The Assembly courtyard had changed.
Where once heirs kept a wary distance, now circles of influence had formed—miniature kingdoms of silk and steel. Young warriors stood behind their chosen banners. Bystanders spoke less and listened more. Every movement, every step, was being measured, weighed, and ranked.
And Baek Sun-Ho walked straight through the center of it.
No mask. No aura. Just calm presence and folded hands behind his back.
Some turned to stare. Others whispered, unsure whether they saw a man or a myth made flesh.
Ji-Mun trailed beside him, munching on roasted seeds. "We are either impressing them… or confirming their fears."
"That's good," Sun-Ho said.
Ma-Rok and Yul-Rin flanked them at a distance, while So-Ri and Yeon moved closer, alert without being obvious. Master Jang followed at a leisurely pace, sipping tea with one hand and twirling a pine twig in the other.
From a raised platform, one of the senior judges of the Assembly—an aged cultivator with an obsidian fan—called out.
"Next in line—Baek Sun-Ho, representing no clan, no sect, and no sponsor. Step forward."
The whispering grew louder.
Sun-Ho stepped onto the platform.
"I have no clan," he confirmed. "But I carry the trust of many."
"Do you acknowledge the terms?" the judge asked. "The right to challenge and be challenged. The right to vote and be voted upon. The right to fight for the Heir's Crown."
"I acknowledge."
"Then speak your path."
Sun-Ho raised his head.
"I fight for Murim's rebirth. Not for sect, not for legacy, but for balance. A world where strength serves the people—not the powerful."
A hush fell. The words, though soft, carried through the wind.
Someone from the crowd scoffed. "A poet pretending to lead."
Another voice added, "Balance isn't leadership. It's hesitation."
Ji-Mun leaned to Yul-Rin and whispered, "We'll need nameplates for all the future corpses."
Sun-Ho ignored the muttering and stepped down.
Kang Mu-Jin, the stoic heir of the Iron Wall Sect, approached him directly as he passed.
"You're drawing a circle too wide," Mu-Jin said, arms folded. "Those without anchors drift first."
"I'd rather drift than rot," Sun-Ho answered calmly.
Nearby, Jin Ye-Hwa watched from behind a silk fan, her eyes sharp.
"Interesting," she murmured to no one in particular. "A storm pretending to be a lake."
---
Later – Back at Camp
"I didn't like how that guy Mu-Jin stared at you," Ji-Mun muttered. "His glare is the kind that makes walls fall."
"He is the heir of the Iron Wall Sect," So-Ri pointed out.
"Still rude," Ji-Mun said. "You glare like a cool protagonist. He glares like constipation."
Sun-Ho was silent, watching Yeon trace patterns with stones. The boy was recreating the judge's crest in miniature.
Ma-Rok tossed a pebble into a pot. "We've shaken the nest. Now the wasps want a word."
"Let them come," Yul-Rin said. "I have antidotes for everything but stupidity."
Master Jang, lying under a tree, opened one eye. "There's no antidote for what's coming."
So-Ri looked up. "Which is?"
He didn't answer. Just sipped his tea, and a cold gust swept through camp.
---
Names Around the Fire
As dusk settled and the fire crackled between them, the group lingered in a loose circle. The glow reflected in their eyes, and for a brief moment, the world beyond the Assembly walls seemed distant.
"So," Ji-Mun said, tossing a stick into the fire, "what do we call ourselves now?"
"What?" Ma-Rok asked.
"You know. All the great factions have names. Iron Wall, Falling Blossom… Shouldn't we be something?"
Yul-Rin smirked. "How about The Unwanted?"
Ma-Rok grunted. "Too honest."
So-Ri leaned back on her elbows. "We don't need a name. We're not building a sect."
"But we are becoming something," Ji-Mun insisted. "People look at us like we're a wildfire about to catch."
Sun-Ho, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. "Let them name us. Whatever they decide… it won't change what we are."
So-Ri tilted her head. "And what are we?"
He looked at them one by one, the firelight catching the storm in his eyes.
"Free."
They went quiet for a moment.
Then Ji-Mun grinned. "Free and dangerous. I like that."
Yeon, who had been scribbling in the dirt, flipped his drawing around. It was a small emblem—a stylized flame curled around a single eye.
"Is that us?" Yul-Rin asked, blinking.
The boy nodded.
So-Ri reached over to touch the image. "A flame that sees everything?"
Yeon shrugged, then wrote below it: The Watchful Flame.
Sun-Ho chuckled under his breath. "Better than 'ghost pepper porridge society.'"
Ji-Mun scowled. "Now you're just being hurtful."
---
Evening – Invitation Arrives
A young disciple in green robes approached. His steps were nervous, but he bowed politely.
"Baek Sun-Ho. Lady Jin Ye-Hwa requests your presence for tea at moonrise."
Yul-Rin raised an eyebrow. "Tea or poison?"
"Same thing if brewed wrong," Ji-Mun muttered.
Sun-Ho took the scroll the disciple handed over. It was scented, floral. The ink sharp, like a hidden blade.
So-Ri leaned over his shoulder to read it.
"She's baiting you."
"She's curious," Sun-Ho said. "And curiosity is often the most dangerous trap."
He looked at the moon cresting the horizon.
"I'll go."
---
Bonus Scene – So-Ri's Warning
As Sun-Ho prepared to leave, So-Ri caught him by the sleeve.
"You know what she is, right?"
"Yes."
"She'll smile at you while plotting five ways to gut you."
"Only five?" he asked lightly.
She didn't laugh. Just stared at him.
Sun-Ho's expression softened. "I won't go as a fool."
"Good. Because if you die to tea leaves, I'll never forgive you."
He paused, leaned in slightly. "Would you mourn me?"
"I'd avenge you," she said, "then yell at your corpse."
Sun-Ho smiled. "That sounds about right."
---
End of Chapter 73 – Names and Games
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