The next morning dawned with an unnatural stillness.
Birdsong had ceased.
Mist clung to the forest floor like breath held too long, and not even the squirrels dared rustle the branches.
Sun-Ho's senses prickled before his eyes opened.
He rose slowly, letting his qi spread like silent fingers across the camp perimeter.
There. A tremor—not of battle, but of authority.
Someone powerful had entered the valley. Someone who wasn't hiding.
---
A Sudden Summons
By noon, the neutral zone was no longer neutral.
A scroll arrived.
No messenger. Just the scroll—delivered by sword.
A ceremonial blade pierced the ground before Sun-Ho's tent, its hilt wrapped in crimson silk, bearing the mark of the Central Court.
Sun-Ho pulled the scroll free and unrolled it.
> "Baek Sun-Ho. You are summoned to the Pavilion of Echoes. The Imperial Observer awaits your audience."
Yul-Rin hissed through her teeth. "Court officials, already?"
So-Ri's brow furrowed. "They never move this quickly. Something's wrong."
Master Jang sipped tea by a bubbling pot. "Nothing's wrong. They've just decided to play their hand earlier than expected."
Ji-Mun whistled. "Should we be flattered? Or insulted?"
Sun-Ho tucked the scroll into his robe. "Neither. We'll respond like the storm we are."
Ma-Rok cracked his neck. "With thunder?"
"With caution."
---
The Pavilion of Echoes
Set in the heart of the fortress ruins, the Pavilion was built from dark jade and pale glass, echoing with every footstep. Its floor shimmered faintly, infused with ancient formation runes.
At its center sat a woman.
Straight-backed, eyes like polished obsidian, and a presence that bent the air without moving. She wore court robes trimmed in black and gold, her long hair pinned with blades instead of ornaments.
She did not rise as Sun-Ho entered.
"You walk like a noble," she said, voice flat. "But your reputation reads like a revolution."
Sun-Ho stopped a respectful distance away. "Reputation tends to exaggerate."
"I hope so," she said. "The Empire doesn't like chaos."
"I don't intend to cause it."
"You've already begun."
Silence.
Then she leaned forward. "We've watched the Assembly of Heirs unfold. The court is… divided. Some wish to see a traditional Murim leader rise. Others favor a reformist."
"Let me guess," Sun-Ho said. "They think I'm the latter."
"They fear you're something worse. A free agent."
Sun-Ho met her gaze without flinching. "And which do you believe?"
The woman stood. "I believe… you're interesting. But dangerous things often are."
She stepped close, her qi pressing against his like a test.
And found no resistance.
Because he wasn't even trying.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're hiding something."
"I'm alive," Sun-Ho said evenly. "That's already too much for some people."
---
A Warning and a Choice
Before she left, she handed him a thin token—carved from white jade, etched with the imperial sigil.
"A symbol of favor," she said. "Or a leash, depending on how you wear it."
"What if I don't?"
"Then you will wear chains instead."
She turned, cloak fluttering, and vanished into the pavilion's depths.
Ji-Mun peeked in from the corridor. "Well? Do we celebrate or pack our bags?"
Sun-Ho stared at the token. "Neither."
Yul-Rin joined him, her gaze flicking to the door. "She was strong."
"She was a warning."
So-Ri stepped beside him. "What now?"
He turned to them all.
"Now we show them I'm not just a candidate. I'm the future they're afraid of."
---
Later That Day – Council Grounds of the Heirs
The Pavilion gathering was called swiftly.
Dozens of disciples, sect elders, and key representatives crowded the old council steps, stone platforms repurposed from the ancient ruins.
The Imperial Observer reappeared, flanked by armed ceremonial guards.
"Today's demonstration," she said, "will not be for showmanship. Each remaining heir shall display a technique of significance—offensive, defensive, or strategic. Not to compete, but to reveal. The court must know what it invests in."
Groans rippled through the crowd.
Sun-Ho exhaled slowly. A forced unveiling. He was being baited.
The other heirs were announced.
Kang Mu-Jin stepped forward first. With a shout, he summoned a wall of obsidian qi, layered in seals—unbreakable, immovable. The ground shook beneath him.
Next came Jin Ye-Hwa. With a dancer's grace, she launched a dozen razor-thin swords into the air—each suspended by near-invisible silk threads of her qi. A deadly, floating formation spun above her.
Then came Baek Sun-Ho.
He walked forward slowly.
No weapon.
No armor.
The crowd murmured.
Ji-Mun muttered from the side, "Here we go…"
Sun-Ho lifted his right palm.
Fire burst forth—not wild or uncontrolled, but focused, burning bright gold.
He raised his left hand.
Lightning crackled—pure, clear, slicing the air with its hum.
Then—silence.
And just as quickly, he pulled both back in, sheathing the power within his body.
He bowed once.
The crowd was quiet.
A moment later, murmurs erupted—about his dual affinity, the lack of form, the simplicity and control.
The Imperial Observer watched, unreadable.
"Subtle," she said. "But instructive."
---
That Evening – Camp Perimeter
Sun-Ho stood at the edge of their camp, wind tugging at his sleeves.
So-Ri joined him quietly. "They're all buzzing. Kang Mu-Jin called you reckless. Ye-Hwa called you theatrical."
"Neither is wrong."
"You held back again."
"I always do."
A pause.
"You're not afraid they'll underestimate you too much?"
He smiled faintly. "That's the plan."
---
End of Chapter 88 – Shadows Before the Throne