Prologue: The Boy with Empty Hands
In the world of Murim, power is everything. Strength shapes kingdoms, martial arts define destiny, and wealth buys survival. Those born without any of the three? They are the forgotten. The trampled. The dead.
I was born with nothing.
No legacy, no clan, no powerful bloodline. My father was a crippled martial artist, my mother a woman worn thin by hunger, and my little sister too young to understand why our bellies were always empty.
Our village sat on the edge of ruin, caught between warring sects and the greed of bandits. We had no warriors to protect us, no alliances to shield us. When the strong came, we bowed our heads and prayed they wouldn't notice us.
But prayers don't feed the hungry. And they don't stop the blades of men who take what they want.
I learned early that kindness had no place in a world like ours. Only power mattered.
So I made a promise — to my family, to myself.
I would rise above all of them. The sects, the clans, the merchants who bled us dry and the warlords who crushed us under their boots. I would make so much money that my family would never want for anything again. I would become so strong that no one would ever dare take from us.
And if I had to stain my hands with blood to get there… so be it.
I was Seol-Yeong. The boy with empty hands.
But one day, the world would bow before them.