a man in two with a single strike. Yet, beneath the intimidating exterior, there was a methodical mind; every swing, every step, was deliberate, honed from years of survival in the wilds.
You're fast, Goh Hyun remarked after a sparring session. But speed alone won't keep you alive. Strength without strategy is wasted. Learn both… or die.
Jinhyuk's jaw tightened. I will learn both. And I will not die.
The training was brutal. At dawn, they scaled cliffs with only ropes and bare hands; at dusk, they practiced ambush drills in the forest, striking at shadows that might or might not be human. Hunger, exhaustion, and the constant threat of injury forged the new recruits into sharpened tools. Jinhyuk welcomed the pain; each bruise, each cut, each aching muscle was proof that he was alive, that he was becoming something more than the powerless boy who had lost Min-Seo and their child.
Pain teaches, he whispered to himself during one grueling climb, sweat streaming down his face. Loss teaches. Rage teaches. I will endure all of it… and I will rise stronger.
One night, around a fire, Cheol-Ung addressed the gathered bandits. The shadows of flickering flames danced across faces hardened by hardship, scars, and ambition.
Brotherhood is not sentimental, he said. We do not protect each other out of kindness. We protect each other because survival demands it, because loyalty is forged in blood and fire. There will be betrayals. There will be moral compromises. If you cannot endure them, you will die… alone.
Jinhyuk sat quietly, absorbing every word. Blood and fire… loyalty forged in suffering… this is what I need. This is where I belong…
He looked around at the other recruits Baek Ryun sharpening his daggers, Goh Hyun methodically inspecting his axes, others tending to wounds or quietly observing. Each carried the weight of their own losses, their own grief, yet each remained, bound by the unspoken code Cheol-Ung had described.
Then this… this is the family I will fight for, he thought, clenching his fists. And one day… we will all carve our place in the world.
Days turned into weeks. Jinhyuk proved himself not only in physical skill but in strategy. He devised small ambushes, coordinated defensive maneuvers during drills, and anticipated opponents' movements with uncanny precision. The elders noted his aptitude.
You have instincts, Cheol-Ung said one evening as they stood overlooking a simulated battlefield. But instinct alone is not enough. Instinct must be trained, sharpened, and disciplined. Otherwise… it will betray you.
I understand, Jinhyuk replied, determination burning in his eyes. Instinct and discipline, strength and strategy… I will master all.
Cheol-Ung's eyes flickered with something like approval, though his face remained unreadable. Good. Then you may survive. And survival… is everything here.
The bonds among the bandits began to take shape, forged in sweat, blood, and shared purpose. Jinhyuk found himself relying on Baek Ryun for insight, Goh Hyun for brute force, and the silent strength of others who had endured similar tragedies. He learned to trust but not blindly. Every alliance carried risk, every friendship could become a knife in the back.
Yet, for the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of belonging. A family not born of love or blood, but of necessity, strength, and shared ambition.
Loyalty… cunning… ruthlessness…, he whispered, recalling Cheol-Ung's words. This is my path. My vengeance will be forged through it… and no one will take anything from me again.
One evening, after an exhausting day of drills and strategy lessons, Jinhyuk walked to the cliff's edge overlooking the valley. The moon hung low, silver and serene, a stark contrast to the fire and chaos of the Black Fang encampment below. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of loss, grief, and unquenched fury.
Min-Seo… our child… I have not forgotten, he whispered to the night air. I will grow stronger… faster… smarter. I will command armies, topple clans, and carve vengeance into the bones of those who took everything from me. And I will survive, no matter the cost.
The wind whipped through his hair, carrying the scent of earth, stone, and the distant tang of steel. It was a promise, a covenant with himself and with the ghosts of his past. He would not falter. He would not fail.
He was no longer a helpless boy. He was Kang Jinhyuk, Black Fang recruit, warrior-in-training, and vengeance incarnate. And the path ahead—brutal, bloody, and unrelenting—was only beginning.
By the time the first mission was assigned, Jinhyuk's body and mind had been honed into instruments of precision, rage, and strategy. He understood that survival required compromise, that loyalty could be tested, and that every strike, every choice, every moment of hesitation could mean death.
The boy who had been powerless, who had lost everything, now stood ready. Stronger, sharper, and fueled by grief and fury, he was prepared to embrace the brutal brotherhood of the Black Fang—and to let it mold him into a force capable of reshaping the Murim world itself.