The sun bled across the jagged peaks of the Valley of Hills, stretching the shadows of rocks and gnarled trees into long, skeletal fingers. Each clang of steel, each grunt and thud, echoed through the valley - a brutal soundtrack to the fight between two men. It was a symphony of violence, a testament to a hatred long simmering beneath the surface.
Hae Min, the older son at twenty-five, the heir of the Murim Alliance, danced around his opponent. Four years his senior, he held the advantage of experience. He moved with a practiced grace, every strike precise and powerful, a testament to years spent honing his skills under the best masters gold could buy. Every move was calculated, every block and parry a lesson learned and perfected. Hae Jin, his younger half-brother, just twenty-one, was a mess of blood and bruises, but he wouldn't fall. Not yet. He was a whirlwind of desperate energy, fueled by a lifetime of pain and resentment.
This wasn't just a fight; it was the final act of a long, bitter play, a tragedy fueled by their messed-up family history. It was a culmination of every slight, every insult, every injustice Hae Jin had ever suffered.
Hae Min's mother, the first wife, had been orthodox royalty, her marriage to the Alliance leader a calculated power grab, a merger of two great forces. She was all about rules and tradition, full of pride, looking down her nose at anything she deemed beneath her, especially the offspring of a woman she saw as nothing more than a demonic temptress.
Hae Jin's mother? She was a whisper in the dark, the daughter of the Demonic Sect leader. Beautiful, wild, she'd somehow stolen the Alliance leader's heart during a brief peace between their warring factions. It was a scandal, a betrayal of all that was deemed righteous, but he'd married her anyway, made her his second wife.
Their father had tried to walk a tightrope between them, balancing the love and loyalties of two vastly different women. But the balance couldn't hold. On Hae Jin's sixth birthday, a day he should have been celebrating with childish glee, he instead found his mother cold and lifeless in her bed, a faint, sickly sweet smell lingering in the air where her favorite incense used to burn. Poison. The whispers started, pointing at the first wife, but no one dared speak them aloud. Justice, it seemed, did not extend to those of demonic lineage.
Hae Jin had grown up an outsider, a stain on his father's perfect image. He saw the pitying looks, felt the sting of muttered insults. He remembered a group of older disciples snickering, whispering "demon spawn" as he passed, their words like poison darts. He was a constant reminder of a love deemed unacceptable, a living embodiment of his father's perceived weakness. Hae Min, the golden child, the perfect orthodox son, made sure he never forgot it. He had everything - the respect, the admiration, the love of their father, and Hae Jin was just... there. Even learning to fight had to be done in secret, hidden from disapproving eyes, a stolen pleasure he had to guard with his life. His father turned a blind eye, not even when Hae Min openly mocked Hae Jin's heritage during training sessions, but offered no support.
Now, under the dying light, fourteen long years of resentment were coming to a head. Fourteen years of being treated as less than, of being the unwanted shadow to Hae Min's golden child.
Hae Jin blocked a kick, but it still sent a jolt of pain up his leg, nearly buckling his knee. He was tiring, his movements becoming sluggish. "Why?" he gasped, his voice raw, barely a whisper above the wind. He stumbled back, hand pressed to his aching ribs, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Why are you doing this, Hyung? Haven't you taken enough from me?"
Hae Min circled him, a cruel smile playing on his lips, the smile of a predator toying with its prey. He was in his prime, strong and confident, while Hae Jin was still young, his potential still untapped. "You have to ask?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. He lashed out, a fist connecting with Hae Jin's jaw, snapping his head back. "Look at you," he sneered, "the demon's spawn, daring to stand against me."
Hae Jin spat out blood, his vision blurring. But he stayed on his feet, legs trembling, fueled by a desperate, burning anger. "We share the same father," he said, the words ragged, each one a painful effort. "Doesn't that mean anything?"
"And that makes us equals?" Hae Min laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed through the valley, mocking Hae Jin's desperate plea. "You're a mistake he let happen. A stain on our family honor." He moved closer, his shadow falling over Hae Jin, looming and menacing.
The words were like a punch to the gut, each syllable a fresh wave of pain. Hae Jin had always stayed in the shadows, trained alone, never challenging his brother's place, never seeking the spotlight. He had yearned for a sliver of the affection their father showered on Hae Min. "I did nothing to you," he whispered, the words a broken plea. "I never asked for any of this."
Hae Min's eyes were cold, hard as jade. "You were born. That was enough. Your very existence offends me." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper, each word a poisoned dart. "If this world needs to be purified, rid of demonic influence, I should start by getting rid of you."
Hae Jin's hand tightened into a fist, his body shaking with a rising tide of anger. He remembered his mother's gentle touch, her warm smile, the way she shielded him from the world. He remembered the stories she used to tell him, stories of a world beyond the hatred and prejudice of the Murim Alliance, stories he clung to like a lifeline. "My mother was a good woman," he said, the words thick with emotion, a desperate defense of the only person who had ever truly loved him.
"Good?" Hae Min barked out a laugh, a sound devoid of any warmth or humor. "She was a snake who charmed our father with her demonic wiles. A stain on our family. Just like you." He spat on the ground, a gesture of utter contempt.
Hae Jin flinched, the insult cutting deeper than any blade. "You're wrong," he said, his voice trembling. "She loved him. She loved us."
"Wrong?" Hae Min cut him off, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through Hae Jin's defenses. "You want the truth? You want to know how your precious mother really died when you were just a kid, still suckling at her teats, too young to understand the evil she represented?"
Hae Jin's breath hitched, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. "What... what are you saying?" he whispered, a knot of dread twisting in his stomach.
Hae Min's smile was pure venom, a predator savoring its victory. "Dear old Dad turned a blind eye. Pretended he didn't know of your truth. But I knew. My mother made sure that woman paid for daring to call herself the Alliance leader's wife. She was poisoned. My mother saw to it. She rid the world of her stain."
Hae Jin recoiled, the words like a physical blow. The world spun, his vision narrowing to a tunnel. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The image of his mother, once a source of comfort, now seared him with pain. Poisoned. The word echoed in his mind, a death knell for the only person who had ever truly loved him. A terrible thought clawed at him, a chilling premonition. Was it possible Hae Min was telling the truth?
"No," he whispered, shaking his head, desperately trying to deny the horrific possibility. "You're lying. You have to be."
"Why would I lie about something like this?" Hae Min's voice dripped with false sympathy. He leaned closer, his eyes glinting. "Think about it. Why did Father never seek justice for your mother's death? Why did he let the whispers die down?" He paused for effect, letting the question hang heavy in the air. "He knew. He always knew. My mother made sure of it."
Hae Jin recoiled, the words like a physical blow. The world spun, his vision narrowing to a tunnel. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Poisoned. The word echoed in his mind, a death knell for the only person who had ever truly loved him.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head, desperately trying to deny the horrific possibility. "You're lying. He wouldn't... he wouldn't just stand by."
Hae Min chuckled, a cruel, mirthless sound. "Wouldn't he? He was weak, easily swayed. My mother's family... they hold a great deal of power within the Alliance. Challenging them would have meant war, a war he couldn't afford, a war that would destabilize everything he had worked to build." He circled Hae Jin, like a predator toying with its prey. "And then there was you."
Hae Jin flinched, his gaze dropping to the ground, a fresh wave of pain washing over him.
"He knew what my mother was capable of," Hae Min continued, his voice softening, taking on a deceptive tone of reason. "He knew that if he retaliated, if he so much as breathed a word of accusation, you would be the one to suffer. My mother would have made sure of it. You, the 'demon spawn,' the stain on our family honor, would have been the easiest target."
Hae Min stopped in front of him, his shadow falling over Hae Jin like a shroud. "He chose to protect his precious Alliance, his position, over avenging your mother. And he chose to protect you, in his own twisted way, by sacrificing her memory to silence. He buried the truth, just like he buried her." He spat the last sentence with venomous contempt. "He was a coward then, just like you are now."
Something inside Hae Jin snapped. He saw his mother's face, her loving smile, the way she used to hold him close, singing him to sleep with ancient lullabies from her homeland. The memory, once a comfort, now fueled a burning rage, a fire that consumed all reason and restraint.
"You bastard!" he roared, all the pain, anger, and grief of his twenty-one years pouring out in that single, anguished cry.
He lunged at Hae Min, a desperate, reckless attack, fueled by pure instinct. He drew on the forbidden techniques his mother had taught him in secret, during those stolen moments in the dead of night. Demonic energy, raw and untamed, surged through his veins, clashing with the orthodox training from his father, a volatile cocktail of opposing forces. It felt like his body was tearing itself apart, a battlefield for two warring powers.
Hae Min's eyes widened in alarm, surprised by the sudden ferocity of Hae Jin's attack. "What are you doing?" he yelled, his voice tinged with a fear he tried to conceal. "Stop this madness! You don't know what you're doing!"
But Hae Jin was beyond stopping, beyond reason. He was a vessel of vengeance, a storm unleashed, a whirlwind of pain and fury. "You took everything from me!" he screamed, his voice echoing across the valley, a raw, primal scream. "My mother! My life! Everything!" He rained down blows on Hae Min, each punch, each kick fueled by a lifetime of hurt. "If I die here," he roared, his voice cracking with the strain, "then you're coming with me! For my mother! For everything you've done!"
The valley erupted in a blinding flash. The earth bucked and heaved, throwing them both off their feet. A roar, like the world itself was screaming in agony, filled the air, drowning out all other sounds. Then... nothing. A silence so complete, it was more terrifying than the explosion itself. The valley, once a picturesque landscape, was gone, replaced by a scene of utter devastation, a testament to the destructive power of hatred and revenge. It was a scar on the land, a permanent reminder of the day the brothers' bond was shattered.
...
Hae Jin opened his eyes to a different world. A vast, blue sky stretched above, filled with clouds that seemed to hum with a strange, almost tangible energy. The air was thick and alive, vibrating with a power he had never encountered before. It was as if he had stepped into another dimension.
He sat up, his body aching, his head pounding like a war drum. The explosion... Hae Min's cruel words... his mother's death... it all came flooding back, a torrent of painful memories. But something was wrong. His body felt different, lighter, weaker. He looked down at his hands. They were smaller, more delicate, the hands of a stranger.
"I'm... somewhere else," he whispered, his voice sounding strange and unfamiliar to his own ears. "Reborn? This isn't Murim anymore... This is..." He struggled to find the right word. "... a cultivation world?"
Flashes of another life, another person, flickered through his mind like images in a broken mirror. Riu Xian, a nobody, an outer sect disciple of the Cloudspring Sect. He saw glimpses of a hard life: endless, grueling training sessions and a desperate, almost hopeless search for a cure. He'd been hunting for the Scarlet Meridian Herb, a rare and precious treasure that could unblock his crippled meridians, when he was attacked by the sect leader's arrogant son and his thuggish followers. They'd beaten him mercilessly, stolen the herb, and left him for dead in this very forest, his dreams shattered, his body broken.
This new body was weak, its energy pathways almost completely blocked. Only a tiny fraction of his energy flowed, a mere trickle compared to the raging river it should have been. It was a cruel joke, a bitter irony. Most cultivators at his stage would have at least seven percent of their meridians open, a foundation upon which to build their power. He had barely one percent. He was a cripple here, just as he'd been an outcast in his old life, marked for failure from the very beginning.
"Blocked meridians," he muttered, clenching his new, unfamiliar fists. A familiar anger stirred within him, a cold ember from the fire that had consumed him in the valley. "Why? What is this curse?"
The memories of Riu Xian faded, leaving him lost and adrift in a sea of confusion and uncertainty. But one thing was clear: this was a second chance, a new beginning in a world brimming with untold possibilities. He would get stronger. He would figure out this cultivation world, unlock its secrets. He would find out why his new body was so messed up, so weak. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally get justice for his mother.