The valley below was alive with motion. The Black Crescent Sect, notorious for its wandering assassins, had been reported near nearby villages. Three of their disciples now appeared from the mist, each radiating Qi—a subtle aura of martial energy that betrayed their training.
"You must be Han Jae-min," said the tallest of the three, his voice calm but dripping with malice. "Purple hair, golden eyes. The rumors exaggerate… or maybe not. Let's find out."
Jae-min drew his dual katanas, their black blades edged with gold shimmering faintly with his own Qi. The battle began instantly.
The three moved as a coordinated unit, releasing small bursts of internal energy with each strike. Jae-min dodged, parried, and countered, his own Qi flowing through his body, enhancing speed and precision. This was Murim—not just skill, but control of internal energy. One mistake could be fatal.
The fight escalated. Blades clashed, sparks flew, and Qi flared as he unleashed his signature technique: Twin Fang.
Both swords struck in perfect sync, spinning in arcs that forced the three opponents to stagger back. One's Qi surged too early, disrupting his stance, and Jae-min pressed the advantage.
Yet, even with Twin Fang, he was not invincible. The three disciples coordinated, adapting quickly. A glancing strike cut across his arm, pain flaring sharply. This was Murim—the weak fell, the skilled survived, and the prodigies thrived.
Finally, after a grueling exchange of dual-sword techniques, Qi bursts, and tactical maneuvers, Jae-min emerged victorious—but bruised, bleeding, and aware of his limitations. The three Black Crescent disciples retreated, their respect earned but their ambition still burning.
As he looked up at the mountains stretching beyond the valley, Jae-min understood: Murim was vast. Sects wielded power, Supreme Masters lurked in shadows, hidden dragons waited for the right moment, and alliances could crumble with a single betrayal. His journey from skilled swordsman to leader of his own faction would be long, dangerous, and bloody.
But one day, he vowed, his Golden Fang Sect—with him at its head—would be a force that could stand against anyone, shaping Murim itself.