I am the youngest son of the Jaegal Clan's leader — and a useless one.
At the age of twelve, it was discovered that I suffer from an incurable condition: I am unable to cultivate or manipulate formations. For my family, that was the same as being dead.
Without honor, without a future, I was exiled to a place no one took seriously: the Low Mist Sect, a handful of forgotten monks in the mountains — without warriors, without reputation, without power.
The only thing they cultivate is silence.
Called cowards and a joke by the entire Murim world, they do not raise swords — but they know exactly where they will fall.
And there, among shadows and silence… I began to see the world as it truly is.