Viper's Fury

"FOOLS!" Viper roared, his voice booming through the hall like thunder.

"INCOMPETENT FOOLS! To be outsmarted, outmaneuvered, by a nobody! A worm with no cultivation!" He slammed his fist on the table, splitting the thick wood in two.

"We were played! Played like a fiddle by a spineless coward who wouldn't know a sword from a stick!"

The main hall of the Black Viper fortress resembled a battlefield, a testament to the storm that had ripped through its heart. The air itself crackled with residual rage, thick with the scent of spilled ale and the metallic tang of fear. Viper, a hulking figure of raw fury, paced the shattered remnants of his once-proud table, his boots crushing shards of pottery and splintered wood.

"They escaped!" he roared, the words echoing through the stone chamber like the growl of a wounded beast. "Escaped! Like rats scurrying from a sinking ship! And we… we, the Black Vipers, allowed it!"

His voice, usually a low, menacing rumble, was now a raw, guttural scream, fueled by a rage that bordered on madness. He kicked a fallen chair, sending it skittering across the floor, its legs scraping against the stone.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, his muscles trembling with the force of his fury. "He stole from us! He took what was ours! He humiliated us! And I… I will not tolerate it!"

His lieutenants, Scarface, Fang, Claw, and Shadow, stood frozen, their faces pale, their eyes wide with terror. They had witnessed Viper's wrath before, but this… this was something else entirely. This was a primal fury, a rage that threatened to consume him entirely.

"And you!" Viper bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip. "You, Cobra! You were responsible for the entire fortress! Its security, its defenses, its very integrity! You were responsible for overseeing this entire operation, to ensure that my orders were followed! But what did you do? You allowed them to waltz in and out like they were guests at a feast! You let them slip through your fingers like sand!"

Cobra, his face ashen, his eyes filled with a desperate plea, tried to speak, to offer some pathetic excuse. "Boss, I… I didn't see anything. They were like ghosts… they…"

"Ghosts?" Viper snarled, his lips curling into a vicious sneer. "Ghosts don't steal keys! Ghosts don't unlock cages! Ghosts don't lead slaves to freedom! You failed me, Cobra! You failed me utterly! You were in charge of the fortress, you were in charge of the operation, and you allowed this to happen! Your incompetence is a stain on my reputation!"

He lunged forward, his movements a blur of motion. His hand, as thick and hard as a blacksmith's hammer, closed around Cobra's throat. Cobra's eyes widened, his face contorting in a silent scream. He clawed at Viper's hand, his fingers scrabbling against the rough leather of his gauntlet.

"You were supposed to be my eyes, my ears,"

Viper hissed, his voice a low, venomous growl. "You were supposed to be my shield. But you are nothing but a weak link, a rotten tooth that needs to be pulled!"

He tightened his grip, the veins in his arm bulging like thick ropes. Cobra's body convulsed, his legs kicking against the floor. A gurgling sound escaped his lips, a desperate plea for air.

"This is what happens to those who betray me," Viper whispered, his voice laced with a chilling satisfaction. "This is what happens to those who fail me."

With a final, sickening crack, Cobra's neck snapped. His body went limp, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Viper released his grip, and Cobra's lifeless body crumpled to the floor, a stark reminder of the price of failure.

The remaining lieutenants stood in stunned silence, their bodies trembling, their minds reeling. They had witnessed a brutal execution, a demonstration of Viper's absolute power. They knew that their lives were now forfeit if they did not find this sect master.

Viper, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a cold, murderous rage, turned to them. "He will pay," he snarled, his voice a low, menacing growl. "He will pay for every insult, every humiliation, every stolen moment of my peace. He will pay with his blood!"

He pointed a finger at Scarface. "Scarface, you will take half the men and search the surrounding villages. Leave no stone unturned. I want every villager questioned, every rumor investigated. I want to know everything about this… sect master."

He turned to Fang. "Fang, you will take the other half of the men and search the mountain passes. He cannot have gone far. Find his trail, follow it, and bring him to me."

He then looked at Claw and Shadow. "You two will remain here and secure the fortress. No more mistakes. No more failures. If anyone tries to breach these walls, they will find a welcome they won't soon forget."

His eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "And remember," he hissed, his voice laced with a chilling threat, "if you fail me again… you will join Cobra. You will all join Cobra."

He turned and stormed out of the hall, his footsteps echoing through the empty chamber. He would not rest until he had found Sun-woo, until he had exacted his revenge.

He would unleash his fury upon the world, and he would not stop until he had bathed in the blood of his enemies

He will make everyone understand that..

Fear that had always been his weapon.

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Sun-woo knew that a solitary disciple, however promising, wouldn't be enough to face the looming threat of the Black Vipers, let alone achieve his grander ambitions.

He needed to expand his sect, to gather more disciples and cultivate a force that could stand against the dangers of this world. And the village of Willow Creek, with its kind and resilient people, seemed like the perfect place to start.

He began his recruitment drive with a careful strategy. He wouldn't force anyone, wouldn't coerce or manipulate. He would appeal to their hopes, their dreams, and their desire for a better future. He would offer them a path to strength, to self-improvement, and to a sense of belonging.

He started with the village elder, a wise and respected woman named Elara. He explained his vision for a sect that would protect the weak, uphold justice, and cultivate harmony.

He spoke of the potential he saw in the village children, their innate strength and resilience.

Elara listened intently, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of curiosity and cautious optimism.

She had witnessed the hardships of this world, the cruelty and injustice that plagued the land. The idea of a sect that could offer protection and guidance resonated with her deeply.

"Your words are kind, Sect Master Sun-woo," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But actions speak louder than words. Show us what you can offer, what your sect can achieve. Prove to us that you are worthy of our trust."

Sun-woo accepted the challenge with a humble bow. He knew that he had to earn their trust, to demonstrate the value of his teachings. He spent the next few days working alongside the villagers, helping them with their chores, offering his knowledge and skills to improve their lives.

He organized patrols to protect the village from wild animal attacks, devised a system for sharing resources during lean times, and introduced a game of rock paper scissors. He explained the rules, emphasizing the importance of strategic thinking and a bit of luck.

This simple game provided the villagers with much-needed entertainment and fostered a sense of camaraderie, especially among the children.

He then approached the parents, one by one, explaining the benefits of joining his sect. He spoke of the discipline, the resilience, and the self-confidence that cultivation could instill in their children.

He promised to guide them, to nurture their potential, and to help them become the best versions of themselves.

Some were hesitant, wary of the dangers and uncertainties of the path of cultivation. Others were eager, their eyes filled with hope for a better future for their children. Sun-woo patiently addressed their concerns, answered their questions, and offered his reassurance.

Gradually, he won them over. One by one, the parents agreed to let their children join his sect. They saw in Sun-woo a genuine desire to help, a selfless dedication to his disciples.

They saw in his teachings a path to strength, to resilience, and to a sense of purpose.

By the end of the week, Sun-woo had assembled a small but dedicated group of disciples.

They were a diverse bunch, ranging in age from eight to fifteen, each with their own unique personalities and talents. But they shared a common desire to learn, to grow, and to become something more than what they were.

Sun-woo looked at his fledgling sect, his heart filled with a mixture of pride and responsibility. He knew that he had a long road ahead, a path fraught with challenges and dangers. But he also knew that he was not alone. He had his disciples, his loyal followers, and together, they would face whatever the future held.