The Jirisan Forest stretched endlessly ahead, full of mysteries and dangers. For days, Hyun, now a ten-year-old boy with the mind of a seasoned office worker, walked. His adult mind quickly adapted to the immediate need for survival, prioritizing water and shelter. Snow, the white tiger cub, remained his sole comfort and companion. Hyun realized that unlike the wildlife he knew, Snow didn't seem to need much food, surviving on an almost imperceptible energy. This suggested the Murim world's rules were fundamentally different.
One afternoon, while resting beneath a massive, unfamiliar tree, Hyun suffered a deep cut on his arm trying to strip bark. He watched in astonishment as the wound began to close almost instantly, without the aid of any medicine. He also noticed that he felt no hunger, despite having eaten almost nothing for three days. The realization hit him: he had inherited some of his father's Murim legacy—a body capable of rapid healing and perhaps, cultivation. This was a ten-year-old body infused with the magical essence of Murim.
Hyun began to test his limits, realizing his child's body was unnaturally strong and agile. He needed to find people, but the forest seemed empty of human life. On the fifth day, the clean, wild scent of the forest was abruptly replaced by the cloying smell of incense, sulfur, and rot. The canopy thinned, and he spotted a faint trail. Following the trail, he and Snow passed several unsettling markers: crudely carved wooden effigies wrapped in dark cloth, and patches of earth where the grass refused to grow.
As dusk settled, the pair reached a clearing. Before them lay a village that was silent and shadowed, even in the twilight. This was Gong-Eui Village, but it felt anything but righteous; it was a place where hope had died. No children were playing; only a few gaunt, cloaked adults moved silently between the houses, their eyes darting nervously. Hyun and Snow took cover behind an old stone wall, watching. He overheard a hushed, panicked conversation between two villagers: "The tithing is tonight. The Crimson Peak Cult will send their collector." "They took little Ae-Cha last month. How long can we keep giving them our children?" Hyun's blood ran cold. He had stumbled into a village oppressed by a demonic cult, and their tribute was their own children. His adult morality screamed at the immediate danger and injustice.