[POV — Seongji Yuk]
Cheonliang never attacked all at once.
It tested you in pieces.
Seongji learned that on a night when the fog rolled in thick enough to swallow sound. The forest went quiet—not the natural kind of quiet, but the kind that meant something was wrong. Insects stopped chirping. Even the river seemed to slow, its current muffled by the heavy air.
Seongji stood at the edge of their clearing, eyes narrowed, muscles already tense.
"Five," he murmured.
Behind him, Ethan shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders as if warming up. "Six. One's hiding."
Seongji didn't argue. He trusted Ethan's instincts when it came to sensing movement. The madman smiled too much, but his awareness in a fight was razor-sharp.
They didn't draw weapons. Cheonliang taught them early that weapons got taken first.
Footsteps broke the silence.
Older boys emerged from the fog—no, men. Late teens, early twenties. Scarred, confident, dressed in layers suited for ambushes. Cheonliang locals who had heard the rumors and come to see if they were true.
Two demons left behind by the wild.
One of them stepped forward, rolling his neck. "You're the kids."
Seongji stepped forward as well, placing himself half a step ahead of Ethan. Not to protect him—but because that was where a leader stood.
"If you're here to talk," Seongji said evenly, "turn around."
The man laughed. "We're here to see how long you last."
Ethan's smile widened.
"Perfect."
[POV — Ethan Cross]
The first attack came fast.
A bottle shattered against the ground between them, liquid spraying outward. The smell hit Ethan instantly—cheap alcohol mixed with something bitter.
Poison.
He jumped back as the ground erupted with movement.
They rushed.
Ethan stepped forward instead.
A fist flew toward his face. He let it graze his cheek, feeling skin split, just to learn the timing. Then he ducked low, slammed his shoulder into the man's ribs, and twisted.
Bone gave way with a satisfying crack.
The man screamed.
Ethan didn't stop. He hooked a leg, swept him off his feet, and drove an elbow down into his collarbone.
"Too slow," Ethan whispered, almost kindly.
Pain flared across his back as something blunt struck him. He rolled with it, laughing as he hit the dirt, then kicked backward blindly. His heel connected with a knee.
The sound that followed wasn't human.
[POV — Seongji Yuk]
Seongji fought like a wall.
He didn't chase. He didn't rush.
He let them come to him.
A man lunged with a blade. Seongji stepped inside the arc, grabbed the wrist, and twisted sharply upward. The knife fell. Seongji's knee came up next—clean, brutal, perfectly placed.
The man collapsed.
Another tried to tackle him from behind.
Seongji lowered his center of gravity and threw him forward, using the attacker's own momentum. The body hit a tree hard enough to shake the branches.
Crack.
Seongji felt the impact through his arms.
Good.
He turned just in time to block a kick. The force rattled his bones. He gritted his teeth, stepped forward, and slammed his forehead into the attacker's nose.
Blood sprayed.
Seongji didn't blink.
[POV — Ethan Cross]
They were good.
Not trained in schools or gyms—but forged by Cheonliang itself. Dirty fighters. Smart ones.
That made it fun.
Ethan felt his ribs protest as he took another hit, breath hitching painfully. He coughed, tasted blood, and laughed harder.
"Yes," he breathed. "This is it."
He caught a punch mid-swing, twisted the arm, and drove his knee into the elbow joint. The arm bent the wrong way.
Ethan let go and immediately dropped to the ground as a bottle flew over his head.
He sprang back up, grabbed the thrower by the throat, and slammed him face-first into the dirt.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He released him when the body stopped resisting.
[POV — Seongji Yuk]
The fight ended the way Cheonliang fights always did.
Ugly.
One man crawled away, sobbing.
Another lay unconscious, breathing shallowly.
The rest didn't move.
Seongji stood in the fog, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles. He scanned the area, alert for movement.
Nothing.
Cheonliang had made its assessment.
For now.
He turned to Ethan. "You okay?"
Ethan wiped blood from his mouth, eyes bright. "Never better."
Seongji snorted quietly.
[FLASHBACK — Mujin Jin]
When the wild tests you,
it doesn't ask questions.
It only counts bodies.
[POV — Seongji Yuk]
The attacks didn't stop after that night.
They escalated.
Groups came bigger. Better organized. Some tried traps. Others tried starvation—stealing their food, poisoning water sources, driving animals away.
Seongji adapted.
He learned patrol routes. Learned where Cheonliang's terrain worked for him and where it killed carelessness. He set traps of his own—simple but effective.
He stopped fighting when unnecessary.
Every movement had purpose.
[POV — Ethan Cross]
Ethan did the opposite.
He hunted.
He moved through Cheonliang like he belonged to it, smiling as people ran when they saw him. He learned how to fight when outnumbered, how to break morale before bones.
Pain stopped slowing him down.
It energized him.
At night, he dreamed of Mujin Jin's hands.
Of bone.
[POV — Seongji Yuk]
Weeks turned into months.
The rumors spread beyond Cheonliang.
Two kids who wouldn't die.
Two demons who broke challengers and walked away laughing.
One night, Seongji sat by the fire and stared into the flames.
"…They're coming," he said.
Ethan leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "Good."
"Not fighters," Seongji continued. "Survivors. Kids."
Ethan paused.
"…What?"
[POV — Ethan Cross]
The first child appeared the next day.
Then another.
And another.
They watched from the trees—thin, bruised, desperate.
Ethan looked at Seongji, eyebrow raised. "Well?"
Seongji stood.
"If you stay here," he called out, voice firm, "you follow rules."
Silence.
Then a small figure stepped forward.
"We don't want to die," the kid said.
Seongji nodded once.
"Then learn."
Ethan smiled slowly.
Cheonliang had tested them.
Now—
It was giving them responsibility.