I am the youngest son of the Jaegal clan’s leader — and a failure.

At twelve, they discovered I suffered from an incurable condition: I couldn’t cultivate or manipulate formations. To my family, that was the same as being dead.

Without honor or future, I was sent to a place no one took seriously: the Low Mist Sect — a handful of forgotten monks in the mountains, with no warriors, no reputation, no power.

The only thing they cultivate is silence.

Mocked as cowards and laughed at by the entire murim world, they never raise swords — but they know exactly where swords will fall.

And it was there, among shadows and silence… that I began to see the world as it truly is.

Chapter 11 - a