"As expected of Master Shin—defeating those unorthodox bastards in an instant!"
A young man stood at the center of the bustling town square, his arms crossed and chin raised like he was the undisputed king of the world. His luxurious robe fluttered dramatically in the wind (that totally wasn't being fanned by his devoted followers). His face gleamed with pride as he basked in the worship of the masses, who had just witnessed his godly prowess.
"Master Shin, please accept our children as your disciples!" A desperate father shoved his son forward.
Another man followed suit, practically throwing his daughter at him. "Forget disciples! Take my daughter as your wife!"
"No, take mine!"
Suddenly, a beautiful woman pushed forward, her cheeks flushed. "Master Shin… please make me your concubine!"
Before Shin could process that, another woman jumped in. "No! I'm more beautiful! Accept me instead!"
"Excuse me?! You look like a discount cabbage seller! I should be his number one concubine!"
"Who are you calling cabbage, you pig-faced harlot?!"
Within seconds, several women started brawling over him, while the crowd chanted his name like he was a divine being. Shin ran a hand through his silky, jet-black hair and smirked. "Heheheh… Power, wealth, women—soon, I will rule the Murim world."
It was the peak of existence. He had it all. He was—
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Huh?! What?!"
A deafening, soul-crushing alarm shattered his glorious fantasy like a rock smashing a priceless jade.
Shin's eyes snapped open. Instead of a grand martial world… he was sprawled across a massive, luxurious bed, drooling on his pillow, his hair a complete mess.
Groaning, a 14-year-old boy slapped the alarm clock off the nightstand and buried his face back into his pillow. "Can't I even have a beautiful dream in peace?!"
"Andrew! Andrew! Anndreeew!"
"Yes, Young Master!"-An elderly butler hurried into the room, his posture crisp despite his age.
"Where the hell were you?" the boy snapped, irritation flickering in his sharp gaze.
"My apologies, Young Master. I was attending to preparations for the Master's death anniversary."
The room fell silent.
At those words, the boy's expression darkened. His gaze drifted toward the massive bedroom window, fingers tightening at his sides. Outside, the world stretched endlessly before him—lavish, untouchable.
This was no ordinary teenager. He was Shin Ji-Hoon—heir to an empire. Raised in a world of unimaginable wealth, his life was paved with privileges most could only dream of. Yet, standing there, staring into the distance, he felt none of its warmth.
A beat of silence passed.
"...Let's go, Andrew."-The command was soft, yet absolute.
Beyond the towering gates, a fleet of gleaming luxury cars stood waiting, their polished exteriors reflecting the morning light. Bodyguards stood in disciplined formation, eyes sharp, hands resting at their sides—poised for orders.
As Ji-Hoon stepped outside, the air seemed to shift around him. Despite his youth, his presence carried a gravity far beyond his years. His expression was unreadable—grim, unwavering, as if sculpted by unseen burdens. Servants and guards moved in perfect sync, a silent acknowledgment of his status.
"Sir, the private chopper is ready. We'll arrive at Heming Mountain Shrine shortly."
With one final glance at the estate behind him, Ji-Hoon stepped forward.
At Heming Mountain:
As Shin ascended the mountain, countless thoughts swirled in his mind.
"My name is Shin Ji-Hoon, son of Kang Ji-Hoon—the richest man in Korea. My father built an empire from nothing, carving his name into history with sheer determination. He was strong, honorable… my idol."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "It was here, on Heming Mountain, that he first met my mother. She was running from a group of thugs, helpless and terrified. Despite being unarmed, my father fought them—three men, all by himself. My mother fell for him at that moment. He was frail, yet he stood his ground. That's the kind of man he was."
A deep sigh escaped him.- "Last year, they both died in a car accident, leaving behind everything… and me."
Ji-Hoon clenched his fists.
"I dream of a love story like theirs… but I am different. I am weak. A coward. I flinch at shadows. Even with all my wealth, I get bullied at school. And what do I do? Nothing. After my parents' death, I shut myself away, stopped going to school… Video games, manga, manhwa—those became my whole world. I'd fantasize about getting superpowers, about magic, about stepping into a world where I matter. But deep down, I know… it's all just an illusion."
A bitter chuckle left him. "Every time I try to change, I fail. I am not like him."
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the climb until they reached the peak.
"Young Master, we've arrived at the shrine," Andrew announced.
Ji-Hoon stepped forward, his gaze settling on the ancient structure standing solemnly atop the mountain. The cold wind whispered through the trees as he approached, his footsteps light yet heavy with unspoken emotions. Kneeling before the shrine, he clasped his hands in silent prayer.
Buddhist chants echoed softly from the monks nearby, blending into the mountain's silence. But he paid them no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere.
A faint smile graced his lips.
"Mom, Dad… how are you? You must be scolding Father right now—he never stayed still, always running off to help people. But don't worry about me. I'm doing fine. This time, I've decided—I will truly change. I will become like Father."
Just as the words left his mouth, an eerie chill slithered down his spine. The warm summer breeze vanished. In its place, a bone-chilling dampness crept into his skin.
Ji-Hoon's eyes snapped open. His breath hitched.
The shrine—bathed in golden sunlight just moments ago—was now unrecognizable. Its pristine walls had crumbled, swallowed by time. Moss and fungi clung to the rotting wood. The scent of decay filled the air, thick and suffocating. It was as if winter had suddenly descended upon him. His heart pounded against his ribs.
Where was everyone?
"Andrew?" he called, his voice unsteady.
No response.
"Andrew! Is this some kind of prank? Where is everyone?!"
Panic clawed at his throat. He reached up, touching his face, his head—was he wearing a VR headset? Was this some kind of elaborate simulation? But the cold air biting his skin, the damp scent of aged wood, the dead silence… it was too real. He bolted from the shrine, desperate to find someone—anyone.
But the world outside had changed.
The city skyline, the roads, the familiar hum of modern life—all gone.
In their place stood endless mountains, an ocean of towering trees stretching beyond the horizon. Ji-Hoon stumbled back, his breath ragged. The shrine was still there—but it looked as though it had been abandoned for centuries.
A nervous chuckle escaped him.
"Hehehe… I must be hallucinating. Yeah, that's it. Too many late-night gaming sessions… too much manhwa… I just need to wake up."
But his laughter died mid-breath, swallowed by the suffocating silence.
The weight of reality pressed down like an unseen force, squeezing the air from his lungs. His knees buckled. His fingers dug into the dirt, trembling, grasping at nothing.
He was just a 14-year-old boy. A boy who had already lost his parents. And now… he had lost everything else. His vision blurred. He bit his lip, as if holding it in would stop the tremors running through his body. It didn't. His chest tightened. His breath hitched. Then—the dam broke.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, but he couldn't stop the violent shudder in his shoulders. His breathing grew erratic, gasping, almost choking. His teeth ground together, but his throat burned as if something were clawing its way out.
Tears slipped down his face, hot and unrelenting. His body shuddered violently, silent sobs wrecking through him before finally escaping in sharp, uneven breaths. He gritted his teeth, but his shoulders heaved as he desperately wiped his face with trembling hands—as if erasing his tears would erase his helplessness.
His lips parted, but the words barely came out. "Where… is everyone…?"
He swallowed back another sob, but his chest convulsed painfully. "Andrew… Go-Jin… Hwang-Woo… Someone… anyone…"
His voice cracked—weak, pitiful. The more he called, the more his hands gripped his own arms, his body curling in on itself. The night was cold, but his bones felt even colder.
But no answer.
His breath hitched. His throat burned. He lifted his head, staring into the empty darkness. "I'll give you everything… just… just stop this…" His voice grew quieter, a whisper carried away by the wind. "Please…"
The only response was the whisper of rustling leaves, the distant creak of the ancient shrine behind him. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing against his knees. His shoulders still trembled, but no more sounds came out. Even crying took too much strength now.
He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. His body curled inward, arms clutching himself like a fragile child trying to disappear into the night.
And the world remained indifferent.
As the sky darkened and the last rays of sunlight faded, Ji-Hoon slumped against the worn shrine pillar. His limbs felt like dead weight. His spirit, shattered beyond repair.
Even as exhaustion crept in, his lips still trembled, whispering soft, broken pleas for help. But no one was left to hear them.
And as time passed… the world moved on. The sun rose once more, its golden rays creeping over the horizon, gently warming his tear-streaked face.
His eyelids twitched and Ji-Hoon stirred, his body curled against the shrine's cold stone. His throat was raw, his limbs heavy. His head ached from crying. His mind clung to the hope that this was all just a bad dream. That he would wake up in his warm bed. That he would hear Andrew grumbling about morning practice, Go-Jin blasting music, Hwang-Woo nagging about homework—
But the shrine was silent.
Too silent.
His fingers twitched. His breath hitched.
Slowly—hesitantly—he lifted his head.
Towering trees. Crumbling stone. The vast, endless wilderness.
No cars.
No voices.
No people.
Ji-Hoon's stomach twisted. The realization slithered up his spine, suffocating, terrifying.
He was alone.
The last ember of denial flickered out, leaving behind only cold reality. His breath turned uneven. His nails dug into his arms. "No. No, I can't just sit here."
He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself onto his feet. His legs wobbled, weak from exhaustion.
But he had to move and Had to find someone and alsoHad to find food.
One shaky step. Then another.
It didn't matter which direction—anywhere but here. Hours passed and passed.
The forest stretched endlessly, each tree blending into the next. The pathless ground crunched beneath his feet, his shoes scuffed and dirtied. His stomach gnawed at him, each step growing heavier.
His fingers brushed against tree trunks, half for support, half as a desperate attempt to ground himself in reality. He had never walked this much in his life. He had never been this alone.
Left? Right? Forward? Back?
Every direction felt the same. Empty. Unchanging. Isolated.
His breath quickened. His skin prickled. What if there was no one here? What if he never found anyone? What if he—
Slap!
Pain shot up his arm as he smacked his skin. He glanced down—mosquito bites. Dozens. His once-pristine skin was covered in swollen welts. And just like that, his spiraling thoughts shattered.
"WHAT THE HELL?! DID I GET SACRIFICED TO MOSQUITO GODS LAST NIGHT?!"
The absurdity of it all hit him like a truck. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Then—a chuckle.
A weak, tired, pathetic chuckle. But still… a chuckle.
Then, his stomach growled. His head snapped down, clutching his empty belly. "…Forget philosophy. I need food before I start thinking about life and death."
He had to eat. He had to survive. Forcing himself forward, he ventured deeper into the forest.
Evening arrived.
Ji-Hoon was beyond exhausted. His legs ached, his lips were dry, and his hunger clawed at him like a wild beast.
But then—
He heard sound of Rushing water. His eyes widened. 'A river!'
His sluggish body lurched forward, stumbling through the trees. He barely registered the sharp twigs scraping his skin as he collapsed by the water's edge. Hope flickered in his chest. "Water. That means food". His stomach screamed. His brain scrambled for solutions.
"Hmmm… I need food. What did Bear Grylls do again? Right! Fishing!"
With newfound determination, he grabbed some rocks and sticks, fashioning the worst spear in history.
"This should work!"
It did not work.
The first attempt? Missed.
The second? Missed.
The tenth? Tripped and fell into the river.
Cold, drenched, and humiliated, he was ready to abandon life itself—until, by some miracle, he caught a fish.
Holding it up in his hands, he laughed like a madman.
"HAHAHAHA! I DID IT! I HAVE DEFEATED NATURE!"
It took forever to gather wood and even longer to start a fire. But finally, he roasted his prize. As the flames crackled, he stared into them, feeling… different.
"Money didn't get me this. Servants didn't get me this. I did this. With my own hands…"
A strange sense of accomplishment swelled in his chest. Then his brain finally caught up with the situation—the Isekai Revelation. He rubbed his chin, trying to shoo away the mosquitoes.
"No lights. No roads. No WiFi. No K-Drama spoilers… Could it be…?"
His heart pounded. "Did I… get ISEKAI'D?!" His mind flooded with endless possibilities.
"Maybe aliens abducted me! Maybe this is transmigration! Or reincarnation! If that's the case… I MUST HAVE A SYSTEM!"
He shot up, eyes burning with excitement. "System!"
Nothing.
"Status window!"
Silence.
"Cheat ability! Player stats! Godly powers! Supreme cultivation technique!"
Still nothing. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
"K-Kamehameha? Sharingan? Rasengan?! SYSTEM, WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Silence.
A long pause and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "...I've been scammed."
Defeated, he collapsed onto the ground, glaring at the sky. "Fine. No system. No cheats. No OP skills. Just mosquitoes and suffering. I get it, Universe. Thanks."
As he drifted off to sleep, a mosquito buzzed near his ear. "Argh! I will kill you—ahhh! SYSTEMMMMM…! SYSTEM…!"
And so, Ji-Hoon spent his first night in another world… in restless frustration.
In next Morning, again a warm sunlight pressed against Ji-Hoon's eyelids, dragging him back to consciousness. His body ached. His limbs felt like lead. His face was stiff with dried tears. For a moment, he lay there, half-asleep, half-broken, and 100% done with life.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "…I'm still here, huh?" Reality settled in. His stomach churned with hunger. His arms stung with mosquito bites. His skin was itchy, covered in dirt, sweat, and regret. He groaned, forcing himself upright. He needed to move. "If I don't find a city or a human soon, I'm going to start talking to rocks."
His voice cracked from thirst, but he still chuckled at his own misery. Rubbing his face, he glanced around, taking in his surroundings. The river still flowed steadily nearby, the forest stretching endlessly in all directions. His stomach growled. He winced. He couldn't survive on just water and half-burnt fish forever.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and muttered, "Alright. Time to use my vast survival knowledge from books and TV shows."
Another breath. He recalled something useful - "When you're lost… follow the river downstream—it should lead to civilization."
With renewed determination (and a desperate craving for food that wasn't raw fish), he set off. The journey was not peaceful. First, he dodged wild boars. (How do they run so fast?!)
Then, he escaped a snake. (Why do they chase you when you're running away?!) Then, he barely avoided a group of angry monkeys. (I WASN'T EVEN LOOKING AT YOUR BANANAS!)
By the time the sun started setting, he was a mess—his clothes were torn, his face was smeared with dirt, and his soul had taken more damage than his body. He was tired. Hungry. Beyond frustrated. His legs felt like they could give out at any moment. His body begged him to stop.
But then—
He found his salvation - On the horizon, beyond the trees, he spotted rooftops. His breath hitched. His heart leapt.
"A town! Civilization! FOOOOOOD—"
His legs nearly gave out from relief. But then—his gaze locked onto the scene ahead. Just outside the town, a group of men stood in confrontation.
Two of them wore flowing robes, their bearing elegant yet sharp. The rest were dressed differently, their clothing marked with distinct symbols.
Something felt tense. Ji-Hoon instinctively crouched behind a bush, eyes wide.
Then—
The two men moved like ghosts, their swords flashing like streaks of light. In an instant, their opponents collapsed to the ground, completely subdued. One of the warriors stepped forward, his presence like a blade. His voice was cold. Dominating. "Tell your sect master—if you break the agreement with our Heavenly Sword Sect, your young lord will pay the price."
Ji-Hoon's breath hitched. His heart pounded and his eyes sparkled. He didn't hear a word of what they said—he was too far away. But he didn't need to. Because, at that moment, a single word burned into his mind:
"Murim…?"