Chapter 8: Meeting with the Second Sword
Lucen had been walking since dawn, the sun climbing steadily above the jagged peaks as he navigated narrow mountain trails. His robes fluttered in the chill wind, black fabric catching glints of gold from the dragon patterns that wound around his sleeves. By the time the evening light began to fade, exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, every step a testament to his will.
"Damn system… would it really have hurt to drop me near a town?" he muttered under his breath. He pressed on, driven by the realization that in this new world, standing still was not an option.
At last, as the sun dipped low in the sky, he spotted a town shimmering in the warm glow of lanterns. Relief washed over him like a wave, and he exhaled deeply. "Finally… haaa. I need some water."
As he approached the town gates, his eyes widened with quiet awe. The place was alive—cobbled streets lined with sturdy wooden buildings, the air humming with the constant murmur of life. Martial artists moved purposefully through the streets, their swords strapped to their backs or clutched at their sides. Their robes, dyed in the colors of a hundred sects and clans, shimmered like a living tapestry.
"Looks like something out of a martial arts novel," Lucen thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His crimson eyes glowed with curiosity. "Sects… rivalries… this is going to be fun."
His thoughts turned inward, to the family he had left behind in that other world. The way they lived and killed, how they taught him that power was everything. Here, he thought, it's no different. A new world, the same rules: if you don't move forward, you'll be swallowed whole.
He grinned softly, imagining the endless battles and the weight of destiny pulling at his soul. "Hmm… so where am I going? To the Heavenly Demon Sect? The Namgon Family? Or maybe Mount Hua?" A soft laugh escaped his lips, the amusement a spark in the gathering darkness.
But before he could decide, his steps faltered. A sudden tug at his waist—a flicker of motion. His sword, the one that had come with his new martial-world clothing, was gone.
He turned sharply, his senses sharpened, and caught a glimpse of a small figure—barely more than a child—disappearing into the shadows of an alley. The stolen blade clutched tight in their small hands.
"Damn it," Lucen growled, breaking into a run. The chase twisted through alleys and narrow streets, his feet pounding on cobblestones as he pursued the fleeting shadow. The girl—he could see now that it was a girl, no more than seven or eight—was nimble, but Lucen was relentless.
Finally, he cornered her in a crumbling building at the edge of town. The girl turned, her wide eyes shining with defiance and fear.
Before Lucen could speak, a group of adults stepped from the shadows, their laughter as cold as the steel of their blades. They moved like wolves, swords glinting in the half-light.
The leader, a burly man with a scar slashed across his cheek, sneered. "Oh, you did a good job, girl. Look at his clothes—he's some kind of noble, I'll bet. We hit the jackpot this time."
Lucen's red eyes narrowed, a faint amusement flickering behind the calm. He let out a long breath, his voice quiet but iron-clad. "Well… I think I understand the situation here," he said evenly. "So, can I go now? I've got no money, and only that sword to my name… I'm taking the girl with me."
The girl flinched at his words, her eyes widening as she realized that he wasn't going to abandon her. Her heart thudded in her chest—a mix of relief and wonder. She had never seen someone like him. So calm… so certain.
One of the thugs raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is that so? Well, you can go then…" he said, his tone dripping with mockery.
But in the next instant, all four lunged at Lucen, blades flashing in the half-light.
Lucen moved like a whisper of darkness. In a blur, he was behind them, his eyes glowing with a quiet fury. His voice was low, almost a sigh. "I said… let me go."
A heartbeat later, the four men were sprawled across the ground, their groans filling the air. The girl's breath caught in her throat—her wide eyes fixed on Lucen, awestruck.
In that moment, she saw not just a savior, but a force of nature. Someone who stood above the fear and violence of the world. A prince of shadows, yet a bringer of light.
Lucen turned to her, his crimson eyes softening for the first time. "Come on," he said quietly, holding out his hand. "You're coming with me."
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then reached out, placing her small hand in his. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the quiet strength that radiated from him. Her heart beat faster. This was the moment that would follow her for the rest of her life—she knew it with a certainty that felt like fate.
From that day forward, she would follow him, worship him, and adore him for the rest of her life. And in the future, she would be known not just as a thief or a shadow… but as the Heavenly Demon of Murim, the girl who walked beside him into legend.
Lucen felt a flicker of amusement at the fire in her eyes—so young, yet already touched by the shadows of this world. He wondered, briefly, if she had seen in him what he was only beginning to embrace: the demon in his soul, the quiet hunger for power that had always been there.
As he led her from the ruined building, the glow of lanterns beckoned them forward. The town was alive with possibilities—sect rivalries, ancient secrets, and the promise of strength for those who dared to take it.
Lucen's thoughts were clear as he felt the weight of his four unique skills. "This world… it's cruel," he thought, his eyes narrowing. "But it's also beautiful. I'll carve my path here—no matter the cost."
The girl walked beside him in silence, her small fingers gripping his hand as if she'd never let go. In her eyes, he saw unwavering trust, a bond forged in blood and shadow.
From that day forward, the boy , she would follow him, worship him, and adore him for the rest of her life.And in the future, she would be known not just as a thief or a shadow… but as the Heavenly Demon of Murim.