But before the first crow could land, the shadows at the base of the cliff rippled.They didn't just move; they peeled away from the rock face like wet stickers.Three figures stepped out of the darkness.They didn't walk like bandits, nor did they walk like soldiers.They moved with a loose, disjointed fluidity that suggested their bones were made of water, or perhaps that they simply didn't care about gravity.The leader was a tall, lanky man wearing a robe that seemed to be stitched together from a dozen different expensive silks, red, purple, black, and gold.He wore a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face, revealing only a mouth that was stitched into a permanent, unnerving grin.To his left was a brute of a man, or a creature. He was nearly seven feet tall, shirtless, his skin the color of old copper and covered in tattoos of weeping demons. He wore a necklace of finger bones.To his right was a woman. She was petite, holding a paper parasol despite the lack of sun. She wore b

He grabbed Ha-jun’s shoulder. His grip was like a vice made of ice."You don't want to talk? Fine. Then you work. If that body of yours is a mystery, let’s see what happens when we push it until the gears strip."Ma’s eyes gleamed with sadistic delight."Welcome to the Grinder, Little Monster. Class is in session."The training of the Violet Mist Sect was not "cultivation." It was structured torture.In the Orthodox sects, disciples sat under waterfalls or practised forms in neat rows. They meditated on the beauty of nature.Here, they meditated on the inevitability of pain.Day 1: The Press of the MountainGiant took Ha-jun to the "Playground." It was a gorge filled with boulders ranging from the size of watermelons to the size of houses."Strong bones," Giant grunted, looking at Ha-jun. "Show me."Giant picked up a boulder the size of a carriage. He didn't toss it. He walked over to Ha-jun, who was lying flat on his back in the mud, and simply dropped it.BOOM.The rock slammed into

He possessed the Eye of the Mirror Mind, a photographic memory so absolute it felt almost like a curse.In his previous life, he had hidden this. In the Moyong Clan, a "runt" who remembered everything was a threat.If the Elders knew he had memorized their ledgers just by glancing at them, or that he knew the flaws in their sword forms just by watching them spar once, they would have gouged his eyes out before he turned ten.So, he had played the fool. He had pretended to be slow. He had let them call him stupid while he silently archived their every sin, every technique, every weakness in the vault of his brain.Now, the vault was open.[System Observation: Host brain activity elevated to 400%.] [Query: You are manually archiving the target 'Yeon-joo's' movement patterns. Why? The System can scan and store this data instantly. You are duplicating effort.]Ha-jun didn't react externally. Inside his mind, his voice was cold steel.“You are a tool, System. A useful tool, but a tool non