Blue sat cross-legged in the center of his room, spine straight, palms resting over his knees. Heat roared through his meridians like a river bursting through an old dam.
Too fast.
Too much.
Qi flooded his limbs in violent waves, chaotic and unrestrained. His breath stuttered.
“This is too much…”
He clenched his jaw and forced himself into Twilight Flow.
Inhale.
Pause.
Feel the qi.
Exhale.
Flow with it.
A message flickered across the unseen edges of his vision.
[System Sync: Stabilizing… Conduit recognized.]
“We’ll do this together.”
Blue never saw it. He was too focused. Gradually, the current bent. The chaos softened. The wild surge aligned with his breathing rhythm, gathering, compressing, settling deep into his dantian. The pain ebbed. Something else replaced it. Power. He opened his eyes slowly. Sweat traced his jawline.
“…It’s done?”
[SYSTEM]
Qi Absorbed: 100%
+15 Years of Qi Acquired
New Passive Unlocked: [Perfect Conversion]
All elixirs consumed will be absorbed completely. No energy wasted.
Blue rose to his feet, the air around him feeling lighter, clearer. His body no longer strained — it felt anchored.
He stepped outside.
The late afternoon wind met him immediately.
He frowned.
“…How long was I inside?”
“Almost twenty-four hours.”
Blue froze. Ten paces away stood an instructor. Behind him, Ilho and Jinhu.
“How long have you been standing there?” Blue asked.
The instructor ignored the question.
“Good. All of you absorbed it. Follow me.”
Ilho leaned slightly toward Blue. “We had two days, right?”
“That’s what I thought.”
Ilho sighed. “The rod calls… we follow.”
They crossed the outer courtyard and climbed toward a pavilion hidden behind the main barracks — a place no ordinary recruit entered.
At the center stood Wu Jin.
Behind him, mounted on a low wooden rack, rested a dozen swords. Not practice blades. Real steel.
Wu Jin waited until they stood before him.
“Footwork,” he began, “is the foundation of all martial arts. Every strike. Every breath. Every decision in battle begins with how you move.”
He turned first to Jinhu.
“You’re strong. Aggressive. And far too large for someone your age.”
Jinhu didn’t smile, but his nostrils flared slightly. Then Ilho.
“Smaller. Nimble. Reactive. Learn when to move… and when not to.”
Finally, his gaze settled on Blue.
“Blue.”
A pause.
“You are…”
Another beat.
“…unpredictable.”
He held Blue’s eyes.
“That means you either become dangerous… or dead.”
Before Blue could respond, three figures dropped from the rafters. They landed without sound. One before each recruit. Silent Edge veterans. Their presence alone carried weight.
“These,” Wu Jin said calmly, “will be your masters and will train you. They have mastered the forms and weapons you’re about to inherit. Treat them with respect. They are your teachers now… and your brothers later.”
The man before Jinhu straightened to full height — and kept rising.
Easily six-foot-eight. Broad as a fortress gate. Arms thicker than most men’s thighs. His hands were wrapped in iron-weave bindings, overlaid with black gauntlets forged from ancient steel that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
He raised both fists and struck them together.
Clang. Clang.
“You’ll follow him,” Wu Jin said. “Mu Jang. The Mountain Fang. You’ll strike like an avalanche… and move like one’s coming.”
Before Ilho stood stillness itself.
Lean. Charcoal robes unmoving in the breeze. Not tall. Not short. Perfectly poised.
His eyes weren’t cold.
They were empty.
He bowed once — fluid, ghostlike.
“Most of Silent Edge doesn’t know his name,” Wu Jin said. “Fewer have heard his voice. When we debated who would train you, he spoke one phrase.”
Wu Jin’s lips curved faintly.
"That one is mine."
Ilho didn’t look away.
Finally, before Blue stood a hooded figure. Shorter than him. Silent. No bow. No gesture. Nothing.
Wu Jin’s voice lowered.
“Blue. Be careful.”
A pause.
“That’s all I can say.”
“Tomorrow morning, one-on-one training begins. You reconvene in the afternoon. You have one month.”
He let the words settle.
“At the end of it, you fight in a tournament. Other corps. Other sects. Some stronger. Some dishonorable. All of Murim watching.”
“You are not allowed to fail.”
He looked at them evenly.
“You know what happens to failures.”
The three recruits shouted in unison.
“STARVE!”
Wu Jin nodded once.
He stepped to the weapon rack.
To Jinhu, he tossed heavy iron gauntlets. They landed with a dull thud in his grip.
“Use that strength for something useful, oversized child.”
To Ilho, he drew twin butterfly swords and tossed them low. Ilho caught them instinctively.
“Maybe with these… you’ll learn to be quiet.”
He leaned close enough for only Ilho to hear.
“Crack.”
Ilho flinched.
Wu Jin didn’t smile.
The instructors led Jinhu and Ilho away.
Blue remained.
Wu Jin stepped behind the hooded figure and pulled back the cowl.
The man did not react.
“Father,” Wu Jin said mildly. “That’s enough. I think you've spooked him enough.”
Blue blinked.
“…Wu Cheng?”
THUD.
Tang Yeol dropped from the rafters, grinning.
“Scared you, didn’t he?”
Blue looked between them.
“Wait… you’re with Silent Edge?”
Wu Jin folded his arms.
“Who do you think started it?”
Yeol shrugged. “He recruits from bars and slums. I never joined — though he keeps pestering. I just enjoy tagging along.”
The bar. The graveyard. The pavilion. It all clicked.
Wu Jin turned to leave.
“When I said be careful… it wasn’t for the old man’s sake.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“It was for yours.”
A faint grin.
“The rod sees. The rod hears.”
He disappeared.
Wu Cheng chuckled softly.
Tang Yeol produced a scroll.
“This,” he said quietly, “is the footwork your grandfather created.”
Blue’s breath stilled.
“Not Tang lineage. Not sect-bound. Something entirely his.”
“He called it Flowing Steel,” Wu Cheng added. “Movement without pattern.”
Yeol laughed faintly. “We tried to follow him once during a mission. Lost sight of him in three steps.”
Blue looked at the scroll with new weight.
“We couldn’t master it fully,” Yeol admitted. “But fragments remain. You’ll inherit the original… and our mistakes.”
Blue swallowed.
“Has anyone besides grandfather mastered it?”
Yeol grinned.
“So-Yeon.”
Blue’s eyes sharpened.
“That damned girl mastered it in secret. Flowing Steel is what allowed her to rise. To become Matriarch. To lead the Crimson Veil.”
Wu Cheng’s voice softened.
“Yoryeon left that scroll with Yeol when he became Patriarch. Told him: protect the ones too young to bear it.”
Yeol’s gaze steadied on Blue.
“That meant you. So-Yeon. All of you.”
He extended the scroll.
“This is yours. Not because of blood. Because you’ve earned it.”
Blue accepted it.
Wu Cheng stepped to the rack and drew a Jian — sleek, precise, balanced.
“Your grandfather favored this blade. Said it matched the footwork.”
Blue took it.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
New Technique Recognized: Flowing Steel – First Form (0%)
Weapon Compatibility: Jian Class – Tracking Initialized
Blue dismissed the window.
He tightened his grip on the sword.
He had work to do.