Deep in the misty mountains, far from the hustle and bustle of towns, a young man was practicing his swordsmanship. The morning air was crisp, and only the sound of blade cutting through the air and a steady breath can be heard echoing in the quiet clearing. The young man, Xing Haoran, stands in the center of a makeshift arena. Haoran’s focus was directed solely on each of his strikes, his wooden sword steady as beads of sweat forms on his forehead. He hisses as the hem of his clothes grazes the wooden dummy, making his clothes even more worn and frayed than it is from years of wearing it.

After finishing a series of strikes, Haoran paused, breathing heavily. He looked down at his tattered robes and sighed. He then heard a rustling sound behind him, followed by a series of footsteps. Each of them was light but noticeable, a very distinct footstep that Haoran has grown accustomed to. He grins as he turns around, getting ready to greet the owner of the said footsteps.

“Master Yuzhe!” Haoran called out, glancing around the clearing. “Can you please get me some new clothes? I’ve been wearing these rags for eight years now!” He complained as he laid down, wriggling his limbs as if to throw a tantrum. As for the question of how he managed to fit in on that robe despite it being eight years old, well…

He just had to make it work. He learned how to sew robes when he was seven, so he continued mending his tattered robes (even having to adjust the overall size of the fabric because of his growing size) until it finally looked like a mosaic of fabric, rivaling the colorful skins of the frogs found deep within the forest.

From the edge of the clearing, a figure appeared, strolling casually toward him. His master, Yuzhe, a man in his mid-thirties with a strong build and a laid-back demeanor; approached with a wooden sword in hand. His short, dark hair and easygoing smile made him seem more like an older brother than a strict teacher.

“New clothes eh? Hmmm…” Yuzhe raised an eyebrow, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Nah, too much work to head downtown. Just keep practicing”. He replies with a smirk, throwing a towel square on his face.

Before Haoran could react, Yuzhe swung his wooden sword, playfully tapping Haoran on the shoulder with it.

“Ow! You cheapskate!” Haoran complained, rubbing the spot where he’d been hit. Yuzhe chuckled, resting his hands on the hilt of his wooden sword.

“Less talking, more training!”. He barks out with a laugh.

Haoran sighed but knew better than to push it. Standing up, picked up his sword again, still muttering under his breath words like ‘stingy’ and ‘i’m so close to stealing a robe from the market’ before getting back to his practice.

As the sun climbed higher, the clearing was once again filled with more sound of Haoran’s sword slicing through the air, each thrust relentless and nimble. Even though his clothes were falling apart, his determination was unshaken, and Yuzhe watched him with a knowing smile, ready to guide him through the next challenge. Haoran has no idea why his master just one day told him to ‘train’, but he dares not question it, as he thought that it is probably for his safety. After all, living in the mountains is not always sunshine and rainbows.

Haoran saw his master and his peculiar expression, but paid no attention to it as he decided to busy himself with tidying up the grounds.

‘Ugh, should’ve cleaned these bits and pieces earlier…’ Haoran thinks to himself as he tries his best to pick up all the collateral his training had resulted to. The cleaning session went on, until a veil of stars finally graced the dark sky. Haoran paused, glancing at the remaining broken dummy. He has been cleaning for quite some time now, he should probably stop. As if to answer his thoughts, Yuzhe walked up to him and patted his shoulder, “Nice work, Hao. You should clean yourself up too, you can leave ‘em trash to me”. Yuzhe smiles and winks at Haoran. He cackles, rolling his eyes at the silly expression his master gave him. Moments like these are the only times he notices how good that smile looks on his master’s face, a genuine smile, like an older brother smiling to his younger brother.

Haoran clears his throat, erasing the sudden wave of nostalgia that filled his chest. He sighs, briefly turning away from his master. ‘Hao, what are you doing? Stand up and go!’ He whispers to himself. Yuzhe, who was watching him the whole time, raised an eyebrow. “Heh, what was that little Hao? Are you tired? Go, rest to your heart’s content. I’ve already cooked something for dinner so, go go!”. He chirps as he pushes Haoran towards the exit.

Haoran smiles. “All right, all right. I’ll go, jeez…” He replies. He picked up his wooden sword and his towel, walking away as his master watched him, his face once again donning that mysterious look.

Later That Night

As the night went on, the mountains were shrouded in darkness, and only the sounds of crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the wind could be heard. Haoran had long since fallen asleep, his breathing steady as he lay in the small house he shared with his master. He dreams of a joyous life together with his master, full of justice and adventures, yet– peaceful.

He dreams so vividly, unaware of what was going on outside.

Outside, under the pale light of the moon, a large, majestic white tiger appeared at the edge of the clearing. Its fur gleamed like silver in the moonlight, and its eyes, glowing with an ancient wisdom, were fixed on the small house. The tiger approached silently, its massive paws making no sound as it neared the door.

Master Yuzhe was already waiting outside, leaning casually against the doorway as if expecting the tiger. He looked up at the beast, his expression calm, and untroubled. “So, the seal is about to break,” the tiger spoke, its voice deep, reverberating with immense power that matched its imposing appearance. “Are you sure that boy can kill you? Or should I say, can he even hurt you at all? He still looks like he needs more years of training”. The tiger scoffs.

Yuzhe’s smile was relaxed, his expression remained indifferent. “Of course he can. He’s my only disciple, after all…”

“...And you’re here to help him kill me, aren’t you, Mr. Mountain God?”

Yuzhe smiles bitterly at the last word, his eyes slowly losing its composure. The tiger narrowed its eyes, a faint smile creeping at the corners of its mouth. “Carefree as always, Yuzhe. But tell me, have you revealed his true origin to him?” The tiger asked. The question was no means intimidating, but it sure did wonders to rattle his resolve. 

Yuzhe shook his head, defeated. “No. If I told him, he wouldn’t have the resolve to kill me. So, I’m leaving that to you. Protect him when the time comes. That’s all i ask of you”. He smiles. The tiger let out a low rumble, almost a chuckle. “Very well. But remember, Yuzhe, once the seal is broken, there’s no turning back. You’re putting a lot of faith in that boy”.

Yuzhe nodded, his gaze reverting back to a steady one. “I know. But it’s the only way.”

The tiger turned its gaze toward the small house where Haoran slept peacefully, unaware of the conversation taking place outside. The ancient beast’s eyes softened slightly, as if considering the weight of the task ahead.

“Rest well, Yuzhe,” the tiger said, its voice almost a whisper now. “The boy will need every bit of strength he can get.”

With that, the white tiger turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving Yuzhe alone in the moonlit clearing. The night still went one, and Yuzhe quietly made his way to the house.

‘I should get the dummies ready for tomorrow’s training…’ Yuzhe thinks to himself, turning his heel to the opposite direction, back to the clearing.

A man like him needs no rest.

For he will do so, in the near future. For eternity.

After all, the sun is about to set. 

Prologue II: Sunset

One month had passed since that strange night, and Xing Haoran couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Every day, his master, Yuzhe, seemed to grow weaker. The once vibrant and strong mentor now moved with a heaviness that Haoran had never seen before.

“Master Yuzhe, is everything alright?” Haoran asked one morning, concern evident in his voice.

Yuzhe, leaning against a tree, managed a smile. “Of course. Just focus on your training.”

Haoran tried to take his master’s words to heart, but worry gnawed at him. Yuzhe had raised him, taught him everything he knew, and Haoran couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. That night, unable to sleep, Haoran decided to take matters into his own hands.

Determined to help, Haoran ventured deep into the mountains, searching for herbal medicines that might restore Yuzhe’s strength. The forest was dense, with the moon barely providing enough light to guide his way. After hours of searching, Haoran finally found a cluster of rare herbs growing near a secluded clearing. But just as he bent down to gather them, a low growl echoed through the trees.

Haoran’s blood ran cold as he looked up and saw a massive white tiger emerging from the shadows. Its fur shimmered like silver in the moonlight, and its eyes gleamed with a fierce, otherworldly intelligence. The beast was unlike anything Haoran had ever seen, and fear gripped him.

Without thinking, Haoran pulled out his wooden sword, gripping it tightly as he prepared to defend himself. He lunged at the tiger, but before he could strike, the tiger let out a powerful roar that reverberated through the forest.

The sound paralyzed Haoran, his body frozen in place. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, but his limbs refused to obey.

“Why can’t I move? I need to run! I don’t want to die here! Move, move!” Haoran’s thoughts raced as he struggled to break free from the invisible force holding him still.

To his surprise, his body finally responded, and he managed to take a shaky step backward. The tiger, noticing this, seemed taken aback, its intense gaze softening slightly.

“So Yuzhe was right,” the tiger said, its deep voice resonating in Haoran’s mind. “You have great potential. You broke free from my attack.”

Haoran’s eyes widened in shock. “A tiger… is talking? Am I going crazy?”

The tiger threw back its head and laughed, a deep, thunderous sound that shook the entire forest. Trees trembled, leaves rustled violently, and the ground beneath Haoran’s feet quivered as the tiger’s laughter echoed through the mountains.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You’ve inherited your master’s carefreeness too, I see,” the tiger roared, its voice both terrifying and strangely reassuring. “But listen, child, just listen. Time is running out. You must become stronger—stronger than him.”

Before Haoran could respond, a wave of dizziness swept over him. The world spun, and he lost consciousness, collapsing to the ground. The last thing he saw was the tiger’s piercing eyes watching him as darkness took over.

When Haoran awoke hours later, the clearing was empty, the tiger gone, and the herbs he had sought scattered around him.The morning after his encounter with the tiger, Haoran rushed to tell Master Yuzhe what had happened.

“Master, I saw a huge white tiger last night! It spoke to me!” Haoran said, his voice filled with urgency.

Yuzhe looked at him calmly, a faint smile on his lips. “Haoran, you must have been dreaming. Tigers don’t talk. You’ve been training too hard; your mind is playing tricks on you.”

Haoran wanted to argue, to insist that it was real, but Yuzhe’s casual dismissal left him unsure. Reluctantly, he let the matter drop, but the memory of the tiger’s words lingered in his mind.

Another month passed, and the uneasy feeling Haoran had only grew stronger. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. Dark clouds began to gather over the mountain, swirling ominously as if drawn by some unseen force. The air grew heavy, and the wind howled through the trees with a sound that was almost like weeping.

One evening, as the storm clouds thickened and the wind howled louder than ever, Haoran returned to the small house, only to find it empty. Master Yuzhe was nowhere to be seen.

“Master?” Haoran called out, searching the area around the house. Panic began to rise in his chest as he realized that Yuzhe was gone.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed from deep within the mountain. The sound sent a shiver down Haoran’s spine, but it wasn’t just fear that gripped him—it was recognition.

“I know that roar…” Haoran whispered, his heart pounding. It was the same roar he had heard from the white tiger that night.

Without hesitation, Haoran grabbed his sword and ran toward the source of the sound, fear and determination battling within him. Whatever was happening, he knew it was connected to the tiger and, somehow, to his master.Another month passed, and the uneasy feeling Haoran had only grew stronger. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. Dark clouds began to gather over the mountain, swirling ominously as if drawn by some unseen force. The air grew heavy, and the wind howled through the trees with a sound that was almost like weeping.

One evening, as the storm clouds thickened and the wind howled louder than ever, Haoran returned to the small house, only to find it empty. Master Yuzhe was nowhere to be seen.

“Master?” Haoran called out, searching the area around the house. Panic began to rise in his chest as he realized that Yuzhe was gone.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed from deep within the mountain. The sound sent a shiver down Haoran’s spine, but it wasn’t just fear that gripped him—it was recognition.

“I know that roar…” Haoran whispered, his heart pounding. It was the same roar he had heard from the white tiger that night.

Without hesitation, Haoran grabbed his sword and ran toward the source of the sound, fear and determination battling within him. Whatever was happening, he knew it was connected to the tiger and, somehow, to his master. The time had come to face the truth, no matter how terrifying it might be.

He rushed through the forest, his heart racing. When he finally reached the clearing, Haoran was shocked to see his master locked in a fierce battle with the white tiger.

“Master!” Haoran shouted, but before he could reach Yuzhe, the tiger turned its gaze toward him and roared, “Don’t come near him! The seal has been broken. I never expected it to happen this early. You’re still not ready!”

Ignoring the tiger's warning, Haoran rushed to Yuzhe’s side. But as he got closer, he froze in horror. His master had changed—Yuzhe’s eyes glowed a menacing red, and two horns protruded from his forehead. The once gentle and wise mentor now radiated a dark, terrifying power.

“Master, what’s happening?” Haoran’s voice trembled with fear.

Yuzhe turned to him, a twisted smile on his face. “So, you’re his disciple. I’m sorry, but your master is dead. I’ve taken over his body. Now, I, Shura, have been reborn. And I will destroy this world!”

Before Haoran could react, the tiger lunged at Yuzhe, roaring, “Haoran, listen! Your master sealed this demon, Shura, within himself because Shura is immune to any physical attack. Our plan was to raise you, so when the seal broke, you’d be ready to kill him. You must defeat your master to stop Shura from wreaking havoc on the world!”

The tiger pinned Yuzhe to the ground, struggling to hold him down. “Haoran, you have to strike now! Remember everything Yuzhe taught you!”

But Haoran hesitated, his heart torn. Could he really kill the man who had raised him, even if it was to save the world?

His hesitation gave Yuzhe the chance to break free. With a surge of dark energy, Yuzhe threw the tiger off and sent it crashing into a tree. The tiger slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Haoran stood there, frozen in fear and doubt, as Yuzhe—no, Shura—rose to his feet, his eyes glowing with malevolent power. The time for doubt was over, and Haoran knew he had to make a choice: to fight, or to fall.Master, I can’t kill you!” Haoran cried out, his voice trembling with desperation. But Yuzhe—now fully consumed by the demon Shura—advanced on him with a sinister smile, his eyes burning with a dark, unholy fire.

“You don’t have a choice, boy,” Shura sneered. “If you don’t fight, you’ll die, and then the world will fall to ruin. Your beloved master is gone, and now it’s your turn to face me!”

Shura moved with terrifying speed, his strength far beyond anything Haoran had ever witnessed. The ground shook with every step, and the air crackled with dark energy. Haoran barely managed to block the first strike, the force of it sending him skidding back several feet. His wooden sword felt like a twig against Shura’s overwhelming power.

The fight raged on, with Haoran desperately trying to keep up. But no matter how hard he fought, it was clear that Shura was far stronger. Every attack from Shura was a deadly blur, and Haoran was quickly wearing down.

“Master Yuzhe, please! Fight it! I know you’re still in there!” Haoran shouted, hoping against hope that his words would reach the man who had raised him.

But Shura only laughed, a cold, mocking sound that echoed through the forest. “Foolish boy! Yuzhe is gone. There’s no one left to save you now!”

Haoran’s heart sank. He could feel his strength fading, his body growing weaker with each passing moment. But even as despair threatened to overwhelm him, a voice echoed in his mind—Yuzhe’s voice, calm and steady, just as it had always been.

“Haoran, remember your training. Don’t be attached to the master; be attached to the teaching. You’re stronger than you think. Trust in yourself.”

Those words ignited something within Haoran. He took a deep breath, gripping his sword tighter. He couldn’t give up—not now. Not with so much at stake.

Haoran dodged another of Shura’s strikes, narrowly avoiding the blow that would have surely ended him. With newfound determination, he began to remember all the lessons Yuzhe had taught him over the years. Every parry, every counterattack—he had practiced them a thousand times. This was no different.

Slowly, Haoran began to turn the tide. He matched Shura’s movements, his strikes growing more precise, his defenses more solid. But as powerful as he was becoming, it still wasn’t enough. Shura’s strength was beyond anything he had ever faced.

“I can’t kill him…” Haoran whispered to himself, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. “Master, I can’t do it…”

But just as despair began to creep in again, the white tiger, bruised and battered, struggled to its feet. It roared with all its remaining strength, drawing Haoran’s attention.

“Haoran!” the tiger’s voice boomed in his mind. “You’re stronger than you know! It’s not just about physical strength—you must remember what Yuzhe taught you about the power within! Use that, and you can defeat him!”

The realization struck Haoran like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t just his skill with the sword that mattered—it was the strength of his spirit, the lessons of discipline, focus, and inner strength that Yuzhe had instilled in him.

With a final surge of determination, Haoran channeled all his energy, focusing his mind and body as one. He moved with a grace and speed that surprised even him, every strike now infused with the power of his will.

Shura, sensing the change in Haoran, hesitated for the first time. “What is this…?”

But it was too late. With a powerful cry, Haoran launched one final attack, his sword glowing with a brilliant light. The strike hit Shura square in the chest, not just cutting through flesh but piercing the very essence of the demon within.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, with a howl of rage and pain, Shura’s form began to waver, the dark energy surrounding him dissipating. Yuzhe’s face flickered back, his eyes full of sorrow and relief.

“Haoran… you’ve done well… Forgive me… And remember… don’t be attached to the master… be attached to the teaching…” Yuzhe whispered, before his body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Haoran fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. The battle was over, but the cost was too great. He had saved the world, but lost the man who had been like a father to him. The white tiger, now limping, came to his side, gently nudging him.

“Yuzhe is gone, but he was proud of you, Haoran. You’ve done what needed to be done. Now, your journey truly begins.”

Haoran nodded through his tears, his heart heavy with grief but also with a newfound resolve. He had a long road ahead of him, but he knew now that he had the strength to walk it, no matter what challenges awaited him.As Haoran knelt beside the lifeless body of his master, tears streaming down his face, the white tiger limped closer. Its powerful presence seemed to fill the entire clearing, but now, instead of fear, Haoran felt only a deep, sorrowful reverence.

The tiger lowered its massive head to Haoran’s level, its golden eyes filled with an ancient wisdom. “You’ve done well, Haoran,” it said softly, the rumble of its voice resonating through the air. “But before your journey continues, there is something you must know.”

Haoran looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes. “What is it?”

The tiger straightened, its gaze turning toward the darkened sky. “I am the Mountain God, guardian of these lands for centuries. My true form is not of flesh and blood but of spirit and power, bound to the earth and sky. I have watched over this mountain long before you were born.”

Haoran listened, his heart still heavy with grief, but his mind eager to understand.

“Many years ago,” the tiger continued, “your master, Yuzhe, came to this mountain as a young warrior, much like yourself. He was searching for strength, for purpose. But what he found was something far greater—a battle with a demon known as Shura, who sought to bring chaos and destruction to the world.”

The tiger paused, as if recalling a distant memory. “Shura was no ordinary demon. He was a being of pure malice, immune to any physical attack. No weapon could harm him, and no force could bind him—except one. Yuzhe, with his indomitable will, managed to seal Shura within his own body, sacrificing his freedom to protect the world. He knew that one day, the seal would weaken, and Shura would try to break free.”

Haoran’s eyes widened in realization. “So that’s why Master Yuzhe trained me…”

“Yes,” the tiger replied. “He knew that the seal would not last forever. His plan was to raise you, to teach you everything he knew, so that when the time came, you would have the strength to do what must be done. He didn’t tell you because he wanted you to learn on your own, to grow strong not just in body, but in spirit.”

The tiger’s voice softened as it continued, “Yuzhe found me on this mountain during his struggle with Shura. I was weakened, my powers diminished from years of protecting this land. But Yuzhe, seeing my plight, chose to spare me. In return, I vowed to aid him in his mission, to watch over you when the time came, and to help you fulfill your destiny.”

Haoran’s heart ached at the thought of the burden Yuzhe had carried alone for so long. “He never told me… He never asked for help…”

“Because he believed in you,” the tiger said gently. “He believed that you would become the warrior he knew you could be. And now, Haoran, you must carry that belief forward. Yuzhe’s teachings were more than just lessons—they were the foundation of the strength you will need to face the challenges ahead.”

The tiger, now fully revealing its divine presence, stood tall and regal, its form glowing with a soft, ethereal light. “You have passed the first test, Haoran. But your journey is far from over. The world is vast, and darkness still lingers in many corners. It is up to you to carry the light forward, to honor Yuzhe’s sacrifice by becoming the hero he knew you could be.”

Haoran bowed his head, a mix of sorrow and determination swelling within him. “I will, Mountain God. I will honor his memory and fulfill my destiny.”

The Mountain God nodded, a glint of approval in its eyes. “Good. Then rise, Xing Haoran, warrior of destiny. The path before you is long and fraught with danger, but you are not alone. I will guide you when needed, and Yuzhe’s spirit will always be with you, in every strike, in every breath, in every moment of doubt. Remember his final words: don’t be attached to the master; be attached to the teaching.”

With that, the tiger’s form began to shimmer and fade, its spirit returning to the mountain. Haoran watched as it disappeared into the mist, leaving him alone with the weight of his master’s legacy and the promise of the epic journey that awaited him.

He stood, looking down at the body of Yuzhe one last time, before turning to face the world beyond the mountains. His journey had just begun.

The biting mountain wind tore at Haoran's thin, patched cloak as he trained alone. Six months had passed since he buried Yuzhe beneath the silent peaks, but the weight of his master’s death never left him. It was a dull, persistent ache that no amount of training could numb. “Master,” he murmured to the wind, his voice lost in its howl, “I will not fail you.”

The mountain had become his sanctuary, its wild and merciless nature shaping him in ways no human teacher could. He’d chosen a desolate spot, far from the familiar training grounds of his youth. Here, the wind screamed endlessly, and the only sounds were the mournful rustle of pines and the distant, haunting cries of eagles.

His makeshift shelter was little more than a pile of timbers barely holding together under the constant assault of icy rain and savage gusts. On stormy nights, as he lay awake shivering, the mountain seemed alive, testing his resolve, daring him to quit. But Haoran had nowhere else to go—nothing else to hold onto.

“Faster!” he muttered through gritted teeth, his breath clouding in the frigid air as sweat stung his eyes. “Stronger! More precise!” His muscles burned as he drove himself harder, his sword a blur in the dim light. Each swing, each block, each parry brought him closer to the memory of Yuzhe’s effortless grace, but he was far from achieving it.

The mountain gave no reprieve. Storms battered him, wild animals stalked him, and exhaustion gnawed at his resolve. One night, a mountain lion slashed his arm before retreating into the shadows. As he cleaned the wound with shaking hands, he muttered, “Another lesson learned.” Pain became his constant companion, but so did progress. He began to feel the rhythm of the mountain—the way the wind shifted before a storm or how silence warned of lurking predators.

One cold morning, while foraging for herbs to soothe an aching joint, a child’s piercing scream cut through the stillness. “Help!” The cry, thin and desperate, jolted him into action. He dropped his knife and sprinted toward the sound.

He found a small group of travelers huddled by a riverbank, their faces pale and stricken with fear. A young woman clutched a trembling child to her chest, tears streaking her dirt-smudged cheeks. An older man stood protectively beside them, a rusty sword trembling in his grip.

“Please!” the woman gasped, pointing to a massive black serpent coiled around a fallen tree. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, and its cold, intelligent eyes glowed with malevolence. The child it sought had hidden behind a boulder, his small body shaking violently.

“It wants the child!” the woman sobbed, clutching him tighter.

Haoran’s gaze locked onto the serpent. His heart pounded, but his voice was steady. “Stay back,” he ordered. The travelers shrank away as he approached, each step deliberate.

The serpent struck without warning, its massive body moving with terrifying speed. Haoran’s instincts took over. He sidestepped the attack, his sword flashing as he countered. He aimed for its vulnerable points—its eyes, throat, and underbelly—each strike precise.

The creature thrashed wildly, its tail smashing into the ground with enough force to crack stone. The young man with the drawn sword—Kael, as the woman whispered—lunged to help but barely avoided the serpent’s tail.

Haoran fought on, his body moving on instinct. Every swing, every dodge was a culmination of months of training and years of lessons. But the serpent was relentless, and fatigue crept into his limbs. He could feel the venom from a shallow bite burning in his shoulder, but he forced the pain aside.

Finally, an opening. With a desperate roar, Haoran drove his sword into the serpent’s underbelly, piercing its heart. The beast let out a deafening screech, its body writhing in agony before collapsing in a heap.

Haoran stood still, his chest heaving, his vision swimming. He barely registered the cheers of the travelers as his legs gave out. The last thing he heard before the darkness claimed him was the child’s trembling voice: “Thank you.”

He fell, his body broken but his spirit unyielding. The mountain had not claimed him yet.