2026-01-20 19:19:05But Ha-jun was already insane. The fire in the Death Forest had burned away his sanity, leaving only purpose.
"If the Heavens won't accept me because I am a demon," Ha-jun said, closing his eyes and forcing the black vortex in his gut to spin faster, "then I will drag the Heavens down into the mud with me."
He could feel the power humming in his veins, dark, heavy, and magnificent. It was the power of a predator.
"The Moyong Clan wants a loyal dog?"
Ha-jun channeled the energy, feeling it tear through his meridians with a pleasurable agony, burning away the last remnants of his weakness.
"I will show them a rabid beast."
***
The morning sun bled over the horizon, casting long, pale shadows across the Moyong Clan estate. To any other disciple, it was the start of a beautiful day for cultivation, the air crisp and filled with the scent of pine and discipline.
To Moyong Ha-jun, it felt like starvation.
He sat on the edge of his bed, his chest heaving with a phantom exertion. His new body, the Vessel of the Ashen Swordmaster, was not just sitting idle; it was screaming.
The Undying Furnace Dantian in his gut was spinning, a black vortex demanding fuel. The Void-Devouring Meridians were scraping against the inside of his skin, aching for energy that the thin, ambient qi of the atmosphere couldn't provide.
"I am empty," Ha-jun rasped, clutching his stomach. It wasn't hunger for food. It was a metaphysical famine. "I cannot cultivate the Azure Tide. If I try to force that watery, passive energy into this furnace, it will evaporate instantly. I need meat. I need fire. I need... Demonic Arts."
He looked up, his eyes burning with desperation.
"System," he growled. "You built this tank of a body. You realized the engine runs on blood and hatred. Yet I am stuck in the heart of an Orthodox Clan where even whispering the word 'Demon' gets your tongue cut out. How am I supposed to lay the foundation? I need a manual. Now."
The blue screen materialized instantly, hovering in the dust motes of the room.
[System Acknowledgement: Host requires cultivation method compatible with 'Undying Furnace'.]
[Scanning Database...]
[Solution Found: 'Ashen Purgatory Sword Arts - First Form: Ember Step' & 'Bone-Grinding Breath Technique'.]
[Generating 'Starter Pack'...]
A glimmer of hope sparked in Ha-jun's chest. The names alone sounded violent, heavy—exactly what his body craved.
[Starter Pack Ready.]
[Do you wish to redeem?]
"Yes!" Ha-jun snapped, reaching out as if to grab the holographic box. "Give it to me!"
[Error: Insufficient 'Vengeance Points' (VP).]
[Pack Cost: 500 VP.]
[Current Balance: 30 VP (Earned from 'First Blood-Debt' - Jang Myung and Lackeys).]
Ha-jun's hand froze in mid-air. The hope curdled instantly into a familiar, boiling rage.
"Points?" he whispered, the word trembling with incredulity. "You want... points?"
He stood up slowly, the floorboards groaning under the sudden shift of his density.
"I died!" Ha-jun roared, slamming his fist into the wall. The wood splintered, and the entire hut shook. "I was burned alive! I sold my soul to you! I am trapped in a timeline where everyone wants me dead or useless, and you are telling me I need to buy the ability to breathe?"
[Affirmative. The System operates on the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Nothing is free. Power must be earned through the currency of causality, which, for you, is Vengeance.]
[You have not caused enough suffering to your enemies to afford the tools of a god.]
Ha-jun looked around the room, looking for something to destroy. He wanted to tear the System out of his head.
He tried to strangle the invisible architect of this hell. He was a starving man being shown a banquet behind unbreakable glass.
"You are just mocking me," Ha-jun hissed, his eyes flashing with the red light of the Sword Sovereign optic nerves. "Just like them. You dangle the carrot, but the stick is made of iron."
[Correction: I am not mocking you. I am optimizing you. Handouts breed weakness. Desperation breeds monsters.]
[Advisory: Since the Host is destitute of points, utilize local resources. The Host is recommended to proceed to the Clan Library.]
Ha-jun laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "The Library? Are you malfunctioning? The Moyong Library is filled with the Azure Tide Scripture and its derivatives. Soft styles. Flowing water. Defensive forms. It is a shrine to everything this body isn't."
[Analysis: The Moyong Library contains 14,000 volumes. 90% are Orthodox trash. However, history is written by the victors, but the losers' weapons are often kept as trophies.]
[There are forgotten manuals. Techniques discarded because they were deemed 'too dangerous', 'self-destructive', or 'inefficient' for a normal human body.]
[Your body is not normal. What breaks a mortal will merely temper you.]
[Go Host. Scavenge the trash and find the gold.]
Ha-jun stared at the text.
Discarded.
Dangerous.
Self-destructive.
A dark smile touched his lips.
He knew about what being discarded meant far too well.
"Fine," he spat, adjusting his ragged robes. "I'll play your game, ghost. But if I walk in there and find nothing but water-dancing scrolls, I will find a way to burn you out of my skull."
The walk to the Library of Ten Thousand Flows was a journey through a graveyard of memories.
The Moyong Clan estate was undeniably beautiful. White stone paths wound through manicured gardens where cherry blossoms fell like snow. Majestic pavilions with sweeping green tiled roofs sat atop misty hills. It was a paradise built on the backs of "dogs" like Ha-jun.
As he walked, Ha-jun felt the gaze of others.
News of the previous night's brutality had spread. The Outer Disciples, who were usually quick to shoulder-check the "runt" or trip him as he walked, parted like the Red Sea. They huddled in groups, whispering, their eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and primal fear.
"Is that him?"
"Look at his eyes... they look dead."
"I heard he crushed Jang Myung's face into the floorboards. Jang still hasn't woken up."
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New Breakthrough
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
His Secret
[System Status Update.] [Time elapsed: 14 Days.] [Cultivation Base: Chaos Secret Art - Stage 1 (Peak).] [Physical Status: Monsters grade toughness.] [Acquired Resistance: Blunt Force (High), Neurotoxin (Medium), Pain (Max).]One evening, around a fire made of green, crackling spirit-wood, the trio sat eating the roasted thigh of a Saber-Toothed Tiger.Ha-jun tore into the meat with his bare hands, grease coating his chin. He ate like a starving wolf, ignoring the heat."Slow down, Little Monster," Ma chuckled, poking the fire with a stick. "The tiger is dead. It won't run away.""I need calories," Ha-jun grunted, swallowing a chunk of meat whole. "The Furnace is hungry.""This damned brat is always so hungry," Yeon-joo sighed, resting her head on Giant’s shoulder. "We’re going to run out of food before we reach the Main Domain."Ha-jun paused mid-chew. "Main Domain?"Ma nodded, his expression turning strangely serious beneath the flickering shadows of his hat."The Heavenly Demon
Brutal Training
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
Violet Mist Sect
"That's quality, my friend!" Ma called back. "Heavy bones mean a sturdy house! We’re going to build a monster!"***Ha-jun floated in the void of his subconscious. The blue screen was the only light.[Alert: Host has been compromised.] [Status: Kidnapped.] [Captors identified: The Violet Mist Sect (Unorthodox Faction).] [Threat Level: Extreme... but oddly non-hostile.][System Calculation...] [Route Recalculation...][Conclusion: This is hilarious.][The Host wanted to escape the Orthodox restrictions to cultivate Demonic Arts. Now, he is being hand-delivered to the capital of Demonic Arts by a lunatic who thinks he is a collector's item.][Task: Rest. Let the brute carry you. You just saved yourself a two-week walk.][System Note: Try not to kill them immediately when you wake up. These crazies might actually be the best teachers you could ask for.]Ha-jun slept on, drooling slightly on the Giant's shoulder, unaware that he had just been promoted from "Clan Reject" to "Demonic Se
Orthodox Puppy
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
Eliminated
The Bandit Chief, a massive man wielding a greataxe, stepped forward. "Is this the runt? He looks soft.""He is soft," Gwak laughed. "Break his legs first. Let him scream a bit. The Clan Head wants to know that he suffered a gruesome pain before he dies."Ha-jun sat on his horse. He looked at the fifty men surrounding him. He looked at the steel in their hands.He slowly dismounted. His boots hit the dust with a heavy, solid thud.He untied the wooden sword from his waist."Soft," Ha-jun repeated, testing the word.He looked up. The Eye of the Sword Sovereign activated. His pupils snapped into vertical slits. A grey, suffocating mist began to seep from his skin, the Chaos Qi leaking out, unable to be contained by his excitement."You brought me fifty teachers," Ha-jun said, his voice echoing unnaturally in the canyon. "And fifty steel blades."He gripped the wooden hilt. The wood groaned as he poured the heavy, violent energy of the Void into it. The "stick" turned black, vibrating w
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