A week had passed since Jin Mu-Won endured the Crimson Trial.
Each day had been a war of survival—his body convulsing, his veins writhing like snakes beneath his skin. The bone needle stabs had left raw, red scars across his limbs, but beneath them flowed something new.
The Crimson Qi had taken root.
It was unstable, yes. Unrefined. But it moved.
And in a world where everyone believed he would die as a cripple… that single truth was enough to make him dangerous.
---
Night – The Abandoned Training Grounds
Few dared to come here. Overgrown and buried deep within the forest, these were the original martial yards of the Black Blossom Sect—now forgotten, unused since the Inner Sect moved to higher ground.
Mu-Won stood in the center of a moss-covered courtyard, barefoot, shirtless, and breathing slowly.
His eyes were closed. The moonlight bathed his thin frame, revealing muscles once frail, now hardened by agony.
A rusted wooden dummy stood before him—splintered, riddled with old scars.
With no one to guide him, Mu-Won trained alone.
He exhaled.
Then struck.
His hand moved—not fast, but precise. A palm strike imbued not with inner qi but blood-force, pulsing through his veins. A red ripple shimmered at the point of contact.
The dummy shuddered.
Mu-Won withdrew.
Blood trickled from his fingertips. Every use of Crimson Qi tore at his vessels. His body was not yet ready—but it had to learn.
> "Pain is the lesson," he muttered, remembering the scroll's words. "Suffer. Break. Rebuild."
He dropped to a low stance, legs shaking. Again, he struck—this time with a closed fist.
Crack.
The dummy's surface split slightly.
His breath hitched.
He smiled.
---
Meanwhile – Inner Sect Dormitories
Baek Han sat in the Grand Lotus Pavilion, surrounded by sycophants. His golden robes glinted under lanternlight. Flasks of plum wine lay open. Two young female disciples giggled at his side.
"Did you see his face?" one of them laughed. "That Iron Flame fool barely lasted three steps."
Baek Han leaned back, eyes half-lidded, a smug smirk curling his lips. "They send garbage every year. If this continues, I might forget what it feels like to struggle."
The others laughed.
But inside, Baek Han was irritated.
He had seen him. That day at the festival. Among the trees.
Jin Mu-Won.
Crippled. Useless. Gone for years. And yet—he had felt something.
A presence. A chill.
It couldn't be.
"Han-gongja," said his attendant softly, "the Shadow Fox Clan will be visiting next week. Their eldest daughter seeks a partner for dual cultivation…"
Baek Han's eyes darkened. He was barely listening. He could still see the faint outline of that boy, watching him in silence.
No… not a boy anymore.
A shadow.
A threat.
---
Back at the Forest Grounds – Midnight
Mu-Won collapsed to his knees.
His training had gone too far tonight.
Blood seeped from his nose, his ears. His vision blurred. The Crimson Qi burned inside him, thrashing like fire behind his ribs.
His limbs spasmed.
"Too much," he gasped, dragging himself toward the pool beside the courtyard. "Too fast…"
He vomited blood into the grass.
He had no pills. No spirit tonics. No nourishing treasures.
Only pain.
Only will.
He stared into the moon's reflection across the still pool.
> "You must endure this alone, Mu-Won," his father's voice echoed from memory. "Because once you begin to climb, the world will try to drag you back down."
The wind picked up.
And in it… he heard something else.
Footsteps.
---
Three Figures – Hidden in the Trees
"You sure this is the place?"
"Yeah. Elder Baek said there's a cripple sneaking around here. Said we can… discipline him a little. Maybe earn favor."
Three young disciples, barely in their twenties, clad in silver-trimmed robes of the Outer Sect.
They stepped through the trees, laughing.
One held a wooden baton. Another, a pair of iron rings. The third flexed his fingers—he'd trained in Iron Claw Arts, a brutal style.
They weren't just here to intimidate.
They were here to cripple what was already broken.
---
Confrontation at the Pool
Mu-Won heard them before he saw them.
His hands moved instinctively—wiping the blood from his mouth, standing shakily.
"Look at that," the first one chuckled. "He still thinks he's a man."
"You shouldn't be here, Mu-Won," said another, circling. "These grounds are reserved for training. Not… rats."
They thought he would beg.
They thought he would run.
Mu-Won raised his head—and for the first time, smiled.
"Good," he said. "I was hoping for something to test my control."
"What?"
He stepped forward.
The Crimson Qi in his veins pulsed.
A flicker of red light danced across his forearm.
Then he moved.
---
Battle in the Old Yard
His first strike was clumsy—he was still injured. The baton-wielder dodged and lashed out, cracking wood against Mu-Won's ribs.
Pain exploded.
Mu-Won didn't stop.
He ducked beneath the second blow, then twisted, elbowing the attacker in the throat.
The man staggered—gagging.
The one with iron rings came next, spinning with practiced footwork. He struck Mu-Won across the shoulder, then aimed for his temple.
But Mu-Won stepped in, closer than expected.
He took the hit—
—and grabbed the man's wrist.
Blood boiled in his palm. Crimson Qi surged.
With a roar, Mu-Won twisted—and the man screamed as his arm snapped sideways, dislocated.
Only one remained.
The Iron Claw user advanced, expression serious now.
"You've got some tricks," he growled. "But tricks won't—"
Mu-Won struck first.
A palm to the gut. Not clean, not perfect—but imbued with blood-force.
The disciple gasped as his body spasmed. He collapsed to his knees, unable to breathe.
Mu-Won stood over them, chest heaving, blood dripping from his nose.
He didn't speak.
Didn't gloat.
He simply turned—and walked back into the woods.
---
Hours Later – Elder Council Chambers
"They were attacked?" Elder Shin frowned, tapping his cane. "By whom?"
"Jin Mu-Won," said Baek Han, calmly sipping tea. "The cripple."
The room fell silent.
A few chuckled.
"Impossible. That child couldn't even gather qi. If he threw a punch, he'd snap his own wrist."
Baek Han didn't smile.
"I saw him. Something's changed. He's hiding something."
The elders exchanged glances.
"Even if that's true, so what?" one muttered. "He has no backers. No clan. We can squash him if needed."
Baek Han set down his cup.
"Do it soon," he said coldly. "Before he becomes harder to kill."
---
At the Cave – Dawn
Mu-Won sat in meditation.
His body was broken. Bruised ribs. Swollen knuckles. Torn veins.
But the Crimson Qi flowed more smoothly now—responsive, faster.
He could feel it beginning to align with his heartbeat.
He reached for the scroll.
Unrolled the third section.
> "Stage Three: The Bone Flame Awakens."
He smiled faintly through swollen lips.
The path forward was clear.
He would not stop.
Not until the sky remembered his name.
The morning after the forest battle, Jin Mu-Won awoke with fire in his bones and ice in his lungs.
Every breath felt like shards of glass scraping his ribs. But he smiled.
Pain was a reminder that he was alive.
That he was changing.
The Crimson Qi flowed stronger now—not with ease, but with presence. It pulsed in his veins like a second heartbeat. He could feel it coiling in his limbs, begging to be honed.
He had beaten three outer sect disciples.
They were no masters. But he was no cripple anymore.
And now the sect would begin to notice.
---
Black Blossom Sect – Outer Hall
"You said Mu-Won did this?"
"Yes, Elder Shin. These are their own words." The steward bowed deeply, holding a scroll. "Three disciples of the Outer Hall, all incapacitated. Broken ribs, shattered wrist, dislocated shoulder."
"And they're certain it was him?"
"They swear it."
Elder Shin frowned, his gray beard twitching. He remembered Jin Mu-Won well—a quiet boy, always too soft, too humble. He'd shown early promise, but after his dantian shattered… he had become nothing more than a burden.
Until now.
"Keep this quiet," Elder Shin ordered. "For now. If this is true, we must observe. If he's discovered something dangerous…"
He didn't finish the thought.
But the implication hung heavy.
---
Meanwhile – Cave Beneath the Old Grounds
Mu-Won sat cross-legged, his shirt torn, skin littered with bruises.
In front of him floated a red-glowing orb—no larger than a marble—spinning in the air, pulsing like a heart.
> The Crimson Core.
He had created it last night, shortly before losing consciousness.
The scroll said few survived its formation. But if cultivated properly, it would become a replacement for the shattered dantian—a vessel not of spiritual essence, but of blood and wrath.
A parasite.
And it hungered.
Mu-Won reached forward, allowing the orb to press against his chest.
Pain ripped through him.
The Crimson Core sank into his sternum, embedding itself like a splinter. For a heartbeat, he could hear it—a pulse not his own, a roar not born of voice.
Then the world faded.
---
Elsewhere – The Hidden Tombs
Deep beneath the northern cliffs of Black Blossom territory, a trio of masked men moved through a sealed passage.
The air reeked of iron and dust.
"Is it true?" one asked, his voice echoing. "The Blood Sage's disciple walks again?"
"He was never a true disciple," the second said. "But he carries the mark. And the core stirs."
At the end of the hall, a stone door loomed—etched with ancient symbols. A crimson glow pulsed behind it.
The third man stepped forward.
He placed a single drop of blood upon the stone.
The door opened.
---
Training Yard – Two Days Later
The sect buzzed with whispers.
"Did you hear? Someone defeated Wu Rin."
"Wu Rin? The Iron Rings disciple?"
"Broken in three places."
"And the culprit?"
"They say… it was him."
Eyes flicked toward the far edge of the courtyard, where Jin Mu-Won stood alone, his wooden training sword in hand.
He wore plain clothes, no insignia. His posture was calm.
But his aura—subtle as it was—commanded attention.
Some said he'd found a hidden inheritance. Others believed he'd sold his soul to an evil art.
The elders said nothing.
But Baek Han watched from a balcony above, eyes narrowed.
> "That look in his eyes… I've seen it before," he thought. "When I killed my first opponent."
---
Flashback – Years Ago
Mu-Won knelt before his father, the former Grand Elder, in the central hall of the sect.
"You must never pursue vengeance blindly," the old man said. "Or you'll become the same as those who wronged you."
"But what if I do nothing?" young Mu-Won asked.
"Then injustice wins. The path is to endure until you grow strong enough to choose."
That memory haunted him now.
Because he had made his choice.
And the path ahead was soaked in blood.
---
Secret Duel – Nightfall
A challenge had been issued.
Unofficial, unrecorded.
A duel behind the Inner Sect gardens.
Not sanctioned—but attended.
They came in silence. Shadows in the trees. Outer sect disciples. Inner sect elites. Even a few elder-attendants.
Waiting to see if the rumors were true.
His opponent: Hyeon Do, second-ranked among the outer sect seniors. Known for his Swift Needle Fist. A precise, deadly style focused on nerve strikes and pinpoint damage.
Mu-Won stepped into the ring, breathing steadily.
No introductions.
Just eyes.
And tension.
Do smirked. "You think you're strong now? Just because you got lucky against cowards?"
Mu-Won didn't answer.
He raised his fists. Low stance. Open palms.
The Crimson Core pulsed once.
Begin.
---
The Duel
Do shot forward like a snake—jabbing toward Mu-Won's temple.
Mu-Won tilted his head—barely.
The blow grazed him, but his counter came immediately—a palm toward the ribs, laced with Crimson Qi.
Do twisted, avoiding the strike. He stepped in close, striking at Mu-Won's shoulder with two fingers.
Crack.
A nerve strike. Mu-Won's arm went limp.
Do smiled.
He moved for the finishing combo.
But Mu-Won stepped in. Closer. Closer still.
Do blinked. "He's too close—"
A headbutt.
Smash.
Bone met bone. Do staggered, blood gushing from his nose.
Mu-Won twisted his hip and drove an elbow into his opponent's chest.
Crimson Qi exploded on impact.
Do flew back—crashed into the courtyard tree.
Silence.
Then—
He didn't get up.
---
Aftermath
The crowd dispersed like fog.
No one said a word.
No one clapped. No cheers.
Only silence.
And fear.
Mu-Won stood alone again, staring at his bruised knuckles.
He hadn't meant to cripple the boy. Not truly.
But he had.
And part of him… didn't regret it.
The Crimson Path did not allow hesitation.
---
Back at the Elder Council
Elder Shin sipped tea quietly as reports flooded in.
"Another victory," a steward whispered. "He's rising faster than expected."
"Too fast," Shin muttered. "This cultivation style… it's not of our sect."
He looked toward the sealed chamber behind the wall—where the Grand Master sat in isolation.
"He will want to meet the boy soon."
---
Deep in the Mountain – The Whispering Voice
As Mu-Won returned to his cave, exhausted and hollowed out, he felt a presence.
Not from outside.
From within.
The Crimson Core pulsed.
And for the first time… it spoke.
> "You feed me well, child of ash. But there will come a time when I feed on you."
Mu-Won's eyes widened.
He dropped to his knees, sweat rolling down his spine.
The path was no longer just painful.
It was alive.
And it was watching.