hen the Sword Became Judgment
Jin stepped out of the cave.
He did not move.
He stood beneath a clear sky—unusual for Murim—staring at its blue as if it were something he had not seen in a very long time.
The cave had changed him deeply.
He could now feel the beauty of the world, and the depth within all things.
But…
Nothing is allowed to remain peaceful for long.
The air stirred.
Footsteps followed.
Fifty men emerged from the edges of the area,
forming up without chaos—identical stances, measured breaths.
Jin did not turn immediately.
He merely smiled faintly.
— Hmm… were you waiting for me here every day?
A man stepped forward.
His features were harsh, his eyes already poisoned before any toxin was released.
— You wretch… you dared commit that act, and now you don't even care with us standing before you?
Jin finally turned.
He stared at him for a moment, then looked back at the sky.
— Hmm…
Then he said calmly, with mockery:
— Haa… you want to kill me? But there are two girls who want to marry me. Is it right to break their hearts and let me die unmarried? Tsk, tsk… no emotions at all.
The men did not move yet, but they listened—until irritation spread among them.
Jin looked at the man in front.
— Are you Shin Han-Lu?
The man was startled, and Jin continued:
— Peak realm. Around forty-five years old. Your sword is ordinary, but its blade is modified with a dual poison channel. Your style relies on three false strikes before the real killing blow.
He paused briefly.
— I killed you about a thousand times last month. I got bored of you.
Faces exploded with rage. Killing intent surged.
Shin Han-Lu roared:
— Kill him immediately—!
He never finished.
Jin drew the orichalcum sword.
For the first time.
As it emerged, the boy's aura surged, and he spoke:
— Damn you all…
His voice was cold.
— You love killing to the marrow, then justify your crimes by calling commoners trash.
The fifty charged together.
But this time…
Jin was not learning.
He was not testing.
He was not showing off.
He had spent a full month fighting hundreds of veteran warriors within illusions, memorizing thousands of styles, refining dozens of arts—until he was done.
He raised his sword.
One horizontal slash.
Just one.
The air split.
A massive blade of dark energy erupted from the strike.
Thirty-two bodies were cleaved apart in an instant.
The trees behind them fell severed, and the ground flattened beneath the attack.
Those who remained…
were either wounded, or had burned half their energy just to stay alive.
A horrifying silence fell.
Jin slowly sheathed his sword.
— So…
He looked at them with contempt.
— You're weak.
Then he added:
— And still… trash.
He did not use a physical sword again.
He extended his hand.
A sword of qi formed—dark, oppressive, as if night itself had been compressed into his palm.
— This is enough for you.
Voices trembled.
— I-Impossible…
— That pressure… a Sword Master—no…
— Retreat!
Jin advanced.
The movement became slaughter.
The unit attempted its final option.
— Final formation!
— Poison Sea Net!
Poison exploded.
Dark green mist engulfed the area.
Jin stopped.
— Poison?
He said it dismissively.
— I don't think it dissolves mana.
And for the first time since entering Murim…
he used magic.
A magic circle formed before his hand—precise and pure.
A fourth-circle barrier.
The poison struck.
It dispersed.
Terror turned into panic.
— No…
— The poison didn't work!
— This… this is complete magic!
Jin charged into them.
What he used next…
was their own style.
He moved with their footwork, executed their techniques, struck with their exact sequences—without a single mistake.
— Impossible…
— That's… that's our clan's art!
— How does he master it?!
The name escaped one of them, trembling:
— Seven Fang Dance!
But in Jin's hands…
it became:
Broken Fang Dance.
What were once fangs meant to cut enemies
became violent fangs that shattered—and broke the wielder along with them.
What made it terrifying was not experience.
Not the backing of a higher being.
It was simply… his pure talent,
and the internal energy he had exploited every possible chance to increase over two full years.
And because of that—
In less than three minutes…
the rest fell.
Fifty elite fighters did not last five minutes.
Jin stood alone.
Blood covered his face and body.
Corpses lay scattered around him, and the ground was carved with traces of techniques.
The sky was still clear.
He said calmly:
— This is the first time…
He closed his eyes.
— That I've fought humans seriously.
And he walked away.