Into the Death Forest

The Jeong-Ma War.

It was a cataclysm that engulfed the realm when the Heavenly Demon Cult of Xinjiang bared its fangs to conquer the Central Plains and invaded with terrifying force. In the opening stages of the war, the sects of the orthodox martial world were utterly overwhelmed, cowed into retreat before the Demonic Cult's devastating might. Yet in that darkest hour, one noble family stepped forward to take the vanguard: the Dokgo Clan.

Through their relentless valor and catastrophic sacrifices, the advance of the Heavenly Demon Cult was finally halted. The world lavished praise upon them, hailing them as the "World's Greatest Clan."

Yet glory was fleeting.

Without warning, a poison began to seep through the martial world. A single rumor whispered through the tea houses and sect halls: The Dokgo Clan has secretly colluded with the Demonic Cult!

A baseless slander, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠born of nothing, somehow solidified into indisputable fact almost overnight. Branded public enemies of all Murim, the Dokgo Clan found themselves surrounded as countless masters across the Central Plains formed an alliance to march upon their grounds. Though they resisted with every ounce of their blood, they could not avert total extermination.

Reduced to ash and ruin, the Dokgo Clan slowly faded from living memory.

A boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, fled through the snow-choked mountain path in a tattered, thin cloak. Through black hair matted to his forehead with freezing sweat, features still youthful yet sharply chiseled came into view. Even the mud and grime splattered across his face could not conceal the stubborn nobility etched into the bridge of his nose and thick brows.

"Haa, haa, haa, haa!"

His breath tore at his throat in ragged gasps. Dokgo Jin's lungs burned as if they might rupture at any second, and his legs had long since gone numb. Only one desperate realization kept his limbs moving forward: stop, and you die. Gritting his teeth until they ached, he squeezed out the final dregs of his stamina.

Almost... I'm almost there.

What little internal energy he possessed had been exhausted long ago. He was running purely on unyielding willpower, on the verge of collapsing into the drifts with every stride.

Dokgo Jin was the sole survivor of the slaughter, the eldest young master of the fallen Dokgo Clan. Relying on quick wit and reckless cunning, he had managed to evade the dragnet of pinnacle masters hunting him down, roaming the nine provinces in search of a righteous champion who would listen to the truth and help clear his clan's name. But not a single soul had extended a hand to him.

The world had utterly turned its back on the last son of a traitorous house. The very populace who had sung their praises when the Dokgo Clan bled to shield the realm now vied with one another to spit upon their name and curse their ancestors. Many had welcomed the boy with warm smiles, only to secretly send word to his pursuers behind his back. He had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walked through the jaws of death time and again, surviving only because he had learned never to let down his guard.

Yet now, he had finally run out of ground.

It had happened because he put his faith in Honghyeopgae—the sworn brother of his late father, Dokgo Gang, and the adoptive uncle he revered like kin. Because that trust had run so deep, the blade of betrayal cut all the more bitterly.

Honghyeopgae... even you...!

Yet he lacked the luxury to nurse his grief and rage. That single betrayal had snared him in an inescapable perimeter cast across the whole of the Great Snow Mountain. Lingering in one place for even a moment meant death.

"Fhuuk, fhuuk, fhuuk!"

Pausing for a single heartbeat, Dokgo Jin wiped his left cheek with his sleeve. A hidden weapon had grazed him during an earlier ambush, and warm crimson continued to trickle down his jaw. He didn't even feel the pain. Pressing forward, his eyes suddenly widened at what lay ahead.

There!

Beyond the crest of the slope, a colossal forest loomed into view.

"Is this... the Death Forest?"

Through blurring vision, he stared at the woods before him. It was an eerie, impossible sight. Just behind him, the mountain was bathed in the bloody glow of the setting sun, but beyond the threshold of the trees lay an absolute monochrome world of black and white, as though torn from another reality entirely. Gnarled, dead trees twisted upward to blot out the sky, casting a suffocating gloom beneath their boughs where not a sliver of twilight could pierce. Not a breath of wind stirred; not a single twig trembled.

That absolute stillness—an imposing, suffocating silence that seemed to reject all living breath—felt paradoxically like salvation to the hunted boy. Having realized that escaping the Great Snow Mountain was an impossibility, he had made his choice.

...There is nowhere else left.

Dragging his leaden legs across the snow, Dokgo Jin hurled himself straight into the maw of that sunless abyss.

Moments later, three figures bounded through the trees, arriving by a hair's breadth.

"Dammit!"

The pursuers were powerfully built martial artists, yet expressions of bitter frustration broke across their faces as they skidded to a halt.

"...The little bastard went mad."

"I saw him heading this way, but I never believed he'd actually..."

"To throw himself into the Death Forest!"

The Death Forest. Deep within the recesses of the Great Snow Mountain, it was known throughout the realm as an absolute forbidden zone. From time immemorial, not a single person who ventured past its border had ever returned alive—and seasoned martial masters were no exception. It was no exaggeration to say that this graveyard was the only place in the entire Central Plains where Dokgo Jin could truly vanish from their sight.

One of the men turned to their leader.

"What are your orders, Incense Master?"

"..."

The man known as the Incense Master remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking in a flat tone.

"Nothing can be done. The hunt ends here."

"B-but..."

When the subordinate looked back with evident reluctance, the Incense Master let out a dry chuckle.

"Does it sting to lose your chance at claiming the credit?"

"..."

"If you feel so cheated, march right in after him. You'll be remembered as a fool for generations to come."

"...Forgive me, that was not my intent."

"Do not fret. We won't be returning empty-handed. Nor can we entirely dismiss the one-in-ten-thousand chance that the mongrel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠somehow walks back out."

"Then...?"

The Incense Master's eyes narrowed with cold pragmatism.

"Send word to the Green Water Gang. Instruct them to post sentries here and keep this entrance watched every hour of the day and night."

"At once!"

One of the men deployed his lightness art and vanished down the slopes. The Incense Master lingered, glaring at the dark mouth of the woods.

To choose the Death Forest as your sanctuary. How pathetic, Dokgo Jin.

He could grasp the desperation behind the act, yet could never comprehend the madness of it.

He must have known there is no walking out of that place alive.

Still wary that the boy might turn back in terror, the Incense Master kept his vigil for three days alongside reinforcements from the Green Water Gang. But not a whisper emerged from the canopy. In the end, the Incense Master turned away and departed. Though guards remained behind to watch the perimeter, the Death Forest that swallowed Dokgo Jin stayed wrapped in eternal, suffocating silence.

And so, the seasons turned, and years slipped into the past.

"Haaawm!"

Wang Chil let out a cavernous yawn, rubbing his bleary eyes as he stared at the boundary of the Death Forest.

"Truly the most miserable posting in the world."

As a low-ranking thug of the Green Water Gang, he had been assigned to keep watch over this desolate grove and report if anyone ever emerged. Years ago, twenty men had guarded the perimeter in rotating shifts, but as the seasons rolled by without so much as an owl flying out, the garrison steadily shrank. Now, it had dwindled to a lone sentry—and today, that unlucky fool happened to be Wang Chil.

Damn it all to hell. How many years has this ridiculous duty gone on?

Strictly speaking, there was zero reason for a modest outfit like the Green Water Gang to waste manpower on such meaningless work. Yet they had faithfully rotated their men through the snow because an order masquerading as a personal favor from an Incense Master of the Cheonhahoe was something a minor gang could never dare refuse.

"Hah, what a waste of breath."

When he was first assigned to the detail, Wang Chil had actually taken it seriously. He had hidden among the crags, remaining in deep concealment as he peered through the mist with bated breath. But after a few months of staring at empty silence, his enthusiasm died a swift death. The other gang members were no different. By now, being sent up here was treated as little more than a paid holiday to slack off.

"Might as well catch a nap."

A full shift lasted eight hours, and there was still at least two hours left before his relief showed up.

Hold on, isn't Du Hong next in line today?

A sly grin spread across Wang Chil's face.

"Heheh."

Anyone else might kick up a fuss, but an easygoing sort like Du Hong would simply shake him awake with a chuckle rather than report him to the elders. Wang Chil cleared away a few sharp rocks from a sheltered hollow beneath an outcrop and curled up on the ground. Though it was early spring and the mountain air still held a bitter bite, his thick padded furs were more than enough to keep him comfortable.

He had been resting his eyes for perhaps a quarter of an hour when the impossible occurred.

From the depths of the Death Forest, a figure draped in threadbare rags stepped out into the open air.

Slung across ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the stranger's back was an object wrapped tightly in coarse black cloth. Everything about him was profoundly unnatural, but what struck the senses first was an unbearable feeling of dissonance. He clearly stood there on two feet, yet looking at him felt like gazing upon a fading mirage that might dissolve the moment one blinked. It was as though a fragment of the Death Forest's primeval darkness had broken away, condensed itself into human form, and walked out into the sun.

There was no sound of breathing. No crunch of footsteps in the snow. None of the soaring aura, inner pressure, or sharp killing intent that distinguished masters of the Peak Realm.

Rather, it was the exact opposite. His presence was so terrifyingly thin that even with a living man standing right before one's eyes, one experienced only a hollow emptiness, as if looking into a blank void. Unless someone focused every sense they possessed, he could have brushed past their shoulder without them ever realizing another soul had shared the path.

Most unsettling of all were his eyes.

His pupils did not reflect a single ray of daylight. They were deep, pitch-black wells that devoured all emotion and light alike—a bottomless Abyss pooling silently within his gaze.

"..."

The youth cast a fleeting glance toward the spot where Wang Chil lay snoring, then turned and walked past the checkpoint without a word. The thug was already half-asleep, but even had he been standing wide awake, his eyes would have drifted right across the shadow without ever registering a human shape.

To think they still keep a sentry posted after all these years.

Dokgo Jin could have slit Wang Chil's throat before the man even drew his next breath, but he chose not to lift a finger. There was no benefit in alerting his enemies that the boy they hunted had finally stepped free of the woods.

"..."

Pausing his descent along the spine of the Great Snow Mountain, Dokgo Jin stopped and drew in a long, deliberate breath.

"Fhuuu."

Savoring the crisp, untainted mountain air for the first time in years brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. The atmosphere within the Death Forest had been of an entirely different nature. In that forgotten place, every breath felt as though cold, viscous iron shavings were being dragged through the depths of one's lungs.

It truly felt as though I was dwelling outside the mortal realm.

At long last, he had clawed his way out of that hell. And he had not merely survived.

Within its depths, he had seized the power he needed to enact his retribution.

Just wait.

A flash of chilling radiance flickered deep within his obsidian eyes.

With a faint rustle of wind, his figure snuffed out like smoke, vanishing down the mountainside.