Morning in the Assembly fortress began like any other.
A slow mist curled along the colonnades. Sparrows danced on the tiled roofs. Disciples yawned as they fetched water. The storm had not yet broken.
Baek Sun-Ho stood near the garden's outer wall, balancing a single leaf on the tip of his finger. Wind swirled gently around it—not enough to lift, not enough to drop.
Control.
That was the lesson now.
He felt the presence before he heard it—Yeon, padding softly across stone, a fruit bun in his hand, eyes wide with their usual unreadable depth.
"You're up early," Sun-Ho said.
Yeon handed him the bun.
Sun-Ho blinked. "Is this a peace offering for stealing my last one yesterday?"
The boy simply pointed at a small patch of yellow flowers by the wall. Then he sat cross-legged beside them, silently chewing, scribbling something into a tiny booklet he kept in his sleeve.
Sun-Ho chuckled, returning to his balance exercise.
It was the quietest part of the day.
And the last time it would ever be quiet again.
---
Elsewhere – Rooftops Overlooking the Garden
A shadow moved.
No qi signature. No footprints.
Just the faintest bend of light as cloaked feet landed silently atop the roof tiles.
"Target confirmed," a voice whispered into a communication talisman. "The boy. Alone with him."
> "Not the leader. The boy. Wound him. Kill if required. But make sure he sees it."
A pause.
> "The Sovereign must taste loss."
Then silence.
The assassin drew two needles—thinner than hair, tipped with pale red venom—and vanished over the edge.
---
Garden – Seconds Later
Yeon's hand froze mid-scribble.
His eyes twitched slightly—left, then upward.
Sun-Ho turned, already moving.
Fsshhk!
Two gleams of death hissed through the morning air.
One aimed for Yeon's neck.
The other—his heart.
But Sun-Ho was faster.
Clang.
The sheath of his blade deflected the first needle.
The second veered—
—and grazed Yeon's shoulder.
The boy didn't scream.
He simply blinked once and toppled backward, unconscious.
"Yeon!" Sun-Ho caught him mid-fall. His pulse was faint—but steady. Whatever venom it was, it acted fast.
The air twisted behind him.
Sun-Ho spun, palm slamming out—
—Boom! Wind and fire erupted in a burst that leveled half the garden wall.
From the smoke emerged a figure dressed in mottled red and gray robes, mask marked with a single black ring across the mouth.
"You shouldn't have seen my face," the assassin said, voice smooth as silk.
Sun-Ho set Yeon gently down. Then he stood.
His hand went to his blade, but he did not draw it.
"I don't need to."
His energy condensed—fire along his arms, wind whispering across his back, and lightning flickering in his gaze.
But he kept it controlled. Suppressed.
If word of his third elemental resonance spread now, Murim politics would spiral.
The assassin struck first.
A curved dagger glinted through the air, carving a path for a follow-up strike.
Sun-Ho moved like water—sidestepping, catching the dagger mid-air, and launching a kick that sent the attacker skidding across the courtyard tiles.
"You're from the True Hands," Sun-Ho said quietly.
The assassin stood slowly. "So it's true. You already know."
He peeled off the mask.
A clean face. Young. Smiling.
But not unfamiliar.
"…I saw you at the Assembly," Sun-Ho murmured. "You were one of the Cloud Valley Sect envoys. A scribe."
"People forget scribes," the man said. "That's why we survive."
He lunged again.
This time, Sun-Ho didn't dodge. He moved through the strike, disarming the man with a fluid twist and elbowing him hard in the ribs.
Crack.
But the assassin smiled through bloodied teeth. "You've improved. You weren't this fast in the last era."
Sun-Ho's eyes narrowed.
"…You remember the past life."
The man tilted his head. "Some of us do. Not just you. Did you think you were alone, Sovereign?"
Sun-Ho slammed him back against the stone tree base. "What are the True Hands?"
"A correction."
"For what?"
"For your mistake."
He spat blood—and vanished in a puff of ink-black smoke.
Sun-Ho's hand snapped out to grab him, but the smoke dispersed.
Behind him, Yeon stirred faintly.
Sun-Ho rushed back, kneeling beside him. The pulse was weaker now.
"So-Ri!" he called. "Yul-Rin! NOW!"
Moments later, So-Ri and Yul-Rin burst into the garden, followed by Ma-Rok and Ji-Mun—half-dressed and all confused.
"What happened?" Yul-Rin asked, kneeling by Yeon instantly.
"Poisoned," Sun-Ho said, already transferring qi into Yeon's meridians. "Crimson Orchid venom."
Yul-Rin's face paled. "We need my whole kit."
"Run," Sun-Ho ordered.
So-Ri placed her hand over Yeon's and turned to Sun-Ho. "Was it them?"
Sun-Ho nodded.
"One of the True Hands."
Ma-Rok looked around, cracking his knuckles. "Where'd he go?"
"He got away. But not clean."
Sun-Ho stood slowly, his jaw tight. "They said this was to make me taste loss. They targeted Yeon to draw me out."
Ji-Mun cursed under his breath. "Then let's bury them in return."
"No," Sun-Ho said, eyes sharp. "They want a reaction. We'll give them a strategy instead."
He turned toward the gate. "Today, we go hunting."
---
Elsewhere – A Room of Candles
The same masked assassin knelt before a tall figure in red robes.
"My strike landed," he said. "He had to suppress power to avoid exposure. We now confirm the third element."
The red-robed figure said nothing, but placed a stone down on a large board.
Go pieces littered it—black and white. Balanced. Barely.
"Very well," the figure said. "Escalate the plan."
The assassin bowed. "And the boy?"
"He won't die. But he'll remember."
A beat.
"Begin the next phase."
---
End of Chapter 113 – The Blade in the Garden