The forest clearing was cloaked in predawn mist, swirling like thin ghosts around the disciples. Taren sat awkwardly, fists clenched, his breath uneven. Lira rested with arms crossed, her breathing steady but her eyes sharp with doubt. Goren's eyes were closed, fingers twitching as if tracing old scars. Mary, the cloaked girl, sat with poor posture, blinking foggily at a floating leaf for nearly a minute before sneezing loudly.
Jin Muyeong stood beneath a gnarled tree, arms folded, his crimson-gold robes drinking the faint light. His presence made the morning heavy, as if the wind itself paused for his permission. His black katana rested at his side, silent but ever-ready.
Mary's voice broke the stillness, bright and oblivious. "No wonder no monsters are around! They must've felt your presence, uncle! I feel so safe!"
Jin's brow twitched, a rare crack in his calm. He opened one eye. "Uncle?"
A faint smirk tugged at Lira's lips. "You do give off 'retired war god' energy."
Taren muttered, half to himself, "You think he's really not a legend?"
Jin's gaze swept over them, sharp as his blade. If that old bastard from the southern peaks still lives, he'd cackle and call me a child… He dismissed the thought. "Enough chatter. You are here to feel the pulse. Close your mouths, open your spirit."
The disciples fell silent, settling back into focus—or trying to. Mary sneezed again.
Soon, stomachs rumbled. Mary's growled loudest, a comical gurgle that made her flush. Goren's face stiffened, his pride warring with hunger. Lira looked away, her jaw tight. Taren tried to hide his uneven breaths, but his hands betrayed him, pressing against his gut.
Jin opened his eyes, expression unchanged. "Stay. Do not move. Reach for your pulse."
Mary's eyes widened. "Wha—but we're starving—"
Jin was gone.
One blink. One breath. The space beneath the tree was empty.
Deep in the forest, Jin appeared atop a boulder, silent as a shadow. His senses, honed beyond mortal limits, had found it—a massive presence. Ki swirled through the trees like disturbed fog, heavy, wild. A beast. A forest boar, towering like a small Murim villa, its tusks the size of tree trunks, fur thick as armor. In Murim, they'd call it a Hill Beast, its meat brimming with restorative force.
The forest erupted in chaos. The boar's eyes, glinting with primal terror, locked onto Jin. A bone-rattling roar tore from its throat, shaking leaves from branches. It turned, massive hooves gouging the earth, and charged to flee. Beyond, monstrous creatures scattered—scaled deer with antlers like twisted iron bolted through the undergrowth, their hulking forms dwarfing normal stags; winged serpents with glowing eyes screeched, their massive wings blotting the sky as they fled. Every monster in the forest, ground-bound or airborne, sensed the Black Blade's presence and ran in panic, their roars and shrieks a cacophony of dread.
Jin drew his katana slowly, the steel's whisper cutting through the chaos. His ki never flared, not even a ripple.
One stroke.
The sky split. Clouds cracked. The ground beneath the beast gaped open.
The boar's massive body parted in two, its weight shaking the forest floor. Jin caught the halves before they fell, muscles rippling faintly under his robes. He sheathed his blade, calm as ever, and hoisted the beast onto his shoulders like a sack of leaves.
Back at the clearing, the disciples sat, struggling. Taren's brow glistened, his focus fraying. Goren meditated, his breathing steady for the first time. Mary, having given up, poked a bug with a twig, muttering, "C'mon, move…"
Branches snapped. A massive shadow loomed.
Jin returned, silent, the hulking boar corpse slung across his shoulders. He dropped it with a dull thud, cracking the soil. The disciples scrambled to their feet, jaws slack.
Mary gaped. "Th-That's… that's…"
Taren blinked, voice faint. "Taller than a house…"
Lira muttered to herself, "He did that alone?"
Jin's voice was calm, unshaken. "Eat. A starving body is a poor vessel for ki."
Mary's eyes lit up, hopeful. "So… you'll cook?"
Jin was silent. The disciples stared.
Finally, he spoke. "I don't know how."
Mary blinked. Taren snorted, quickly covering his mouth. Lira's smirk returned, sharper now. "Retired war god, huh?"
Mary volunteered to help, admitting she couldn't cook either. Lira's attempt nearly set a tree ablaze, her muttered curses drawing a rare chuckle from Goren. They settled on roasting boar chunks over an open flame, the meat glowing faintly with residual aura—a heat beyond the fire, a heaviness in every bite.
Jin watched, his voice low. "To eat is to gain strength. This meat carries aura—not yours, but it will stir your body. Make it listen. Make it remember."
He paused, eyes glinting. "And when it listens… your pulse will answer."
The fire crackled. Goren finished first, his posture straighter. Taren followed, wiping his mouth, a flicker of resolve in his eyes. Lira ate slowly, her cynicism softening. Mary stuffed her face without dignity, mumbling through a mouthful, "This is amazing!"
After the meal, they sat again. Something had shifted—less resistance, more awareness. The pulse was faint, a whisper in their cores, but it was there.
Jin stood, his gaze distant. Good. Now it begins.
The forest grew still, the mist parting as dawn broke. The Black Blade's path was taking root.
Jin's eyes flicked to Mary, who lingered near the fire, her earlier cheer dimmed. The others focused inward, seeking their pulse, but she sat apart, her fingers twisting the edge of her tattered cloak. He stepped closer, his presence quiet but heavy, like a storm held in check.
"Why did you come here?" His voice was low, piercing. "You knew this forest crawls with monsters. Why?"
Mary froze, her breath catching. Her eyes darted to the ground, then to the trees, as if searching for an escape. Minutes passed, the silence stretching, her hands trembling. Finally, her voice came, barely a whisper, cracked with shame. "I… I wanted to die."
Jin's gaze didn't waver, but his silence urged her on.
"I had no hope," she continued, her words halting, raw. "I was lost. Running from… everything. My family, their plans to marry me off. I wandered, not caring where I went. I thought the monsters would…" She swallowed, eyes glistening. "But they didn't come. None of them. And then… I saw you split the sky."
Her voice broke, a fragile thing. "It woke something. I don't know what. But I couldn't look away."
Jin's expression remained unreadable, though a flicker of something—understanding, perhaps—crossed his dark eyes. He said nothing, only nodded once, as if her words were enough for now.
The forest stayed silent, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire. The disciples' pulses hummed, faint but growing. And somewhere, far beyond the trees, whispers of a sky-splitting stranger began to spread.