The cold wind sliced across Mount Liang like a blade, carrying the scent of blood and smoke. Kang Jinhyuk crouched atop a jagged rock, his eyes scanning the valley below. A dozen men scurried through the encampment, unaware of the shadow hovering above them.
With a quiet breath, he shifted, blade in hand. The edge gleamed under the pale moonlight, sharp enough to sever sinew, sharp enough to sever life itself.
Pathetic fools..!!! he muttered under his breath. They think they can survive the Black Fang.
A sudden clatter a dagger spun toward him midair. Jinhyuk caught it effortlessly, twisted, and sent the attacker sprawling down the slope with a precise kick. His movements were fluid, elegant, and terrifyingly efficient. One, two, three... each strike calculated, no wasted motion.
Blood painted the rocks red. But even as victory came easily, his heart remained a hollow cavern. The memories hit him like a hammer.
Flashback – Six Years Ago
The laughter of a child, the warmth of his wife's hand in his own. Gong Min-Seo, the woman who had stood by him through every hardship, her eyes always calm, unwavering. Their small home smelled of fresh bread and earth, simple, peaceful.
And then chaos, Flames, screams, and the cold, unfeeling steel of the Murim Alliance's soldiers. Min-Seo's hand slipped from his, and the small body of their child was torn from his embrace.
Why… why didn't I protect you? Jinhyuk's voice cracked in the memory, unheard in the present, a ghost of anguish. I promised… I promised I would never let anything happen to you…
He blinked, forcing himself back into the moment. The enemy below, unaware, moved with overconfidence. Jinhyuk's fingers tightened around the hilt. He could feel his muscles responding before his mind had fully processed.
Vengeance, he whispered to himself. Every drop of blood spilled today… it's a step closer to them. Every life I take… it's for Min-Seo and our child.
A shadow leapt from the treeline, a man swinging a curved sword. Jinhyuk sidestepped, spinning and delivering a strike to the attacker's side, sending him crashing into another bandit. The fight was a dance, a brutal ballet in the cold moonlight.
You're too slow.., he said, almost mocking them. Pathetic…
The bandits' morale cracked under his relentless assault. He moved like a ghost, striking with precision, anticipating every move. Each swing of his sword, each calculated kick, was a testament not just to skill, but to the burning fire inside a fire born from love, loss, and unquenchable rage.
When the last bandit fell, Jinhyuk stood alone in the silent valley. The wind whispered through the rocks, carrying echoes of the past. He knelt, touching the soil as if seeking forgiveness.
I can't cry anymore, he murmured. I can't afford to be weak. There is only one path left… the path to revenge. To power. To make them pay.
His eyes glinted in the moonlight, cold and unyielding. A shadowed smile touched his lips not for joy, but for the inevitability of the storm he was about to unleash upon the Murim world.
From the distance, a faint memory lingered the smile of a young girl, Yura, who had once made his heart race with the promise of love. That memory was soft, fleeting, but it burned within him, mingling with the bitter ashes of his loss.
One day, he vowed, voice barely more than a breath, I will see them all fall... And I… will rise above them.
Mount Liang remained silent once more, but the shadows moved with him now. The legend of the Crimson Bandit was beginning.