The market town was alive with whispers. It started with the Iron Fang Bandits' downfall — and then it turned into something more.
"They say it was just one boy. Took down the whole crew himself."
"He's a demon in disguise, I heard. Or a wandering sword saint's disciple."
"A bounty hunter, they're saying — but he turned down the Crimson Serpent Pavilion's offer. Can you imagine?"
I kept my hood low as Yoon-Hee and I moved through the crowd. My face wasn't widely known yet, but that wouldn't last long. The Murim world thrived on rumors — and I was quickly becoming one.
"Do you think this is bad?" Yoon-Hee asked quietly, staying close to my side.
"It's attention," I said. "Attention brings opportunity — and enemies."
I wasn't wrong. As we passed a silk vendor's stall, I felt it — the heavy weight of a stare.
I turned slowly, my hand brushing the hilt of my sword.
A man stood across the street, watching us. His clothes were simple, but his posture screamed martial discipline. He didn't flinch when I met his eyes. He just smiled.
"Looks like we've been noticed," Yoon-Hee murmured.
"Let's not linger," I said.
We made our way to the blacksmith's forge on the far end of town — a dingy, soot-covered building run by an old man with arms like iron bars.
"I need something better," I told him, laying my battered sword on the counter.
He grunted, taking the weapon in his calloused hands. "This won't last much longer. You've been fighting above your weight."
"Can you make me something that'll last?"
He eyed me. "For the right price."
The fifty gold taels from the bounty weren't infinite — but a good weapon was an investment. I handed over twenty without hesitation.
"I'll have it ready in two days," the smith said. "If you live that long."
Yoon-Hee frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The old man nodded toward the window. "Word's spreading fast, boy. You turned down the Crimson Serpent Pavilion — now the other sects and alliances want to know who you are. And some of them… they won't ask nicely."
As if summoned by his words, the air outside grew heavier. I turned toward the door — and felt the unmistakable pressure of killing intent.
"Stay behind me," I told Yoon-Hee.
We stepped outside — and found three men waiting. Their clothes bore no insignia, but their stance was unmistakable: trained killers.
"The Blood Moon Cult sends its regards," one of them said. His voice was smooth, but his eyes gleamed with malice.
The Blood Moon Cult. A demonic sect known for their brutality. Of course they'd take an interest.
"You made a mistake showing your strength, boy," the man continued. "Now the world wants to see if you're as good as the rumors say."
I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of my sword at my side.
"Then come find out," I said.
The fight began in a flash of steel.