Ming sat silently in front of the lake, knees pulled close, staring at his reflection rippling on the surface. His eyes moved slowly from left to right, scanning the trees, the bushes, the shadows.
Even now… he was checking.
Checking if any monster was nearby.
Checking if something was waiting to bite, tear, or swallow him whole.
He had left the cave only a single day ago.
Just one day.
But in that short time, he had already seen monsters beyond imagination—
creatures that could bite through a tree like it was a soft fruit,
beasts that swallowed prey whole in one crunch,
and shadows that moved like predators hunting him even when he was only trying to drink water.
Every noise made him flinch.
Even the sound of water dripping from a leaf made him turn his head sharply.
This was the kind of place where fear never rested.
Where a single mistake meant death.
After he finished drinking, he noticed something behind the waterfall—
a thin crack, almost invisible, forming a dark opening.
Ming stepped closer and felt a faint breeze coming from inside.
"A passage…?" he whispered.
Living near constant water flow meant fewer monster footsteps, fewer smells, fewer surprises. It was safer than the open forest.
So he chose this place.
After hours of removing rocks and widening the crack, Ming finally made a small shelter he could stay in.
When everything was done, he sat down in the small hidden space and slowly opened the book his master left behind.
The cover glowed faintly.
The lock clicked open on its own.
And the first page revealed a line written in Lyssar's sharp, familiar handwriting:
"If you are reading this… it means you have acquired my art. Because no one except my heir can open this book."
Ming touched the page with shaking fingers.
His master's presence… it felt like he was sitting beside him again.
He kept reading.
"My art has no shape, no fixed form. You may even call it the Formless Art.
As you know, I used two types of Qi — the Qi of Death and the Qi of Vitality.
Using these two opposites, I created a technique that can copy any other art."
Ming's eyes widened.
"By changing the nature of your Qi, you can reshape it to mimic any martial art you witness.
How fast you learn…
How perfectly you imitate…
It all depends on your talent."
Ming's hands tightened around the book.
He could almost hear Lyssar's voice behind every word.
His master had left him power…
and a path.
A path only he could walk.
But even as Ming read the words on the page, a heavy thought struck him:
"There's a problem…"
He looked around the empty forest, the wild silence, the alien world where no human lived.
How was he supposed to copy any martial art…
when there were no humans here to copy from?
He flipped to the next page, hoping for an answer.
And there it was, written in Lyssar's calm, confident handwriting:
"Before you copy others…
you must first create your own martial art.
Only then will you understand the true essence of my Formless Art."
Ming froze.
Create… his own martial art?
He barely knew anything about martial arts to begin with—
how was someone like him supposed to invent a new one?
He stared blankly at the page, mind spinning, doubt crawling into his chest.
But then…
Something small moved near his feet.
He lowered his gaze.
A trail of ants…
working together, dragging a huge bug nearly five times their size.
The ants pulled, bit, pushed, climbed, and adjusted…
Each one moving like a tiny soldier following a technique thousands of years old.
Ming blinked.
And suddenly, his master's old words echoed inside his mind—
"Ming, do you know how humans created martial arts?"
"I don't know," Ming had replied. "I thought… martial arts always existed."
Lyssar had laughed softly back then.
"No, Ming. Martial arts were born from desperation."
Lyssar's voice played in Ming's head as if the man were still alive, standing beside him.
"When monsters first escaped the Red Line,
they destroyed countless cities.
The world outside was filled with beasts.
Humans were weak, powerless… hunted."
Ming remembered staring at Lyssar wide-eyed as his master continued:
"But humans noticed something—the monsters became stronger by absorbing Qi."
"So humans tried the same thing.
And then… they studied monsters,
their movements,
their instincts,
their ways of hunting and killing."
Lyssar's tone had been filled with both pride and bitterness.
"After years of observing monsters…
after combining the efforts of all humanity…
a new power was born.
The power we now call — Martial Arts."
After remembering Lyssar's words, Ming took a slow breath.
"If humans once started from nothing… then I can start too.
They were weak at first.
But I already understand the basics of martial arts.
I can go further."
With that conviction burning in his chest, Ming stood up and stepped out of the cave.
Cold wind brushed past his face. The forest was silent—but filled with dangers.
This was the moment.
The moment when a new, terrifying martial art was beginning to form.
He hid inside thick bushes, eyes focused on a strange creature nearby.
It looked like a lizard… but not a normal one.
Its body was covered in Death Qi , and its Qi—
Death Qi. Pure Death Qi.
Something no human could ever freely absorb.
The creature moved with an intelligence Ming had never seen in beasts.
Every breath it took pulled in strands of death energy.
Every step looked calculated.
Its tail swayed like a scythe.
Ming stayed hidden. Observing. Learning.
Trying to understand:
How does it absorb death Qi?
How does it move?
How does it survive?
He didn't fight.
He didn't train.
He didn't sleep properly.
He only did three things:
Eat.
Absorb Qi.
Observe.
Day turned into night.
Night turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Three long months passed—
Ming never left the forest.
And then… it happened.
After watching the creature endlessly, he finally understood.
The lizard absorbed death Qi through its breathing technique—
slow, precise, and steady.
But in battle, it did something else:
Its skin acted as a second organ—
absorbing death Qi directly into the flesh,
turning its body into a living weapon.
When the realization hit him, Ming's understand one thing.
"So that's why…
My death Qi never gathered properly before.
I did not use proper breathing technique …
I never used my body like this creature."
He finally understood the missing piece.
And from that moment,
Ming began shaping the foundation of a martial art that one day…
would terrify the entire world.