The Ashes of A Tyrant

The battlefield was silent.

The air reeked of blood, smoke, and something far worse—the stench of an empire reduced to nothing.

Wu-Jin's lifeless body lay amidst the rubble, his once-dominant figure now just another corpse in the sea of the fallen. His sword, the very blade that had carved the Black Moon Sect into existence, rested beside him—a relic of a man who had fought to his last breath.

Jin Tae-Hyun stood over him, his grip tightening around his own weapon. He had won.

The man who had terrorized Murim, who had orchestrated countless atrocities, was finally gone.

Yet, why did it feel like something was left unfinished?

Wu-Jin's last words clung to him, a parasite burrowing into the depths of his mind.

"How far are you willing to go before you become the monster you just killed?"

Jin exhaled sharply. That doesn't matter. He had done what needed to be done. The Black Moon Sect would be erased, just as he had planned.

This is my story now.

The Chaos Unfolds

Far below the cliff where Wu-Jin had fallen, the remaining forces of the Black Moon Sect were in complete disarray.

Fear. Confusion. Betrayal.

The once-unshakable warriors of the sect found themselves leaderless, scattered like insects beneath a looming boot. The battlefield that had once been theirs was now nothing more than a graveyard.

Some fled. Others still fought, desperate to reclaim even a fragment of their former dominance. But it was meaningless.

Without Wu-Jin, there was no Black Moon Sect.

A piercing scream broke the silence.

Jin turned his gaze toward the chaos below, his expression unreadable. The sight before him was one of absolute destruction—his own forces cutting down what remained of the sect, burning their strongholds to the ground.

There would be no survivors.

No remnants left behind.

He had ensured it.

Wu-Jin's empire would not rise again.

Yet, as he watched the carnage unfold, a strange feeling gnawed at him.

Was it satisfaction? Relief?

Or something else entirely?

The Unraveling

A soft rustling from behind broke him from his thoughts.

Jin turned, already anticipating an attack, but instead, he found one of his own men approaching—an informant, dressed in the shadows of their faction.

"Master Jin," the man bowed slightly, but his voice was urgent. "We have a problem."

Jin frowned. "Speak."

"The sect… they were prepared for this."

A sharp silence fell between them. Jin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

The informant hesitated for only a second before continuing. "Before Wu-Jin fell, he had already begun making arrangements for his successor. There are remnants hidden beyond the mountains—loyalists who were never part of the main battlefield. If they regroup—"

Jin's grip on his sword tightened.

Of course.

Wu-Jin may have been a tyrant, but he was no fool. He had known that defeat was always a possibility, no matter how unlikely. And so, he had ensured that his legacy wouldn't die with him.

He had left behind a final contingency.

Jin exhaled slowly, but there was no frustration in his expression—only determination.

If Wu-Jin had left behind seeds of his empire…

Then Jin would burn the soil itself.

The Last Survivor

As Jin processed this revelation, movement in the distance caught his eye.

A lone figure stood amidst the flames, body battered but still standing.

A boy—no older than seventeen—Wu-Jin's personal disciple.

Jin's gaze darkened. He had seen this one before, always standing quietly behind Wu-Jin, never speaking unless spoken to. A shadow waiting to step into the light.

And now, with Wu-Jin gone…

Would he be the next to take the mantle?

The boy locked eyes with Jin.

There was no hatred in his stare. No desperation. No plea for mercy.

Only cold, unshaken resolve.

Jin took a step forward, his voice low but firm. "Who are you?"

The boy didn't flinch. "No one important."

A lie.

Jin could see it in the way he carried himself. The way his fingers twitched near the hilt of his blade, ready to fight.

He was more than just a disciple.

He was Wu-Jin's contingency plan.

Jin sighed. "I see."

A second later, he vanished.

Before the boy could react, Jin was already behind him, sword pressed against his throat.

"Tell me," Jin murmured, "how long did Wu-Jin prepare you for this?"

The boy didn't answer.

Jin didn't need him to.

His silence said everything.

For the first time since Wu-Jin's death, Jin Tae-Hyun felt something close to excitement.

This boy wasn't just another remnant.

He was the last piece of Wu-Jin's story.

And Jin intended to write the final chapter himself.