The portal world hummed with a quiet intensity as Kang Jinhyuk stood at the edge of a jagged cliff, the wind tugging at his hair and clothes like invisible fingers. The Crimson Demon's voice resonated through his mind, sharper and colder than ever.
Third Rate skill is nothing but a child's toy, boy, Jeok-Ma sneered, the spectral form of the centuries-old martial artist flickering beside him, crimson robes whipping in the ethereal wind. Do you think you can topple Murim with that? You have survived against a naive opponent, but now… now you will learn the art of war, not merely the art of survival.
Jinhyuk's fists clenched. His muscles still throbbed from the fight with Hwang Taejoon, but the fire in his chest burned brighter than pain. I am ready, he thought, a quiet promise to the memory of Min-Seo and the child that haunted every fiber of his being. If I am to master vengeance, I must surpass this… all of it.
Good, Jeok-Ma purred. Then enter the next stage. Second Rate will bend your body, break your mind, and sharpen your strategy until you are no longer a mere bandit scum. You will become a weapon… or a corpse.
The first trial began in silence. Jinhyuk was instructed to focus on the flow of his internal energy, not just as power, but as a conductor of movement, anticipation, and deception. The Crimson Demon's voice guided him with ruthless precision.
Energy is not simply force, Jeok-Ma hissed, it is awareness. You must feel the battlefield, the opponent, the very air between breaths. Flow like water. Strike like the storm that follows.
Jinhyuk bent, feeling the pulse in his limbs, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the surge of qi that now coursed like molten steel through every tendon. The first exercises were subtle: controlling the flow of energy while moving at breakneck speeds, dodging invisible attacks, striking phantom foes with uncanny accuracy. The pain was immediate and overwhelming. Every nerve screamed; his bones felt as if they were grinding against each other.
This is… nothing, he murmured through gritted teeth. Sweat streamed down his face, mud and blood mixed with the energy's raw flow. If this is the beginning… then the end will burn Murim itself.
Jeok-Ma chuckled darkly. Careful, boy. Hubris will get you killed faster than a sword ever could.
The training escalated. Jeok-Ma forced Jinhyuk into visions, first subtle, then violent and overwhelming, of historical battles he had fought as the Crimson Demon. Mountains of corpses, skies filled with flame and chaos, armies colliding with the thunder of thousands of footsteps—the legacy of a five-century warlord pressed into Jinhyuk's consciousness.
See, boy? This is strategy, Jeok-Ma said, spectral hand sweeping over the vision. A single strike can turn tides. Deception, patience, misdirection… You must learn to wield them all. A battlefield is a living thing; those who fail to understand it die first.
Jinhyuk's stomach churned at the scenes. The blood of his enemies, the screams of innocents, the brilliance of tactical maneuvers—it was intoxicating and horrifying. Yet amidst the chaos, he found clarity.
So this is… war, he whispered. Not just vengeance… but manipulation, foresight, timing. To defeat my enemies, I must think five steps ahead… no, ten, twenty.
Yes, Jeok-Ma's voice purred. And if you fail even once, death will not forgive you. Remember, boy, your rage is a tool—but only if it is guided by intellect. Without it… it is meaningless.
Second Rate training also involved mastering advanced combat techniques. Jeok-Ma forced him to fight against illusions of multiple opponents simultaneously, each moving unpredictably, each employing unique martial styles...some orthodox, some unorthodox. Jinhyuk had to predict, deceive, and counter with a precision that tested both mind and body.
Sweat and blood ran freely as he parried, struck, and retreated, all the while letting the flow of energy refine his movements. Every strike taught him something: how to exploit openings, how to bait attacks, how to manipulate perception. Each misstep was punished, each small victory celebrated only with sharper scrutiny.
You hesitate, Jeok-Ma snapped, appearing behind an illusionary foe and striking with a phantom sword. Hesitation is death, boy. You hesitate, and the Murim devours you.
Jinhyuk's muscles burned; every step felt like climbing a mountain of knives. But his mind sharpened, instincts honed. I will not hesitate. I will not fail. Every movement… every strike… calculated.
The portal world itself became a crucible of mystical artifacts that Jeok-Ma introduced. Small crystals that enhanced perception, charms that amplified energy flow, relics that granted temporary bursts of strength—but all came with a cost. Misuse could backfire, crushing body and mind alike.
Jinhyuk experimented cautiously, feeling the surge of power, sensing the intricacies of energy manipulation, and discovering that his own creativity and tactical thought could amplify the relics' effect.
Tools are only as powerful as the mind that wields them, Jeok-Ma sneered. Even relics cannot save a fool.
Jinhyuk nodded internally. I am no fool. I will learn everything, every secret, every trick, every advantage. And then… I will strike at the Murim world, not as a bandit, but as a force it cannot ignore.
Days...or what felt like days, passed in this relentless cycle of training, vision, and trial. Jinhyuk's body became leaner, faster, stronger. His energy flow smoothed to a level where he could anticipate movement before it happened. His mind, once a tempest of grief and rage, now balanced fury with cold, calculated strategy.
One evening, as the portal sun dipped below the jagged cliffs, Jeok-Ma's voice softened slightly—though still sharp, still cutting.
You have learned more than I expected, he said. Third Rate made you a survivor. Second Rate… begins to make you a commander. But hear me, boy: the world beyond this portal is vast. You will face opponents who understand strategy, deceit, and brute power. You must be ready to adapt, to evolve… to dominate.
Jinhyuk clenched his fists, feeling the flow of energy thrumming through him like a living pulse. I am ready. I will surpass them all. I will not let grief or rage blind me. I will master this power, and I will…
And you will take vengeance, Jeok-Ma finished for him, with a cruel smirk. But remember, vengeance is not merely striking down your enemies. It is bending the world until it obeys your will. Do you understand, boy?
I understand, Jinhyuk whispered, eyes aflame. I will master this power. I will grow stronger. I will learn everything you endured, everything you achieved, and I will surpass it. And one day, the Namgung, the Murong… everyone who wronged me… they will kneel before the force I have become.
Jeok-Ma's crimson eyes glimmered, a mixture of approval and anticipation. Good. Second Rate is only the beginning. Remember what you have learned here: perception is as important as power, patience as important as speed, deception as important as strength. Fail to grasp any, and the world will consume you.
Jinhyuk took a deep breath, letting the wind of the portal world whip against him, carrying away doubt and leaving only clarity.
I will not fail, he murmured to the echoes of history, to the ghosts of battles past. Second Rate is mine. And the world… the world will learn my name.
As night fell over the portal cliffs, the first sparks of his true tactical brilliance began to illuminate his path forward. Kang Jinhyuk, no longer merely a bandit seeking revenge, had begun the journey to become a strategist, a commander, and a force capable of reshaping Murim itself.
Second Rate mastery was his crucible. The fires of grief, rage, and discipline had forged him anew. And the trials of the greater world...the Namgung, Murong, and countless others awaited, unaware that a storm had been born in the shadows of Mount Liang.