I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

As I struggled to comprehend what had just happened, a powerful gust of wind swept in from nowhere. It dispelled the surrounding darkness, along with what I had mistaken for a mere black wall.

"Ah..."

At that moment, I realized I was standing in a place all too familiar. It was a rocky mountain, barren of any grass, shrouded in fog that distorted the surroundings, under a cloudy sky. This was Spirit Mountain, where I had spent ten years and which had become my second home.

And there, atop the rocky peak, stood a dilapidated pavilion. My master was seated there.

"Master?" I blurted out.

***

It was an unreal sight. I felt like I was dreaming, so I stared blankly before speaking again. "Master—"

"Why are you calling me?" he interrupted, his voice tinged with boredom.

I hesitated at his tone, and doubt crept in. "Are you really Master—"

Ttaak!

"Ack!" I yelped, sitting down...