Three days passed since the spar.
The Iron Shadow Sect buzzed with quiet whispers — about the "hopeless" disciple who'd bested one of their prodigies.
"Did you see it?"
"They say his strike vibrated before it landed."
"No one that weak should be able to move like that…"
Tae-won ignored them. He trained harder than ever, pushing past exhaustion until his body screamed. But this time, the pain wasn't his enemy — it was his teacher.
Every punch, every breath, carried that faint hum beneath the surface. It wasn't Ki. It wasn't Mana. It was something deeper — something that listened.
When he struck the air, it struck back — not in resistance, but in response.
---
The Disciples' Jealousy
By the fifth day, jealousy began to spread.
Kang Jiro had yet to recover from humiliation, and his allies whispered venom behind closed doors.
"Master Hae must have given him a secret manual."
"Or maybe he's using forbidden techniques."
"Let's see how long that arrogance lasts."
That evening, while Tae-won cleaned the training courtyard, three senior disciples approached.
Their uniforms were pristine; their smiles — cold.
"Well, well," said the first, cracking his knuckles. "The cripple's learned some tricks."
Tae-won didn't look up. "Move aside."
"Oh? The cripple gives orders now?"
The second disciple stepped forward, Ki flaring faintly around his palm. "Show us what you did in that spar. Maybe you got lucky."
Tae-won straightened slowly, brushing the dust off his robe. His gaze was calm, almost distant.
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
That tone — quiet, confident — was enough. The first disciple lunged.
---
The Rhythm of Instinct
Time slowed.
Tae-won's body moved before his mind did.
Every step, every breath, every sound — aligned.
He could hear the rush of blood in his attackers' veins, the faint flutter of cloth against skin, even the vibration of the floor beneath their feet.
It wasn't sight.
It wasn't hearing.
It was something beyond both — a resonance.
He sidestepped the strike, redirected another, and let his palm land lightly on the third disciple's chest.
Hummm.
The sound was almost imperceptible, but the impact wasn't.
The man flew backward, crashing into a wooden pillar.
The other two froze.
For a heartbeat, the courtyard was silent — save for the low, fading pulse that came from Tae-won himself.
---
The Elder's Arrival
Before another blow could land, a voice sliced through the silence.
"That's enough."
Master Hae appeared at the edge of the courtyard, robes fluttering in the evening wind. His eyes flicked across the fallen disciples, then settled on Tae-won.
"What happened here?"
No one answered.
Finally, Tae-won bowed deeply. "They provoked me, Master. I… lost control."
"Lost control?" Hae's brow furrowed. "No — you found something. I can see it in your movements. You're different."
The old master studied him carefully. "Tell me, Tae-won… what did you touch that night on the mountain?"
Tae-won hesitated. He could still feel it — that strange rhythm in his chest, like a second heartbeat trying to match his own.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "But it feels alive."
---
The Elder's Warning
Master Hae was silent for a long time. Then he spoke softly, almost with regret.
"Whatever it is you've awakened, be careful. Ki and Mana are gifts of Heaven. Anything beyond that… is something Heaven fears."
He turned away, his voice carrying through the fading light.
"The last man who said power felt 'alive' brought an age to ruin."
---
The Night's Echo
Later that night, Tae-won sat beneath the cherry tree overlooking the training grounds.
The world was quiet — but within him, a faint rhythm beat in harmony with the whispering leaves.
He closed his eyes and focused.
Thrum.
Thrum.
And for a brief instant, he felt another heartbeat — not his own — answer.
Distant. Gentle. But real.
When he opened his eyes, the night seemed darker, deeper… almost watching him.
He didn't know what it was.
Only that, for the first time, he wasn't truly alone.
---