As the morning sun's rays shot through the holes in the bamboo tree stalks, casting torch-like circles on the leaf-filled ground, squirrels moved, hopping on the roots of the trees.

At the front of the Western Temple, where the entrance gate had opened wide, brown leaves spun, drifting by with the rhythm of the air blown by the branches of the trees into the large empty courtyard.

Blood clotted the ground like a riverbed, drawing the shapes of countless human silhouettes that stretched long from the entrance point to the pillars holding the roofs of the Chinese-structured buildings from falling.

Green liquid glittered on the walls as the rays of the sun fell on pillars dressed with strange carvings. Vaporized air erupted from the surface of the walls and pillars as the density of the rays increased, giving the air in the courtyard a sour taste.

On the tiny metallic fences serving as a bridge between the Shadow Cult and the other cults—Radiant Palm, Whispering Wind, and Iron Body—crows flapped their feathers as they wrapped their torsos around the thin black metal.

Their cries filled the air the moment something shot right up from the down-below of the fog-like land beneath the stairs.

Five of the seven crows burst into the sky, flapping their wings with fast momentum as they neared the black light that was turning into smoke and almost vanishing from view.

The remaining two crows tightened their claws on the metal they stood on, narrowed their gazes as they spotted something move in the fog.

…

Meanwhile, at the front of the half-moon arc door serving as the entrance of the Shadow Cult, Jim stood there, wearing a heavy bag on his back.

"See you guys in the next decades," he said, bowing to Jack and a few other monks who stood behind him.

And when he placed his leg on the first raised rectangular platform of the staircase, all six monks standing on the other side of the arc door waved at him.

"See you then, bro,"

Streams of joyous and emotional voices echoed. And as they saw Jim near the center of the stairs, they began moving one after another.

Chill air shot through the door as the last monk entered and closed the inner door leading to the main environment of the Shadow Cult.

The ground stayed warm, almost as if a volcano was hibernating right under their feet, but the walls and roofs remained in their cold natures.

"Jack, are you sure there were zombified monks the last two days?" a short but broad-chested guy turned toward Jack with a confused face.

"Yeah, that's what I heard Jim saying when I sneaked out and stood by his window," Jack said, exhaling deeply, then placed a hand on the short guy's head.

"We better hurry before Master calls our names like he did the last time."

All six of them ran over the bridge, stopped by the other side, and breathed for three minutes before walking calmly toward the huge building and entering.

…

The inside was as black as a moonless and starless night, letting the darkness crush on their skin like a living organism of its own.

But as they shut the door and moved five meters away, thin light caught their eyes. Little by little, the density of the light increased, forming into a fluorescent glow that brightened the entire second chamber of the building.

"Move silently, Master will sense us," Jack whispered, frowning as he turned and saw the short guy's mouth open wide, yawning.

He placed a hand on the guy's mouth, covering the sound from echoing, yet the chamber carried the soundless air that gushed out and changed it into chime.

Jack and the other monks fell to their knees, pretending to be meditating as the door of the third chamber opened softly.

Their bones quivered as Yung Mai walked from the door and stopped by the short monk's side.

"Hm," Yung Mai said and smiled as he saw sweat snaking from the temple of Jackson—the short but broad-shouldered monk.

A gulping sound echoed from Jackson's throat as Yung Mai stretched his fingers toward Jackson's face.

Seeing a flick in the guy's eye movement, Yung Mai stopped, straightened himself, and shook his head.

'Huh… they'll never listen to simple orders,' he said low in his thoughts, then walked straight to the main door of the building.

Jackson exhaled sharply after hearing the main door open and close, then cracked his eyes open.

"I'm lucky as always," he said, placed his left arm on his face, and wiped the sweat from his temple.

He made his entire body slam on the ground, crossed his hands at the back of his head, and then began whistling.

For ten minutes, the whistling sound moved across the room, snaking through the door and tilting outward from the main door through the holes under the door.

…

Cool air snaked through Yung Mai's long white hair, raising the strands that rested on top of his ears and wiggling the hair of his long beard.

"Why did Jim want to leave without sharing the last meal like everyone else?" he said, placed his left arm on his chin, and began stroking his fingers through his beard.

He smiled as he spotted a silver fish waggling its tail and moving after three cat fish in haste.

"Only he knows why," Yung Mai exhaled deeply, then tilted his gaze from the fish to the only building standing alone at the remote side of the temple.

"It's been quite a while since I visited there," he said, squeezed his face, then smiled.

"Wait, two days back counts as the fifth time I visited there." The smile on his face stretched.

The tip of his cloak floated upward as soft wind moved from the waves in the river and hit him on the leg.

…

Meanwhile, outside the Shadow Cult territory, the sky was dark. Black birds moved, diving in and out of the gray clouds that floated over the roofs of the temple.

And on the ground beneath the clouds, Radiant Palm, Whispering Wind, and Iron Body monks walked, carrying huge sticks on their shoulders.

"Let not rest!" a loud sound echoed from behind them, followed by a rope-whipping sound that slammed into the stone ground with a leather-like crack.

At the front, young men wearing wine, white, and red short trousers placed heavy and torn-dressed legs on the ground, pushing themselves forward.

"Train until you feel your bones crack," the leader of the Whispering Wind Cult said, shouting at the men wearing the white trousers.

Suddenly, Jude, who happened to be in the lead, fell, slamming his knees hard on the jagged stone ground.

"Ouch!" He tightened his teeth as a sharp pain gashed through his bones.

"Stand up, BOY!" one of the white-dressed monks said, squeezing his face at Jude.

"You're nothing but a piece of garbage that can't even win a fight, let alone walk on glass-like stones, and you call yourself a Whispering Wind disciple."

Immediately, the monk's voice died, and a few of the tall monks took over.

"…yeah! Say it again. He's nothing but a disgrace to us."

"…how did a weak boy like him even get taken as a disciple in our cult? I don't remember hearing his name being mentioned."

"…it's not a coincidence he and that brat are friends."

"…yeah! That boy who thinks he owns the temple and its members."

Jude closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, feeling the words move through his skin like a melted sword. But as he cracked his eyes open and was about to help himself up, he saw the leader's arms stretched toward him.

"Let me help you," the hairless monk said, his voice echoing in a calmer tone than the other monks'.

Jude sighed as he grabbed the leader's arms and allowed himself to be pulled upward.

The leader placed a heavy palm on Jude's shoulder. "Don't listen to them," he said, tapping the boy's skin twice.

"They are just ants in a horse's shoe." The hairless monk smiled, then moved past Jude, joining in with the leaders of the other cults.

"Huh huh," Jude's heart calmed as he turned at those calling him names.

'Ants in horse's shoes?!' His face widened with a smile as he tilted his gaze from them, one after another.

…

From the training ground, the sky reeled, turning days into months, and months into years.

Three years passed as quickly as they came, making old leaves break loose and fall from the bamboo branches while paving the way for new ones.

As the new leaves appeared, so did the number of Radiant Palm, Whispering Wind, and Iron Body members increase.

New recruits joined the Western Temple recruitment, leaving their homes and vowing to stay disciplined to the rules and regulations of discipleship.

At that same time, as the numbers of the three cults increased, the Shadow Cult's numbers remained the same—no increase and no decrease.

Throughout the three years, as all members—both old and new—celebrated the end-of-year ceremonies, only two people from the Shadow Cult joined: Yung Mai and Jack.

Even with that, faces tensed the moment they saw them climb up the stairs. And whenever the two moved past the new monks, silence fell like fire on every building they stopped at.

But the moment they moved forward, all attention, talk, and gossip had their cult's name mentioned in it.

"…is that the Shadow Cult people?"

"…yeah. Hey, for those people, never try to anger them."

"…is it true that an obsidian sword flew from the abandoned BMW, flew over the roofs of these buildings, and vanished into their door?"

"…yeah! I was in my room when I heard the screams about a sword floating above us."

"…what happened to the kid that got recruited recently?"

"…who, the boy who shocked everyone by defeating the unbeatable Iron Body cult guy?"

"…for that kid, we don't talk about him."

All the guys in the courtyard drew their attention to the one guy who gave the last statement. "WHY?"

"They say he's dead, but his soul is not resting."

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