Dust lifted as their feet touched the edge of Stoneroot Vale, a neutral trading town nestled between three minor sect borders. Martial nomads, cast-off disciples, rogue cultivators, and injured veterans wandered through the dusty streets like moths circling a candle too dim to ignite war, but too warm to ignore.
Sun-Ho adjusted his robe, hood pulled low. So-Ri followed close beside him, eyes alert. Master Jang Cheol-Oh led their small group with one hand scratching his back lazily, the other gripping a skewer of grilled meat.
Trailing behind them, the boy walked barefoot.
Still silent.
Still watching.
---
The Boy's Pulse
They passed a group of rowdy sect disciples harassing a peddler by the town square. The quiet boy paused mid-step. His eyes narrowed. His fists clenched.
Crack.
The air snapped faintly around him—like space itself recoiled.
Sun-Ho turned instantly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Not now."
The boy froze… then exhaled.
The tension dissolved.
So-Ri gave Sun-Ho a sidelong glance. "You're the only one he listens to."
"I don't think it's listening," Sun-Ho murmured. "It's recognition. Like he sees something in me that calms him."
Behind them, Jang muttered, "Took me a week to stop him from blowing holes in trees whenever a squirrel startled him."
---
The Poisoned Sky and the Iron Wall
At the center of the town stood a circular arena, half-ruined, now used for duels and barter deals between small sects. It was there that Sun-Ho first saw them.
A crowd had gathered. Two lone cultivators faced a rampaging beast—some kind of corrupted mountain wolf with metal scales and blackened eyes.
The first figure was a girl in green robes, dual-toned with silver linings. She flung glowing needles with unerring precision, each one coated in faint purple mist. Her movements were surgical, calculating.
Each throw made the beast stumble.
Tchk! Tchk!
The second was a broad-shouldered man, skin tan, armor layered over thick monk-style robes. He didn't move much. He didn't have to.
He stood before the wolf and took the charge head-on.
BOOM!
The impact sounded like a mountain collapsing. Yet he remained standing—legs dug into the stone, shield braced, unmoved.
---
Coordinated Chaos
"Left flank!" the girl called.
Without a word, the man lifted his shield and diverted the beast's charge just enough—exposing the creature's side.
Shck! Shck! Shck!
Three darts struck vital points.
The beast faltered. It tried to retreat.
Too late.
The man stepped forward and struck the ground.
BOOM.
A tremor surged beneath the beast's feet. It stumbled—and the girl's final needle embedded cleanly in its eye.
Tchh—KRAK!
The crowd clapped, some with respect, others with awe.
Sun-Ho narrowed his eyes.
"They're not just strong. They're coordinated."
So-Ri nodded. "They barely speak. But they move like they've fought a hundred battles together."
Master Jang leaned over. "Heard they're mercenaries. Orphans taken in by an old war monk sect. Don't talk to anyone. Don't trust anyone. They've been wandering since the temple burned."
Sun-Ho stepped forward.
---
First Sparks of Recognition
Later that evening, as the town returned to its hum of trade and gossip, Sun-Ho approached the pair near the riverbank where they were cleaning blood from their gear.
"Your teamwork is impressive," he said plainly.
The girl looked up. Her eyes were pale silver, almost unnatural. The man gave no reaction.
"We're not looking for contracts," she said.
"I'm not offering one."
Silence.
Then the boy—still silent—walked up behind Sun-Ho and stared at the man's shield.
Without warning, he reached out and tapped it with his fingers.
Thrum.
A pulse of energy echoed out, invisible but sharp.
The man's eyes finally flicked toward the boy.
Sun-Ho watched the reaction, measured it.
> That shield is more than it looks. And he felt something from the kid.
"I'm Baek Sun-Ho," he said, nodding.
The girl hesitated… then returned a curt nod. "I'm Yul-Rin. That's Ma-Rok."
"I've heard of you," she added. "You walked away from the North Hollow duel without drawing your sword."
So-Ri, behind him, smirked. "Only because drawing it would've burned down the town."
Ma-Rok, the stoic tank, glanced briefly at Sun-Ho's hand.
Then back to the boy.
The tension between the four shifted—just slightly.
Not alliance. But interest.
---
Seeds of Loyalty
As night fell over Stoneroot Vale, Sun-Ho leaned against the inn balcony, watching torches flicker along the distant road. The boy sat nearby, tracing lines on the wood with a stick.
Behind them, So-Ri approached with a warm towel and pressed it gently to the side of Sun-Ho's neck.
"You keep turning strangers into allies," she said.
"I don't want to be surrounded by soldiers," he replied.
"Then what?"
He looked out into the stars.
"By people who choose to walk beside me… even if no one commands them to."
---
[End of Chapter 16]