Chapter 25: The Weight of Two Mountains
The snow still fell, thin and steady, painting the world in quiet white. My friends stood frozen, staring at the man who had just shattered thirty hardened killers with nothing more than his presence.
So-Yeon whispered, "That's… your father?"
Dan, for once, didn't grin. "I thought you said he was strong. You didn't say that strong."
I could not answer. My chest was too full.
Baek Do-Hyun finally turned to them, his gaze sharp as the edge of a whetted blade. "Your companions are loyal. Keep them." His tone was as much an order as it was approval.
Then, his eyes returned to me. "Follow."
There was no hesitation. I obeyed.
He led me deeper into the pines, where the wind howled like an old spirit and the snow weighed heavy upon the branches. At last, he stopped in a clearing, a circle of frost beneath his boots.
"You've grown taller," he said, his back still to me. "But height alone will not lift you above the world."
I tightened my grip on my sword. "I've been training hard."
At that, he finally faced me, a faint smirk tugging at his scarred lips. "Training? Show me."
Before I could even breathe, he moved. A flicker, faster than my eyes could follow, and suddenly his blade was unsheathed, pressing against my collarbone with the gentlest hint of pressure.
"You're dead."
I swallowed hard. He had crossed the space between us in less time than it took me to blink.
He stepped back, resheathing his sword with a crisp shhk. "Again."
This time, I was ready. I roared, bringing my greatsword down in a sweeping arc that cracked the frozen earth. Snow burst upward, blinding the air—yet when it settled, Father was already behind me.
"Too slow. Too heavy."
I spun, swinging again, only for him to parry with a single finger against my flat blade. The force of it rattled my bones, sent me staggering back.
"Power is not strength. Endurance is not mastery." His voice was steady, like a bell tolling truth. "You swing like a giant trying to uproot the heavens. But the heavens do not fear weight—they fear precision."
I panted, sweat freezing against my brow despite the cold. "Then teach me."
For the first time, his smirk deepened into a true smile. "Good. You're ready to listen."
The training lasted until the sun touched the horizon, staining the snowfields red. He had me strike not with force, but with restraint—every swing measured, every step balanced against the weight of my own body.
"Control your storm," he said, circling me like a wolf. "A storm that rages endlessly destroys itself. But a storm that strikes at the right time reshapes the earth."
His words carved themselves into me, each lesson biting deeper than the cold. For hours, I struck, stepped, adjusted, until the blade no longer felt like an anchor but like an extension of breath.
At last, Father halted. His gaze grew serious. "Good. But your sword is not the only trial before you."
He pulled a folded paper from his sleeve and tossed it to me. The seal was broken already, crimson wax cracked like dried blood.
I opened it. The words inside chilled me more than the winter air.
A bounty. On me.
No—on us.
The letter named Mount Hwa disciples as targets. Rewards promised by a coalition of mercenary bands from the southern provinces.
Father's voice rumbled low. "Those men weren't simple brigands. They were hired. Someone fears Mount Hwa's awakening. Someone with reach."
I clenched the paper in my fist. "Who?"
His eyes darkened. "There are three sects who would gain from our silence. But only one bold enough to move so openly: the Iron Fang Sect."
I had heard the name. Ruthless. Wealthy. A wolf sect that thrived on crushing others before they could rise.
My chest burned. "Then let me fight them."
"Not yet." His tone was iron. "You are strong, Blossom. Stronger than most your age. But strength that rushes to meet an enemy too early is strength wasted."
He rested a heavy hand on my shoulder, the weight of it both grounding and overwhelming. "Train harder. Grow steadier. When the time comes, you will not face them alone. But you must live long enough to face them."
I nodded, jaw tight. His words sank into me like a seed buried deep beneath the snow—waiting for spring to bloom.
That night, as we returned to Dan and So-Yeon, the fire crackling between us, I did not speak of the bounty.
But as I lay awake beneath the winter sky, I thought only of Father's words.
The Iron Fang Sect.
The storm within me was still clumsy, still raw. But one day, when it was ready—
I would let it strike.
And when it did, the heavens themselves would tremble.