"You brat!" an old man roared as he spotted a boy slipping a chicken from his yard. In a fit of rage, he hurled his machete. The blade whistled past the boy, missing by inches.
The boy snatched the struggling chicken tighter against his chest and bolted toward the outskirts of the city—Di Bai. A place where beggars huddled together, a place where justice never reached. Theft was so common there that the citizens barely spared it a glance.
He ducked into a narrow alley, glancing over his shoulder. The fat man was still after him, red-faced and lumbering, but determined. "Come back, you little brat!" the man bellowed, before finally collapsing, gasping for breath.
The boy's name was Park Yu Il—a name that spoke of wealth and abundance, though his life could not have been further from it. His dark, messy hair framed piercing blue eyes, and though his sharp features gave him the look of a noble's son, the rags on his back told a different story. To anyone else, he was just another beggar scraping by.
Leaving the city behind, Yu Il pressed onward into the forest.
The chicken clawed and pecked at his hand, desperate to escape. His patience snapped. With a harsh swing, he slammed it against a tree. The forest grew quiet again. "That's better," he muttered, exhaling a weary sigh.
At a stream, Yu Il pulled a small knife from his pocket. Squatting low, he began plucking the feathers, working slowly until his hands were raw and the bird was clean. By the time he carried the butchered chicken deeper into the woods, the sky had already darkened, painted in crimson red.
He placed the chicken on a flat stone and started gathering branches for a fire. The night was creeping in, and cold would soon follow.
"Park Hyung!"
Two voices called out at once. From the shadows emerged Ji Mon and Ji Mang, twin brothers with slender builds and long dark hair that lent them an almost delicate, woman-like beauty. Their hands, however, gripped the limp bodies of rabbits, proof of a hard day's hunt.
Yu Il's lips curved faintly as he struck flint against stone.
"Your hunting's getting better," he said, though his focus never left the spark he was coaxing into flame.
The fire caught, and his grin widened.
"We're feasting tonight."
"I'll make the soup," Ji Mon called, already crouching beside the pot.
He tore open a bundle of foraged herbs—wild garlic, onion grass, and crushed mint leaves they'd gathered earlier. "These will make it smell less like… You know, rabbit," he said with a grin.
"Rabbit smells fine," Yu Shin argued.
"Rabbit smells like desperation," Ji Mon replied dryly.
The boys laughed as Ji Mon got to work. He grabbed one of their dented tin pots and filled it halfway with water from a bamboo flask. Then, using a small knife chipped from stone, he began slicing wild mushrooms and sweet roots with practiced care.
He tossed the ingredients in, the sizzle of oil and herbs releasing a burst of fragrance that made even Yu Il lean closer.
"Hey, don't waste all the oil," Yu Shin warned, pointing at the small clay jar.
"That's supposed to last the week!"
Ji Mon waved him off.
"What's the point of saving oil if we die from tasteless food first?"
The fire beneath the pot blazed hot, fighting the cold night breeze.
"You're already back from chopping wood?" Yu Il blinked in surprise.
Yu Shin only nodded.
"I gathered enough firewood for the whole week," Yu Shin said.
"Where's Han Sang? The meal is about to be ready," Yu Il asked.
"Must be reading in the treehouse," Yu Shin muttered.
"He's the only one of us who can read," Ji Mang said, puffing his chest with pride.
"But he's greedy," Ji Mang added with a grin.
"I asked him to teach me, and he refused." His words carried no malice, only teasing.
"We swiped a book from the local library," he went on. "I told Han Sang I'd memorize it for him, but he just turned up his nose—said a true scholar only reads the real thing. What a snob."
Ji Mang had an astonishing memory—he could recall everything in exact detail after a single glance. Manuals, maps, even long passages of text—he could reproduce them word for word. Yet when it came to reading, his mind simply refused to work the same way. Letters and symbols twisted into knots he couldn't unravel. Still, his memory was sharp enough to mimic reading, and he never gave up trying. He struggled through words no matter how hard it was. That alone put him ahead of the others—Park Yu, Ji Mon, and Yu Shin—who never even bothered to try.
"Come on… You know how he is," Ji Mang said.
"Let him stay however he likes," Yu Il protested with a shrug.
A little later, Yu Il climbed the ladder to the treehouse to check on Han Sang, the smartest of the group, and also the youngest. The boy with long dark hair and striking blue eyes. "Let's eat, Han Sang," Yu Il called as he stepped inside, glancing around for one of the picture books.
But Han Sang was already asleep, sprawled out with a book covering his face.
Yu Il sighed and sat down firmly beside him. Curious, he pulled the book into his lap and flipped it open.
The illustrations caught his attention immediately.
What are these words!? He thought, frowning.
The strange characters swam before his eyes, giving him a headache. With a growl of frustration, he skipped over the text and focused on the drawings instead.
The pages depicted four figures, each wielding a different core within their dantian: green, red, ice-blue, and yellow. The green core released a misty energy, poisonous and suffocating. The red core burned so fiercely it seemed capable of melting steel. The blue one exuded a bone-chilling frost, the embodiment of winter itself. And the yellow core roared with the power of thunder, bolts crackling across the page.
"Park-hyung." Han Sang shook Yu Il, who had been staring at the book with blank eyes.
It was called Immersion—a state where imagination eclipsed reality. He didn't know how he'd achieved it, only that the drawings had pulled him into a world of their own.
Yu Il blinked and turned to the last picture. It showed a man in a meditation pose. He stared for a moment, then snapped the book shut with a yawn. Boredom tugged at him.
"Let's go eat," he said, glancing at Han Sang before heading toward the ladder.
I envy you, he thought. You can read what I can't. A smile flickered across his face—part pride, part gratitude.
"Come on, hurry up!" Yu Il called as he leapt down, landing effortlessly from a height of ten feet.
Han Sang, slower and more cautious, climbed carefully down the ladder.
"Oh, wait!" Yu Il shouted suddenly.
"Bring the candles!"
Han Sang rolled his eyes but grabbed them before following.
By the time they returned to the fire, the stew was ready.
The boys' stomachs growled loudly, but none of them touched the food. They sat waiting, patient in their hunger, until every brother had gathered around the campfire.
"Here's the candle," Han Sang said, handing it to Yu Il before settling down near the campfire.
The rabbit stew was ready. A simple dish made from the forest's gifts—mushrooms, wild carrots, sweet potatoes—and the meat of a freshly caught rabbit. Its aroma was mouthwatering, rich, and well-balanced.
Ji Mon ladled the stew into bowls, passing them out one by one.
"Other beggars would be jealous if they saw this," Yu Il said casually.
The boys wasted no time. They devoured the stew as if it were their last meal, scraping the pot clean in minutes.
"The rabbits will go extinct if we keep eating like this," Ji Mang muttered.
"But it's too good to get tired of!" Yu Shin and Han Sang grinned, asking for seconds with silly smiles.
"Now for the main dish," Yu Il declared, skewering a chicken over the fire.
"Go get some salt!" he shouted to Yu Shin, joy bubbling in his voice.
"Why always me?" Yu Shin groaned.
"There's no salt," Han Sang cut in. "They are too expensive, we're beggars, remember?"
Park Yu froze. His smile vanished, his eyes dulled, and his face sagged like that of a dying old man.
"Use honey!" Yu Shin suddenly blurted out.
"I got some from the forest."
Yu Il's eyes lit up instantly, his gloom erased in a flash.
The others burst out laughing at his dramatic mood swing, leaving him red-faced with embarrassment.
"Why are you drooling over food?" Han Sang teased, barely able to stop laughing.
"If you keep it up, I won't give you any!" Yu Il barked, cheeks blazing.
He pointed at Ji Mang. "You—go fetch the honey!"
"Alright, alright…" Ji Mang sighed, climbing the ladder to the treehouse.
Meanwhile, Yu Il walked over to a banana tree, tearing off its broad leaves to use as wraps. He waited, knowing Ji Mang was already sneaking up behind him. The others sat in silence, holding back laughter, waiting for Yu Il's reaction.
"Hyung!" Ji Mang shouted, grabbing his shoulder.
Yu Il jumped and shrieked like a crow struck by a slingshot. The boys erupted. Their laughter echoed through the night, chasing away the dull silence. Yu Il didn't fight it this time—he just joined in, grinning until his stomach hurt.
"His face—" Yu Shin tried to speak, but he doubled over, laughing too hard to finish.
They laughed again, their eyes meeting in shared joy. Han Sang collapsed to the ground, pounding the dirt as snot dripped from his nose. The twins were the loudest, their laughter like a chaotic orchestra—sometimes shrill, sometimes deep, but always contagious.
"Enough, enough," Yu Il gasped between chuckles.
"Let me finish roasting the chicken first."
"But are you sure?" he added, raising an eyebrow.
"We could sell this for a good price, you know?" Yet his face betrayed him—he clearly had no intention of letting go of the meal.
"Let's just savor life to the fullest!" Han Sang declared in a mock-elder's tone, raising his hand like a sage giving a sermon.
The boys roared in agreement as Yu Il smeared honey across the chicken.
"Wait!"
They all shouted at once, recoiling. His hands were filthy.
"Nah, it's gonna get cooked anyway," Yu Il said, brushing off their protests.
He wrapped the cleaned chicken in banana leaves and buried it in the fire.
"Think it'll taste good?" Ji Mon asked, leaning closer.
"Depends," Han Sang muttered.
"On whether Hyung remembered to take out the guts this time."
Yu Il froze mid-motion, his face paling slightly.
"You did clean it… right?" Ji Mang pressed, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Yu Il's lips twitched. "Mmm…Mostly."
"Mostly?!" Yu Shin groaned, throwing his hands up.
"Relax," Yu Il shot back.
"A little flavor never killed anyone."
Han Sang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'm starting to think it's not the food that'll kill us—it's you."
Their laughter rose again, mingling with the crackle of fire and the night wind. The banana leaves blackened slowly, releasing the faint, sweet smell of roasting meat. Sparks drifted into the air like tiny stars, dancing above their heads.
Ji Mang leaned back on his hands, gazing at the glowing embers. "It smells… kind of nice though."
"See?" Yu Il said smugly.
"Trust the chef."
The teasing faded into a comfortable silence. The forest around them hummed with the soft buzz of crickets. Firelight flickered across their faces—five boys wrapped in warmth, laughter, and hunger, bound together by nothing but shared struggle.
And in that quiet moment, as the flames reflected in Yu Il's eyes, something deeper stirred—an ember of resolve hidden beneath the jokes.
"Let's start building a sect," he said suddenly.
The laughter died. Silence hung over the camp as the words sank in.
Yu Il didn't take the words back. He just stared into the flames, eyes reflecting their light. The flickering glow made him look older—like someone carrying a burden far beyond his years.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The others exchanged glances, unsure if he was joking again.
Ji Mang swallowed hard. "You mean… for real?"
Yu Il's gaze lifted slowly, his expression unshakable. "Why not?" he said simply. "We already live like outcasts. We've got nothing, so we've got nothing to lose."
The wind stirred the treetops, scattering sparks into the night sky like fleeting stars. The boys watched them rise and vanish—tiny lights disappearing into darkness, just like them.
But for the first time, the thought didn't feel hopeless.
"Whatever you do… I'll follow you," Yu Shin said first, his deep voice steady.
"I will," Han Sang added, without hesitation.
"We'll join you as well," the twins chimed together.
Yu Il's lips curved into a smile. His eyes burned with something rare—certainty, determination.
"A big sect, with five minor sects under it. How cool would that be?"
"What will we call it?" Han Sang asked.
Park Yu stood, the firelight painting his ragged form in gold and shadow.
For a moment, he didn't look like a beggar, but a man standing at the dawn of legend.
"We, the beggars, shall rise in this murim," he declared. "The old geezers call us 'Inferior'—but we'll become what they fear most." His fist clenched.
"The dream they failed to achieve will be carved into our name."
"The… Immortal… Sect."
The words carried a weight none of them could laugh at. For the first time, they felt like more than beggars.
One by one, the boys knelt in line, pressing their fists to the ground.
"I, Yu Shin, swear to protect the sect with all my strength!" Yu Shin shouted, his voice ringing with conviction.
"I, Han Sang, swear to protect the sect with all my knowledge," Han Sang followed firmly. "We, Ji Mon and Ji Mang, swear to protect the sect with all our abilities," the twins declared in unison.
"All of you will build this sect with me… so stand proud," Yu Il said, lifting his gaze.
And so, the dream of five friends began—not in silk robes or grand halls, but in a lonely forest, dressed in rags.
"AH! F*ck the formal speaking!" Yu Il suddenly yelled, grinning ear to ear.
"Let's build a sect!" Their fists shot into the air.
Together, their voices roared into the night.
"Let's build a sect!"
The forest seemed to echo with their ambition.
Until— "Wait… do you smell something burning?" Ji Mang sniffed.
The boys froze. It was the smell of roasting meat.
A chicken.
Their chicken.
"CHICKEN!!!" they screamed in unison, diving for the fire.