Back in the cave within the pit—where even darkness bends the light and sinister Qi rests heavily on the shoulders of all who dwell within it. A place so scary that even the guards avoid entering, and most of the children only dare to glance at from afar without even coming close.
It was there that the weakest child, Hyeolmu, lay in ruin—completely defeated and on the verge of life and death. His clothes, which were now rags, were completely soaked in his own blood, and his limbs felt weaker than those of a newborn.
But still, the incident of the past haunted him continuously, overshadowing every ounce of pain in his body and filling them with an all-consuming rage.
The words kept echoing in his mind—over and over.
> "I heard his dad was the Blood Demon—one of the five strongest in the continent..."
Again and again, the statement rang through his head.
> "Didn't he die recently because he was too scared to face the Demon Lord? Guess he's just like his father—a fucking cowar—"
Never-ending pain kept on getting reanimated, over and over, reminding him of the past he had tried so hard to forget so dearly.
> "Cult Leader, please spare the disciples, and I will gladly surrender my life… Please, my lord…"
The memories of his origin.
> "Take your own life in your hands, and the disciples might be spared…"
The memories of his master and father's deaths.
> "Kill them all. But spare only his son. The rest must not see the light of day…"
The memories of his father's wasted sacrifice, and of his disciple brothers being slaughtered before his eyes.
And now, all those memories had returned once more, dragging with them the agony and torment he always wanted to forget, never wanting to experience them once more.
"Ahhhh!!!"
For the first time in two years, Hyeolmu cried. Tears finally fell from his eyes, and the emotions he had bottled up all those years burst free at last.
Perhaps it was due to the rage that had finally reawakened—but a burning passion for vengeance ignited within him once more. Not vengeance for his father's death—no. It was vengeance against all who had turned against the Blood Cult. Every one of them, without exception, especially the Demon Lord.
But even though he hungered for revenge, he was nothing. The weakest among the weak. A boy who hadn't even practiced martial arts. One who is nothing more than an ant before the demon lord.
He needed strength—strength that commanded authority. Strength like that of the Demonic Cult Leader, Cheon Damheon.
This pit was where his path would begin. From here, he would climb to the top and reclaim everything that had been stolen from his sect and pay back every blood for blood. But for now, all he could do was face the martial arts manual given by the guards—The Vermilion Vein Art.
Practicing it came first. Mastery would follow, if he survived long enough.
Though it was labeled a third-rate technique, it was difficult to learn, especially its breathing methods. For someone with no knowledge of martial arts, it was a monumental challenge, as it could even lead to his death.
The Vermilion Vein Art viewed the body as a river system of red threads. The practitioner trained to sense, guide, and—at higher levels—manipulate the rhythm and pressure of life-flow within themselves and the aura of those nearby.
It was an art of cadence, pulse, and blood rhythm—using one's own circulation as both shield and sword: compressing, amplifying, diverting, and resonating with an opponent's flow to disrupt their balance or seal their momentum.
It had once been a legendary martial art that turned the Murim world upside down when it was discovered among ancient ruins. But over time, much of it was lost to history through greed and conflict—reducing it to a mere shadow of its former glory, as it's not nothing more than a third-rate arts that can cause death if not practice well.
Originally, it had ten tiers, and mastering them all would make one an absolute demon. But only five phases remained intact as others where lost to different factors.
****
Tier 1 – Blood Breathing
Increases one's blood flow rate by a significant amount, maximizing the speed and amount of Qi transferred through the body. Slightly enhances precision, speed, and striking power as Qi circulation surpasses normal human limits.
Tier 2 – Slow Pulse
At this stage, the martial artist synchronizes their life-flow with an opponent's tempo—sharing rhythm for a single exchange, gaining momentum at the cost of a large portion of their Qi.
Tier 3 – Veinburst Step
Channels internal energy through the circulatory paths, creating explosive bursts with each movement. Every step or strike carries a hidden pulse shock capable of rupturing defenses. Greatly enhances agility, though it strains the body to its limit.
Tier 4 – Vermilion Bind
Creates a lattice of compressed pressure surrounded by heavy Qi—an area where enemies feel weighed down, as if their blood itself is being dragged toward the ground.
Finally the 5th tier – Heartstring Severance. A Forbidden Skill unlike any other. It allows the user to manipulate the rhythm between two fighters until their pulses align—then severs that connection, symbolically cutting the "string of life." A graceful yet terrifying technique used only by those willing to sacrifice a part of their own life-force.
All five tiers were powerful enough to lead a man to the peak realm of martial mastery—yet even the most gifted genius could rarely advance beyond the first tier as most just die when practicing it.
Still, Hyeolmu was ready to take the risk. To stake his life and his martial path on this single art. He had no other choice. If he wanted to live, he needed strength.
And this was his only path to obtain it.
****
Two weeks later, at the hour of the day, the bells rang again. But this time, it was different. It wasn't a summons for instructions—
It was the call for battle.
A battle where every child was ready.
Where losing didn't mean immediate death but a slow agonizing death.
And no one wanted to die.
Even the weakest no longer planned to remain weak.
To be continued...