The sun had barely crested Mount Liang when Kang Jinhyuk's eyes narrowed against the morning mist. He could feel it—the subtle disturbance in the air that preceded arrogance and ignorance alike. Today's scouting was no ordinary patrol. He sensed a presence approaching, one that reeked of youthful confidence and pride, a naive audacity that almost made him smile.
Ah… here comes trouble, he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the sword at his hip.
The sound of footsteps on dry leaves echoed across the ridge. A figure appeared, young but imposing, carrying himself with an air of entitlement that could only belong to someone born and raised in privilege. His robes bore the mark of the Orthodox sect—a small emblem denoting Hwang Taejoon, a rising star, a genius from a minor clan in the Murim Alliance.
Taejoon's eyes flicked over Jinhyuk, lips curling into a smirk.
So, this is the infamous Crimson Bandit I've heard whispers of, he called out, voice dripping with condescension. Tell me, bandit, do you really think you can wander into Murim lands and survive? Or is your luck as fleeting as your skill?
Jinhyuk's jaw tightened, but he did not move immediately. Instead, he studied Taejoon, noting the way the young genius shifted his weight, the slight twitch in his left shoulder, the confident yet predictable posture. Every movement was a clue, and every breath was a heartbeat he could anticipate.
You talk too much for someone so green, Jinhyuk said, voice calm but low, carrying the weight of his newly tempered power. Words do not win battles. Let's see if your arrogance can handle reality.
Taejoon's smirk widened. Bold words for a bandit scum. Very well—let us see whose technique is worth more.
He drew his blade, the metal glinting in the sunlight, and lunged. The movement was fluid, practiced, honed—but predictable. Jinhyuk's instincts, sharpened by the Third Rate Awakening, kicked in immediately.
He sidestepped, parried, and countered in a single motion. Each movement was precise, each strike calculated. Taejoon's attack was fast, but Jinhyuk's control of internal energy and strategic thinking allowed him to anticipate every move.
Impressive, Taejoon muttered, brow furrowing. For a bandit…
Impressive enough to survive, Jinhyuk replied, his sword slicing through the air in a controlled arc, forcing Taejoon back. But arrogance will be your undoing.
The clash escalated quickly. Rocks shattered under the force of their strikes; the mist swirled, obscuring some movements while revealing others. Each combatant tested the other, probing weaknesses, analyzing patterns. Jinhyuk moved like water, fluid and unpredictable, while Taejoon relied on raw speed and brute force, assuming skill would overcome experience.
You move too slow, Taejoon sneered, spinning into a high strike. You lack the finesse to match my training!
Jinhyuk barely flinched, sidestepping and letting the strike cleave empty air. He feinted, forcing Taejoon to react instinctively, then countered with a precise thrust to his opponent's side—just enough to unbalance him.
You rely on technique alone, Jinhyuk said, eyes sharp. Skill without understanding the battlefield is useless.
Taejoon staggered, frustration flashing across his face. You… you bandit! How… how do you—
I do not fight like a fool, Jinhyuk interrupted, letting the Crimson Demon's lessons guide his every motion. He moved faster, strikes flowing seamlessly with internal energy, reading Taejoon's next few steps before the young genius even considered them.
Taejoon's arrogance began to crack. His attacks grew more erratic; frustration fueled recklessness. Jinhyuk seized the moment, leveraging both strategy and power to disarm his rival in a single, fluid movement. The blade spun from Taejoon's hand and landed ten feet away, glinting in the morning sun.
Panting, Taejoon stumbled back, chest heaving, his pride wounded more than his body. He glared at Jinhyuk, hatred and humiliation mixing in his eyes.
You… you cheated! he spat, though even he could not deny the precision of Jinhyuk's movements.
Cheated? Jinhyuk's lips curled into a grim smile. I merely observed, adapted, and struck. That is how Murim survives. That is how revenge survives.
Heathing his sword, Jinhyuk took a measured step forward, aura of Third Rate energy simmering around him. Learn this lesson well, Taejoon. Power without strategy, pride without understanding… it is a death sentence.
Taejoon's knuckles whitened around his blade, and without another word, he retreated. Pride wounded, face flushed with anger and shame, but not yet broken. He would return...Jinhyuk knew that, but for now... the bandit had claimed his first victory in the Murim world beyond survival.
As the dust settled, Jinhyuk leaned against a gnarled cedar, muscles trembling from the exertion. Sweat mingled with the morning mist, his hair plastered to his brow, but his heart burned with something new: confidence.
Small victories… stepping stones, he thought, gazing at the distant valleys below. Taejoon is nothing compared to what waits for me. Murim is vast… and the enemies who destroyed my life are far stronger than this boy.
He closed his eyes, allowing the flow of his internal energy to calm, to steady. The Crimson Demon's voice resonated in his mind, sharp as ever.
You see now, boy? This is only the beginning. You defeated a child of privilege, not a master of Murim. The world beyond Mount Liang will test every ounce of your strength, every fragment of your cunning, and every drop of your patience. Remember, strategy without foresight is as useless as fury without skill.
I understand, Jinhyuk whispered, the ember of resolve glowing brighter. Third Rate is just the start. I will train. I will grow. And one day… the Namgung, the Murong, anyone who dares to stand in my path… will regret crossing me.
He looked toward the horizon, mist curling over the peaks, sunlight glinting off jagged cliffs. The world seemed vast, indifferent, and full of danger, but he no longer felt fear. Only determination.
I will rise, he vowed silently. Through pain, through blood, through strategy and steel. Murim will remember my name.
Jinhyuk sheathed his sword, taking the first deliberate step back toward Mount Liang's hidden paths. He was no longer a mere bandit haunted by grief. He was a rising force, a tactician, a warrior tempered in the fires of loss and the First Rival was only the beginning.
The Murim world awaited, and Kang Jinhyuk's shadow stretched long across its mountains.