Smoke curled lazily from the cracked stone of the ruined fort as morning light filtered in through broken beams. Embers still smoldered in spots, while the scent of scorched moss clung stubbornly to the air.
Yul-Rin sneezed.
"That's it," she said, glaring at the blackened ground. "I'm requesting hazard pay. If I inhale one more fungal spore, I'm quitting this righteous rebellion."
Ji-Mun, crouched beside a fallen pillar, raised an eyebrow. "You're not even being paid."
"I'll invoice you retroactively."
Ma-Rok sat heavily on a chunk of stone, pulled out a roasted root vegetable from his pack, and took a huge bite. "Tastes better with ash."
So-Ri sighed. "Why are we like this?"
Sun-Ho didn't answer. He stood at the center of the chamber where a sacred relic had once rested. Charred footprints scarred the floor—bigger than his, heavier. Authority radiated from their impression like an afterimage that refused to fade.
"Whoever came," he murmured, "was no thief. They didn't break in—they walked in like it was theirs."
So-Ri approached, holding a fragment of scorched silk embroidered with the symbol of the Five Peaks Assembly.
"Relic guardians," she said. "But disbanded centuries ago."
"Or operating from the shadows all this time," Master Jang added, brushing soot from his sleeve.
Ji-Mun whistled, "Now they're being robbed too? What's next? Dragons pickpocketing empires?"
Sun-Ho stared at the burned sigil. "We're not the only ones after the lost legacies. Someone got here first—and they wanted us to know it."
---
A Hidden Room
Behind a cracked altar, Yeon tapped twice on a hollowed wall panel. Everyone turned as he wedged it open with a small iron rod and revealed a narrow passage descending underground.
Sun-Ho grabbed a torch and motioned the others to follow.
The stairwell opened into a forgotten chamber, its walls lined with faded murals—warriors in flowing robes, beasts bound by seals, and what looked like a massive tree with burning roots.
Yul-Rin leaned closer. "These murals… some depict the early Murim accords."
So-Ri's voice lowered. "And others show them being broken."
In the center of the chamber sat a dust-covered pedestal, its contents removed, but a single line carved beneath remained:
> "When balance is stolen, only the elementless may restore the flame."
Sun-Ho's fingers brushed the inscription. "Elementless…"
He reached into his robe and retrieved a burnished gold token, shaped like a lotus with five hollow circles at its edges.
The others stared.
Ji-Mun blinked. "You've been carrying that since when?"
"Since before I remembered why," Sun-Ho said.
Master Jang gave him a wry smile. "You always did like dramatic foreshadowing."
---
Later That Evening
The group reached a riverside village tucked in a hidden valley—wooden homes with lanterns swaying gently in the wind. It looked peaceful, but the tension from the vault clung to them like smoke.
So-Ri negotiated rooms while Ji-Mun claimed an entire table at the inn for himself.
Yul-Rin muttered, "He's going to sleep with soup stains again."
Ma-Rok took Yeon aside to teach him how to chop wood with a hammer. The boy tried twice, nearly destroyed the chopping block, and smiled faintly.
As the moon climbed the sky, Sun-Ho walked toward the water's edge.
Master Jang joined him. "You recognized the footprint, didn't you?"
---
The Dumpling Debate
The inn's fire crackled warmly as the group gathered around a low table. Plates of steamed dumplings, fresh greens, and fire-roasted chestnuts filled the space between them.
Ji-Mun bit into a dumpling and groaned with joy. "Finally. Food that doesn't smell like regret."
"You mean unlike your cooking," Yul-Rin said dryly, sipping her herbal tea.
"Hey! My pinecone stew was a survival masterpiece."
Ma-Rok rumbled a laugh. "I still have nightmares about it."
So-Ri smiled faintly, nudging a bowl toward Yeon. "Try the cabbage ones. They're not spicy."
The boy nodded once, picked one up delicately, and ate it in two bites. Then—shockingly—he reached for another on his own.
Yul-Rin leaned over to So-Ri and whispered, "He's opening up. Slowly. Like a very cautious mushroom."
Sun-Ho watched them all with a small smile but didn't eat. His eyes drifted toward the window, toward the river beyond.
"So," Ji-Mun said, mouth full, "anyone want to bet how long it takes before another sect comes sniffing around?"
"Three days," Ma-Rok said.
"Two," Yul-Rin countered.
"I'm going with six hours," So-Ri murmured. "Give or take the next mistake we make."
"I vote never," Ji-Mun said. "Positive vibes only."
Sun-Ho finally chuckled. "We're far beyond the reach of 'positive vibes.'"
"Pity," Ji-Mun sighed, raising his cup. "To the world not ending before dessert."
They clinked cups, even Yeon with a tiny thimbleful of plum juice. He still didn't speak, but when Sun-Ho met his gaze, the boy gave a small nod of approval. Just enough to make Sun-Ho's smile linger.
From the next room, Master Jang's voice called out, "Stop betting on disasters! At least pretend we're a respectable martial party!"
"We're eating our vegetables!" Ji-Mun shouted back.
"Lies!" came Jang's response. "There are no vegetables in your mouth, only dumplings and sarcasm!"
Laughter broke out around the table.
For a moment, they weren't rebels or warriors or heirs to forgotten legacies. They were just companions, wrapped in warmth, filling their bellies, and pretending that everything outside the inn walls could wait just one more night.
But outside, the river wind began to stir.
And Sun-Ho's smile faded as he rose quietly from the table.
---
"Yes," Sun-Ho replied. "It wasn't just power. It was ownership."
Jang sipped his tea. "Then it's starting again."
"I hoped it wouldn't."
"Hope is for people without masks."
---
Midnight – The Meeting
The stars glittered overhead. At the edge of the forest, cloaked in shadow, a figure appeared—face hidden beneath a triangular hat, robes stitched with fading symbols.
"You're late," the man said.
"I was followed," Sun-Ho replied.
The man nodded. "Good. That means the others will follow your myth."
"You took the relic?"
"It was never meant for you."
Sun-Ho narrowed his eyes. "Then why leave the footprint?"
"Because you're the only one who'll understand it. You're not just the sovereign—they want you to become the monster Murim fears."
"And you?"
"I want balance," the man said, voice barely above a whisper. "And I know what you'll become if you lose it."
He stepped back into the woods.
"Go west," he added. "Before the frost moon rises."
"What's there?"
"The second key."
Sun-Ho stood in silence long after he was gone. He looked down at the token again—the symbol of the Elementless Sovereign.
Then he turned, wind whipping his cloak behind him, and returned to the firelight where his party still waited.
---
End of Chapter 60