The morning air was crisp, heavy with the lingering chill of dawn.
Han Seojin stood alone atop a stone platform behind the main estate, his young body trembling slightly under the strain of repetitive movements. His small fists struck forward again and again, his muscles tightening, his breathing steady.
Each punch seemed almost meaningless in its simplicity, but Seojin knew better. In this fragile body of ten years, he was rebuilding a foundation that would one day support a power unseen for millions of years.
Strength, endurance, precision… they're important, he thought, but none of them alone will be enough.
His mind, sharpened by the memories of his previous life, wandered to the nature of power itself.
He thought of the path all martial artists pursued: the hierarchy of strength that defined the world of Murim.
Third Level Warrior.
Second Level Warrior.
First Level Warrior.
Peak.
Ultimate Peak.
Metamorphic.
Transcended Life.
Transcended Death.
Deity.
Up until the Peak realm, the climb was straightforward.
Cultivators poured their efforts into accumulating ki, tempering the body, increasing their martial prowess.
But after reaching Peak, the path twisted. It was no longer just about brute force or sheer energy.
Beyond Peak... it's not about growing stronger anymore, Seojin reminded himself. It's about understanding. About mastering the very essence of your existence.
He had learned this truth far too late in his previous life.
Ultimate Peak was not achieved by simply pushing one's ki higher.
It was achieved by mastering the nature of strength itself — understanding its origin, its purpose, and its limits.
And even among those who reached Ultimate Peak, only ten in the entire world had managed to break through to Metamorphic Realm — the so-called Ten Superhumans.
Seojin exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The difference between a Peak expert and a Metamorphic one is greater than the difference between a child and a master.
Yet even now, among the scholars and masters, there was no agreement on how to break through.
Some believed it was about perfect physical mastery — absolute control over every muscle and movement.
Others thought it was a mental trial, the need to conquer all fear and hesitation.
Still others insisted it was a spiritual evolution, an alignment with the hidden flows of the universe itself.
Fools, Seojin thought bitterly. It's all of it. Physical, mental, and spiritual. Only by mastering them together can you ascend.
Most martial artists never realised this. They fought blindly against their bottlenecks until they withered away into obscurity or old age.
The cool breeze tugged at his clothes. He let his arms fall to his sides, his training for the morning finished.
Still breathing evenly, he decided to walk toward the Han family's martial grounds, drawn by the distant sounds of clashing practice swords and shouted kiais.
The estate was vast, sprawling over hills and gardens, with high walls surrounding their territory.
Even among the Orthodox Murim Union, the Han family was one of the most powerful — revered for its long lineage of geniuses and its unbroken loyalty to the Orthodox cause.
As Seojin approached the training grounds, he saw dozens of young heirs sparring under the watchful eyes of their instructors.
Children a few years older than him were exchanging blows with heavy wooden swords, their faces taut with concentration.
Others practiced complicated stances, their ki flickering faintly around their limbs — barely a whisper of true power, but still impressive for their age.
Seojin stood at the edge of the grounds, his arms crossed, his gaze distant.
He watched a boy — perhaps fourteen — unleash a flurry of attacks, driving his opponent back. His strikes were fast, powerful.
By ordinary standards, he would be called a genius.
But in Seojin's eyes, he was slow.
His ki was unrefined, wild, wasteful. His form lacked the sharpness that could only come from true mastery.
These children… they may reach Peak, perhaps even Ultimate Peak if they're lucky. But how many will truly understand what it means to transcend?
His gaze shifted toward the banners hung around the grounds — vivid cloth marked with the crest of the Han family, a soaring falcon cutting through clouds.
This world is still so young, he thought. Still blind.
In his previous life, even among the entire Orthodox Murim Union — the greatest force of order and righteousness — there had been no one who broke past Metamorphic.
Even among the Ten Superhumans, none had touched Transcended Life.
Only he, Han Seojin, had reached Transcended Death, standing alone at the summit of existence... and ultimately, still failing.
He clenched his fists quietly at his sides.
This time… I will not fail.
He would master the Second Level Warrior stage fully — not just increase his ki, but grasp the essence of it.
He would study every movement, every breath, until his body and mind were one.
He would ascend, stage by stage, without flaw, without hesitation.
Because he remembered.
Because he knew.
And knowledge, in a world shrouded in ignorance, was power beyond measure.