The stone corridor echoed with the clank of chains as Min-jun was dragged deeper into the compound. His bare feet left smears of blood on the rough-hewn floor—some his own, most from the beast he'd killed. The stench of burning herbs and something metallic hung thick in the air.
"Where—" Min-jun's voice came out a rasp. The masked guard yanked his chains harder, cutting him off.
"You speak when spoken to, worm."
They passed iron-barred cells packed with hollow-eyed prisoners. Some bore fresh wounds. Others had the vacant stare of those broken beyond resistance. A man with no teeth grinned at Min-jun as he passed.
At the end of the hall, a brazier cast flickering light over a stone slab stained dark with old blood. A hooded figure stood waiting, stirring a pot of bubbling ink.
"Ah." The voice was female, ancient. "Our new survivor."
The guard shoved Min-jun onto the slab. Cold stone bit into his bare back. Leather straps snaked around his wrists and ankles before he could react.
The woman pushed back her hood, revealing a face mapped with scars. One milky eye gleamed in the firelight. "This mark will bind your chi. Attempt to remove it, and it will burn through your flesh."
She dipped a needle into the ink—black, but swirling with something iridescent. Min-jun's pulse spiked.
*Not ink. Something alive.*
The first prick of the needle felt like fire ants crawling under his skin. Min-jun gritted his teeth as the woman worked, etching swirling patterns over his left pectoral. The pain mounted with each stroke, until his vision whited out at the edges.
Somewhere in the haze, he heard the guard chuckle. "He'll last a week at most."
Then darkness took him.
---
**Consciousness returned** in waves.
Min-jun found himself in a cell barely large enough to lie down in. The brand on his chest throbbed with every breath. When he tried to summon the focus he'd used in special forces training, something *pulled* inside him—like reaching for a weapon and finding empty air.
*Chi-sealed.*
A wet cough came from the shadows. "They always try that first."
Min-jun's head snapped up. In the corner, a skeletal figure hunched on a pile of filthy straw. The man's face was a patchwork of scars, one ear missing entirely.
"Liao," the man said, tapping his chest. "Though most call me 'the Scarred' now." He grinned, showing blackened teeth. "You killed the shadow wolf with a rock. Impressive."
Min-jun's throat burned. "Where is this place?"
Liao laughed—a sound like grinding stones. "The underbelly of the Jade Serpent Sect. You're property now, boy. They'll feed you to the beasts until you die, or..." He leaned forward. "...until you're interesting enough for the pits."
Something clattered outside the cell. Liao's grin vanished. "Ah. Feeding time."
A slot opened in the door. Two wooden bowls slid through—one filled with watery gruel, the other with something that might have been meat weeks ago.
Min-jun's stomach turned.
Liao snatched both bowls. "Rule one of the pits," he said, shoveling gruel into his mouth. "Eat when you can. You never know when your next meal's coming."
As Min-jun forced down the rancid food, Liao's good eye studied him. "You're not from Murim," he murmured. "Your accent... your stance... you're a world-walker, aren't you?"
Min-jun froze.
Liao's grin returned. "Thought so. They're looking for your kind." He tapped his brand. "This? It's not just to control you. It's a beacon."
A chill ran down Min-jun's spine. "Who's looking?"
The old man leaned so close Min-jun could smell the rot on his breath.
"The ones who made the gates."
**TO BE CONTINUED...**