The wind howled like a hungry beast, whipping snow into a frenzy around the isolated mountain home. Inside, the air crackled not just with the chill of the storm, but with the volatile energy of desperate combat. Sunwok, small and trembling, was pressed into a narrow, dark space beneath the floorboards, his father's strong hands having sealed the hiding spot moments before. The rough wood scratched his cheek, but he barely noticed, his small body rigid with terror.
Sounds filtered down to him – the clash of steel against steel, the sharp bursts of Qi energy, the guttural cries of men. He recognized his father's powerful, resonant voice, strained but unyielding. His father was a great cultivator, a pillar of strength in Sunwok's young life, and he possessed a relic of considerable renown – a 2nd Rank Relic, a gleaming, crescent blade that could cleave stone with ease. It wasn't just steel; it shimmered with a faint, golden gleam when his father channeled his Qi, a beautiful and terrifying sight. Sunwok imagined it flashing, defending their home against the invaders.
But there were too many of them. Their footsteps thudded heavily on the floor above, surrounding his father. Their Qi felt cold, sharp, and wrong. He heard unfamiliar, cruel voices shouting orders, demanding the relic. These were the Red Moon Sect, the name a whisper of fear even in their remote haven. They believed everyone had a right to obtain power, and they took it by force.
The sounds of fighting grew more desperate. A heavy crash shook the house, dust sifting down onto Sunwok. His father cried out, a sound that tore at Sunwok's heart. Tears streamed silently down his face. He wanted to cry out for his dad, to tell him to be careful, but the fear choked the sounds in his throat. He just pressed his ear harder against the wood, praying, begging for it to stop.
Then came the worst sound of all. A choked gasp, a heavy fall, and then a chilling silence, broken only by the cruel laughter of the invaders. Sunwok squeezed his eyes shut, tears now coming in ragged sobs he desperately tried to stifle. He knew, with a child's terrible certainty. His father was gone.
He remained hidden for what felt like an eternity, the sounds of the Red Moon Sect ransacking their home echoing above him. They spoke of the relic, of its power, their voices filled with greedy satisfaction. Eventually, the sounds faded, replaced only by the mournful howl of the wind.
When the silence had stretched for an unbearable time, Sunwok slowly, cautiously, pushed up the floorboard. The house was a wreck. Furniture was overturned, belongings scattered, and the air was thick with the coppery scent of blood. He crawled out, his small legs shaky, and saw it – his father, lying still amidst the ruin.
He stumbled forward, a broken cry escaping his lips. "Dad?" he whispered, his voice tiny and lost in the ruined room. He knelt beside his father, touching a hand that was now cold. The vibrant Qi that had always flowed from him was gone. The crescent blade relic was missing. Overwhelmed by grief and a raw, burning hatred, Sunwok buried his face in his father's bloodstained robe and wept until he had no tears left.
Driven by a primal need to escape the scene of horror, Sunwok stumbled out of the ruined home and into the blizzard. The cold was biting, the snow deep, but the chill in his heart was colder. He walked aimlessly, the image of his father's lifeless eyes burned into his mind, the name "Red Moon Sect" a bitter taste on his tongue.
Days blurred into a struggle for survival. Hunger gnawed at him, the cold seeped into his bones, and despair threatened to consume him. He was just a child, alone in a vast, unforgiving wilderness. He didn't know how long he wandered, a small, dark figure against the white landscape.
Just as his strength was failing, and the world began to fade, he saw a light in the distance. It was a small, humble compound nestled in a sheltered valley on the mountainside. He stumbled towards it, collapsing near the entrance.
He awoke in a warm room, a kind face looking down at him. The man was the leader of the Sage Sect, a small community of cultivators who valued discipline and harmony, practicing the fluid movements of Wushu and the balanced energy of Tai Chi. Despite his sect's humble size and remote location, the master possessed a quiet strength and a compassionate heart.
Hearing Sunwok's story, the master took him in, offering him refuge and a chance to heal. As Sunwok slowly recovered, the images of that night replayed in his mind. The pain was a constant ache, but beneath it, the burning hatred for the Red Moon Sect solidified into an unshakeable resolve.
One night, looking out at the red moon hanging in the sky, a silent vow formed in his heart. Clenching his small fists, his eyes reflecting the moon's ominous glow, Sunwok whispered to the cold mountain air, his voice thick with tears and fierce determination, "Red Moon Sect... you hurt my dad. You took... everything. I hate you! I'm gonna make you pay. I promise... I promise I'll make you fall!"
Unseen, a single strand of black hair near his temple seemed to subtly shimmer, a faint, almost imperceptible pulse of energy within it, as if acknowledging the weight of his vow. It was the relic he didn't yet understand, the key to a power he couldn't yet imagine, tied to a legend the world had forgotten.