Three days after the opening ceremony, whispers of an impossible tale spread through Golden Crane Academy. Kang Sung-Min - once mockingly called the "Mountain Dog" for his humble origins in the poorest village of the Eastern Peaks - had become the new Alliance Leader of the Murim world.

"Impossible," Young Master Yang scoffed in the Orthodox disciples' exclusive training ground. "A peasant who couldn't even afford proper qi cultivation manuals, leading the Murim Alliance?"

Yet the story of Kang's rise had already become legend among the common disciples. Born to a woodcutter, he had learned martial arts by observing wild animals and testing techniques against mountain winds. When bandits threatened his village, he developed a technique that could split boulders with a single palm strike. Within ten years, he had united the scattered mountain sects under his banner. Within twenty, even the proud Orthodox sects couldn't ignore his growing influence.

But it was his defeat of the notorious "Thousand Hands" Young Master Liu - heir to one of the greatest Orthodox sects - that truly shook the martial world. Using nothing but basic techniques refined to perfection, Kang had shown that true martial excellence knew no class boundaries.

Now, against all tradition, he had ascended to Alliance Leader.

Tae-Won frowned as he listened to the discussions. In his previous life, Kang's rise had taken another decade. The man had spent years carefully building alliances, surviving countless assassination attempts, and slowly eroding the Orthodox sects' power base. Only after the great calamity had weakened the major sects did Kang finally seize control of the Alliance.

Yet now...

"Young Master Jin." The voice came from Ming-Hua, who practiced alone in a distant courtyard - as expected of an Unorthodox sect disciple. "They say Kang's rise began shortly after a wandering warrior demonstrated some unusual techniques in the Northern provinces. Techniques that somehow seemed to know exactly how to counter Orthodox sect arts."

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Tae-Won kept his expression carefully neutral. Had his regression accelerated Kang's path to power?

The academy's messenger arrived bearing urgent news: house selections were delayed indefinitely. More shocking still, by decree of the new Alliance Leader, all students - regardless of birth - would have to prove their worth through combat.

"This is outrageous!" Young Lady Baek's jade hairpin crackled with qi. "First they let peasants and wanderers into these sacred halls, and now this?"

In the merchants' quarter, where common students resided, the mood was different:

"Kang Sung-Min rose from nothing, just like us. They say he still wears his father's woodcutter's pendant beneath his Alliance Leader robes..."

In the hidden valleys where Unorthodox practitioners gathered:

"Did you hear? He's already reformed three minor academies. The Orthodox sects couldn't stop him..."

And in the darkest corners, where even qi feared to linger:

"The Blood Emperor watches this upstart's rise with great interest... Perhaps chaos comes sooner than expected..."

That evening, Three separate meetings convened:

In the Orthodox Alliance's hidden chambers, proud masters plotted. "This peasant dares too much. Remember how he gained his title 'Mountain Tiger'? By defeating seven Orthodox young masters in a single night?"

In the shadows of the capital, Kang Sung-Min smiled as reports arrived. His reforms spread faster than even he had planned, sparked by political backlash and intrigue.

And in a fortress carved from black iron, the Heavenly Demon of the Demonic Cult received news of the growing chaos with satisfaction. If the Orthodox and Unorthodox sects were too busy fighting over Kang's reforms to watch their borders...

Tae-Won felt River's Heart pulse gently across his back. In his previous life, Kang's gradual rise had ultimately come too late to unite the martial world against true threats. Now events accelerated dangerously, sparked by Tae-Won's own actions.

In the distance, storm clouds gathered over the academy's peaks. Within their depths, thunder rumbled – or perhaps it was the sound of the old order beginning to crack.

The wheel of fate turned faster than anyone – except perhaps a warrior who had lived this life before – could have expected. And somewhere in the Eastern Peaks, a simple woodcutter's pendant still hung in the private chambers of the most powerful man in the martial world.