The sounds from Cheonwoohoe's training grounds had changed.
No longer just clashing swords and roaring shouts.Now—marching, positioning, callouts.
War games.
At the heart of it stood Miryeong, holding an old, annotated scroll.
"The Murim has its own idea of formations," she said to the assembled trainees."But they're built around lone masters—warriors who bend battles alone."
She raised the scroll—The Art of War.
"We won't fight that way.We'll fight as a unit, where no one is left behind—where the weakest strike with the strength of the many."
From the sidelines, Baek Wolhui watched, arms folded, eyes sharp.
"So we're replacing the sword of a master… with the discipline of an army."
Miryeong turned to her and smiled.
"Exactly.The imperial army taught me one thing:even legends fall—if they fight alone."
She paused.
"We'll adapt their tactics. Revise them.Build a version suited for the Murim—and for Cheonwoohoe."
The trainees adapted fast.
Shields interlocked. Formations shifted like flowing ink.Signals replaced shouting.
Lee Dohyun observed quietly.
"This power… it doesn't come from strength alone.It comes from order. From unity."
He turned to Wolhui.
"If even the weak can hold formation—then Cheonwoohoe becomes untouchable."
Wolhui nodded slowly.
"No more lone heroes.Only a moving, breathing army."
But not everyone was pleased.
In a quiet government office, an official delivered a report.
"Cheonwoohoe has begun military-style training.This isn't martial arts anymore—it's strategy, coordination, discipline."
His superior frowned.
"If they turn their strength against us…We might not be able to stop them."
Miryeong knew this would happen.
She cleaned her hands, tied her hair back, and walked into the bureaucratic lion's den.Calm. Unshaken.
To the seated magistrates, she bowed and spoke.
"What Cheonwoohoe builds is not an army for rebellion.It's a shield. For those who have none."
One official narrowed his eyes.
"And who taught you to think like this?"
She met his gaze.
"The palace.I was one of them—once."
Gasps. Whispers.
But she continued, unfazed.
"I left not to betray, but to rebuild.What the palace taught me to use in war…I now use to protect."
Back at the training grounds, Dohyun watched a drill team move with machine-like precision.
He spoke quietly to himself.
"We're not training soldiers.We're training survivors.And maybe—just maybe—revolutionaries."
****
Chapter : The Shadow Between Cheonwoohoe and the Throne
The whispers began at the palace long before the letters arrived.
Miryeong was moving—quietly, cleverly—and not just within Cheonwoohoe.
Behind closed doors, she was reactivating contacts.Old ties. Quiet debts. Forgotten loyalties within the imperial court.
But power never moves unnoticed.
"She's using Cheonwoohoe to build influence,"one minister hissed in a midnight gathering of the emperor's opposition."This isn't just about martial philosophy.This is politics—disguised as reform."
Eyes narrowed. Fists clenched.
"If we allow this," another muttered, "the balance in court will break.She could form her own power bloc."
They moved to investigate Cheonwoohoe's training structure.And to undermine Miryeong—before she became something more than a ghost from the palace.
But Cheonwoohoe wasn't alone.
Hwanggeumhoe, led by the always-smiling Jang Samgo, was working the other side.
With coin.
He met with officials, offering numbers and growth charts like a battlefield general presenting troop deployments.
"The market around Cheonwoohoe is exploding," he said, cup in hand."Backing them means backing prosperity.You like taxes, don't you?"
Smiles. Hesitations. Agreements.
Hong Yusang of Hongyu Pyoguk played a subtler game.
He placed Cheonwoohoe-trained pyosa into key routes—visible, competent, neutral.
"They aren't warriors.They're bridges.Between Jeongpa, Sapa, and even the court."
"If stability is what you seek," he told one official,"Cheonwoohoe provides it."
Still, pressure was building.
Miryeong knew it. She felt it in the tones of old allies. In the silence of new ones.
So she spoke—directly, this time.
To Lee Dohyun and the senior masters.
"They're watching me.The court's opposition thinks I'm building a faction."
Her voice was calm—but not without weight.
"But Cheonwoohoe... is the sum of everything I refused to become inside the palace.I will protect it. Even if the throne turns against me."
Dohyun looked at her and nodded.
"Then we'll protect you.And we'll prepare."
Meanwhile, in the training grounds, drills continued.
"If we fight like this," one trainee said, forming ranks with his squad,"even Jeongpa won't be able to overwhelm us."
"This isn't just martial arts anymore," another whispered."We're learning war."
Their formation moved, sharp and precise.
Cheonwoohoe was no longer just a place for wandering swordsmen.It was becoming something else.
A strategic force.A movement.
Back inside, Dohyun stood before the gathered trainees.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Cheonwoohoe is no longer about survival.We are the heart of a new Murim.The path ahead will not be easy—but it will be ours."
They stood taller at those words.
And far away, in a cold palace chamber,a single candle flickered.
The shadow it cast… pointed toward Cheonwoohoe.