Morning came harsh and cold. I rose before the sun, my body still aching from the fight, but there was no time for rest. If I wanted more silver — more power — I'd have to fight for it.
The village training grounds were little more than a patch of dirt surrounded by worn wooden posts. By the time I arrived, a few others were already there. Sons of farmers, would-be warriors, all trying to learn the sword.
None of them mattered.
I took a battered wooden training sword from the rack and moved to the farthest corner. The others glanced at me but didn't approach. I was the cripple's son. The one who went into the woods alone and came back bloodied. They whispered, but they never spoke to my face.
That suited me just fine.
I began my drills — slow, careful swings, each one focused and precise. Balance, form, control. I had no master, no clan's techniques to guide me. Only what I'd observed from watching mercenaries and guards. But I had something they didn't.
Desperation.
The sound of footsteps broke my rhythm. I turned, and my eyes narrowed.
Jang Mu-Yong. The village chief's son. Bigger than me. Richer. A spoiled dog who thought his family's wealth made him better than the rest of us.
"Looks like the beggar's practicing," he sneered. His friends laughed. "Do you think swinging a stick makes you a warrior, Seol-Yeong?"
I didn't answer. I went back to my drills.
The first rock hit my back. The second grazed my cheek.
I kept moving.
"Maybe if you fight me, I'll let you have some of my leftovers," Mu-Yong taunted.
I exhaled slowly, setting the wooden sword down. When I turned, my voice was calm. "You want a fight?" I asked.
He grinned. "Afraid you'll break?"
"No," I said, stepping forward. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
The laughter stopped.
Mu-Yong's face twisted with anger, and he charged. His form was wild, his sword sloppy and undisciplined. I stepped aside, and his strike hit empty air.
He stumbled. I didn't give him a chance to recover.
I moved fast, driving my fist into his stomach. He doubled over with a wheeze.
The next strike sent him to the dirt.
The others stared, too shocked to react. I stood over him, my voice low. "Don't bother me again."
When I left the training grounds, I wasn't followed.
But I knew one thing for sure — my path was only getting started.