Elder Jin was not what Tae-Won had expected.

  Instead of a wizened ancient or imposing warrior, he found himself facing an old man with an unremarkable appearance and gentle smile. Dressed in simple blue robes with minimal ornamentation, the Elder sat behind a low table in a modestly appointed receiving room, pouring tea with practiced grace.

  Only his eyes betrayed his true nature—sharp, calculating, and ancient beyond the apparent age of his face. And his Qi... Tae-Won could sense it now, a vast, deep reservoir of power held in perfect control, like an ocean contained within a teacup.

  "Welcome," Elder Jin said, his voice pleasant and measured. "Please, sit. You must be tired after your journey."

  Tae-Won remained standing, wary of the casual hospitality. "I prefer to stand until I know why I've been brought here."

  Elder Jin's smile widened slightly. "Cautious. Good. That will serve you well." He gestured to the cushion across from him. "But there's no need for such wariness. If I wished you harm, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  The logic was sound, if coldly pragmatic. Tae-Won conceded the point with a slight nod and took the offered seat, maintaining his straight posture and alert demeanor.

  Elder Jin poured him a cup of tea, the liquid giving off a subtle aroma that Tae-Won didn't recognize. He didn't touch it.

  "You don't trust the tea," Elder Jin observed. "Another wise precaution, though unnecessary. Poison would be an inefficient way to deal with someone of your... unique talents."

  "And what talents would those be?" Tae-Won asked, careful to betray no emotion.

  "Meridian manipulation beyond your apparent cultivation level. Combat instincts that suggest extensive training. And most interestingly..." Elder Jin leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly intense. "A constitution that my disciples described as 'unusual.' Azure-tinged Qi, they said. Most remarkable."

  So they had noticed. The Azure Phoenix Meridians were apparently distinctive enough to be visible to trained observers. That could be both an advantage and a liability.

  "Your disciples attacked me," Tae-Won stated flatly. "I defended myself. If they saw anything unusual, it was likely a product of their imagination... or their concussions."

  Elder Jin laughed, a genuine sound of amusement. "Oh, I like you. Direct and unapologetic. Refreshing, in a world of sycophants and political maneuvering." He sipped his own tea, then continued. "My disciples were indeed in the wrong. They have been disciplined for their behavior."

  "How comforting for me," Tae-Won replied dryly.

  "Indeed." Elder Jin set down his cup. "Now, to business. Who are you, young man? And more importantly, who trained you?"

  "My name is Tae-Won," he answered, seeing no benefit in lying about that. "As for training... let's say I've had many teachers."

  "Many teachers," Elder Jin repeated, clearly skeptical. "Including someone versed in the Meridian Sealing Arts, apparently. A rare discipline, known to only a handful of sects. None of which, to my knowledge, would waste such teachings on a slum dweller."

  "Perhaps they saw potential where others saw only poverty."

  "Perhaps." Elder Jin studied him for a long moment. "Or perhaps you're not what you appear to be at all."

  Tae-Won held his gaze steadily. "We're all more than we appear to be, aren't we, Elder Jin? Your own appearance belies your power."

  This earned him another smile. "Well observed. But my question remains. Who are you, really?"

  "Someone seeking power," Tae-Won answered truthfully. "Someone with ambitions beyond the slums. Beyond this city, eventually."

  "Honesty at last." Elder Jin nodded approvingly. "Ambition I understand. Ambition I can work with." He leaned back slightly. "The Jin Clan is always seeking talented individuals to join our ranks. Your background is... unconventional, but your potential is undeniable."

  "You're offering me a place in the Jin Clan?" Tae-Won asked, allowing a hint of surprise to color his voice.

  "I'm offering you an opportunity," Elder Jin corrected. "A probationary position as an Outer Disciple. Food, shelter, training. The chance to prove your worth and advance based on merit rather than birth."

  It was a generous offer on its face—far more than most slum dwellers could ever hope for. But Tae-Won heard the unspoken terms beneath the pleasant words. Loyalty. Obedience. Service to the clan above all else.

  "And in return?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  "Loyalty to the clan. Obedience to your superiors. Service to our collective interests." Elder Jin spread his hands. "The standard commitments expected of any disciple."

  "Standard for those born into this life," Tae-Won noted. "Less so for someone accustomed to independence."

  Elder Jin's expression sharpened slightly. "Independence is an illusion in Murim. Everyone serves someone or something—a clan, a sect, an ideal. Even the most powerful cultivators are bound by the laws of heaven and earth."

  The words struck an unexpected chord in Tae-Won's mind, reminding him of his own rejection of divinity in his past life. He, too, had chosen to remain bound by certain laws rather than transcend them completely. But his reasons had been his own, not imposed by external forces.

  "I appreciate the offer," Tae-Won said carefully. "But I would need to know more about what this position entails before making such a commitment."

  "A reasonable request." Elder Jin reached into his robe and withdrew a small blue token, placing it on the table between them. "This grants you guest status within the compound for three days. Observe our training, speak with our disciples, consider our offer without pressure." His smile turned slightly predatory. "After all, forcing a decision rarely leads to true loyalty."

  Tae-Won eyed the token skeptically. "And after three days?"

  "After three days, you either accept our offer formally or return to the slums with our... well, not our blessing, perhaps, but our acknowledgment of your choice." Elder Jin's implication was clear—refusing the offer would mark Tae-Won as neither friend nor recruit, but potential rival.

  It was a clever trap, elegantly constructed. By inviting him into the compound, Elder Jin accomplished several goals at once: he kept a potential asset under observation, demonstrated the power and resources that could be Tae-Won's if he joined, and gathered information about his capabilities and character.

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  In Tae-Won's position, most would be overwhelmed by the opportunity. A street rat offered entry into a prestigious clan? It was the stuff of fairy tales, the dream of every orphan in the slums.

  But Edward Reinhart wasn't any street rat.

  "Your offer is generous," Tae-Won said, choosing his words carefully. "But I don't make hasty decisions. I would like to request the full three days to consider my options."

  A flicker of surprise crossed Elder Jin's face, quickly masked by a diplomatic smile. Most slum dwellers would have jumped at the opportunity without hesitation.

  "Of course," Elder Jin replied smoothly. "A wise choice. Deliberation before commitment shows maturity beyond your years." He pushed the blue token closer to Tae-Won. "This will grant you access to the Outer Disciples' training grounds, communal dining hall, and basic accommodations. The inner areas remain restricted, naturally."

  Tae-Won picked up the token, examining the intricate azure flame pattern etched into its surface. "Naturally," he echoed, slipping it into his tattered pocket.

  "Jin Hwan will show you to your temporary quarters," Elder Jin said, gesturing to the tall patrolman. "Feel free to observe our training sessions and speak with our disciples. Should you have questions, Jin Hwan will be your point of contact."

  Tae-Won rose with fluid grace despite his injuries. "I appreciate the hospitality, Elder Jin."

  As he turned to leave, Elder Jin spoke again. "One question before you go, young Tae-Won." His voice had lost its warmth, becoming analytical and probing. "Where exactly are you from? Your accent is... unfamiliar."

  Tae-Won paused at the threshold. "A far-away land," he said vaguely. "One that would mean little to you by name alone."

  "Try me," Elder Jin challenged mildly. "I've traveled extensively in my youth."

  "I doubt your travels took you there," Tae-Won replied with the faintest hint of a smile. "It's a story for another time, perhaps. After I've made my decision."

  Elder Jin's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "I look forward to hearing it. Three days, young man. Choose wisely."

  Jin Hwan led Tae-Won through a series of courtyards and corridors to a modest building near the eastern wall of the compound. "Guest quarters," he explained tersely. "Basic, but better than whatever hole you crawled out of in the slums."

  Tae-Won ignored the barb, taking in every detail of the compound's layout. The architectural arrangement wasn't random—the buildings were positioned to create a massive formation that channeled Qi throughout the complex. Clever, if somewhat primitive compared to the arcane constructs he'd designed in Latvaria.

  Jin Hwan showed him to a small room with a simple bed, a washing basin, and a meditation mat. "Meals are served in the communal hall at dawn, noon, and dusk. Training grounds are open from first light until evening bell. Don't wander into restricted areas." He pointed at the blue token. "That won't protect you if you're caught where you shouldn't be."

  "Understood," Tae-Won replied, already mentally mapping potential escape routes and areas of interest.

  Jin Hwan lingered in the doorway. "Elder Jin sees something in you. Can't imagine what." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Whatever game you're playing, boy, be careful. The Jin Clan has stood for eight centuries. Greater talents than yours have broken against our walls."

  With that final warning, he departed, sliding the door closed behind him.

  Tae-Won waited until the patrolman's footsteps faded before moving to the window. The room overlooked a small garden, beyond which lay the eastern wall of the compound. Three stories high, regularly patrolled, but not impossible to scale with the right techniques.

  "System," he murmured. "Status update."

  [Current Realm: Body Refinement Stage 1]

  [Cultivation Progress: 2.5%]

  [Qi reserves: 45% of maximum capacity]

  [New environment detected: Jin Clan compound ambient Qi density 312% higher than previous location]

  That last bit was interesting. The compound's Qi concentration was significantly higher than the slums—likely due to the formation built into its very architecture. This could accelerate his cultivation dramatically if utilized properly.

  Tae-Won sat on the meditation mat, crossing his legs and straightening his spine. Three days. Seventy-two hours to extract maximum benefit from this opportunity while avoiding the trap it represented.

  He had no intention of joining the Jin Clan, of course. Becoming an Outer Disciple would mean placing himself at the bottom of their hierarchy, subject to the whims of superiors, bound by rules and traditions he neither respected nor understood. Edward Reinhart had been an emperor, a conqueror—never a follower.

  But the Jin Clan compound offered resources he couldn't access in the slums—advanced techniques, knowledge of cultivation paths, and most importantly, this Qi-rich environment that could accelerate his progress exponentially.

  Still, he couldn't abandon the slums entirely—not yet. The children he'd met represented a different kind of resource: information, stealth, the ability to move through the city unnoticed. A network of loyal followers who knew the hidden paths of the underworld could prove invaluable in the coming months.

  "I'll need to slip out soon," he decided. "Find the abandoned temple, make contact with Ho-Jin and the others."

  It would be risky. Leaving the compound without permission might alert Elder Jin to his duplicitous intentions. But establishing a base of operations beyond the Jin Clan's reach was essential for his long-term plans.

  As he plotted his nighttime excursion, Tae-Won's thoughts drifted to the children's faces when he'd promised to teach them basic techniques. Their awe, their hope, their unquestioning acceptance of his leadership. It had been... gratifying, in a way he hadn't expected.

  What is this feeling? he wondered. Is this... nostalgia?

  Not for the slum children, he realized, but for Latvaria. For his empire, his power, his purpose.

  I can't believe I miss that place, he thought with bitter amusement. I thought I would die of boredom there.

  In his previous life, Edward Reinhart had conquered his world to its fullest extent. He had been the strongest, the greatest emperor, god-slayer, heaven's chosen. But after the wars ended, after the last resistance crumbled beneath his boots, life had grown... tedious. Ruling an empire that spanned continents offered administrative challenges but few true tests of his abilities.

  He had rejected ascension to godhood, turning away from the divine realm that had opened to him after defeating the Celestial Pantheon. Eternity as a deity had seemed like an endless continuation of that same tedium—observing rather than acting, being worshipped rather than tested.

  Now, reborn in this weak body, in this unfamiliar world with its rigid hierarchies and mystical arts, he faced challenge again. Danger. The need to scheme, to fight, to conquer anew. There was a certain thrill to starting over, to building from nothing once more.

  Perhaps that's why the System chose this world for my reincarnation, he mused. A new conquest. A new test.

  With renewed determination, Tae-Won deepened his meditation. His plan was taking shape: spend the days at the Jin Clan compound, absorbing knowledge and cultivating in the Qi-rich environment; spend the nights in the slums, building his network and establishing a power base independent of the Noble Families.

  By the end of three days, he needed to be strong enough to refuse Elder Jin's offer without being immediately crushed. It was a gamble, certainly. The Jin Clan might send cultivators far beyond his current capabilities to deal with his defiance.

  But deploying powerful figures to handle what appeared to be a minor problem would be both excessive and embarrassing for a Noble Family. It would be like using a siege engine to crush an ant—effective, but revealing a weakness in their regular forces.

  Without knowing the political state of this world, what wars or conflicts might be brewing, what alliances and enemies the Jin Clan might have, Tae-Won couldn't predict their response with certainty. But that uncertainty created opportunity. In the gaps between what he knew and what they assumed, he would find his advantage.

  "The first rule of conquest," he whispered to himself, "is to secure a base of operations that your enemies cannot easily reach."

  In his case, that meant the slums—a territory the Jin Clan controlled officially but never truly mastered. With the street children as his eyes and ears, he could navigate that world far more effectively than the pampered cultivators of the Noble Families.

  Three days. Seventy-two hours to strengthen his cultivation, establish his network, and prepare for either integration or escape.

  The game had begun.