I spun around. My hand solidified, but the aching cold remained in my bones as a warning. I bent down, my fingers wrapping around a sturdy, waterlogged bamboo branch discarded in the mud. It was heavier than a sword, terribly balanced, but it would have to do.I walked toward the men. My footsteps were silent, rolling from heel to toe, splashing no water despite the puddles. "Let her go," I said. My voice was raspy, unused. The three men turned. The leader squinted at me through the rain, taking in my emaciated frame and the wet bamboo stick in my hand. He threw his head back and laughed, revealing a mouth full of rotting teeth."Look at this. A beggar playing hero," the leader sneered, shoving the crying girl to the ground. "You want to die early, trash?"He didn't wait for an answer. He signaled to the thug on his left. The man rushed me, raising his wooden club for a crude, sweeping strike aimed at my temple.He was slow. Pathetically slow. I didn't block. Blocking wasted energy

[Convert 5 Karma to Spiritual Energy?][Yes / No]Yes.The number dropped to zero. Instantly, a sensation unlike anything I had ever felt bloomed in the center of my chest. It wasn't the sharp, freezing chill of assassin's Qi. It was warm. Uncomfortably warm. It felt like swallowing a spoonful of hot honey. The energy trickled down into my dantian, a tiny, golden drop of pure vitality. It spread outward through my meridians. The throbbing in my relocated shoulder lessened. The burning in my throat eased. I wasn't healed—not by a long shot—but the bone-deep exhaustion retreated just a fraction. It was a pitiful amount of Qi, barely enough to strengthen a single punch, but it proved the system worked. Good deeds equaled power. A cruel, bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You want me to be a saint?" I whispered to the empty shrine. "Fine. I'll play your game."But to get strong enough to survive Mu-Rak tomorrow morning, I needed more Karma. Fast. I forced myself up. The rain was beginnin

I needed to move. The night was ending, and the sky above the cramped roofs of the slums was beginning to turn a bruised, dark purple. Dawn was approaching. Jang Mu-Rak was still out there. He had given me until morning. He knew I was severely weakened, and he would use the daylight to track me. Assassins preferred the dark, but Mu-Rak was a tracker; he could follow the scent of my blood and the drag of my footsteps anywhere. I navigated the labyrinthine alleys, heading north toward the neutral Merchant District. The borders between the districts were heavily patrolled by private guards. Mu-Rak would have a harder time acting openly there. My breathing was shallow, my body aching with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The Qi from the Karma conversion had healed my side, but it hadn't restored my physical stamina. I was a mortal man running on fumes. I stepped out of a narrow passageway into a small, abandoned courtyard behind a dilapidated teahouse. Weeds pushed through the cracked s

Out in the courtyard, Baek Jin-Woo had drawn his ash-wood sword exactly one inch from its scabbard. The rain in the courtyard abruptly stopped falling. The droplets hung suspended in the air, caught in a sudden, suffocating domain of pure Orthodox Qi. The pressure was physical. It felt as though a mountain had been gently placed upon my chest. Mu-Rak froze. The blood drained from his bruised face. He slowly turned his head toward the young man on the roof. "He took a hit for a mortal," Jin-Woo said. His voice was no longer relaxed. It was cold, carrying the undisputed authority of a sect master. "That places him under my temporary observation. If you take another step toward him, I will cut you into so many pieces your guild won't know what to bury."Mu-Rak swallowed hard. He was an assassin. He knew how to read power, and the gap between him and the Wandering Sword Genius was an ocean he couldn't cross. "The poison will kill him in an hour anyway," Mu-Rak sneered, taking a slow,

"Who sent you?" Gyu-Jin demanded softly. "Did the Black Dog Gang hire you? Or are you a spy from the Demonic Cult testing our border security? Speak, and I might let a physician look at that poison.""You... talk too much," I whispered, my voice sounding like gravel crushed under a boot. Gyu-Jin's eyes narrowed. His hand shot out, moving with the terrifying speed of an Orthodox master. He grabbed my broken, dislocated left shoulder and squeezed violently. A fresh, blinding wave of agony exploded in my joint. I didn't scream. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted fresh blood, my jaw locked tight. I glared right back into his eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. "Tough," Gyu-Jin sneered, twisting his grip. "I like tough men. They sound so much better when they finally break. You think you can stare me down, trash? I am the future of the Murim Alliance. I decide who lives and who rots in this city."I spat a mouthful of blood and saliva directly onto his