It began over a hundred thousand years ago, during the fabled Era of Great Conquest.

  In that age, martial arts were more than skill. They were law, culture, power. The great martial sects stood as pillars of order—masters of mind and body whose feats shattered mountains, bent wind, and burned their names into the sky.

  To see them in motion was to witness the divine.

  But ambition breeds ruin.

  Over time, desire replaced discipline. Brotherhood gave way to betrayal. The world cracked beneath the weight of their unchecked power.

  War—relentless, consuming, without honor—spread like wildfire.

  Entire bloodlines vanished in storms of steel. Sects that had stood for centuries collapsed overnight. The land was soaked in blood, and the harmony that once bound Moorim splintered into ash.

  And yet—

  From the ashes rose a whisper. A tale passed from mouth to mouth, uncertain in origin, heavy with possibility.

  It spoke of a coming figure. One born beyond the constraints of sect and lineage. A being destined to transcend even the greatest martial legends.

  He would be known as:

  The Immortal Martial God.

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  “A title so unfathomable, so blasphemous—yet every warrior who dreamed of reaching the impossible done anything they could with any kind of means necessary but at the end they still failed and it resulted to the outcome that the world facing right now. And as war ravaged the land, the tale endured due to the need of people for this certain someone. Hoping that it’s not just a prophecy, but a hope they are desperately seeking for.”

  For some, he would be salvation.

  For others—the end.

  Then came a night that split history in two.

  Seventeen years ago, during the height of Moorim’s Age of Turmoil, the skies cracked open. Lightning tore the heavens. Thunder screamed across the realm. Martial artists everywhere froze mid-battle, shaken by a shift they could not name.

  Far from blood-soaked cities, in a humble valley shrouded by peaks, life continued quietly.

  But that night, destiny struck.

  Several women gave birth at the same hour. Their children’s cries were drowned by the storm. And in Greenfield Village, a dead tree at the valley’s edge bloomed after decades of silence—struck by lightning, glowing briefly before fading into shadow.

  Only a handful saw it. None spoke of it.

  But travelers told stories. Of children born in the storm. Of signs. Of something ancient stirring once more.

  The tale spread—myth, prophecy, dream.

  And then, it vanished.

  Time buried the story beneath war and ruin.

  Now, seventeen years later, the martial world teeters on the brink of collapse. The prophecy is nearly forgotten.

  But somewhere…

  The wind begins to stir again.

  Windbreak Valley.

  Nestled in Xianhua’s Central Plains, hidden behind the Stormshield Mountains. A haven untouched by war. Within it lies Verdant Hearth, and at its edge—Greenfield Village.

  There lives Yoon Goo.

  Born in the night the storm roared.

  The third child of the Yoon family, raised in laughter, labor, and stories. His father, Yoon Gook, was a farmer. His mother, Hoon Na Yeon, a weaver. His siblings, each a note in the family’s music.

  Yoon Goo was different.

  Brilliant. Humble. A prodigy who hid his genius behind kindness and calloused hands. He worked the fields. Fixed roofs. Learned to forge, to cook, to plan. Never for glory—only to protect what he loved.

  Every morning, he labored at Verdant Table, the town’s bustling inn.

  Every afternoon, he trained at Ironclad Forge, strengthening both mind and body.

  Every night, he returned to his family—where warmth, tradition, and simple joys wrapped around him like armor.

  But tonight, something shifts.

  The wind stirs.

  Not loud. Not cruel.

  But listening.

  And far beyond the valley…

  Destiny opens its eyes.