Rain never touched the Grove of Ancestral Oaths.
That was the first warning.
Despite clouds swirling overhead and thunder growling in the distance, the air inside the sacred clearing was dry. Still. As if the world itself held its breath.
Baek Sun-Ho stood at the center, summoned by official decree only moments after being named a Final Heir-Apparent. Ancestral rite, they had said. A traditional path of acknowledgment, to "prove the blood of Murim still flowed" in his veins.
He didn't believe it.
Neither did his companions, though none said it aloud.
"This trial wasn't mentioned in the heir ceremonies," Yul-Rin muttered, scanning the treeline.
"Because it's not part of them," So-Ri said, eyes narrowed. "It's older."
Master Jang Cheol-Oh sipped his tea beside a stone lantern. "Forgotten doesn't mean gone. This ritual was buried… likely because too many heirs died inside it."
Ji-Mun rubbed the back of his neck. "You say that like it's a feature."
Ma-Rok grunted. "So we're just going to let him walk in?"
"We don't have a choice," Sun-Ho said quietly. "Refusing would give the elders an excuse to revoke my claim."
Yeon scribbled furiously into the dirt: Trap. Obvious trap.
"I know," Sun-Ho replied.
So-Ri stepped beside him, clutching a vial of defensive talismans. "Then at least go in prepared."
He touched her hand briefly. "I always am."
---
The Entrance Opens
With a deep rumble, the ground before them split—not violently, but with eerie reverence.
A staircase revealed itself, descending into an underground cavern veined with faint blue light. Ancient runes glowed along the walls, pulsing in rhythm with a heartbeat long buried.
Two neutral sect guards stood at the top, grim-faced and silent. They handed Sun-Ho a simple sash of black silk—no weapons were allowed. "You must complete the trial alone," one intoned.
Sun-Ho nodded and tied the sash around his waist.
Before descending, he turned once more to his companions.
"If I don't return in three hours…"
"We come after you," So-Ri finished for him.
He smiled. "That's why I'm coming back."
Then he stepped into the dark.
---
Below – The Temple of Echoes
The descent lasted longer than it should have. Stone steps turned to smooth tiles, and then to glowing symbols etched into glass-like flooring. The walls whispered—not with sound, but memory.
Sun-Ho felt something pressing at his mind. Regret. Pride. Pain. Ghosts of former heirs, perhaps.
At last, he entered the trial chamber.
A circular arena, walled in by pillars of obsidian and jade. Floating above, suspended by chains of golden light, was a single relic: a sword-shaped seal, cracked in two.
As he stepped forward, a voice echoed—not through the air, but inside his skull.
> "What gives you the right to bear Murim's future?"
Flames erupted from the stone floor. Not his flames.
These were violet, ghostly, drawn from forgotten battles and bloodlines lost.
A figure stepped from the fire.
Clad in antique armor, his face obscured by a helmet bearing the sigil of the Old Murim Empire.
The voice spoke again.
> "Face the legacy of those you left behind."
---
The Phantom Duel
Sun-Ho narrowed his stance.
The armored specter charged, sword whistling with cursed Qi. Sun-Ho ducked low, sidestepped the first blow, and answered with a short burst of lightning from his palm.
Crack—
The spirit staggered but did not fall. Instead, it dissolved into smoke, only to reform behind him.
A kick caught Sun-Ho in the ribs, throwing him across the chamber.
He skidded, rolled, and rose immediately, lips tight.
"So it's like that…"
He slowed his breath. Let fire rise from within. Not wild. Not loud.
Controlled. Focused.
The next exchange was faster.
Lightning snaked across his legs for speed. Fire coiled in his hands for momentum. He moved not like a warrior, but like a conductor of storms. One strike disarmed the phantom. A second sent it crashing into a pillar, and a final burst of lightning-flame left only ashes behind.
Silence returned.
Until a second phantom stepped forth.
This one bore his own face.
And spoke in his voice.
> "How can you lead a world… you failed once before?"
---
Above – Waiting in Tension
The party waited in absolute stillness.
The stone above the trial chamber pulsed faintly.
"Qi surges are growing," Yul-Rin said. "He's fighting… something strong."
"He'll win," So-Ri said. "He has to."
Master Jang Cheol-Oh exhaled through his nose. "This trial isn't just about power. It's about self."
Ma-Rok cracked his knuckles. "Then he's the only one who'll survive it."
---
Below – Against Himself
Baek Sun-Ho stared at the phantom bearing his features.
It moved like him. Fought like him. Thought like him.
He had no opening.
Until he closed his eyes.
He remembered So-Ri's laugh.
Yeon's quiet loyalty.
Ma-Rok's fierce support.
Yul-Rin's logic.
Ji-Mun's nonsense.
His master's calm.
Then, when the phantom lunged—Sun-Ho did not fight it.
He absorbed it.
His flame accepted its rage.
His lightning its precision.
His soul, its doubt.
And when the dust cleared, only Sun-Ho remained.
Still breathing.
Still walking.
Still himself.
---
Return to the Surface
The stone above the chamber glowed gold.
The staircase rumbled again, opening.
And Baek Sun-Ho stepped out—wounded, pale—but eyes sharp with power.
The sash around his waist burned to ash, leaving only the mark of the cracked sword branded faintly over his heart.
Everyone stood.
So-Ri ran to him first.
"You passed."
"No," he said. "I endured."
And then, for the first time in weeks…
He swayed.
And fainted.
Right into her arms.
---
End of Chapter 93 – The Forgotten Trial Begins