The battlefield was a ruin of torn earth and scattered ash.
Moonlight filtered through drifting smoke as Sun-Ho stood at the center of the wreckage, his breath slow but deliberate. Around him, unconscious bodies lay sprawled—none dead, but all broken in pride. The ambushers hadn't expected their prey to be a hurricane wrapped in flesh.
So-Ri flicked her fan once, the bloodied edge catching starlight before she sheathed it. "Reckless, even for you."
"Knew they were tracking us," Sun-Ho said calmly. "Just decided to make the trap my own."
Yul-Rin crouched near one of the fallen. "Southern Valley Sect scouts again. Same insignia."
Ma-Rok dragged his hammer from a tree trunk, bark and splinters flying loose. "They'll be back. Their pride's bruised."
Ji-Mun peered into the trees, frowning. "This far into contested ground… They're not just gathering info. They're guarding something."
Master Jang stepped forward with a yawn, brushing soot off his robe. "If we're lucky, they're guarding something interesting."
Sun-Ho's eyes narrowed. "They wouldn't send two scouting groups unless they were trying to redirect us… or protect a route. We follow where they came from."
Yeon tilted his head, scribbled something in the dirt, and pointed east. A few smudged symbols marked his best guess at enemy movement.
So-Ri nodded. "He's right. Their footprints shift east before doubling back."
"We're being herded," Sun-Ho muttered. "Time to step off the trail."
---
As the early sun peeked through the trees, the party gathered around a tiny fire. Breakfast—such as it was—consisted of half-burnt rice cakes, one questionable root vegetable, and whatever Yul-Rin had decided was edible.
"Are you sure this mushroom isn't poisonous?" Ji-Mun asked, holding up a suspiciously glowing cap.
Yul-Rin arched a brow. "Only mildly. It builds resistance."
"I'm trying to build abs, not immunity."
So-Ri grinned. "Same thing with your luck."
Ma-Rok crunched into something hard and immediately frowned. "Was that a rock?"
"That was your own tooth," Ji-Mun mumbled, poking at the rice with a stick. "This is why I never complain. The gods punish us through breakfast."
Master Jang calmly poured tea from a tiny kettle as if he were at a noble banquet. "You all bicker too much. In my day, we ate roots and called them blessings."
"We are eating roots," Sun-Ho muttered.
Yeon tapped his parchment with a stick and wrote in neat letters:
"This is why I'm not hungry."
Sun-Ho read it, sighed, and handed the boy a bit of jerky he'd hidden. "Don't tell the others."
Yeon nodded and then pointedly held it up like a victory trophy.
"Traitor," Ji-Mun said, dramatically falling backward.
---
The next morning…
Wheee—
The wind whispered cold warnings through the mountain pass as the group cut south through the high ridge.
Below them, an old fort—crumbled but guarded—rose like a scar from the trees. Bandits didn't guard ruins. But sects protecting secrets did.
Sun-Ho crouched on a rock ledge, observing through a small brass scope.
So-Ri joined him. "What do you see?"
"Too much discipline for outlaws. I count six perimeter guards, moving in tight patterns."
"Which sect?"
He adjusted the focus. "Can't see their sigils. But their robes bear an older design… Northern Ink Sect, maybe?"
Ji-Mun groaned. "One of the Five Greats' watchdogs. If they're here, something valuable is too."
Yul-Rin smirked. "Then we should introduce ourselves."
"No." Sun-Ho lowered the scope. "Not as ourselves."
They turned to look at him.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out the familiar white mask.
A hush fell.
So-Ri raised an eyebrow. "You're really pulling out the Sovereign?"
Sun-Ho shrugged. "They're already hunting him. Might as well live up to the rumors."
Master Jang poured tea calmly behind them. "Just remember—rumors are easy to build. Harder to outgrow."
"Good," Sun-Ho said. "Let them overestimate me. It makes underestimating me easier later."
Ji-Mun laughed. "A walking contradiction. I'm in."
Yul-Rin pulled out a smoke vial. "We doing this loud or silent?"
Sun-Ho stood and donned the mask. "Let's make it loud enough to leave a message, but quiet enough to leave no names."
Ma-Rok stretched. Kwak—muscles cracking. "I call the front gate."
---
That night…
Fwoosh—
A flare burst above the ruins, painting the sky in crimson.
Screams followed—sharp, cut short by disciplined strikes.
Sun-Ho moved like a phantom—his blade trailing fire and flickers of gold. The guards' formations broke before they could react. The masked figure that cut through them was not human to their eyes, but myth embodied.
"Who is that—?" one managed before Sun-Ho's qi pulse knocked him cold without a touch.
Behind him, So-Ri's fan fluttered with blinding grace, parrying three strikes and retaliating with razor winds.
Yul-Rin's poisons bloomed in pale clouds—silent, paralyzing.
Ma-Rok tore the gate from its hinges with a laugh that echoed like thunder.
Within minutes, it was over.
Sun-Ho stepped into the ruins' heart—a locked vault carved into the stone. His hand hovered over it.
Burn marks. Old. But recently disturbed.
He turned to So-Ri. "This place held something sacred. It's already gone."
Ji-Mun caught up, panting. "Then someone beat us to it?"
Sun-Ho didn't answer immediately. He stared at the ash on the ground—shaped like a footprint.
A large one.
So-Ri frowned. "Another faction?"
"Possibly." He stood slowly. "But someone powerful is moving ahead of us. And they know exactly where to look."
Master Jang sipped his tea again, even as firelight bathed the ruins. "Then it's a race, children. And we've only just stretched our legs."
---
End of Chapter 59