The morning mist curled along the edges of the path like a cautious observer, unsure whether to welcome or challenge the traveling group.
Whshhh.
Leaves rustled overhead, the trees whispering secrets to each other in the dawn light.
Baek Sun-Ho led the group in silence, his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. The duel with Kang Ryul had left ripples in the air—small, silent ones—for now. But ripples had a habit of becoming waves.
Ji-Mun, walking backward for sport, grinned. "So, how long until another overconfident genius throws himself at your feet?"
"Hopefully never," Sun-Ho replied, tone flat.
"He means by lunchtime," So-Ri added, drawing a chuckle from Ma-Rok.
Yul-Rin tossed a dried herb in her mouth and chewed slowly. "Not that I mind, but we've been traveling off the main roads lately. Trying to stay quiet, are we?"
Sun-Ho nodded. "If the masked one is too loud…" he looked meaningfully at everyone, "then the rightful heir might get drowned in the noise."
Yeon tilted his head and made a faint humming sound, watching a butterfly drift by. He was still quiet as ever, but Sun-Ho had begun to notice a pattern—he stuck closer to the group now, like he trusted them not to break.
The group slowed as a large formation of boulders came into view. A perfect resting spot.
Master Jang stretched with a groan. "My bones hate morning marches."
"I thought grandmasters didn't get sore?" Ji-Mun teased.
"They don't," Jang said. "But I cultivated a deep appreciation for complaining."
Crack!
Ma-Rok crushed a twig underfoot and turned his head sharply. "Movement. Left ridge."
Everyone stilled. Insects stopped humming. Even the wind paused.
---
The party had paused earlier for a makeshift breakfast under a crooked tree, each contributing to the fire-cooked chaos in their own way.
Ji-Mun held up a charred skewer with pride. "I call this one... Flaming Regret."
Yul-Rin peered over. "You mean the one you forgot on the fire for half an hour?"
"I was seasoning it with time," Ji-Mun countered.
So-Ri rolled her eyes and offered Yeon a neatly wrapped rice ball. "Here. One of us deserves actual food."
Yeon blinked, nodded, and quietly took it. Then, to everyone's surprise, he held out a second one—offering it back to her.
She blinked. "You made this?"
He shrugged, but there was a twitch of a smile.
Ma-Rok, meanwhile, gnawed on something disturbingly crunchy. "Whatever this is," he said through the chewing, "has the consistency of roof tile. Ten out of ten."
"I believe that's actual dried roof tile," Yul-Rin muttered.
Master Jang didn't join in. He simply sipped tea with closed eyes, projecting the calm of a man pretending not to travel with lunatics.
Sun-Ho sat with his legs crossed, observing them with a wry expression.
"You all realize we're supposed to be low-profile, right?" he asked. "Maybe we shouldn't advertise our position with a smell best described as 'burnt forest.'"
Ji-Mun grinned. "Fear is the best seasoning."
"Tell that to your stomach in two hours," Yul-Rin replied.
Crack.
That was when Ma-Rok stepped on the twig—and the tension surged again.
---
Sun-Ho's fingers curled slightly, gathering Qi instinctively.
A figure stepped into view—tall, cloaked, non-threatening… and smiling.
"Morning, travelers," the stranger said cheerfully. "I was wondering if you'd pass through here. Mind if I share your fire for a moment?"
Jang's eyes narrowed.
Sun-Ho didn't relax. "That depends. Are you a merchant, a monk, or a problem?"
"Ah," the man said, spreading his arms. "I'm part of the Scattered Swallow Pavilion."
Ji-Mun blinked. "That... sounds familiar."
"It's a neutral sect," So-Ri whispered. "They're peacekeepers. Wanderers who collect information but don't involve themselves directly."
The man bowed. "I'm called Han Bo-Rae. And don't worry, I'm not here to pick a fight. I just bring... word."
Sun-Ho met his gaze evenly. "Word about what?"
Han Bo-Rae stepped forward and sat on a flat stone, pulling out a thin wooden box from his sleeve. He opened it. Inside were nine small scrolls, sealed in wax.
"Names," he said. "Of the remaining contenders for the Murim Alliance leadership."
The group tensed.
Sun-Ho raised a brow. "You carry that kind of list around?"
"I carry a hundred things. Most people only see one." He handed the box to Master Jang, who examined it before passing it to Sun-Ho.
The wax bore different clan marks—some ancient, some new. One of them had a faint bloodstain, long dried.
"These are who's left?" Sun-Ho asked quietly.
Han Bo-Rae nodded. "Some by skill, others by luck. A few by... darker paths. But all of them will stand in your way."
So-Ri frowned. "Why share this with us?"
Bo-Rae smiled. "Because you need to know what kind of game you've stepped into. I don't take sides—but I'd rather the players know who holds the knives."
Sun-Ho closed the box slowly. "Appreciated. Now I assume you'll vanish?"
"Of course." The man rose, stretching. "I was never here."
Wheee...
The wind stirred as he walked into the trees. Within moments, he was gone.
Silence settled again.
Ma-Rok broke it. "Should we be worried?"
Jang shook his head. "We should be aware. That's different."
Ji-Mun crossed his arms. "I kind of liked not knowing who I might get stabbed by."
Sun-Ho looked at the sealed scrolls in his hand. Each name inside was a possible future—each one, a rival with their own ideals, their own ambitions, and their own power.
He turned to his companions. "We'll open one scroll each night. Study their histories. Understand them. I won't defeat them just by being stronger."
So-Ri nodded. "Strategy, finally."
Ji-Mun sighed. "That's not as fun as punching."
Yeon stepped forward. He pointed at Sun-Ho, then tapped his own chest. He repeated it slowly.
You are me?
Sun-Ho smiled faintly. "No, Yeon. But I'm fighting for your future too."
---
That night, as the stars blinked into view above the black hills, Sun-Ho sat by the fire and opened the first scroll.
A single name burned into his mind.
Do Seung-Hwan – a prodigy of the Crimson Lightning Sect, rumored to control bloodline-enhancing techniques and having never lost a duel since childhood.
Sun-Ho folded the scroll and tossed another log into the fire.
The sparks rose like tiny warriors charging into the night.
And tomorrow, one more rival would be unveiled.
---
End of Chapter 53