Morning came slow and muted.
The fortress stirred with half-hearted motion—sect guards changing posts, junior disciples sweeping stone paths, and breakfast fires crackling with distracted attention. Yet beneath the routines, there was unease. Rumors had begun to shift. Some claimed a rival heir had been attacked in the night. Others whispered of quiet bursts of lightning far from any sanctioned duel grounds.
Baek Sun-Ho stood on the fortress edge, overlooking the cliff where cloud sea met forest.
His blade was unsheathed—not in preparation, but in reflection.
Lightning pulsed faintly across its surface. Fire glowed along the inner edge, but neither flared fully. It was like his own breath—held, balanced, waiting.
Master Jang Cheol-Oh stood behind him, arms folded into his sleeves. "You're planning something."
Sun-Ho didn't turn. "They tried once. They'll try again. But next time, I'll pick the ground."
"Lure them into a place without watchers," the master murmured. "So you can break the rules without breaking the alliance."
"They can't know what I'm becoming," Sun-Ho said. "Not until it's too late to stop me."
Jang Cheol-Oh chuckled. "That's the spirit of a general. Not a disciple."
"I'm both," Sun-Ho said. "And if the world makes me choose… I'll choose what protects my people."
The old master sipped his tea, even this high above the world. "You've grown, Baek Sun-Ho. But beware—this kind of clarity? It comes with cost."
"I'm ready to pay it."
"Then I'll prepare your exit. Tonight."
---
Evening – The False Trail
It began with a staged departure.
Yul-Rin and So-Ri argued loudly in the common square about their next scouting route. Ji-Mun packed bags with exaggerated noise. Yeon stood to the side, holding a wooden sign: We'll be gone all night. Definitely not a trap.
Ma-Rok dragged a fake injured disciple down the path, grumbling. "Let's take the south road! Easier terrain!"
Behind the performance, sect spies watching the group took note of every move.
Exactly as Sun-Ho intended.
Because he didn't leave.
---
Hours Later – Deep in the Forest
The trees here were old—twisted with bark as black as pitch, leaves high enough to block even moonlight. No sect banners. No trails. No witnesses.
Sun-Ho waited by an ancient well, surrounded by boulders and low mossy ruins. A forgotten dueling ground, once used by outcast sects centuries ago.
Now, it would serve again.
The first figure arrived silently—a woman clad in soft blue silks, her face veiled. She bowed slightly, hands still within her sleeves.
A second came next—a tall man in chainmail robes, wielding a curved saber. He did not bow.
From the shadows, a third emerged, younger than the rest, but his eyes glinted with venom. "Baek Sun-Ho," he said. "I thought the Sovereign of Balance liked an audience."
Sun-Ho stood, arms loose. "Tonight, I like silence."
"You lured us well," the tall man said. "A shame it ends in your grave."
Sun-Ho didn't answer.
Instead, he drew his blade.
No speeches. No declarations.
The air itself recoiled from the sudden spike in pressure.
Crack—
Lightning bloomed outward in a tight spiral. Fire flared from his steps.
The veiled woman blinked once. Then she vanished from her position, blade aimed at his ribs.
Sun-Ho twisted mid-air—clang!—their weapons struck, and hers melted from the edge inward, scorched by golden flame.
The curved-saber man roared and lunged, bringing his weapon down in an arc that split a boulder beside Sun-Ho.
But Sun-Ho was gone.
Flash!
A bolt of lightning struck downward—and he was already behind him.
His palm hit the man's back.
Boom—!
The shockwave threw the attacker into the well wall, cratering stone.
The youngest assassin gulped, fear creeping into his voice. "You… this isn't Inner Core…"
Sun-Ho stepped forward, slowly, his aura still tightly restrained.
"You're right," he said.
The boy turned to run.
Sun-Ho didn't stop him.
Instead, he looked at the crater, at the scorched ground.
Then upward.
The stars were clear tonight.
And the sky hummed with something that felt… distant.
Almost watching.
---
Aftermath – The Hidden Camp
So-Ri sat by the fire, sharpening her fan's hidden edges. "He's been gone too long."
Yul-Rin looked up from her maps. "No flares. No signals. You worried?"
"I'm annoyed. He promised not to break himself again."
Ji-Mun snorted. "You say that like it worked the first time."
Ma-Rok tossed firewood onto the flames. "He'll be fine. He told me to prep a victory feast."
Yeon held up a paper doll of Sun-Ho winning a duel, then folded it into a flower and tossed it into the fire.
So-Ri raised an eyebrow. "That was disturbingly specific."
Yeon shrugged.
They waited.
Until at last—
Rustle—
Sun-Ho walked into camp, cloak scorched at the edges, eyes calm.
Ji-Mun stood. "You good?"
"Better than good," he said. "They won't try again."
So-Ri rose and walked over. "You burned yourself."
"A little."
"Idiot," she said, brushing ash from his shoulder. "Next time, let me come."
He met her gaze. "Next time, I might not have the luxury."
They didn't speak after that. But she didn't step away.
---
End of Chapter 108 – The Path of No Witness