Night deep in the Cold Hell was indistinguishable from day, save for the rhythm of the guards' snoring echoing from the upper levels.
Jin stood before the cell of the Iron Bone Ogre.
The massive bandit, who had roared like a beast just hours ago, was now huddled in the corner, staring at the damp wall.
"Hey."
Jin spoke softly.
The Ogre flinched. His massive shoulders jerked as if whipped.
He turned his head slowly. When he saw Jin standing in the dim torchlight, his pupils dilated in fear.
"You… what are you?"
The Ogre's voice trembled.
He was a veteran of the martial world. He had faced righteous swordsmen and demonic cultists alike. But the killing intent he had felt earlier… that was something else. It felt primal. Like staring into the mouth of a starving apex predator.
Jin ignored the question.
"I have a question for you."
Jin unlocked the small feeding slot at the bottom of the bars. instead of pushing food in, he slid his hand through.
He beckoned with a single finger.
"Come here."
"...If I refuse?"
"Then you don't eat. Ever again."
The Ogre gritted his teeth. He was the Iron Bone Ogre! He had crushed skulls with his bare hands! Was he really going to be cowed by a skinny dungeon rat?
Pride flickered in his chest, overriding the fear for a brief moment.
"You arrogant little shit!"
The Ogre roared and charged.
He channeled his internal energy.
Vwoom!
His skin turned a dark, metallic grey.
This was the [Iron Bone Art]. By circulating Qi through the skin and muscles, it made the body as hard as refined steel.
He punched the iron bars.
BANG!
The entire cell block shook. The bars bent slightly inward, groaning under the impact.
The Ogre grinned savagely.
"See that? I can crush you like—"
He stopped.
Jin wasn't flinching. He wasn't scared.
He was… staring.
Jin's eyes were wide open, the crimson light swirling violently within his black pupils.
In Jin's vision, the world had changed.
He didn't see the Ogre's flesh or clothes.
He saw a network of blue lines glowing inside the giant's body.
'There.'
Jin watched the flow of energy.
It started from the lower dantian, spiraled up the spine, split at the shoulders, and flooded into the arms, hardening the surface.
'Three rotations in the primary meridian. Two reverse flows in the minor channels.'
It was complex. But to Jin, it looked like a recipe.
A recipe he wanted to taste.
"Do it again," Jin whispered, his voice thick with fascination.
"What?"
"Do it again. Harder."
The Ogre was confused, then enraged.
"You want to die? Fine!"
The Ogre gathered every ounce of his energy. His skin darkened further, looking almost like black iron.
He threw a punch aimed not at the bars, but through the gap, trying to hit Jin.
Whoosh!
The fist, wrapped in crushing pressure, flew toward Jin's face.
Jin didn't dodge.
Instead, he raised his hand.
He channeled the Asura Qi.
'Imitate.'
He forced his own energy to follow the path he had just seen inside the Ogre.
Flash.
Jin's pale arm suddenly turned a dark, bruised purple.
It wasn't the metallic grey of the Iron Bone Art. The Asura Qi was darker, more sinister.
THUD!
Fist met palm.
A shockwave of air blasted through the corridor, extinguishing the nearby torches.
Darkness swallowed them.
In the silence, a sound was heard.
Crack.
"Arghhhhh!"
A scream of agony tore through the prison.
When the dust settled, the Ogre was clutching his hand, retreating into the cell. His fingers were twisted at unnatural angles.
On the other side of the bars, Jin stood unharmed.
He looked at his hand.
The purple hue was fading, returning to his pale skin tone.
'It works.'
He had copied the circulation method of the Iron Bone Art.
But because his internal energy was the predatory Asura Qi, the result was different.
It didn't just harden his skin. It made his skin repel and destroy whatever it touched.
It was an [Asura Iron Skin].
Jin clenched his fist.
He felt a strange sensation of fullness in his stomach.
By clashing with the Ogre, his Qi had 'eaten' a portion of the opponent's impact energy to fuel the transformation.
"Delicious," Jin muttered.
The Ogre, cradling his broken hand, looked at the boy with absolute horror.
"You… you stole it… that's my clan's secret art…"
"Not anymore."
Jin looked at the Ogre with cold, satisfied eyes.
"You are useful, big guy. Don't die yet."
Jin took a steamed bun from his sleeve—one he had stolen from the kitchen—and threw it through the bars.
It landed in the dirt.
"Eat. You need to heal."
Jin turned around.
"I'll be back tomorrow night. We have a lot of practicing to do."
"You… you demon!"
Jin stopped. He glanced back over his shoulder.
A faint smile touched his lips for the first time in years.
"Demon? No."
He tapped his chest.
"I'm just a hungry ghost."
Jin walked away into the darkness.
The prison was full of martial artists. Swordsmen, assassins, internal energy masters.
He had found a new way to hunt.
...
...
Two more years passed in the frozen darkness.
Jin was now twenty years old.
The ecosystem of the Cold Hell had fundamentally shifted.
In the past, the prisoners were the monsters, and the guards were the wardens. Now, the prisoners lived in terror of the shadow that brought them their meals.
Clang.
Jin dropped a tray of frozen fish heads in front of the Iron Bone Ogre's cell.
The Ogre, once a mountain of muscle who roared at the world, now sat politely in the center of his cell. His skin was bruised and battered, not from the guards, but from "training."
"Eat," Jin said softly.
"Thank you... sir," the Ogre mumbled, grabbing a fish head with trembling hands.
Jin watched him for a moment, then turned his gaze inward.
Inside his dantian, the small spark of Asura Qi had grown into a roaring furnace. It was no longer a chaotic flame; it was a condensed, dark red sphere the size of a fist.
He had 'eaten' the martial arts of twelve different prisoners.
The [Iron Bone Art] for defense.
The [Viper's Step] for movement.
The [Bone-Shattering Palm] for offense.
However, they were all fragmented. They were crude imitations fueled by the superior quality of the Asura Qi.
'I am strong,' Jin thought, clenching his fist. The air popped inside his grip. 'But I am not yet a martial artist.'
He lacked a foundation. He was a chimera of stolen moves.
Boom!
Suddenly, the entire dungeon shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
It wasn't an earthquake. It was the sound of the massive ceremonial drums beating from the surface, reverberating all the way down to the abyss.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The prisoners began to whisper nervously.
"The drums..."
"Is it that time already?"
"The Winter Solstice."
Jin tilted his head. He had heard these drums before, usually accompanied by extra executions. But today, the rhythm was different. It was faster. More aggressive.
Creak—
The main gate of the dungeon, a massive slab of iron that was rarely opened fully, began to groan.
Gears ground against each other. Chains rattled.
Light—blinding, magical white light from glowing orbs—flooded the corridor.
"Kneel!"
Captain Cho's voice rang out, cracked with panic.
"Everyone on your knees! Keep your eyes on the floor! If you look up, I'll gouge your eyes out myself!"
The guards scrambled, throwing themselves onto the icy floor.
Jin slowly lowered himself to one knee in the shadows, bowing his head. But his eyes remained open, watching through the curtain of his long black hair.
A group of people walked in.
They were not guards.
They wore robes of pristine white fur, embroidered with silver threads in the shape of howling wolves. Their boots were made of white leather that made no sound on the ice.
The chill in the air dropped instantly.
If the dungeon was cold, these people were winter itself.
"So this is the Cold Hell," a voice sneered.
It was a young man at the front of the procession. He looked to be around Jin's age, perhaps twenty-two. He had sharp, aristocratic features and pale blue hair tied back with a silver ornament.
His presence was suffocating.
A visible haze of frost radiated from his body, freezing the moisture in the air instantly.
'Pure Ice Qi,' Jin analyzed instantly. 'And the quantity… it's massive.'
This was a true elite of the Northern Sea Ice Palace.
"Young Master Baek," Captain Cho crawled forward, his forehead touching the ice. "We are honored by your presence. We... we were not expecting an inspection."
Baek Mu-Gwang.
The second son of the Palace Elder. Known as the 'White Wolf of the North.'
Baek Mu-Gwang looked down at Captain Cho like one would look at a cockroach.
"Inspection? Do you think I have time to inspect this trash heap, Captain?"
Mu-Gwang kicked a frozen bucket aside.
"The Winter Hunt is approaching. The Elders have decided that the beast cages are lacking in... quality game."
"The... Winter Hunt?" Cho paled.
"We need prey for the Outer Disciples to track. Beasts are boring. Humans are much more fun to hunt."
Mu-Gwang smiled, a cruel expression that didn't reach his cold eyes.
"Pick ten. The strongest ones. Wash them and send them to the surface arena by dawn."
"T-ten?" Cho stammered. "But Young Master, if we take the ten strongest, the balance of the prison..."
Slap!
Mu-Gwang didn't move his hand. He simply flicked his finger.
A blade of compressed wind struck Cho's face, leaving a deep gash across his cheek.
"Did I ask for your opinion, dog?"
"M-mercy! I will do it! I will do it immediately!"
Mu-Gwang scoffed and turned to leave.
As he turned, his gaze swept across the corridor.
For a split second, his eyes locked onto the shadows where Jin was kneeling.
Jin held his breath. He retracted every ounce of Asura Qi, burying it deep within his marrow, looking as small and insignificant as possible.
Mu-Gwang paused.
"Hoh?"
He walked toward Jin.
The pressure increased with every step. It felt like a glacier was pressing down on Jin's shoulders.
Mu-Gwang stopped right in front of Jin.
"You."
Jin didn't answer. He kept his head bowed.
"You don't smell like the others," Mu-Gwang whispered. "You don't smell like fear. You smell like... blood."
Mu-Gwang raised his foot and placed it on Jin's shoulder.
He pushed down.
Crack.
The stone floor beneath Jin's knee cracked.
Mu-Gwang channeled his Internal Energy—the [Frost Wolf Art]—through his boot. Intense, biting cold drilled into Jin's shoulder, trying to freeze his blood vessels.
It was a test. Or perhaps just torture.
'Pain.'
Jin felt his shoulder bone groaning. The cold was agonizing.
But the Asura Qi inside him woke up. It didn't fight back; it opened its mouth.
Slurp.
The invading cold energy was sucked into Jin's meridians, broken down, and devoured by the heat of the Asura.
To Mu-Gwang, it felt like his energy was disappearing into a bottomless pit.
"Hmm?"
Mu-Gwang frowned. He pushed harder, intending to crush the servant's shoulder blade completely.
Jin gritted his teeth and let out a pathetic, strangled cry.
"Ugh... Aaah!"
He collapsed sideways, pretending to pass out, his body trembling violently.
Mu-Gwang retracted his foot, looking disappointed.
"Just a rat after all. I thought I felt resistance."
He wiped his boot on Jin's clothes.
"Captain. Add this one to the list."
Captain Cho's eyes widened. "The... the servant boy? But he knows no martial arts..."
"I don't care. He has good endurance. He will make a good running target for the archers."
Mu-Gwang turned and walked away, his white cape flowing behind him.
"Have them ready by dawn."
Clang. Boom.
The heavy doors slammed shut.
The dungeon fell into chaos.
"The Winter Hunt! We're all going to die!"
"No! Not me! Take the Ogre!"
Captain Cho stood up, wiping the blood from his cheek. His eyes were filled with venomous rage.
"You heard the Young Master! Get the Iron Bone Ogre, the Red Viper, the Axe Man... grab the top ten!"
Then Cho looked at Jin, who was slowly sitting up in the shadows.
"And grab the boy. Wash him up."
Cho spat a glob of bloody saliva on the floor.
"Let's see how long a corpse carrier lasts against the Palace Disciples."
Later that night.
The prison was buzzing with the screams of prisoners being dragged out for the "Hunt."
Jin was left alone in a holding cell. He was scheduled to be moved at dawn.
He sat cross-legged, massaging his shoulder. It was bruised purple, but thanks to the Asura Qi, it wasn't broken.
'The Winter Hunt.'
Jin knew what it was. It was a massacre. The disciples of the Ice Palace would release prisoners into the frozen wilderness and hunt them down for sport and training.
'I have to escape.'
If he went into the Hunt, he would have to reveal his strength. If he revealed his strength, the Elders would kill him.
But how? The dungeon was on high alert.
Thump.
Something was thrown into his cell.
Jin looked up.
It wasn't food. It was a person.
Or what was left of one.
An old man, dressed in rags that were once fine silk. His eyes had been gouged out, leaving empty, scarred sockets. His ten fingers had been systematically broken and twisted backward.
He was thrown in like a sack of garbage.
"New roomie for the prey," the guard laughed. "Just dumped him down from the interrogation room. He won't last the night."
The guard left.
Jin looked at the old man.
The old man lay motionless on the freezing stone. He wasn't shivering.
Jin reached out to check if he was dead.
"Don't touch me," a voice rasped.
It was dry as sandpaper, but sharp as a razor.
Jin stopped his hand.
"You're alive."
"Unfortunately."
The old man coughed, spitting out black blood. He turned his empty sockets toward Jin.
"You... your footsteps are strange. You walk like a ghost, but you breathe like a demon."
Jin narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am nobody. Just a ghost from the Central Plains."
The old man tried to sit up but failed. His broken fingers scrabbled uselessly on the stone.
"Boy. Do you have a weapon?"
"No."
"Good. Weapons make you weak. They make you rely on steel."
The old man gasped for air.
"I heard the guards... the Winter Hunt. You are going to be hunted."
"Yes."
"You will die. You have strength... I can hear the fire in your gut. But you don't know how to kill."
Jin didn't deny it. He knew how to brawl. He knew how to ambush. But he didn't know the art of killing.
"Can you teach me?" Jin asked. He didn't beg. He simply asked, like a transaction.
The old man laughed, a wheezing sound.
"Teach you? With these hands? I cannot even hold a spoon."
"I don't need you to hold it. I need you to tell me how."
Jin moved closer.
"I can heal you. Not completely. But enough to stop the pain."
Jin placed his hand on the old man's chest. He channeled a sliver of Asura Qi—warm and soothing amidst the cold.
The old man gasped as the warmth flooded his frozen veins.
"This Qi... it is evil. It is disastrous."
"It keeps me alive."
The old man was silent for a long time. The warmth spread through his body, giving him a moment of clarity he hadn't felt in months of torture.
"My name is Namgung Hyuk," the old man whispered. "Once, they called me the Sword Saint of the Azure Sky."
Jin's eyes widened slightly. Even in the remote North, he had heard legends of the Namgung Clan.
"They took my eyes so I could not see the weakness in their sword arts. They broke my fingers so I could not hold a blade."
Namgung Hyuk grinned, a terrifying sight on his ruined face.
"But they forgot one thing."
"What?"
"A true sword is not held in the hand. It is held in the heart."
Namgung Hyuk leaned forward.
"Boy. We have until dawn. Maybe four hours."
"Is that enough?"
"To teach you sword forms? No. To teach you the Namgung Sword Arts? Impossible."
The blind old man turned his face upward.
"But it is enough to teach you one thing."
"What is that?"
"How to become a sword yourself."
Namgung Hyuk's voice suddenly changed. The weakness vanished. An invisible, sharp pressure radiated from his broken body, cutting the very air in the cell.
Sword Intent.
It pricked Jin's skin like a thousand needles.
"Listen well, Demon of the Ice," Namgung Hyuk whispered. "I will teach you the formless blade. And with it, you will slaughter those white-clad wolves for me."
Jin sat cross-legged, his eyes burning with the crimson light of the Asura.
"I'm listening."
Outside, the drums of the Winter Hunt beat louder, counting down the hours to the massacre.
Inside the cell, a monster was being given its fangs.
[End of Chapter 5]