The Azure Sun Sect did not execute disciples.
It discarded them.
That was the lie written into every brick of its outer courts — that anyone who fell was simply "unsuitable." There were no traitors, no innocents, no victims. Only trash that failed to meet expectation.
Jin Mu-Hyuk was today's trash.
He lay at the bottom of the corpse ravine beneath the sect, surrounded by bodies still warm from the afternoon purge. His limbs refused to respond. His cultivation — the thin thread of qi he had nursed since childhood — had vanished in a single strike from Elder Baek's palm.
Not shattered.
Erased.
Above, torches flickered. Guards laughed. Someone kicked loose rubble into the pit, not bothering to check who still breathed.
Mu-Hyuk's eyes stayed open.
He did not scream.
He had been kicked too many times in his life to waste breath now.
A shadow leaned over the edge.
"You see that one?" a guard said, pointing down. "Still staring. Creepy bastard."
"Let him stare. He won't be doing it long."
Mu-Hyuk memorized the man's stance. Right foot forward. Weight uneven. Sword hanging too low.
Sloppy.
The word surfaced in his mind even as darkness began crawling into his vision.
Then—
Reality fractured.
[Murim Dominator System detected dormant host]
[Host Condition: Cultivation Destroyed – Survival Rating: F-]
[Emergency Authority Override: Granted]
[Activating Tyrant Core]
Something ancient ignited behind his eyes.
Not warmth.
Not comfort.
Command.
[Welcome, Jin Mu-Hyuk.]
[Your existence has been classified as "expendable."]
[Correction Protocol Initiated.]
His broken meridians burned — not with pain, but with rewriting. They were not being repaired.
They were being replaced.
[Skill Unlocked: Tyrant Meridian Frame – Rank S]
[Effect: Host may circulate qi through artificial blood-channels independent of natural meridians.]
Mu-Hyuk's fingers curled.
Bones that should not have moved responded like obedient blades.
[Stat Allocation: 100 Free Points – Emergency Package]
The system did not wait.
[Auto-distribution complete.]
Strength +40 | Agility +30 | Perception +20 | Mental Domination +10
His heartbeat slowed.
The corpse pit no longer smelled like death.
It smelled like inventory.
A scream tore through the darkness nearby.
A young woman — barely older than him — was dragging herself across the mud with a shattered leg, eyes wide with raw terror. Blood smeared her robes where she had clawed at stone in a futile attempt to climb out.
Mu-Hyuk recognized her.
Yoo Seol-Ah.
Outer disciple. Medic hall trainee. The only one who had ever slipped him extra rations after training.
She was not screaming his name.
She did not know he was alive.
She was screaming because a guard had jumped down into the pit, boots splashing as he stalked toward her.
"Should've died quietly," the man said, unsheathing his blade.
The system chimed.
[New Threat Detected.]
[Host Rage Index: Optimal]
[Skill Unlocked: Dominator's Killing Intent – Rank A]
Mu-Hyuk stood.
Not staggered.
Not struggled.
He stood — the corpse pit bowing around him like scenery that had lost relevance.
The guard turned, startled.
"What the—"
Mu-Hyuk crossed the distance between them in one step.
Not fast.
Absolute.
The guard never understood what had happened.
When Mu-Hyuk turned away, the pit was silent.
Yoo Seol-Ah stared at him, lips trembling.
"M-Mu-Hyuk…? You were— you were broken—"
He looked at her calmly.
"I was."
The system pulsed, visible only to him.
[First Blood Acquired.]
[Dominator Privilege Activated: Overlord's Growth Rate x10]
Above them, the guards at the rim of the pit shouted in confusion.
Mu-Hyuk tilted his head upward, eyes reflecting torchlight like cold metal.
"They threw us away," he said softly.
Then he smiled — not with madness, not with grief.
With decision.
"So now," he continued, stepping toward the wall, "we climb back up."
And when we do—
"They won't be discarding trash anymore."