Several years ago…
The morning sun bathed the training yard in golden light. The air was fresh, the leaves still dewy, and the dormitory was as lively as ever—all thanks to one name.
"Jian Mo! Did you hide my clothes again?!"
A gruff voice echoed from afar. A middle-aged man with a thick beard and narrow eyes came running, wearing nothing but his underwear.
"Wasn't me, Old Man! It was Seong who did it!" Jian Mo replied, laughing uncontrollably, still holding a black robe in his hand.
"How dare you talk back to your master now!" the Master shouted, grabbing Jian Mo by the ear without mercy.
"Ow ow ow! That really hurts, Master!" Jian Mo cried, half-laughing and half in pain.
From behind a wall, a skinny young man with an innocent face peeked out anxiously—it was a young Seong Whak.
"Whew… good thing there's always a senior to take the blame," Seong mumbled, chuckling quietly. "Even if it really was my fault."
Those days, though filled with harsh training and shouting, were warm.
Home.
Family.
Laughter.
---
Back to the present…
Laughter burst forth once more. On a wooden bench in Tianyin Square, two old friends sat side by side, reminiscing about their long-lost youth.
"I still remember—because of your prank, Master punched me in the gut," Jian Mo said, rubbing his stomach with a wry grin.
"Haha, that's because you always stirred up trouble, Senior. But Master was weird too—he always said I was a good kid, even when I was clearly the culprit," Seong replied, struggling to hold back his laughter.
Their laughter slowly faded. The sky darkened, and the once-busy square began to empty.
Then, Seong Whak's voice deepened, his tone serious.
"Senior…" He stared straight ahead. "Do you think… I can win against Seo Whan this time?"
Jian Mo didn't answer right away. He gazed at the twilight sky for a moment, then turned to look at his old friend's face.
"Seong… you've prepared everything. You're no longer the naïve boy who used to hide behind walls." He gave a faint smile. "Even at his full strength, I doubt Seo Whan can match the Seong Whak of today."
Seong looked at his hands and clenched them tightly. "This time… I want to end everything for real."
"And you will."
Seong turned toward him, slightly surprised by the certainty in Jian Mo's voice.
Jian Mo continued, his voice soft yet filled with weight:
"You know, Seong… those who are truly strong aren't the ones with great power…
…but the ones who can endure the darkness within themselves."
Seong froze.
Those words struck like a whip, awakening something deep inside him.
"The darkness within… yeah. I understand now."
He nodded slowly. "Thank you, Senior. This time, I'll fight not just for the world… but for myself."
And so, night fell quietly, carrying the promise of an imminent battle, and a hope that blazed in the heart of a young man who no longer wished to simply survive—but to win.
---
Meanwhile, far from the laughter and peace of Tianyin…
In the midst of a dark stone fortress shrouded in night mist, the Drak Blood headquarters felt suffocating. Torch flames danced along the corridors, casting light on grim faces filled with resolve.
In the main hall, a tall man draped in a black robe lined with blood-red sat on a throne of cold metal. His eyes gleamed sharply like a serpent poised to strike.
A subordinate knelt before him.
"Report, my Lord. Preparations are complete. The shadow troops have infiltrated Alliance territory."
A thin smile crept onto the lips of the Drak Blood leader.
"Good…"
He rose slowly from his throne, each step heavy with authority. His voice echoed—deep and cold:
"Light the signal. Starting tonight… we are shadows no more. We will fight in the light, and destroy that light."
"Yes, my Lord!" the soldiers answered in unison, their voices shaking the silent stone walls.
Above the Drak Blood fortress, the sky grew even darker, as if welcoming the storm to come. And in the distance, thunder rumbled faintly… a sign that war could no longer be avoided.