Volume 5 – Embers in the Storm
Morning dew clung to the blades of grass like tiny tears from the mountain itself.
Baek Sun-Ho stood with his arms crossed on a cliffside terrace overlooking the mist-swept valleys beyond the tournament arena. The rising sun broke the horizon, bleeding orange light into the heavens.
Crrreeeaaaak
His joints cracked softly as he shifted posture—his body slowly adjusting to his new Grandmaster-level strength under a low Inner Core mask.
"I can feel your nerves," Master Jang's voice came from behind.
Sun-Ho didn't turn. "I'm not nervous. I'm calculating."
Master Jang chuckled. "Same thing. One just sweats less."
From behind them, the party stirred. Yul-Rin coughed herself awake, Yeon was already stretching like a cat, and Ma-Rok had sleepwalked into a tree.
"We're back on the schedule today," Ji-Mun muttered, flipping through his notebook. "Three duel brackets, and a 'special challenge' match from the host sect."
"Special?" Ma-Rok asked while rubbing his face. "Is it edible?"
"No," Ji-Mun replied. "But it might chew us."
So-Ri arrived, braid swinging behind her like a whip. "I asked around. The Jinrok Clan nominated their golden prodigy for the challenge. A direct descendant of their founder."
Yul-Rin's smile turned razor-sharp. "That's cute."
Master Jang raised a brow. "That would be… Yun Seung-Jae. From Skyfall Ridge."
The moment that name left his mouth, the air around Sun-Ho thinned slightly.
Whooom.
Even the birds seemed to pause mid-flight.
"You've heard of him?" So-Ri asked.
"He's the strongest of the heirs from the Five Great Clans. Trained by three masters, forged in real war, not tournaments. He's only eighteen, but they say he split a waterfall with a single strike," Jang replied.
"Isn't that just… a strong backhand?" Ma-Rok said, trying to lighten the mood.
Sun-Ho looked down at the arena far below. "Then it's time the waterfall met fire."
---
Arena Grounds — Midday
The crowd roared in waves.
WOOOOOO!
Spectators from dozens of sects leaned forward in their stone seats. Martial flags flapped like tongues of flame.
On the center platform stood Yun Seung-Jae. His robe was storm-grey, his expression like polished granite. He wore no weapons—his bare hands were wrapped in cloth, as though to protect the arena from him, not the other way around.
"The challenger from the Jinrok Clan… Yun Seung-Jae!"
DOOONG.
He bowed slightly to the elders before straightening, eyes sweeping the onlookers.
"I seek an opponent," he said. "One worthy enough to bleed."
Whispers crackled through the stands.
Sun-Ho stood up in the waiting gallery above. "I'll go," he said quietly.
But before he could move, Ji-Mun clamped a hand on his shoulder.
"No," Ji-Mun said. "Not now. You can't fight someone that well-known without risking your identity. They'll connect you to the Sovereign rumors."
So-Ri stepped forward. "I'll go instead. Let him measure my glaive before he dreams of bleeding you."
Sun-Ho hesitated. "It's a risk."
Her eyes flashed. "Then I'll make him bleed first."
---
The Duel Begins
The two stepped into the arena. Glaive met bare fists.
Clang! Whump! Swish!
So-Ri fought with rhythm and grace—each spin of her glaive a dance between flame and breath. But Yun Seung-Jae was like a mountain learning to move—slow at first, but once the motion began, unstoppable.
Thoom! A palm strike cratered the ground where So-Ri stood seconds before. She flipped over his arm and landed in a slide, cutting upward.
Chink! Her blade scraped his shoulder. A shallow cut.
Blood bloomed.
The crowd gasped. The beast had bled.
Seung-Jae straightened, touching the line of red. His eyes narrowed. "You're stronger than I expected."
"Still standing, aren't I?" So-Ri panted.
But inside, she was nearly at her limit.
From above, Sun-Ho's hand twitched—but he didn't move. His master's earlier words echoed: You must win your war without exposing your flame too early.
Ji-Mun murmured, "She's stalling… setting up something?"
"No," Sun-Ho replied. "She's proving something."
---
Final Clash
So-Ri let her glaive drag behind her as she advanced slowly, visibly exhausted. Seung-Jae relaxed his guard slightly—
—and she exploded into motion.
Whoosh! Swirl! Slam!
A flurry of feints, footwork, and one hidden strike—right at his ribs.
He staggered back.
Crowd: Ooooooh!
But he didn't fall.
Instead, Seung-Jae chuckled and raised a hand. "Enough. This one is… worthy. I yield."
The arena fell silent.
Then erupted.
"A woman forced him to yield?"
"Who is she? What sect trains like that?"
"They're not from any known faction…"
---
After the Duel
Back in their camp, So-Ri sat on a rock with an ice pack and pride in equal measure.
Sun-Ho knelt beside her, checking her pulse. "That was close."
"I could've done more if I wasn't holding back," she said with a smirk.
"I know," he said, and offered her a drink.
"Thanks for trusting me."
"You've always been my balance," he said quietly.
Yul-Rin whistled from behind them. "Hey lovebirds, save the drama for the next ambush. We've got rivals stacking up."
Yeon looked up from his drawing. "They're circling."
The camera of the world had shifted—Sun-Ho's nameless party had now become a force everyone watched.
And somewhere deep in the mountains, masked shadows watched back.
---
End of Chapter 49