Chapter 1

Prologue

The room was filled with vividly colored silks of every kind, expensive-looking vases, and ornamental decorations—it didn’t seem like a place for an ordinary person to reside.

In one corner of that room stood a bed made of black wood. Not just any wood, but ebony, famed for being far harder than normal wood. Embroidered on the ebony bed was a golden dragon, and it was large enough that several people could lie on it without feeling cramped.

The room was full of splendor and grandeur. Yet the air inside was cold, and the silence was oppressive.

On the bed lay a young man, and standing over him was another man. That was all that occupied the room.

The features of the man on the bed were as if a sculptor had painstakingly crafted them by hand. His straight, prominent nose looked both masculine and gentle, and his firmly shut lips suggested determination.

Yet, despite his striking appearance, the man lacked one thing—life.

His body was cold, and the bloodstains at the corner of his mouth were unmistakably his own.

At that moment, the mysterious figure who had been watching the man from the shadows took a step forward. Moonlight slanted through the window, gradually revealing the man’s face.

The revealed face bore a striking resemblance to the man on the bed, though it seemed slightly older and even more handsome overall.

However, only certain parts of the face were similar. The aura each projected was completely different. Unlike the dead man, who wore neat clothing and had tidy hair, the standing man looked sharp and dangerous. His hair fell slightly over his neck and was roughly trimmed. The coldness in his eyes was so intense it seemed to freeze the surrounding air.

If the man on the bed exuded softness, this one radiated danger. His expression was almost blank, but his eyes, fixed on the dead man, burned with intense emotion.

This room, holding a dead man and a living one, was none other than the residence of the minor sect leader of the Demonic Cult, known as Seongrimwon (Holy Forest Courtyard).

And the young man who had died on the bed was none other than Hyeok Ryeon-won (赫悧原), the minor sect leader of the Demonic Cult.

The Demonic Cult was revered by practitioners of dark magic, who looked upon its leaders as if they were gods. Yet now, its next leader candidate, Hyeok Ryeon-won, lay cold and lifeless.

The mysterious man’s lips moved, releasing a low, trembling voice:

“Pathetic…”

Though he tried to suppress his emotions, his words were laced with undeniable anger. He was furious at Hyeok Ryeon-won’s death.

Who could have killed this boy? And who else is involved?

He ground his teeth.

A faint sound of wind passed by, and the man’s expression subtly shifted. Hidden among the whispers of the wind, he sensed someone’s presence.

There was no need to confirm. A small voice soon reached him from outside:

“Check if he’s dead.”

At once, the coldness on the man’s face deepened.

Where was this? This was the Demonic Cult, the gathering place of all demonic practitioners. And this was the residence of its minor sect leader. Yet intruders made no effort to hide their voices? How laughable.

They must have known he was already dead. Their audacity to send assassins into the heart of the minor sect leader’s quarters meant his status had fallen to the lowest level.

Clenching his fists, he looked down at Hyeok Ryeon-won on the bed. Despite his cold expression, there was an unexplainable tinge of sorrow in his eyes.

“I told you—you’re too soft.”

No one should ever dare to infiltrate this place so recklessly.

Turning toward the door, the man prepared to confront the intruders.

The door swung open, and a group of masked men paused in surprise. Their leader’s face showed a flicker of hesitation. Someone else was already occupying the minor sect leader’s quarters.

The young man’s penetrating gaze fell on them. The leader quickly regained composure:

“Who are you? Do you know where you are, entering here…”

“And who are you, to come here wearing masks?” the man sneered.

The masked man was momentarily speechless. By the man’s words, they too were not supposed to be here.

He glanced back at his subordinates. Their task was simple: confirm the minor sect leader’s life, and if he were alive, eliminate him. Anyone who interfered would be killed, no matter who they were.

Drawing a sword, the masked man spoke pitifully:

“Whoever you are, just consider yourself unlucky. No one leaves this place alive.”

“I have no intention of sending anyone away alive either, vermin,” the man replied.

As he spoke, energy gathered at his fingertips, moving according to his will.

Boom!

The doors of Seongrimwon slammed shut as if a force prevented anyone from leaving. The masked men realized the danger too late.

Crack! Crack!

Energy surged around his hand like lightning. He murmured:

“Raijin.”

The words echoed through the room. A spiderweb-like aura shot out like light, engulfing the masked men. In an instant, they convulsed, their bodies burning like lightning, and collapsed as charred corpses.

Over ten masked men were killed in a single strike. Only their leader remained.

He was in disbelief. Elite assassins of the Heuksalbang (Black Killing Gang), wiped out with a mere gesture.

Before he could react, the man’s hand grabbed his head.

“You won’t answer, but I’ll ask anyway. Who ordered you to kill this boy?”

The voice by his ear made his hands tremble. Despite years of assassination experience, he felt paralyzed.

The man nodded as if he expected silence.

“No need to answer. I’ll find the people behind this and deal with them myself.”

The masked man panicked:

“You… you’ll die too! This world already belongs to them! They won’t forgive your interference…”

“Forgive?” the man retorted coldly. “You should be the ones begging for forgiveness, for touching my brother.”

“Brother?”

The masked man thought. Hyeok Ryeon-won had no siblings. He was the only son of the sect leader. Who else could be called his brother?

A name flickered through his mind, impossible yet true.

The man’s aura released energy, and the masked man became another blackened corpse on the floor.

Silence returned to the minor sect leader’s quarters. The man’s gaze fell back on Hyeok Ryeon-won’s bloodied corpse.

“Should have let him live as a dead man,” he murmured.

He had lived as one for over a decade. But now… it was time to live.

Outside, green foliage heralded the coming of spring. Alongside the road, grass survived the winter, reemerging in vibrant life.

On a narrow road leading to the capital, three men appeared, each exuding a distinct aura, yet oddly harmonious together.

One, standing at the back, appeared just past thirty—lean, sharp-featured, slightly shorter than the others, arms crossed as he walked, radiating a sense of latent danger.

Beside him, a massive man, muscles bulging and covered with black tattoos, carried a giant axe at his waist—large enough to match the torso of a grown man. Despite his imposing figure, his face looked unexpectedly innocent, almost cute.

Leading the group was a young, strikingly handsome man, cold-eyed and serious, though the two behind made him seem relatively less intimidating.

The man spoke:

“Captain, is this really necessary?”

The leader replied coldly:

“Afraid now, Hwan-ya?”

“No, sir,” the younger man shook his head. “But acting like this will attract attention. If you become a target, it could be dangerous…”

“That’s the point. To flush out those hiding, there must be a target. That target is me. And one more thing…”

“Sir?”

“Who’s dangerous?”

The young man realized he’d misspoken and fell silent.

The burly man chuckled, “Hwan-ya, foolish. Disobey the master and get scolded.”

Indeed, the man known as Dal-chi obeyed without question, despite being mentally like a child of eight. Absolute obedience to his master was the only law he knew.

Hwan-ya muttered:

“You fool. Want to die?”

“I hate being called a fool!” Dal-chi barked, raising his axe. His strength was formidable; Hwan-ya flinched.

A single word from their leader stopped them.

“Enough.”

Dal-chi lowered his axe and smiled. Hwan-ya, noticing the gesture, relaxed.

The narrow road opened into a main path leading to the capital. The leader stopped.

“From here, I go alone. You two have other tasks.”

“What tasks?”

“Find the Feebar Moon organization.”

Dal-chi cheered:

“Kill them! Find and kill them!”

The leader silenced him:

“Do not kill. Find a way to make contact.”

Dal-chi obeyed instantly. The leader handed Hwan-ya a horn whistle, which only he could use to summon the black hawk, Heukpung, perched on his shoulder.

The hawk screeched and flew into the sky, scouting ahead.

The leader began walking, alone now, the two subordinates fading from view. Sunlight poured down the path, and the black hawk circled above.

Ahead, the capital emerged. The leader, Hyeok Ryeon-hwi, later to be called the Demon King by the world, was stepping into the martial arts world.