The secluded grove had become their training ground. Bamboo swayed with each gust of wind, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting shadows on the rocky floor. Han Jae-min and Eon-hwa faced each other, swords drawn, the quiet hum of Qi rippling between them.
"Your Twin Fang is impressive," Eon-hwa said, circling him. "But your Qi flow is uneven. You rely too much on speed and instinct. In Murim, technique alone cannot carry you."
Jae-min adjusted his stance. "I know. That's why I've been wandering—testing myself. But I haven't had proper guidance."
"Then consider this a start," Eon-hwa replied. He extended a hand, and a faint golden aura shimmered around him—the first sign of his internal energy cultivation. Jae-min's eyes narrowed.
Qi in Murim was the invisible river of power that flowed through every swordsman, every prodigy, and every Supreme Master. It could enhance speed, strengthen strikes, or even shield one from mortal harm—but controlling it required discipline, focus, and mental clarity.
They began with basic Qi control exercises. Jae-min felt his internal energy tremble at first, inconsistent and wild. Sparks of golden light flickered along his dual katanas as he practiced channeling Qi into them, stabilizing his speed and precision.
"Good," Eon-hwa said after several failed attempts. "Your Twin Fang has potential, but every technique in Murim can be perfected through Qi. A master's sword can slice through stone without effort; a novice relies on raw strength."
Hours passed, each movement a dance of steel and energy. Every swing, every thrust, every defensive maneuver was refined with Qi. Jae-min's body ached, sweat stung his golden eyes, but with each attempt, his dual-sword strikes became smoother, faster, more precise.
From the mountains above, hidden eyes watched. A roaming Supreme Master, cloaked in shadow, observed the young swordsman with faint interest. "Interesting," the master murmured. "The purple-haired youth… strong potential. Perhaps one day he will carve his own path among the factions."
Meanwhile, far below, rival prodigies from the Crimson Wolves Sect trained in secret, unaware that a rising swordsman was beginning to gather power in the north. Murim's world was vast, and every action rippled across sects, alliances, and rivalries.
By sunset, Jae-min collapsed to one knee, exhausted but exhilarated. Twin Fang, once purely instinctive, now flowed with Qi, each strike sharper, each movement more controlled.
"Tomorrow, we spar," Eon-hwa said, sheathing his sword. "Not to fight, but to push you further. In Murim, every duel is a lesson, every rival a teacher."
Jae-min looked at his dual katanas, black with golden edges, and felt a quiet determination rise. He was no longer merely a wandering swordsman. Step by step, technique by technique, he was building the foundation for his future faction, for his rise in Murim, and for a name that would one day echo through the mountains and valleys of this dangerous world.