The night was thick with mist, curling around the jagged rocks of Mount Liang like a living thing. Kang Jinhyuk crouched behind a twisted tree, his breaths shallow and deliberate, eyes fixed on the small merchant caravan winding through the valley below. Torches flickered, illuminating the faint outlines of horses and carts laden with supplies.
This was his first real mission with the Black Fang—a raid not just for survival, but for information, resources, and the demonstration of skill. Every move, every decision could mean life or death, and failure was not an option.
Stay sharp, he whispered under his breath, feeling the familiar fire of rage simmer in his chest. Every strike… every plan… is a step toward vengeance. Every step is practice for the day I face those who took everything from me.
Baek Ryun was beside him, his silhouette barely discernible in the mist. Watch your angle, he murmured, voice low and precise. One mistake, and the guards will kill us before we even reach the carts.
Jinhyuk's eyes narrowed, tracking movements with uncanny precision. He noted the patterns: the spacing of the guards, the rhythm of their steps, the way the horses shifted their weight. Every detail mattered. Every detail could be exploited.
I've trained for this, he thought. I've studied every patrol, every trap, every weakness. Nothing will stop me.
Yet, even as adrenaline surged, doubt gnawed quietly in the recesses of his mind. This was not a battlefield of Black Fang recruits. These were civilians, merchants simply carrying goods to survive, unprepared for death. Could vengeance—or survival—justify the cost of innocent lives?
Cheol-Ung's voice had echoed during training: The world does not forgive weakness. It does not forgive hesitation. But it also tests morality, even among those forged in darkness. Choose carefully—your decisions mark you as much as your strength.
Jinhyuk gritted his teeth. He had vowed revenge, but the faces of Min-Seo and their child flashed before him unbidden, memories of love and loss intertwining with the fire of fury.
I am no one's executioner… yet, he whispered, fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. I must survive… and I must choose wisely. There is a difference between killing to avenge and killing indiscriminately.
The raid began. Jinhyuk and Baek Ryun slipped through the shadows, moving like ghosts, cutting off the rear guard of the caravan. The fight was precise, brutal, and merciless—but Jinhyuk noticed something that made him hesitate. Among the guards was a boy, barely older than he had been when Min-Seo and their child were taken. Fear and confusion were written across his face, not malice.
Time slowed. The boy's eyes met Jinhyuk's, wide and innocent, and for a moment, the rage in his chest faltered.
No… this isn't them, he thought. These are not the people who took Min-Seo… these are not the ones who burned my village. If I strike now… I become the monster I hate.
Baek Ryun whispered, tension in his voice: Do you strike or hesitate? Hesitation is death!
Jinhyuk's mind raced. The mission demanded ruthless efficiency, yet his heart screamed against indiscriminate killing. Every ounce of training, every lesson in survival, every brutal strike he had executed thus far clashed with the pull of conscience.
I will not be blind to innocence, he decided, voice low but unwavering. He slipped forward, moving to disarm rather than to kill. The boy froze, sensing a predator, but Jinhyuk's eyes were steady, calculating. He disarmed the youth with a swift twist, knocking the dagger from his hands, and pushed him into the shadows.
Baek Ryun's gaze narrowed. You're soft, he muttered, voice edged with both disbelief and caution. Softness will get you killed in the field.
No, Jinhyuk whispered internally, watching the boy disappear into the darkness. This… this is strength. Strength to decide, strength to control the fire inside me. Strength to live and become more than rage alone.
The remainder of the caravan was neutralized efficiently. Jinhyuk used strategy, exploiting terrain and timing to incapacitate guards without unnecessary bloodshed. His leadership began to shine, guiding less experienced recruits through traps and maneuvers with precision. Even Cheol-Ung, observing from a distance, noted the subtle brilliance in Jinhyuk's tactics.
Impressive, Cheol-Ung muttered to himself. He controls not only his body, but the minds of those around him. That… is potential.
After the mission, the Black Fang regrouped atop a ridge overlooking the valley. The torches of the caravan flickered below, some extinguished, some still burning. Jinhyuk wiped sweat and blood from his face, chest heaving. Victory had been achieved, yet his mind remained heavy.
I could have killed them all, he thought, staring into the distance. I could have let the fire of vengeance consume everything… but I chose differently. Yet… is this enough? Will mercy survive in a world like this?
Baek Ryun approached, his expression unreadable. You made a choice. One that will define you. Some will call it weakness. Others… will follow you because of it. Choose carefully, Jinhyuk… the path of vengeance is long, and the darkness will test you.
Jinhyuk's jaw tightened. I will grow stronger, he thought, voice resolute. Stronger than anyone, stronger than the darkness that seeks to consume me. And when the time comes, those who destroyed my life… will pay.
The night pressed down, cold and heavy. Jinhyuk stood alone at the edge of the cliff, looking at the distant horizon where moonlight shimmered across the valleys. The wind carried whispers of the past, echoes of laughter long silenced, of love stolen, of innocence destroyed.
I will master the darkness… and I will master myself, he whispered, voice firm. I will not let grief make me blind, nor rage make me a monster. I will survive, I will grow… and I will ensure that no one ever suffers as I have.
Below him, the Black Fang camp flickered like a nest of shadows, alive with movement, whispers, and planning. And above it, Kang Jinhyuk felt the spark of something dangerous, something unstoppable, igniting deep within a combination of grief, determination, and the first true understanding of his own power.
The path ahead was long, winding, and perilous. Blood would be spilled, allies would fall, and the world would test him at every step. But Kang Jinhyuk was no longer the helpless boy of the village. He was a Black Fang, a strategist, a warrior, and a man who had made a choice: to survive, to fight, and to one day wield vengeance with precision.
And when that day came, the Murim world would remember his name.