The morning was not loud, but it wasn't quiet either.
Sun-Ho stood beneath a fluttering banner just outside the neutral fortress zone, his arms folded behind him. He wore no mask. No flare of fire or lightning lit his steps. He stood simply—as Baek Sun-Ho, in plain robes, like a disciple returning from a long journey.
Yet the eyes of dozens watched.
Word of the masked Sovereign's duel had spread fast. But now the myth had a face.
A messenger from the assembly—a man in clean silver robes with a black crane crest—approached and bowed stiffly. "The Council of Selection acknowledges your arrival. You may enter and claim your platform."
Sun-Ho gave a small bow. "And the others?"
"They are already present. You'll be the last to arrive… officially."
He smiled faintly at that. "Then let's not keep royalty waiting."
The gates opened.
---
Inside the stone hall, five circular platforms formed a star, each occupied by a representative of Murim's potential future.
To the left stood Jin Ye-Hwa, elegance made manifest. Her silks shimmered like water and her gaze was unreadable—predatory in its grace. She gave Sun-Ho a curt nod, then turned away.
Across from her, Kang Mu-Jin stood like a wall carved from jade and anger. His arms were folded, his presence unwavering. He looked at Sun-Ho like one studies a landslide: with caution and inevitability.
The other two candidates were less renowned but equally deadly:
Rin Se-Ha of the Eastern Wilds Sect—lean, wiry, eyes darting constantly. He hadn't spoken a word but had traced invisible patterns on his sleeve since Sun-Ho entered.
Nam Do-Gyun, rumored to be the son of a court official and the puppet of a hidden sect. He smiled too much. And too slowly.
Ji-Mun muttered from behind Sun-Ho, "Looks like we're at a wedding for knives."
Ma-Rok added, "Someone coughs wrong, and it'll be raining bodies."
So-Ri walked beside Sun-Ho, calm but alert. Her fans were hidden in her sleeves, and her gaze drifted constantly—measuring posture, weight shift, breath.
As Sun-Ho stepped onto his platform, he sensed it—testing auras. Flares of qi sent like questions. Was he real? Was he bluff?
He didn't answer with power.
He just stood. Calm. Still.
The silence broke when a monk-like figure entered through the back—robed in gold and black, with the seal of the Council of Selection on his back. His voice rang clear, carried with cultivated detachment.
"Five candidates. Five paths. One leader."
The process had begun.
---
Later – Outside the Hall
The party walked back to their assigned quarter.
"Well," Ji-Mun said, stretching. "I'm either impressed or terrified."
"I think we're being hunted politically," Yul-Rin muttered, adjusting a scroll she had tucked into her sleeve.
Yeon tugged lightly at Sun-Ho's sleeve and pointed at his own palm, then tapped his chest.
Sun-Ho nodded. "Yes. I felt it too. The probing intent wasn't just qi—they were measuring bloodlines."
So-Ri frowned. "Bloodlines?"
"Some sects breed talent. They think lineage grants the right to lead."
Ji-Mun scoffed. "So our leader being an orphan genius must irritate them immensely."
Ma-Rok grinned. "Good."
---
Breakfast of Paranoia
Ji-Mun dropped his bag beside the fire ring. "Anyone else feel like we're being stared at by eighty invisible assassins?"
"We are," Yul-Rin said dryly, laying out herbs for a light stew. "They're just waiting for us to eat something so they can blame poison."
Ma-Rok sniffed the boiling pot suspiciously. "You didn't use that ghost-chili petal again, did you?"
"It was one petal," she replied innocently.
"You killed three squirrels."
Sun-Ho sat, stretching his arms. "Let's assume we aren't poisoned until we are."
So-Ri handed him a warm rice ball wrapped in pickled leaf. "Eat. Plot later."
Ji-Mun fanned himself dramatically. "I miss the days when our biggest threat was indigestion."
Yeon silently handed him a folded note. Ji-Mun opened it and read aloud:
> Your cooking is still the biggest threat.
"Et tu, mute child?"
Master Jang stirred the stew with a twig. "Ah, paranoia. The proper seasoning for any Murim breakfast."
Ma-Rok bit into a rice ball and nodded solemnly. "If this is my last meal, I'll haunt Yul-Rin just to ruin her sleep."
"You already do," she muttered.
---
Evening – Private Training Grove
Sun-Ho stood alone beneath a lightning-struck tree just outside the fortress zone. The bark was blackened, but green buds still clung to life.
He placed his palm on the trunk.
"Still alive," he murmured.
Qi flowed from his hand—lightning and fire weaving in harmony.
Crack—
The branch above shivered, but didn't break.
So-Ri stepped from the shadows. "Your aura has changed. You're holding more… but showing less."
"I'm learning to breathe without showing my lungs."
She raised a brow. "That's either deep or a medical emergency."
He chuckled, then said, more softly, "I've been too reactive. If I want to survive what's coming… I have to choose when to reveal strength, and when to swallow it."
"Master Jang's words?"
He nodded.
So-Ri walked closer and brushed a fleck of bark from his robe. "Then swallow this advice: Don't go in alone tomorrow. Jin Ye-Hwa's smile has poison behind it."
"She's testing how easily I bend."
"She won't like the answer."
"No," Sun-Ho said, stepping back toward camp, "but she'll learn it."
---
Midnight – Hidden Room, Deep in the Fortress
Elsewhere, behind a hidden wall in the fortress's northern wing, Jin Ye-Hwa met with Nam Do-Gyun.
Their tones were polite. Their smiles never touched their eyes.
"He's dangerous," she said.
Do-Gyun poured wine into a carved cup. "He's alone."
"He has shadows. One of them used a deflection spell I've only seen in ancient Murim texts."
"Then we clip the wings before the bird learns to soar."
Ye-Hwa's smile was a blade wrapped in velvet. "Carefully. A direct strike would confirm he's more than rumor."
"Subtle, then."
"Always."
---
End of Chapter 71 – Thunder Without Warning