The dawn mist had barely lifted when the distant sound of clashing blades echoed through the valley. Han Jae-min and Eon-hwa, still in the grove, paused mid-practice, their golden and amber eyes narrowing.
"Trouble," Eon-hwa murmured, sensing the surge of Qi in the distance. Not a mere wandering swordsman—this was organized, skilled, and coordinated.
Sure enough, three figures from a minor rogue faction—the Iron Viper Sect—emerged from the treeline, their aura sharp and menacing. Each bore weapons glinting with Qi-infused edges, indicating training beyond ordinary swordsmen.
One stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Han Jae-min of the Eastern Mountains… we've heard of your skill. You've caught the attention of more than just villagers. The Murim world is watching, and your path is dangerous."
Before Jae-min could reply, they struck simultaneously. Qi flared as steel met steel. The Twin Fang technique flowed from his arms, both swords spinning in a deadly arc, deflecting and countering with fluid precision.
But this battle was different from the skirmish with the Black Crescent Sect. Each opponent was stronger, more coordinated, and their Qi surged like a storm, each strike shaking the earth beneath them. Jae-min realized his technique alone wasn't enough; he had to think, adapt, and anticipate.
Eon-hwa moved beside him, their Qi synchronizing. Together, they created a rhythm, flowing around the Iron Viper disciples. Twin Fang combined with Eon-hwa's precise strikes, forcing the attackers back.
Still, the fight left them exhausted. One of the Iron Viper disciples grinned, retreating with a warning. "This is just the beginning. Murim's world is vast. Many stronger than you are watching… and waiting."
After the dust settled, Jae-min sheathed his swords. He felt the exhaustion in his muscles but also a surge of clarity. The Murim world was alive, dangerous, and complex:
Factions constantly testing boundaries.
Hidden prodigies lurking in sects.
Supreme Masters observing from the shadows.
Rankings dictating respect, influence, and opportunity.
This encounter was his first real lesson in Murim politics and combat hierarchy. A duel or duel-like fight could attract attention, both allies and rivals. Strength was measured not only in skill but also in reputation, strategic thinking, and the ability to survive against unpredictable enemies.
Jae-min looked at Eon-hwa. "We need to get stronger. Faster. If we're going to survive in Murim, training alone won't be enough. We have to understand the world itself—the factions, the rankings, the hidden masters."
Eon-hwa nodded. "And perhaps, one day, we'll have disciples of our own. A group that can rival even the mightiest sects. But for now… we train, and we survive."
The valley returned to quiet, but the golden light of dawn seemed sharper, heavier, as if the mountains themselves were watching. Han Jae-min knew the road ahead would be perilous, filled with rival prodigies, hidden dragons, Supreme Masters, and Murim's endless schemes.
And one day, he vowed, his Golden Fang Sect—his own faction—would stand at the center of it all, shaping Murim's fate.