Chapter 1: Prologue

Since ancient times, the people of the world have learned martial arts for their safety and protection against enemies, but as time passed, martial arts split into two groups.

The group of martial arts known today, Tai Chi, Karate, Kung Fu, Muay Thai, Jiu-Jitsu, and more, consisting of simple moves that turn your enemy's weaknesses against them, allowed the weak to catch up to the strong.

However, the second group, which stayed hidden in ancient China, evolved to kill enemies more efficiently and thus, it became more sophisticated and complicated by the day.

The most basic forms evolved into a series of movements, and their strengths far surpassed typical humans as their breathing and meditation represented the fundamentals of internal energy.

The ones who strayed down this path were known as the people of Jianghu, for they could sprint through the trees like the wind through thick grass, chop down trees with a slash of their sword and break stones with a single punch.

Many that thought the powers of martial arts should be used to establish peace, banded together to create Orthodox Sects, gaining power with every town and city they helped.

Being provoked by the naive and peaceful thoughts of the Orthodox Sects, martial artists that gave in to greed and lust formed Unorthodox Sects to combat the Orthodox Sects. Gaining power every time they ransacked another sect, town and city.

However, those who only sought strength to the point of madness in the constant warfare turned to the Demonic Cult, a place of unbound cruelty and wickedness where only the strong survived.

This story does not start within one of these three groups but with a simple martial artist wishing to move on from his blood stained past into a peaceful future.

---

An old man was running through a forest, leaving a trail of blood with every step he took.

After over a hundred years of destroying Sects across Jianghu, the man naively believed he could live a peaceful life away from the rest of the world.

However, his reputation had finally caught up with him, and with the blood flowing down his arm from the gaping wound in his shoulder, his escape was impossible.

In his prime, the old man would have easily defeated his pursuers down an arm and a leg. Now with his old age and having been ambushed by his pursuers, they could dispatch him with ease.

---

Earlier that morning, an old man was cutting down trees with an axe in a forest on the base of a mountain. This man was Myeol Mang, the Vanquisher of Sects.

After his hundred years of destroying Martial arts Sects across the world of Jianghu, Myeol Mang decided to retire to the mountainside, to live a humble life with his wife and two kids, and teach them how to survive in the world before he died of old age.

But those were thoughts for another time. Right now, all he needed to do was get some firewood to cook the morning's food.

Myeol Mang started to walk over to the axe planted firmly in a nearby tree, but as he began to grip the handle, he heard a weird rustling amongst the trees.

Thinking nothing of it, Myeol Mang pulled out the axe from the tree, and just as he was about to strike the tree, he felt something flying at him from behind.

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Turning in the direction of the object he felt, Myeol Mang swung his axe, only to hit an arrow that was flying right at his head.

Looking at the direction that the arrow came from, Myeol Mang became very aware of his surroundings, the movement of the trees, and the wildlife in the surrounding area. Anything that had even the tiniest amount of internal energy could be sensed by him.

But what he found was astonishing. There wasn't a single person in the area around him. In the realm of martial arts, the only way one couldn't sense another person's internal energy was if that person was on a higher level than him.

Knowing this, Myeol Mang became very disturbed; the only group of people who could send high-level warriors like this was the Demonic Cult.

While Myeol Mang was lost in thought about why the Cult would send people after him now of all times, a masked man dropped from above and drove his sword down upon his shoulder, making it halfway down before Myeol Mang managed to turn around and bury the axe in the man's head.

Hearing a rustling noise from behind him, Myeol Mang tried to pull the axe out of the masked man's head, but to no avail. The axe would not come out, leaving him weaponless and down an arm to fight an unknown number of enemies.

Thinking about the situation, if the masked people who were currently trying to attack him were willing to sacrifice their lives to take him down, there would be no telling what kinds of tricks they would be willing to pull to kill him.

Myeol Mang decided that in order to survive, he needed to run away as too many factors were going against him.

Being down an arm with an unknown number of enemies and no weapons to fight with, Myeol Mang bolted further into the forest.

The blood spilling from his arm left a trail with every step he took. Still listening for his pursuers, he could hear their movements among the trees as they followed him, waiting for him to collapse from blood loss, like a snake waiting for its prey to die from its venom.

Finally, they descended upon him, weapons ready to strike him down where their prey stood. Hearing the movements among the trees stop, Myeol Mang took a sharp turn right, narrowly avoiding his masked predators.

Finally, coming face to face with the masked men, Myeol Mang asked, "Why are you pursuing me? I've long since abandoned Murim and have stopped attacking Sects." The masked men stood motionless as Myeol Mang questioned them.

"It isn't personal, Vanquisher of Sects. It's just our lord has decided that you cannot remain if we wish to continue our plan." The man in front responded.

"Well, if my existence interferes with what the Cult is planning, I might as well just give up my life here. But please grant this old man one last request." Myeol Mang responded, slumping against a tree with a pale white face.

Walking towards Myeol Mang's slumped over body with his sword drawn, the masked man asked.

"Fine. What is your request?"

"Just let my family live in peace, and let them keep my sword so that they can defend themselves against this cruel world."

"Alright, I'll make sure that it happens, however, don't think I'm doing this out of kindness. I'm only doing this out of respect for you, for possessing such a strong will."

And not a moment later, Myeol Mang's head fell to the ground and stained the grass crimson red.

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