The Heavenly Demon Cult had declared the commencement of its disciple selection—a brutal exam where the strong thrived, and the weak perished.
Lucian, disguised as Nam Gong-Wook, made his way into the Azure Sky District, his destination clear—the gates of the most feared martial sect in the world. In the shadows, Thomas followed, ever watchful, a silent guardian unseen by all.
As Lucian approached the towering black-and-red gates of the Heavenly Demon Cult, two masked guards, clad in obsidian armor with crimson engravings, crossed their spears in front of him. Their presence radiated hostility.
"State your purpose!" one of them demanded in a voice as cold as steel.
Lucian met their gaze without flinching. "I have come to take the disciple entrance exam."
The guards exchanged glances before one of them stepped aside. "Proceed. The Hall is straight ahead."
Lucian strode through the massive gates, entering a vast courtyard filled with thousands of aspiring martial artists. The Hall of Trials loomed ahead, its red doors adorned with intricate carvings of battle-hardened demons.
As he stepped inside, a suffocating pressure filled the air. The heavy scent of incense mingled with blood, a stark reminder that failure in this exam meant death.
Then, in a synchronized movement, four figures materialized at the entrance, their very presence exuding overwhelming power. The largest among them, a man with crimson hair and a jagged scar across his jaw, stepped forward and spoke in a thunderous voice.
"Welcome to the trial! From this moment on, you are no longer ordinary men. You are either warriors of the Heavenly Demon Cult—or corpses. There is no turning back!"
The air grew tense. Whispers spread among the trainees, fear evident in their expressions. However, Lucian remained unfazed.
A woman stepped forward, her blood-red robes flowing like liquid fire. Her gaze was sharp, her aura oppressive—Cho Ha-Jin, the Crimson Lotus Empress.
"Line up according to your weapons!" she commanded, her killing intent tangible.
The 5000 martial artists scrambled to form lines based on their weapon of choice. Lucian positioned himself among the swordsmen. Standing at the front was his examiner—Gong Yul-Seong, the infamous Red Sun Priest. His name alone carried tales of carnage, a man who had once slaughtered a thousand men on the cult leader's orders without hesitation.
The exam was simple yet brutal: Impress the instructor or die.
One by one, swordsmen faced Gong Yul-Seong. None lasted more than a few strikes. The Red Sun Priest cut them down, not lethally, but with enough force to ensure their failure.
Hwang Jisoo, the Thunderous Demon Fist, scoffed from the side. "Gong Yul-Seong, must you be so ruthless? We need at least one promising disciple for the Heavenly Ascent Tournament."
Gong Yul-Seong spat on the ground. "These weaklings aren't even worth a grave. Not a single one has even dared to clash swords with me!"
Then came Lucian's turn.
The instructor tossed him a metal training sword, his expression laced with mockery. "Try not to die too quickly, boy."
In an instant, Gong Yul-Seong lunged, his blade flashing toward Lucian's neck in a lethal arc. Lucian deflected it effortlessly, redirecting the force with precise control. Instead of using his family's renowned techniques, he kept his movements deceptively simple.
The crowd murmured in astonishment.
Gong Yul-Seong's eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he twisted mid-motion, executing a devastating reverse slash aimed to cleave Lucian in two. Lucian countered, stepping in and stopping the swing with a perfectly placed parry, his sword pressing against the priest's wrist.
A smirk crept across Gong Yul-Seong's face. "Interesting."
With sudden force, he leaped high into the air, spinning to deliver a powerful downward kick. Lucian raised his sword in time, absorbing the impact, but the sheer force sent him skidding backward.
The hall fell silent.
Then, laughter erupted from Gong Yul-Seong.
"What's your name, brat?"
Lucian sheathed his sword and met his gaze. "Nam Gong-Wook."
Gong Yul-Seong grinned, his previous hostility replaced by approval. "You pass. Go to the Hall of Elders."
Hwang Jisoo chuckled. "Look at you, actually enjoying yourself."
"Shut it, Hwang Jisoo," Gong Yul-Seong retorted, turning away.
Lucian stepped into the Hall of Elders. Three men stood before him, each exuding terrifying power.
Namgung Baek, the Blood Moon General, spoke first. "Welcome, Nam Gong-Wook, to the Heavenly Demon Cult. You have achieved what many could not."
Lucian bowed. "It was not much, Master."
Namgung Baek let out a hearty laugh. "Not much? Out of five thousand candidates, you alone passed."
Lucian's gaze remained steady. "The exam is not over yet."
Namgung Baek's grin widened. "For us, it is. The rest will be executed. Congratulations, you are now a First-Rate Martial Artist of our cult."
Lucian frowned. "I applied for Second-Rate status."
A new voice interrupted—Seo Hwanjin, the Demon Sage of Azure. "You outclassed them all. There is no need for formality."
Baek Hyeon-Wu, the Eclipse Blade, stepped forward, handing Lucian a scroll. "This is our sect's sword art. Learn it before the Heavenly Ascent Tournament next month, or you will meet the same fate as the others."
A sharp knock on the door signaled the arrival of an attendant.
Seo Hwanjin gestured. "Take him to his quarters."
Lucian was assigned Gong Yul-Seong as his mentor. His training routine was merciless:
Dawn: Thousand-cut sword practice, slashing at a training post until his arms bled.
Morning: Endurance training—running up a mountain carrying boulders on his back.
Noon: Sparring with elite first-rate disciples, refining his combat instincts.
Afternoon: Meditation under waterfalls to temper his mind and increase Qi circulation.
Evening: Studying the sect's sword techniques, memorizing every stance and strike.
Midnight: Silent movement training—evading attacks in absolute darkness.
For a month, Lucian endured this relentless regimen. The other first-rate disciples resented him, their jealousy evident in their glares. Many challenged him to duels, hoping to humble him, yet none succeeded.
Meanwhile, Thomas worked in the shadows. Every night, he infiltrated rival sects, gathering intelligence. With his mastery over darkness, no martial artist could sense his presence.
As the month ended, Lucian stood atop a cliff overlooking the cult's fortress. He clenched his fists, feeling the surge of newfound strength.
"Heavenly Ascent Tournament... I will show them all."
The time had come for the Heavenly Ascent Tournament, an event that shook the martial world to its core every five years. It was held in the legendary Dragon Ring, a vast coliseum owned and controlled by the Heavenly Demon Cult. With towering blackstone walls, crimson banners bearing the cult's sigil, and a massive arena designed to withstand the devastation of the greatest martial battles, the very air within the Dragon Ring pulsed with violent anticipation.
One by one, the most powerful sects arrived, each entrance more imposing than the last.
The first to step through the colossal gate was the Mount Hua Sect, known for its elegant and precise swordsmanship. A golden radiance seemed to follow their procession, each disciple dressed in pristine white robes embroidered with plum blossoms. Their leader, Baek Ji-hwan, the Grand Elder and master of the Nine Celestial Sword Arts, walked at the forefront, exuding an aura of refined power. Beside him strode Yoon Tae-moon, the stern and disciplined Head Instructor, his piercing eyes scanning the arena like a hawk. The Mount Hua disciples walked in perfect formation, swords at their waists, embodying the harmony between blade and spirit.
Next came the Wudang Sect, the revered keepers of Taoist martial arts, emphasizing internal cultivation and balance. Unlike the rigid elegance of Mount Hua, Wudang's warriors moved with effortless grace, their footsteps seemingly weightless upon the stone ground. Wei Zhenhua, the Grand Elder and master of Tai Chi Sword Arts, led the procession with serene confidence, his long robes billowing gently as if caught in an unseen current. To his right was Fang Xiaotian, a reclusive yet formidable martial artist whose reputation as an untouchable force preceded him. Their presence was like a flowing river—calm on the surface, yet carrying an unfathomable depth.
The third arrival was the Hollow Bamboo Sect, emerging as if from nowhere, their movements whisper-soft yet impossible to ignore. Masters of unpredictable combat and fluid motion, they bore weapons that seemed like extensions of nature itself. Yoo Il-ryung, a master musician-martial artist, held a jade flute that gleamed under the sunlight, his sharp eyes flickering with unreadable thoughts. Beside him, Go Hae-rim, a deadly warrior wielding bamboo needles hidden in her sleeves, carried herself with effortless confidence. The Hollow Bamboo Sect disciples moved like the wind—unpredictable, intangible, and ever-present.
The next arrival sent an undeniable chill through the arena—The Black Veil Society. Shrouded figures emerged from the shadows, their black robes embroidered with crimson threads, resembling creeping blood. Their leader, Namgoong Hwan, the Poisoned Serpent, wore an eerie smile, his presence radiating menace. The very air seemed to thicken with their arrival, as if laced with unseen toxins.
Then came the Crimson Moon Cult, the heretical sect feared for their dark rituals. Baek Jiwoon, the Scarlet Prophet, strode forth with robes drenched in the color of freshly spilled blood. His eyes, deep pools of crimson, surveyed the arena as if seeking his next sacrifice. The cult's disciples carried eerie talismans, whispering incantations under their breath.
Following them, the Soul Reaper Hall arrived in silence, their black-cloaked figures exuding a spectral chill. At their forefront stood Yoon Haesol, the wielder of the cursed Soul Devourer Blade, her presence an omen of inevitable demise. None dared look directly into her eyes for fear of seeing their own deaths reflected within.
The Obsidian Fang Clan entered next, warriors clad in beast pelts and steel, their weapons forged in the darkest flames. Tang Wei, the Beastlord, led the charge, his mere presence enough to send shivers down the spines of lesser martial artists.
Then came the Ironclad Dominion, the warriors of unbreakable will. Their leader, Baek Jin-Hwan, the Iron Tyrant of Wolseong, marched at the front, his armor glinting under the sun. Jin Tae-ryong, the Iron Dragon General, and Baek Mu-jin, the Unshakable Spear, followed close behind, their eyes set on domination.
Finally, the Heavenly Demon Cult made its entrance.
A deafening silence swept over the arena as five figures, draped in robes of crimson and obsidian, stepped through the grand gates. The aura they exuded was suffocating—absolute and undeniable. At their head was Jin Seol-Hwan, the Heavenly Demon himself. His long black hair cascaded down his shoulders, and his piercing eyes held the weight of a thousand victories. Each step he took felt like the fall of an empire, his presence alone enough to make weaker men tremble.
Beside him were his most trusted elders:
Cho Ha-Jin, the Crimson Lotus Empress, her very gaze capable of breaking a man's will.
Seo Hwanjin, the Demon Sage of Azure, a strategist and master of esoteric martial arts.
Baek Hyeon-Wu, the Eclipse Blade, cold and ruthless in execution.
Yi Kyung-Jae, the Ghost Hand Executioner, a phantom who struck before death could be sensed.
Namgung Baek, the Blood Moon General, his sheer presence exuding the promise of carnage.
Behind them stood their chosen warrior—Nam Gong-Wook.
Lucian had donned the name Nam Gong-Wook for his time in the Heavenly Demon Cult, and now, he was their representative in the tournament. His crimson robes bore the cult's sigil, his sword resting calmly at his waist. Many had already whispered of his rapid ascent, of the monstrous talent he possessed. Today, he would prove it.
Cho Ha-Jin stepped forward, her voice carrying through the arena. "Welcome to the Heavenly Ascent Tournament! Here, strength is the only truth. The one who triumphs in this arena shall be named the Divine Dragon of Wolseong and shall earn the right to be counted among the sixteen Master Martial Artists."
The crowd roared, martial artists from every corner of the world watching in anticipation. Some eyed the Heavenly Demon Cult with contempt, others with fear, but none could ignore their dominance.
Lucian's grip on his sword tightened. He had only one goal—to rise above them all.
The tournament was about to begin.