Part I: The Tiger's Fang
The training fields behind the Woonryong Hall smelled of sweat and steel.
Mujin panted, clothes torn, a fresh bruise forming on his cheek. Opposite him stood Seo Hwarang, a senior disciple with the eyes of a predator and a temper like wildfire.
"You think this is a place for lost puppies and journalists?" Hwarang sneered. "Pick up the wooden blade."
Mujin didn't flinch. He picked it up.
They clashed.
Hwarang moved like a blade in a storm—slashes sharp, footwork elegant. Mujin blocked and parried, but only barely. His muscles screamed, mind spinning.
One misstep, and Hwarang knocked the weapon from his grip.
Mujin hit the ground.
"You'll die before the Gate reopens," Hwarang muttered.
"I didn't ask to be here," Mujin spat. "But I'll survive."
Elder Gihyeon watched in silence. Then nodded once.
"He's not here to impress you, Hwarang. He's here to remember who he is."
Part II: The Mirror of Mind
That night, Mujin wandered to the Hall of Reflections—a secluded room filled with ancient bronze mirrors.
One in the center shimmered with qi. Woon Gihyeon gestured.
"Stand before it."
"What is it?"
"A mirror that shows the shape of your soul."
Mujin stepped forward.
His reflection flickered. Then twisted.
He saw himself as a child—alone in a small apartment. His father yelling in another room. A broken toy in his hands. A moment long forgotten.
Then the image changed. His wife. Her soft smile… fading. And then—
His missing junior.
Blood soaked the mirror. Mujin stepped back, heart pounding.
"You carry ghosts," Gihyeon said quietly.
"They're not ghosts," Mujin whispered. "They're reasons."
Part III: The Whispering Blade
In the stillness of the Hall, something shifted.
A sword appeared in the mirror.
It was ethereal, floating in the glass. Wrapped in crimson ribbons. Its name echoed faintly:
"Sanggeom—the Whispering Blade."
Suddenly, the mirror cracked.
The blade burst forth into reality—landing at Mujin's feet.
Gihyeon's eyes widened. "Impossible. That sword was sealed…"
"Sanggeom only answers those who've died once and lived twice," he muttered.
Mujin touched the hilt. It hummed in his palm. Not cold. Not warm.
Alive.
Epilogue: Tiger's Debt
The next morning, Seo Hwarang approached Mujin.
He knelt briefly. "I saw the blade. You… are not what I thought."
Mujin didn't respond.
But inside, he felt the whisper of the sword echo through his veins.
Not a warrior. Not yet.
But no longer just a man from Seoul.
He was becoming a myth.
To be continued...