A/N: I have an offer at the end of this chapter. Do not skip it! This is not a request—it's an order.
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Cradled in the lap of the monolithic Long, where the mountain's ridges coiled like the resting form of an ancient dragon, the city of Hongzhen stirred with the first light of dawn.
Mist slithered through its towering peaks, curling around stone and timber like the breath of a slumbering beast. Beneath the cliffs, the city awakened.
Golden light spilled over the dragon's spine, cascading into the streets where the day's rhythm had already begun.
Traders unfurled their stalls, their voices rising in a discordant yet familiar symphony.
Scholars, draped in flowing robes, ascended the steps of great libraries, where the wisdom of ages lay waiting to be unraveled.
And among them, Resonators—figures of power and discipline—moved with quiet grace, their presence shifting the air like ripples in still water.
Hongzhen was more than a city; it was a bastion of resilience, an island within the vast expanse of Huanglong. It was here that the Time Sentinel, Jue, had once let out the first roar, their legend woven into the city's very foundation.
Yet the past was only one layer of Hongzhen. The present pressed forward, carving its own story into the immemorial veins of stone and industry.
The people moved, the air hummed, and the dragon-shaped mountain watched, silent and eternal. Within its shadow, lives wove into the ceaseless rhythm of the city.
But today, something threatened to break that rhythm.
Deep within the smog-laden hot springs, where steam curled in thick, shifting veils, another kind of smoke began to rise—the acrid scent of something burning.
A flicker of flame flared amidst the mist. Then another. Embers multiplied, lashing outward in search of a target.
"PERVERT!"
A defiant voice split through the dense air, laced with fury.
Flames surged forward, meeting the blunt end of the metallic arc.
"Lady, there seems to be a misunderstanding here."
The accused spoke with almost lazy calm, weaving between the fire with practiced ease. In one hand, he casually held a bundle of bathing essentials.
In the other, a massive scythe—its handle nearly three times his height. With a fluid motion, he swung the weapon, redirecting the flames into the water below.
Steam erupted in violent bursts, thickening the already mist-laden air.
"How dare you peek?!" the voice roared, seething with righteous fury.
Another wave of fire lashed out. Again, the scythe met it, scattering embers into the pool. The springs hissed, swallowing the heat, until the entire place was swallowed in an impenetrable fog.
Sight became useless.
And in that white abyss, the battlefield shifted—from one of raw power to a game of senses.
Flames swirled through the fog like hungry serpents, striking toward the boy with blistering speed. He moved only by instinct, anticipating their direction through the shifting heat.
"Can we talk?"
His voice was calm, almost casual, as he flicked his wrist and drove his scythe into the ground. The impact sent a gust through the mist, dispersing it for a fleeting second before it swelled back in, though no longer a complete whiteout.
Through the thinning haze, his moonlit eyes settled on the girl before him—a petite salmon-pink hair figure wrapped in ragged clothes, brilliant golden wild-eyed and relentless.
'A beggar? ' he wondered, only to dismiss the thought.
No common beggar could wield fire with such precision. Unless—'does this world have a beggar sect or something? '
The idea entertained him for a brief moment, his head tilting just enough to let another stream of fire pass, burning some of his hair strands in the process.
"Die!" she shouted, voice laced with fury.
Kyorin sighed. He had only come here to bathe, drawn by the promise of hot springs in a region that belonged to no one
Kyorin deflected the incoming strikes, his scythe carving arcs through the mist as he redirected each attack into the water.
But unlike before, the flames did not simply vanish—they sputtered, hissed, then reignited mid-air, threatening to explode upon contact.
'This girl is quite capable,' he mused, finally taking steps to move away as he adjusted to the growing danger.
Though she lashed out in anger, there was an unsettling ingenuity in her attacks. She wasn't merely throwing fire—she was now shaping it.
Flame-feathers burst from her fingertips, razor-sharp and swift, fanning out in unpredictable patterns before homing in on him with unnatural precision.
Kyorin had no choice but to intercept each one, forcing them towards the water. Yet, upon contact, they reignited, becoming miniature bombs, capable of taking him down if he did not constantly move after each strike.
'She's not just wild. She's rationalizing the best usage of tools at her disposal' he realized, eyes narrowing as he knocked another volley aside.
Kyorin deflected the feathers, but whenever they missed the water, they halted mid-air before reversing course, homing in on him again.
Each undispersed flame lingered, flickering like fireflies in the mist. But these were not harmless glows—they swarmed, waiting, growing in number with each failed disposal.
Kyorin clicked his tongue. If he didn't dispose of them properly, the battlefield would become a cage of fire—though, in truth, it already had.
His grip tightened around the scythe as the swarm of blazing feathers circled hungrily, their flickering bodies forming a net of fireflies eager to descend upon him.
'Looks like I've played around enough.'
Planting his heels against the stone, his tacet mark burned to life. The air shifted—Resonance Energy(RE) coursed through his body as the scythe hummed, blessed by the Sanguine Waters.
Basic Attack: Eclipse of Anarchy—Vortex Pull: When poised to attack, the target experiences a slight pulling force, drawn towards the weapon.
The tempest of fireflies was partially irresistibly drawn towards the gleaming blade of the scythe, which though not absolute, was enough.
And, like threads drawn toward an unseen loom, the feathers wavered mid-flight, their chaotic dance faltering as an invisible force swallowed their momentum.
One by one, they curved inward, drawn to a single point—suspended, writhing, trapped in an unseen grasp.
The girl's relentless assault stuttered. For the first time, she hesitated.
Kyorin didn't.
With one decisive motion, he swung his scythe, severing through the gathered flames. The embers scattered, a dying constellation swallowed by the thick steam as the entire mass plunged into the hot spring at the side.
A second white abyss erupted.
The battlefield vanished into mist, sight lost to the rising veil.
The girl moved to gather herself, but Kyorin wasn't about to give her the chance. In a swift motion, he pinned her down, ready to end the fight—until a mechanical voice hummed in his mind.
"There is someone!"
Kyorin froze. His senses hadn't picked up any presence nearby. 'A master?' he wondered before shifting his focus back to the girl. 'Or perhaps… she has backup.'
"Let go of me, you pervert!" she hissed, squirming beneath his hold.
Kyorin arched a brow. "Oh? And would you have let me go if our positions were reversed?"
"Never," she spat without hesitation.
"There's your answer," he said, pressing the handle of his scythe against her neck.
"Auu!" she whimpered, choking slightly under the weight. Despite this, her glare burned bright with defiance.
"Pervert. Criminal. Murderer." She hurled the words at him like daggers.
Kyorin merely listened, unmoved. To him, she was simply calling him a bad person—nothing more, nothing less.
"You do realize I could kill you, right?" he warned, his grip tightening ever so slightly.
The girl scoffed. "If you intended to do that, you would've done it already."
Kyorin's gaze flickered. 'Is she bluffing, or just perceptive?'
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Not telling," she shot back.
Kyorin smirked. "Well, my name is Dan Kyorin. Newly arrived at Mount Firmament." He introduced himself.
For the first time, her expression shifted with mild interest. "You're not from here?"
He shook his head.
"Hmph," she sneered, amusement creeping into her voice. "Are all outsiders as strong as you, or are you simply a genius like me?"
Kyorin chuckled. "A greater genius, actually—since I've just defeated one."
"That's unfair!" she whined. "I wasn't in the right state to fight!"
"A warrior must always be ready to fight, despite their circumstances." Kyorin countered.
Her glare sharpened. "I was naked." She screamed, her face a tomato.
"And?" He asked.
"Don't think you'll get away so easily after witnessing such a sight!" She spat, defiance evident in her tone.
Kyorin tilted his head, unimpressed. "Sight? You speak as if there was anything worth see—Kugh!"
His words cut off as sharp pain shot through him. The girl had kicked him right in the jewels.
"Resonator," DEVA's voice hummed with exasperation, "I must remind you—never, under any circumstances, comment on a woman's body."
Kyorin groaned, curling slightly. "Is there some kind of secret code of conduct for this?"
"Not telling. A woman's secret." DEVA swiftly denied him of answers.
"Useless," he muttered.
DEVA merely tsked in response before her voice rang out with urgency. "Looks like the spectator has decided to join in."
"Quite a squabble here."
A husky voice echoed through the mist. Without warning, the dense fog dispersed—not by wind, but by some unseen force—revealing Kyorin pinning the girl down.
Reacting instantly, Kyorin adjusted his grip. He wrapped an arm around the girl, locking her hands in place, while his other hand held the scythe, its razor-sharp edge resting at her throat.
"You!" she growled, struggling.
Kyorin ignored her and turned his attention to the man. "Your company?" He asked the girl.
The girl merely sneered. "You're in big trouble."
That was answer enough.
The old man stroked his chin, his sharp eyes scanning Kyorin with curiosity. 'Good instincts,' he mused, noting how the young Resonator had swiftly shifted tactics—from pinning his disciple to taking her as a hostage.
His gaze then flicked to the girl. Amusement tugged at his lips. "Lass, didn't you once say you wouldn't lose to anyone your age?"
She scowled, making an ugly face. "I'm only seven!"
Kyorin blinked. "Uh… actually, I'm four. I turn five in two months."
Changli's eyes widened in horror. 'I got bested by a kid?!'
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, since you've already won, let her go."
It wasn't a request—it was a command.
Kyorin coughed, blood trickling from his seven orifices. His breath came ragged, but he kept it under control. "If I release her, will you spare me?"
The old man smiled. "Sure."
"Then I have a condition—we head to the city gates. Until I safely enter, I won't let go. You can follow if you want." He attempted to negotiate. keyword: attempted.
The old man's expression darkened. "Kid… I don't think you understand who's in control here."
Kyorin staggered, more blood spilling as his strength wavered. His grip loosened just slightly.
Sensing an opening, the girl conjured another feather, aiming it at Kyorin. But before she could release it, he grabbed her wrist and redirected the flaming projectile into the hot spring—birthing yet another white abyss of steam.
Without hesitation, Kyorin released her and bolted. The scythe on his hand morphing into a wooden gourd which he secured on his belt.
He didn't make it far.
In a blink, the old man incapacitated him, pinning him down. Kyorin groaned. "Gah—!"
As he struggled, he caught sight of the elder's clothing—now dusted with tiny ice shards, particularly at the joints.
"A glacio user, huh?" The old man mused, analyzing Kyorin's ability. 'So, he can freeze the steam. Not bad… but not enough.' He inwardly jeered as if finding something interesting.
Forte Circuit: Mandate of Flow—Hydro Sovereign, a passive skill that grants immunity to water-based harm. It allows the user to control water sources and its states, with the extent of control depending on the user's level and Talent.
"S-Spare me," Kyorin pleaded.
The old man, finding the situation amusing, eyed Kyorin with a wry smile. "Would you have spared me if our positions were reversed?" he asked.
Kyorin replied without hesitation, "If you're a threat, never."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "And what if I weren't?"
Kyorin's answer was cold. "Then I would kill without a word."
The old man's eyes flickered. "What if I showed potential to be a threat in the future?"
"Why would I leave a threat to grow? I'd still kill." He stated the obvious.
The old man's grip tightened around Kyorin's neck, threatening to crush it as he chuckled. "You do know where I'm going with these questions, right?"
Kyorin groaned but nodded, "Of course."
The old man smirked. "Must be frustrating, huh? From winning a fight to now losing your life?"
Kyorin's voice remained steady. "Why would a candle curse the sun for outshining it?"
The old man tilted his head.
"Isn't it obvious that a greater force will win?" Kyorin spat.
"Either kill me or spare me," Kyorin choked out, his breath ragged.
"I can indeed spare you, but—" the old man said, but he added a condition. "You have to become my disciple."
The girl, shocked by the offer, gasped. "What?" But was more stunned as Kyroin replied.
"Hahaha," Kyorin laughed, despite his pain. "You know how to jest. Do you relish toying with children, Elder?"
A slight cracking sound came from Kyorin's neck as the old man's grip tightened. "Me? Joking?"
Kyorin answered, "You already have a disciple, and given her state, I don't believe you have enough to house two disciples." He pointed, "A hermit like you would only take one disciple in your lifetime."
The old man laughed. "Good one, kid. You got me." His grip tightening.
"Anything else you want to add?" he asked.
Kyorin's voice was weak. "S-Spare me." He spoke as his vison grew dark, before he fainted.
The old man smiled. "Quite persistent. Alright, I'll spare you for that." He nodded, acknowledging the boy's resolve. 'To beg for mercy at every turn—this brat is obsessed with staying alive,' he thought, a fleeting image of a person flashing in his mind. 'Rover...'
He released Kyorin out of mercy and addressed to the girl. "Alright, little Changli, let's go home."
Changli, frowning, asked, "Apologies, Master Xuanmiao, but as this pervert just said—wouldn't sparing him just give him the opportunity to grow stronger?"
Xuanmiao nodded, acknowledging the concern. "Indeed."
Changli gritted her teeth. "You're too soft, Master. Do you expect someone who spoke like that about killing to change if spared?"
"Maybe," Xuanmiao replied calmly.
Changli clenched her fists. "But—"
"Changli!" Xuanmiao shouted, making her recoil.
He softened his tone. "Remember, if it weren't for me being here, you wouldn't be able to speak these words." He reminded her that she was lucky as well.
He turned to Kyorin. "True, this brat may grow up to be an evil man, but tell me—do you want to become an evil woman?" He asked her.
Changli flinched at his words. "I..." She couldn't answer. Frustration bubbled up inside her, and she turned her anger toward Kyorin, glaring at him with contempt.
Xuanmiao continued, "We may indeed be making a mistake sparing him, but we'd be making a bigger mistake murdering a child." He reasoned.
He lowered his gaze muttering to himself in a low voice, "Who knows what this child has been through to shape such a mentality…" His voice was laced with pity and concern.
"Let's go," Xuanmiao said, his tone firm. "Besides, if we kill him here, there's no way we can erase all the evidence. By then, the city would send a guard, and we wouldn't be able to bathe in the hot springs anymore." He simply said.
"Unless you're okay with bathing in the cold waterfall." He added, knowing Changi's obsession with hot springs.
Changli clenched her fists, frustrated, before walking up to Kyorin and kicking him in the abdomen, sending his body rolling. "Consider yourself lucky," she spat.
Xuanmiao shook his head. 'I'd rather have you make more friends than enemies, my dear disciple,' he thought inwardly.
The two left, leaving Kyorin's body behind without bothering to check if he was alive or dead as it was not their concern.
This was the world of Resonators—where power had the final say.
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Caw—Caw
The crowing of a crow echoed in the twilight as Kyorin made his way through the city. His body, filled with fresh bruises, moved with caution.
He had changed his clothes after bathing—though he had been beaten in the process, he found it impossible not to bathe after everything he had been through.
"I'm back," Kyorin announced his arrival, stepping into the well-furnished house. Tang Yi had provided a generous sum to Xia, who came out of the kitchen, a savory aroma wafting through the air. Kyorin's thoughts lingered: 'Pancakes(Jeon전)?'
Jeon전—a traditional Korean savory pancake made with egg batter and various minced ingredients.
In Korean culture, newly moved neighbors make these pancakes and distribute them to those around them as a gesture of goodwill, saying, "We are new, take care of us."
Xia had come out beaming with a smile, but her face quickly changed upon seeing Kyorin's condition.
"Welcome home, my dar—!!?" she gasped, noticing the sorry state he was in. She quickly moved to hold his shoulder, concern clouding her expression.
"What happened?" she asked, her worry palpable.
"I slipped while traveling the mountain," Kyorin lied.
Xia didn't buy it. "Don't lie to me, I know injuries like this don't come from sliding like in books or dramas."
Kyorin paused. "I had a fight."
Xia's concern deepened, thinking, 'Is my son destined to not have friends?' She shook her head before asking, "Do you know who it was?"
Kyorin tried to recall. The only name that came to mind was "Xuan." That's all he remembered before everything went dark.
"Xuan? Xuan Jie from the two houses down below?" Xia asked, her familiarity with the neighborhood catching Kyorin off guard. He sweat dropped, realizing his mother's skill in social diplomacy.
"No, I don't think it was him. Truth be told, he might not even be from the city," Kyorin said, which eased Xia's worry, although she was still concerned about him having fought someone from the neighborhood.
Xia's voice softened with determination. "Tomorrow, you will help me distribute some pancakes, okay?" she said, hoping to ensure that her son was well-received in the new neighborhood.
"Huh?" Kyorin blinked, a little surprised.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the Mt. Firmament, a certain old man had decided how his disciple would spend the next day.
"Huh?" Changli muttered, struggling to follow. "Can you repeat that, Master?"
Xuanmiao, without skipping a beat, responded, "Tomorrow, you'll wander the streets of Hongzhen. Don't worry, I'll be there. You're not permitted to eat unless offered."
Changli protested, "Master, this—"
"Take this as a lesson in building character," Xuanmiao cut her off, his tone final. Changli, with no other option, reluctantly accepted her master's orders.
Looks like tomorrow would be quite a day.
To be continued...
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A/N: Alright, here's my offer:
1) Take the red ink—the story will take a darker turn, filled with blood, chaos, and violence, all while exploring themes of growth in chaos.
2) Take the blue ink—the story will have less violence and more depth, diving into philosophical ponderings and introspection for growth in understanding.
Which one do the readers believe is better. This is actually for the third volume.