The Eastern Mountains were silent, save for the rustle of wind through pines and the distant roar of a waterfall. Yet silence in Murim was never peace—it was a prelude to conflict.
Far below, the Raven Sect, one of the minor factions of Murim, was preparing for a journey into the southern valleys. Their disciples practiced sword forms, releasing bursts of Qi that made the trees tremble. Among them, a young prodigy twisted his body midair, deflecting wooden strikes with ease—a hint of latent talent that could someday rival even the elite swordsmen of Murim.
Meanwhile, in a narrow mountain path, a lone figure moved with fluid precision. Han Jae-min, seventeen, with purple hair and golden eyes, carried two katanas black as midnight with faint golden edges. His footsteps were silent, but his presence radiated focus and discipline. The mountains whispered of him—the wandering swordsman slowly making his name in Murim.
Murim was a complex world. From wandering swordsmen and rogue disciples to ancient sects with secret techniques, the land was full of hidden dragons, prodigies, and Supreme Masters whose strength dwarfed that of ordinary warriors. Alliances were fragile, rivalries deadly, and even a minor duel could ripple across entire factions.
Jae-min paused on a cliff, sensing movement below. He was not just a swordsman—he was a part of this world, a world of Qi, rankings, hidden skills, and political intrigue, and his journey was only beginning.