The arena trembled with excitement. The prodigy had to face stood in the center, straight as a blade, his saber gleaming beneath the sun. Every movement he made radiated perfection.
Jin Woo, on the other hand, stepped forward slowly, without brilliance. His breath was short, his bandages stained with blood. In the eyes of the crowd, the match was already decided.
The prodigy struck first—fast, precise. Jin Woo parried each blow just barely, pushed back with every clash. His strength was no match. His strange constitution, that invisible burden, offered him no advantage here.
Minutes stretched like an eternity. Jin Woo endured, evaded, bent but did not break. Until a tiny opening revealed itself.
The prodigy, confident in his superiority, unleashed a decisive strike—one meant to cut Jin Woo down in a single blow. Jin Woo did the unthinkable: he left his shoulder exposed, took the blade deep into the flesh—yet in that same instant, he used the closeness to drive his fist straight into the prodigy's throat.
Silence fell.
The genius collapsed, his sword still lodged in Jin Woo. A sharp crack echoed within his body, and then, the impossible happened: the dying prodigy's life force was drawn into Jin Woo's constitution—against his will.
His eyes widened. His breathing grew heavy. Inside his dantian, something crossed an invisible barrier.
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The Stages of Cultivation
1. Refinement of the Body – forging flesh and bone.
2. Qi Condensation – gathering the world's energy within oneself.
3. Core Formation – crystallizing Qi into an inner core.
4. Golden Core – refining that core until it becomes indestructible.
5. Nascent Soul – awakening a martial spirit within, projection of the soul.
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That was all Jin Woo knew.
Beyond this, the higher realms of cultivation were secrets guarded jealously by the great clans and sects. A clanless stray like him had no access to such knowledge.
And yet, he had just been forced across the threshold into Core Formation.
The crowd, stunned by the prodigy's death, remained utterly silent. Not a murmur. Not even a breath. They all held their silence before the impossible sight.
The masters present slowly rose to their feet, their gazes sharp as blades fixed on Jin Woo. In their eyes, there was no admiration, no pity. Only one decision: this boy could not be allowed to remain free.
Jin Woo, panting, tore the sword from his shoulder and cast one last glance at the arena—before realizing that if he stayed even a second longer, he would be finished.
And so, without hesitation, he made his choice: to flee.
He bolted out of the arena.
And like an unrelenting tide, the masters leapt after him.