Chapter 26 – The Whispering Scroll
Mu-won stared at the bloodied scroll in his hands. The Shadow Demon Art—a technique feared by both the righteous and the wicked, known for turning men into ghosts, and ghosts into executioners. The scroll pulsed faintly, as if alive, its dark qi licking at his fingertips.
He walked silently to the edge of the cliff near the crescent moon tree—a secluded place only he knew of. The cold night breeze tugged at his robes, but his eyes remained still, piercing into the horizon.
"Why now?" he murmured.
In his past life, this technique only emerged during the third Great Sect War, when the Shadow Hall assassins slaughtered ten sect masters in one night. Yet in this life, the scroll had surfaced too early. Was his rebirth causing ripples in fate? Or had someone else returned as well?
Mu-won unsealed the scroll and began reading.
The technique was cruel—designed to erase one's presence, slow the heart, suppress internal energy, and deliver killing blows that bypassed spiritual defenses. But deeper within, hidden in faded ink, was a set of annotations. Notes that didn't exist in his past life.
> "Only one who walks between yin and yang can master the true form. Eyes of death, heart of silence, and soul of war. If you are reading this, beware—the true Shadow Demon walks again."
Mu-won narrowed his eyes.
"These weren't written by the original creator…" he muttered. "Someone else touched this. Someone who knows."
Suddenly, the scroll trembled—and a whisper slithered through the air. A voice only Mu-won could hear.
> "You defy destiny, child of war…"
His body tensed. A demonic pressure, cold as the grave, crept through his spine. But he didn't flinch.
> "You are not meant to be. Your soul reeks of broken timelines. Return to the dust, and let the cycle restore."
Mu-won smirked.
"You've mistaken me for someone who obeys cycles."
His aura erupted—not loud, not showy, but sharp. Controlled. Brutal.
The voice retreated with a hiss.
Mu-won closed the scroll and burned the outer layer, leaving only the core essence. The part no one else could access. He had no intention of cultivating the technique completely—but dissecting it would give him insights into techniques even higher than his current level.
As dawn approached, he returned to the outer court dorms. Along the way, he saw Gyeom again—standing under a lantern, pale and visibly shaken.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Mu-won said softly.
Gyeom didn't respond. He simply bowed and left. Something in Mu-won's eyes told him: if he ever crossed that line again, he wouldn't walk back alive.
Later that day, in the inner sanctum of the Crimson Moon Pavilion, a masked figure reported to a cloaked master.
"The scroll was intercepted. The boy… he's not ordinary."
The master's voice was hoarse. "Describe him."
"Cold eyes. Too calm. Fights like he's already mastered death."
The master leaned back, whispering, "The reborn one… he's awakened."
And far away, Mu-won stood atop a cliff, watching the sun rise.
"Come at me," he whispered. "One by one, or all at once. I'll still be the last one standing."