The scroll in Han Bo-Rae's hand bore the golden insignia of the Scattered Swallow Pavilion—a sect famed not just for its network of informants, but for never delivering falsehoods. In Murim, a letter from them was more than paper. It was weight.
Baek Sun-Ho took the scroll with steady hands but an unreadable expression. He didn't break the seal immediately. Instead, he looked at Han Bo-Rae—tall, sharp-eyed, and composed like the string of a taut bow.
"You've traveled far," Sun-Ho said, finally.
Bo-Rae gave a small bow. "You are not easy to find. I had to ask a beggar king, bribe two boatmen, and follow the trail of campfire ashes that smelled faintly of despair and roasted acorns."
Ji-Mun coughed. "Hey! Our cooking's improving!"
Yul-Rin whispered behind her fan, "That's what's terrifying."
Sun-Ho ignored the banter and finally unrolled the scroll. The script was crisp, elegant, and unmistakably coded for someone of high standing. So-Ri and the others gathered behind him, eyes drawn to the ornate strokes even if they couldn't read them all.
To Baek Sun-Ho of the Dustcloud Sect, known traveler and ally of justice,
A convergence of fates approaches.
Your journey, once silent, is now echoed by powers greater than words. Among the Five Clans, there are stirrings. The Crimson Flame Sect prepares its successor. The Iron Law Clan has dispatched its Enforcers into the border provinces. And a third party—one cloaked even to our eyes—gathers ancient debts.
You are advised to seek the Silverpine Province. There, a name has resurfaced: "Gwan Cheol-Rang."
Those who knew him speak in half-breaths and burnt offerings. And yet, some say he walks again.
We do not know if he is friend or fate. But you must find him. Before your rivals do.
In the wind, we scatter. In the truth, we remain.
– The Pavilion
Silence.
Sun-Ho exhaled. "Gwan Cheol-Rang," he said quietly. "That name hasn't been heard in Murim for over a century. He was thought to have died during the Eclipse Rebellion."
Master Jang Cheol-Oh narrowed his eyes. "He was no ordinary martial artist. They say he fought off three Grandmasters while bleeding to death."
"And disappeared after," Sun-Ho said. "No body. No tomb. Just... gone."
Ma-Rok squinted. "Maybe he's a ghost. Or a retired gardener."
Ji-Mun grinned. "Hey, if I beat three Grandmasters, I'd retire and grow cucumbers too."
So-Ri, however, was quiet, lips pressed in thought. "If someone is trying to claim that name now, it's for a reason."
Yul-Rin nodded. "And if even the Pavilion can't confirm if it's truly him, then it's either someone with immense skill in concealment—or something more."
Sun-Ho looked at each of them. His allies. His odd, sharp, brave, loyal group.
"Then we go to Silverpine."
---
That night, camp was quiet.
The stars hung lower than usual, it seemed—perhaps eavesdropping on mortals with too much weight on their shoulders. Sun-Ho sat apart from the others, the scroll beside him, and a single flame from his fingertip dancing over a dry twig. It burned white.
"You're thinking of using your masked identity again," Master Jang said, appearing beside him with a cup of tea. Not asking—stating.
Sun-Ho offered a wry smile. "The Elementless Sovereign has been too quiet. If we move into contested territory, we'll need both voices."
"And which voice speaks when your blade cuts?"
"The one that doesn't draw attention to a certain heir candidate," Sun-Ho said.
Jang nodded approvingly. "Good. You're learning."
Sun-Ho looked at him. "Tell me, Master... what do you think the others would do if they found out I'm both?"
"They'd follow you anyway," Jang said. "But this way, they laugh more."
That earned a small chuckle from Sun-Ho.
A distant sound broke the moment. A gentle clink, like wind chimes, followed by a soft whoosh.
Wheee.
Sun-Ho stood, and so did Jang. Yul-Rin emerged from her tent with a lantern, followed by Ma-Rok already strapping on his gauntlets.
So-Ri's voice came from behind them. "Scouts on the ridge. No aggression yet."
Ji-Mun popped out last, holding a frying pan. "Just in case they want eggs?"
Sun-Ho's expression sharpened.
"We may have visitors... or a warning."
---
The figures on the ridge weren't hostile.
They wore robes of woven silver and green—obviously sect-affiliated, but with no sigils or clan emblems. A woman stepped forward from among them, middle-aged, her hair tightly braided, eyes like steel behind misted glasses.
She bowed.
"Baek Sun-Ho. My name is Cho Ran of the Independent Sect of Wandering Scholars."
Everyone blinked.
Ji-Mun leaned toward Ma-Rok. "Are they dangerous?"
"They sound educated," Ma-Rok muttered.
Cho Ran continued. "We do not serve the Five Clans. We do not seek power. But our library was destroyed twenty years ago by the Iron Law Clan, and you... you've started interfering with them."
She handed him a book. The title was scorched off, but the pages inside were intact.
"We believe our goals may align. If you accept, our information is yours. Our blades, if needed, too."
Sun-Ho glanced at the others. None said a word. Then Ji-Mun coughed.
"Do they cook?"
Yul-Rin sighed. "We'll take the alliance."
Sun-Ho nodded. "Tell your people: we'll listen."
Cho Ran bowed again. "Then Silverpine shall greet you... as friends."
---
End of Chapter 54