"The strong survive. The weak perish. This is nature's law. This is the universe's law. And this... is Iron Shirt's law." — Han Lix, Leader of the Iron Shirt Sect
Night had fallen over the canyon.
The moon was half full. Silver light struck the canyon walls. Shadows stretched long and sharp. Cold hung in the air. The kind of cold that descended from the mountains. The kind that seeped into your bones.
Alperen sat on a rocky outcrop at the highest point of the base, gazing at the lights below. Torches. Dozens of torches. Illuminating every corner of the canyon base.
138 soldiers. 3 mammoths. Snipers, infantry, cavalry, martial artists. All under his command. All created by his system. All loyal to the end.
But it wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
Alperen picked up a stone. Threw it into the abyss. The stone fell into darkness. Silently. Even when it hit bottom, no sound came. That's how deep it was.
Just like this world, he thought. Dark. Deep. And merciless.
Footsteps came from behind. Light, calculated steps. Not the steps of a warrior. The steps of a shadow. He knew this sound.
"Master."
Shadow.
Alperen didn't turn. "Sit."
The spy crouched beside his master. His black cloak fluttered slightly in the wind. His face was lost beneath the shadows, but his eyes... his eyes were weary. Not the weariness of eleven days wandering through Iron Bridge. Something else. Something deeper. The weariness of what he had seen.
"Continue your report," said Alperen. "You mentioned four great powers. But you only gave me names. I want... their stories."
Shadow paused for a moment. The wind tousled his hair. "Their stories, Master?"
"How did they rise? How did they become so powerful? What did they do?" Alperen finally turned, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. Moonlight illuminated half his face, the other half remained in shadow. "To defeat an enemy, you must know them. Not just their strength... but their soul."
Shadow bowed his head. "I understand, Master. Where would you like me to begin?"
"The strongest."
"Then..." Shadow took a deep breath. Drew the cold night air into his lungs. "Let us begin with the Iron Shirt Sect."
Alperen waited in silence. Ready to listen.
And Shadow... began to tell.
The Birth of Iron
"The Iron Shirt Sect was founded 200 years ago," Shadow began. His voice was low, measured. "Its founder was a man named Steel Fist Wei Zhang. He was a peasant. From a poor family. His father was a blacksmith, his mother a laborer in the fields."
Alperen listened. Silently.
"Wei Zhang was sold to a martial arts school by his family at age 7. In those days... this was common. Families would give their children to schools in exchange for feeding money. Most children died during training. Wei Zhang did not."
"Why?"
"Because..." Shadow paused. "According to legend, he didn't feel pain. While other children screamed from beatings, hunger, exhaustion... he remained silent. His teachers thought him 'lifeless.' But he was simply... waiting."
Alperen's eyes narrowed. "What was he waiting for?"
"To grow stronger."
Blood and Iron
As Shadow's narrative continued, images formed in Alperen's mind.
200 years ago. The northern borders of the Openag Kingdom.
By age 25, Wei Zhang had reached the 2nd Level Silver Bone stage. An extraordinary achievement. Most people remained at the 1st Level their entire lives. But Wei Zhang was different.
That year, a great famine struck the kingdom. The northern regions were hit hardest. Villages were dying of starvation. And Wei Zhang's birth village... was one of them.
When Wei Zhang returned to his village, he couldn't find his family.
His father had died of hunger. His mother... his mother had hanged herself.
That night, Wei Zhang stood in the center of his village, looking at the ruined homes. And he made a decision.
Never again will I be weak. And no one... no one will stop me.
Within two years, Wei Zhang gathered a group of 30 people. All like him. Men from poor families, who knew pain, who knew rage. He taught them one thing:
Be like iron. Break or be broken. There is no middle ground.
This was the beginning of the Iron Shirt Sect.
The Death of 1,000 Villagers
"50 years ago," said Shadow, his voice trembling slightly, "the bloodiest event in the sect's history occurred."
Alperen's eyebrows rose. "Tell me."
Shadow swallowed. "In the north, there's a region called Copper Valley. Fertile lands. 12 villages. Approximately 15,000 people."
"Was there?"
"Now... 3 villages remain. 4,000 people."
Alperen waited in silence.
"The incident began like this," Shadow continued. "The sect wanted the lands of Copper Valley. They wanted to build a training camp there. The villagers... refused."
"Refused?"
"Yes. Those lands had been passed down from their ancestors. They had lived there for generations. They had nowhere else to go."
Alperen nodded. He understood. But understanding didn't mean sympathy.
"The sect petitioned the king. The king at that time was Arthur III. The current king's father. The king granted permission. 'Pay the villagers compensation, let them relocate,' he said."
"But?"
"But the sect... didn't pay compensation. Instead, they imposed taxes. Heavy taxes. 70% of the harvest. Half the livestock. Even... some of the children."
Alperen's eyes narrowed. "Children?"
"As students for the sect. Families were forced to give up their children. Those who refused... were punished."
"How?"
Shadow took a deep breath. "In the first year, 200 people were killed. Those who couldn't pay taxes. Those who wouldn't give up their children. Those who resisted. All of them... were publicly executed."
The Beginning of Rebellion
50 years ago. Copper Valley. Winter.
Snow covered everything. In the villages, people were dying of hunger. Sect soldiers came every week to take what little food remained. Under the name of "taxes."
One night, a meeting was held in the village of Iron Bridge.
Representatives from all 12 villages attended. Elders, youth, women, men. Everyone was asking the same question:
What do we do?
The answer came from a young farmer. His name was Kang Hu. 28 years old, strong build, eyes burning with rage.
"We fight," said Kang Hu. "Rather than die, let us die fighting."
One of the elders objected. "They're 2nd Level warriors! We're just peasants!"
"We have numbers," said Kang Hu. "We can gather 1,000 people. Perhaps more. And they... are only 50."
"50 people but all above 1st Level!"
"Ants are weak alone too. But an army of ants... can kill even a lion."
That night, the decision was made.
The rebellion would begin.
The Night of Massacre
The rebellion began in the middle of winter.
More than 1,000 villagers marched on the sect's garrison in Copper Valley, armed with pitchforks, axes, sickles, and torches. It was midnight. Snow was falling. The cold seeped into bones but rage burned hotter.
Kang Hu walked at the front of the crowd. His wife was beside him. Seven months pregnant. Kang Hu had told her "Stay home." His wife had refused. "I want to die by your side," she had said.
That night, both of them would die.
When the villagers reached the garrison, they encountered something unexpected.
The gates were open.
No one was inside.
Kang Hu hesitated. His heart raced. Something was wrong. He had been farming for years. He had learned to listen to nature's voice. And now... nature was silent. No birds. No insects. Even the wind had stopped.
The silence of death.
But the crowd behind him pushed forward. "Inside! Go inside! Don't stand there like cowards!"
An old man shouted: "They've fled! They're afraid of us!"
Laughter rose. Courage. False courage.
The villagers flooded into the garrison. Empty rooms, empty corridors, empty courtyard. Torches burned everywhere but there wasn't a single person.
Kang Hu's wife gripped his arm. "Kang... something's wrong."
"I know."
"Let's go back."
It was too late.
The gates closed.
From outside.
The massive iron gates slammed shut with a terrible sound. Bolts slid. Chains pulled taut.
And then... the torches went out.
All of them. At once. As if an invisible hand had blown them out.
The torches went out.
Darkness.
Absolute darkness.
The villagers began screaming in panic. "What's happening? The gates! Open the gates!"
A child started crying. His mother tried to quiet him. "Shhh, shhh, calm down."
An old man began praying. "Gods protect us, gods protect us..."
Kang Hu held his wife tight. "Stay close to me. No matter what."
"I won't leave."
And then... the sound came.
From the roof.
From the walls.
From everywhere.
"So ants can kill a lion."
The voice was cold. Emotionless. But somehow familiar. Like a snake's hiss. Like a whisper from a grave.
"Who's there?" shouted Kang Hu. His voice trembled but he tried not to show it.
Silence.
Long, suffocating silence.
And then a laugh. Short, clipped, merciless. It didn't sound human. As if an animal was laughing. As if death itself was amused.
"I am Han Lix. The new leader of the Iron Shirt Sect."
A murmur spread through the crowd. "Han Lix..." "The Butcher Han..." "Gods protect us..."
"And tonight..." the tone of the voice changed. Grew even colder. "Tonight I will teach you a lesson. A lesson you will never forget."
"Do you know what the price of rebellion is?"
No one answered.
"ANSWER ME!"
The voice was so powerful the walls trembled. Several villagers fell to the ground.
"The price of rebellion is..."
A torch lit. Just one. In Han Lix's hand. He stood on the roof of the main building. Looking down.
He was young. Perhaps 25 years old. Handsome face, sharp eyes. But those eyes... were empty. No warmth. No mercy. Not even cruelty. Just... nothing.
"...death. But not ordinary death. Slow death. Painful death. Death that will be remembered for centuries."
Han Lix descended from the roof. Slowly. Step by step. As if strolling.
When he reached the ground, he walked among the villagers. They recoiled. They trembled. But they couldn't run. The gates were closed.
Han Lix stopped before Kang Hu.
"You," he said. "You're the leader."
Kang Hu stood straight. Tried to conceal his fear. "Yes."
"Brave." Han Lix smiled. Thin, cold lips. "Foolish, but brave."
He looked at the crowd. Then back at Kang Hu.
"I'll give you a choice. You alone will die. Slowly. Painfully. For 3 days. And the others will be released."
Kang Hu's wife gripped his arm. "No!"
"Or..." Han Lix continued. "Everyone will die. But quickly. Tonight."
Silence.
Kang Hu looked at his wife. At her pregnant belly. At her fearful eyes.
Then at the crowd. At the children. At the elders. At the farmers who had followed him.
I brought them here. This is my responsibility.
"I accept," he said. "I die. They live."
Han Lix smiled.
"Wrong answer."
And suddenly... chaos erupted.
The nightmare began.
From every direction, Iron Shirt warriors emerged. 50 of them. All 2nd Level. They had been hiding in the shadows, in the buildings, on the roofs. Waiting.
They attacked.
A warrior grabbed Kang Hu. Slammed him to the ground. Another grabbed his wife. She screamed. Kang Hu tried to reach her but couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"WATCH," whispered Han Lix in Kang Hu's ear. "Watch what rebellion costs."
And Kang Hu... watched.
He watched his wife being dragged forward.
He watched the warriors preparing wooden stakes. Thick, pointed stakes.
He watched...
No. Some things shouldn't be described.
Some tortures shouldn't be put into words.
But Kang Hu's wife... died screaming. She and her unborn child. On a stake.
And Kang Hu... couldn't close his eyes. The warriors held his eyelids open. Forced him to watch every second.
The massacre continued.
Men were beheaded. One by one. 100 heads rolled across the floor.
Women were... treated worse. Then killed.
Children... even children weren't spared. The youngest was 5 years old. Died crying for his mother.
Han Lix watched it all. Silent. Expressionless. Like watching a play. Entertainment.
When everything was over, only Kang Hu remained alive.
Barely.
His body was broken. His bones were crushed. But he was breathing. He was still breathing.
Han Lix crouched beside him.
"Why?" whispered Kang Hu. Blood bubbled from his lips. "Why... this much?"
"Because," said Han Lix. "Rebellion must be punished. Severely. So no one else tries."
"You... monster..."
"Monster?" Han Lix tilted his head. "No. I'm practical. These people would have died anyway. From famine. From cold. From disease. I just... accelerated the process."
"You'll... pay..."
"No. I won't." Han Lix stood. "Because no one will avenge them. No one will remember them. In 50 years, even their names will be forgotten."
He turned. Walked away.
"Stake him too," he said over his shoulder. "Let him watch his wife while he dies."
And Kang Hu... did.
He died on a stake, beside his wife, 3 days later.
Still watching her.
Aftermath
Shadow fell silent.
Alperen remained silent too.
The wind blew. Cold, sharp. Echoing off the canyon walls.
A minute passed. Two minutes.
"How many died that night?" Alperen finally asked.
"1,083 people. Including 127 children."
"And Han Lix?"
"Became a hero. 'The man who crushed the rebellion.' 'The savior of Copper Valley.' The king personally commended him."
Alperen nodded slowly. "And the remaining 3 villages?"
"They submitted. Completely. Gave 70% of their harvest. Gave their children. Gave everything. Without a word of complaint."
"Fear."
"Yes, Master. Pure fear. Even 50 years later... no one in Copper Valley speaks of rebellion. The word itself is forbidden."
Alperen looked at the darkness. At the stars. At the distant horizon.
"Han Lix understood something," he said slowly. "Something most people don't understand."
"What's that, Master?"
"That fear... is the most efficient tool of control. Love requires time. Respect requires achievement. But fear... fear can be created in a single night."
The Current Iron Shirt Sect
Shadow continued:
"Today, the Iron Shirt Sect is the strongest force in the Openag Kingdom. 1,300 warriors. 200 of them are 2nd Level or above. Their leader, Han Lix, is 3rd Level Silver Blood stage."
Alperen listened.
"They control 7 cities. 3 million people. Annual tax revenue of 500,000 gold. They have training camps, weapon forges, spy networks. A complete organization."
"Structure?"
"At the top is Han Lix. Below him are 4 Elders. Each Elder commands a region. Below them are Masters. Below them are Disciples."
"Recruitment?"
"Mostly orphans. Children from poor families. Each year they take 500 children. Those who survive training become members. Survival rate is... 23%."
Alperen did the calculation. "77% die during training?"
"Yes. The Iron Shirt training is brutal. Breaking bones, bathing in boiling water, eating poison... for years."
"Purpose?"
"To eliminate weakness. Only the strongest survive. Only the strongest are worthy."
The Initiation Ritual
"There's something else," said Shadow. "A secret. I heard it from a drunk disciple."
"Tell me."
"Once a year, there's a special ritual. It's called the 'Iron Trial.' New disciples who've completed 3 years of training participate. 100 children. They go into a room. And..."
Shadow paused. Swallowed.
"Go on."
"They're given weapons. And told to kill each other. Until only 10 remain."
Alperen showed no reaction. "And then?"
"The surviving 10 are taken to the main hall. There, the Iron Master waits. A 3rd Level Elder. He asks them a question: 'Are you iron?'"
"If they answer yes?"
"They must prove it. They're given a piece of red-hot iron. They must hold it in their hand for 10 seconds. If they scream, they're beheaded. If they don't... they become full members."
Alperen nodded. "Pain tolerance. Mental fortitude. And... ruthlessness. They're training perfect soldiers."
"Yes, Master. But there's a cost."
"What cost?"
"The Iron Shirt members... aren't fully human. They don't feel pain. But they also don't feel joy. Love. Compassion. Nothing. They're... empty shells."
"Effective."
Shadow looked at his master with surprise. "Master?"
"I said effective. If you want an army that won't hesitate, won't disobey, won't betray... you remove their humanity. Han Lix understood this 200 years ago."
A Scene from the Past
10 years ago. Iron Shirt Sect Main Hall. Iron Trial Day.
The hall was vast. Stone walls. No windows. Only torches.
100 children stood in the center. Ages 10 to 15. All had survived 3 years of training. All bore scars. All had empty eyes.
The Iron Master sat on a throne. An old man. White beard, sharp eyes. 3rd Level Iron Body. Even sitting, his presence was suffocating.
"Today," he said. "You will become iron. Or you will die."
He raised his hand.
"Begin."
And the children attacked each other.
No hesitation. No screaming. No mercy.
A 12-year-old boy stabbed his roommate. Someone he'd slept beside for 3 years. The blade went through the heart. Clean. Quick.
A 14-year-old girl strangled a younger boy. Hands around his throat. Squeezed until the life left his eyes. Then moved to the next target.
Blood splattered. Bodies fell. Screams echoed.
No, there were no screams. These children had forgotten how to scream.
Only the sounds of battle remained. Metal meeting flesh. Bones breaking. Final breaths.
10 minutes passed.
20 minutes.
30 minutes.
When it ended, only 10 children stood.
90 corpses littered the floor. Some were friends. Some were rivals. All were dead.
The Iron Master descended from his throne. Walked among the corpses. Examined the 10 survivors.
"Good," he said. "Now... the final test."
A disciple brought forward a brazier. Inside, iron pieces glowed red-hot.
"Pick one. Hold it for 10 seconds. If you make a sound... you die."
The first child stepped forward. A 15-year-old boy named Zhao. Face expressionless. Eyes empty.
He extended his hand.
Touched the red-hot iron.
10 seconds passed.
No sound escaped him.
Zhao's face didn't change. His eyes remained fixed. His lips stayed closed.
But... he was sweating. Drops fell from his forehead. His jaw was clenched. The veins in his neck bulged.
He felt pain. Unbearable pain. But he didn't show it.
The Iron Master smiled. For the first time that day.
"You pass."
Zhao withdrew his hand. His palm was burned. But he didn't even look at it. He turned. Walked to his place.
Behind him, the smell of blood and ash lingered.
The ritual lasted 3 hours.
Only 23 of 100 passed.
77 corpses were piled at the edge of the courtyard. Heads in one place. Bodies in another. Blood had spread everywhere.
The survivors formed a line. All holding their burned hands. All in agony. But none made a sound.
They were now Iron Shirt members.
Screaming was now forbidden.
The Iron Master walked before them. Looked at each one. Assessed them.
"Congratulations," he said. "You are now members of the Iron Shirt Sect."
He paused.
"But this is only the beginning. Today you only endured pain. Starting tomorrow... you will learn to love it."
The 23 youths listened in silence.
Behind them, their dead companions' bodies were piled.
And they... didn't shed a single tear.
They never would.
Not ever.
Silence
Shadow fell quiet.
Alperen was quiet too.
The wind blew. Cold, sharp. Echoing off the canyon walls.
A minute passed. Two minutes.
Below, 138 soldiers were performing their duties. Training. Patrol. Watch. None of them looked up here. None of them wondered what their master was thinking.
Because wondering wasn't their job.
Obedience was.
Finally, Alperen spoke.
"How old is Han Lix now?"
"65, Master. But at 3rd Level, lifespan is around 300 years. He's still in his prime."
"Weaknesses?"
Shadow thought. Chose his words carefully. "According to rumors... there's a side effect of the blood ritual. Han Lix's Qi isn't stable. Sometimes... he loses control. He has rage episodes. In those moments... he's killed even his closest allies."
"Give me details."
"5 years ago... during a private meeting, a senior member objected to Han Lix. A small matter. About tax rates. Han Lix... exploded."
"What happened?"
"He killed that member... and 7 others in the room. Alone. In 30 seconds. Then returned to normal. Looked around. Realized what he'd done."
"Did he regret it?"
Shadow shook his head. "No. He just said: 'Clean this up.' Then walked out."
Alperen nodded. "Interesting."
"Master?"
"A man like that... can't be controlled. But he can be manipulated."
Shadow looked at his master. There was a strange expression on Alperen's face. It wasn't fear. It wasn't admiration either.
Calculation.
Pure, cold calculation.
"If Han Lix's rage episodes can be triggered," Alperen said slowly, "at the right time, in the right place... he might destroy himself."
"Master?"
"Think about it. A 3rd Level warrior. Lost control. In the middle of his own sect. Killing his own men. Chaos. Blood. And then... a hero emerges. 'Saves' the sect."
Shadow's eyes widened. He understood.
"That's... a long-term plan, Master."
"The best plans are long-term ones." Alperen stood. Looked into the darkness. "Han Lix killed 100,000 people for power. I... will be more efficient."
"How, Master?"
Alperen turned. Looked at Shadow. His eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Han Lix created chaos for power. I... will create order. Control. And in the end... Han Lix included, everyone will accept my order."
"What if they don't?"
Alperen smiled. A cold, calculating smile.
"Then I'll kill more than Han Lix ever did."
Alperen's Thoughts
After Shadow left, Alperen remained alone.
He sat at the canyon's edge. His feet dangled over the abyss. One mistake and he would fall. He would die.
But Alperen wasn't afraid. Not of death. Not of anything.
Because he had already died once.
In his previous life...
Alperen closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember. But the memories came. They always did.
A small apartment. Cheap furniture. The blue light of a computer screen. The sound of a keyboard. Midnight. Morning. Noon. Evening. Always the same.
He was writing web novels. 10,000 words a day. Sometimes more. For readers. For money. To survive.
He was alone.
Always alone.
He had no friends. Not anymore. Once he did. But they too...
Alperen shook his head. No. Not now. Not these memories now.
He opened his eyes. Looked at the stars of the Azure world. Different from his previous world. Brighter. Closer. As if you could reach out and touch them.
Han Lix's 100,000 lives. Just for power. Just for 3rd Level.
This world...
This world was no different from the world of his previous life. There too, the strong crushed the weak. There too, people used each other. There too, ruthlessness was rewarded.
The only difference... here it was done openly. There it was done secretly.
Here they impaled 1,000 villagers. There... they did the same thing with taxes, debts, the system. Slower. Quieter. But the result was the same.
Death. Pain. Despair.
Han Lix killed 100,000 and became a hero.
How many will I kill?
Alperen asked himself this question. He knew the answer.
As many as necessary.
1,000? 10,000? 100,000? 1 million? 10 million?
It doesn't matter.
The only way to survive in this world is to be strong. And the price of strength... is the blood of others.
Han Lix understood this. 200 years ago.
I understand it too. Now.
But there's a difference.
Han Lix is mad. Uncontrolled. A slave to his rage. He killed 100,000 and what did he gain? Power. But also weakness. Loss of control. Paranoia.
I... am cold. Calculating. Master of my plans.
Han Lix created chaos. I will create order.
Han Lix sowed fear. I will sow loyalty.
Han Lix is alone. I... have a system.
Alperen stood. Looked around. At the canyon base. At the 138 soldiers. At the 3 mammoths. At the scientists. At the spies.
This is just the beginning.
In 5 years... these numbers will be 10,000.
In 10 years... 100,000.
In 20 years... 1 million.
And then...
Alperen looked into the darkness. Eastward. Toward Iron Bridge City.
100 million people. Starving. Hopeless. Waiting for death.
I won't give them death.
I'll give them purpose.
I'll give them an enemy.
And they... will become my army.
Han Lix killed 100,000 for power.
I will USE 100 million for power.
More efficient. More sustainable. More... intelligent.
Alperen smiled. For the first time that night. It wasn't a cold smile. Just... determined.
Wait, Iron Shirt. Wait, Han Lix.
I'm coming.
And when I come... nothing will ever be the same.
"The next power?" said Alperen, turning to Shadow.
Shadow swallowed. He had rested a little. But there was still much to tell.
"The Hua Clan, Master."
"Tell me."
Shadow took a deep breath.
"If the Iron Shirt Sect is iron... the Hua Clan is gold, Master. And gold... is always won with blood."