Kai Fu returned with a heap of weapons belonging to the disciples and slammed them down in front of LeeHan with a heavy thud. The sharp clang of metal against metal echoed throughout the courtyard. "Here, trash. Clean these first. Every single sword must shine like a mirror. If you do this job properly, perhaps I'll forgive the rest of your punishment today. Understand?"
LeeHan didn't lift his head; he simply gave a faint nod. His entire body was trembling, but he had no choice. As he picked up a heavy, grime-covered sword and began to scrub, a wave of pain surged to his brain, dragging him down into the dark well of memories he never wanted to revisit.
It was seven years ago. A small village, forever haunted by the shadows of poverty and starvation. Seven-year-old LeeHan sat outside his hut, tears in his eyes and red slap marks on his cheeks. His parents—the people he once considered his everything—were inside, laughing with their biological son. For LeeHan, there was no food, no love—only labor and abuse.
He ran to an old man living in a dark, secluded corner of the village, his sobs uncontrollable. "Grandpa... why don't my parents love me like everyone else? Why does Mother always hit me, and why does Father turn his face away the moment he sees me? Did I make a huge mistake?"
The old man sighed deeply and stroked LeeHan's small head, but his eyes held a bitter truth rather than sympathy. "Child, they don't love you because they aren't your parents. They found you lying by the roadside seven years ago. They only took you in because, at the time, they had no heir of their own."
Hearing this, the seven-year-old's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The roof he considered his home was merely the weight of a forced favor. As soon as their own biological son was born, LeeHan became nothing more than redundant garbage—a mouth to feed that gave nothing in return.
The next three years were worse than hell. He was forced to do the heaviest chores, sleep with the animals, and eat rotting leftovers. His so-called parents were filled with loathing every time they looked at him. To them, he was a burden they wanted to unload as quickly as possible.
Then, on a bleak afternoon, several men arrived in the village. Their attire was terrifying, and they reeked of blood. They were from the Blood-Refining Sect, searching for new slaves and servants. While the villagers cowered in fear, a sinister glint appeared in LeeHan's father's eyes.
"Take this boy," his father said, gripping LeeHan's neck like a butcher presenting meat. "He's sturdy and knows how to work. I just want the right price for him."
A man from the Sect inspected LeeHan's teeth and bones as if he were buying livestock. "Fine. We will give you ten gold coins for him."
Ten gold coins. That was LeeHan's worth in the eyes of the family for whom he had sacrificed his childhood. Without a single backward glance, without shedding a tear, his father pocketed the coins and walked back inside, as if he had simply sold off some old junk.
LeeHan was bound in chains and tossed into a cage-like carriage. He remembered looking back, hoping someone might call out his name just once, but there was no one. For a mere ten coins, he was sent to a place from which no one ever returns alive.
Suddenly, a kick landed on his shoulder, jolting LeeHan back to the bitter reality of the present.
"Did you fall asleep, you bastard? Move your hands!" Kai Fu stood over him, kicking him again.
LeeHan resumed scrubbing the sword. The skin on his hands was raw and peeling, but he no longer cared. For a boy whose own family had pushed him into the jaws of death for ten coins, these swords and insults meant nothing. He silently cleaned the weapons one by one, while his own blood slowly dried upon their hilts.
Just then, a girl arrived. Her clothes and demeanor made it clear she was a disciple from a noble lineage. As her gaze fell upon LeeHan—struggling to clean swords amidst the blood seeping from his own wounds—her face twisted in disgust.
She wrinkled her nose and shrieked, "Ew! How disgusting! Ugh... Kai Fu, tell this trash not to let his worthless blood touch my sword. I won't have my blade desecrated by his filthy blood!"
The other disciples standing nearby began to chime in. One laughed and said, "Exactly! If this scoundrel's blood falls on our swords, who knows, our cultivation might become as garbage as he is. Even the shadow of this lowlife shouldn't fall on our belongings."
Hearing them, Kai Fu's temper hit the ceiling. He felt his reputation was being tarnished in front of his peers. Without a second thought, he lunged forward and delivered a powerful kick directly to LeeHan's mouth.
CRACK!
LeeHan's head snapped back, and a fountain of blood erupted from his mouth. He collapsed face-first onto the ground.
"You piece of filth! Didn't you hear?" Kai Fu roared. "Your dirty blood is ruining our swords! If a single drop more falls on a weapon, I'll cut out your tongue!"
LeeHan lay on the ground, half his face smeared with dirt and gore. He could feel several teeth broken inside his mouth. He wasn't in a state to speak, but their hateful words rang in his ears.
The courtyard echoed with the disciples' laughter while LeeHan, with trembling hands, silently tried to clean the ground and the swords—desperate to ensure his 'garbage' blood didn't 'soil' the weapons of these great warriors.
Amidst the scattered swords, one of the disciples with particularly cunning eyes approached LeeHan and scrutinized him from head to toe. He turned to Kai Fu with a wicked smile.
"Kai Fu, I think this boy is cursing us in his heart. Look at his eyes; the way we're doing this must be making him angry. He's probably thinking that one day he'll take his revenge."
LeeHan's heart leaped into his throat. He knew that if they suspected him for even a second, they would kill him right then and there. In a trembling voice, he stammered, "Oh no... no! My Lord, I... I wasn't thinking anything like that. I was just—"
Before LeeHan could finish, Kai Fu moved with lightning speed. Before LeeHan could even flinch, Kai Fu drove his knee into LeeHan's face with full force.
SMASH!
The impact was horrific. LeeHan's head snapped back, and he was sent flying through the air, crashing several feet away. Along with a spray of blood, a small piece of flesh was torn from his mouth.
"You scum! Who told you to speak?" Kai Fu bellowed. "How dare you open your filthy mouth? Until we ask, not a sound should come out of you. Do your work quietly, or next time I'll rip your tongue out and throw it on this floor!"
LeeHan lay on the ground, writhing in agony. His jaw was severely dislocated, and darkness was creeping into his vision. But even through that darkness, he could hear the laughter of Kai Fu and the other disciples. They were celebrating his helplessness. Stumbling and falling, LeeHan picked up the dirty cloth once more and began cleaning the swords, even though his body was no longer ready to obey him.