The wind was gentler than usual, brushing over the broken garden stones with the care of a mourning friend.
Yeon lay in bed, brow slightly furrowed, lips pale. A soft sheen of sweat clung to his forehead as Yul-Rin pressed a damp cloth against his skin. Her hands were steady, but her eyes weren't.
"The poison's neutralized," she said quietly. "But it'll take time for him to regain full strength."
Sun-Ho sat beside the boy, fingers folded, shoulders unmoving.
Yeon had been unconscious for six hours.
He'd made no sound.
Not once.
---
Assembly Courtyard
"So this is what they've come to," Master Jang muttered, sipping from a new, mismatched teacup. "The True Hands. Assassins who act like playwrights."
So-Ri sat nearby, her fan closed in her lap. She hadn't spoken since returning from the garden.
Ji-Mun stood by the window, arms folded. "They made it past five defensive formations. And Yeon—of all people—was their target."
Ma-Rok grunted. "They meant to weaken Sun-Ho. Get in his head."
"Then they succeeded," So-Ri said, voice low.
Sun-Ho entered the chamber then. Quiet. Composed. Eyes heavy with still-burning resolve.
He looked at each of them before settling on Master Jang.
"You said you've seen this tactic before. Targeting emotional anchors."
Master Jang exhaled slowly and set his cup down. "In another life, yes. During the War of Eight Banners."
So-Ri leaned forward. "But that war ended over a century ago."
Jang nodded. "And yet, echoes remain. There was a sect… once feared, once erased. Its name forgotten—but its techniques survive."
Yul-Rin entered just then. "You're speaking of the Hollow Seed Sect."
Master Jang gave her a wry smile. "So it still lingers in the records?"
"In poisons," she said. "They believed breaking the body began with breaking the heart."
Ji-Mun shivered. "That's poetic and creepy. My least favorite combo."
Sun-Ho sat down slowly. "Why target Yeon specifically? He's strong, yes—but not the face of our movement."
Master Jang stirred the air between his fingers.
"They're testing your restraint."
So-Ri's eyes flickered. "What happens if you stop restraining yourself?"
Sun-Ho didn't answer.
---
Later – Yeon's Room
Yeon stirred.
Not with a gasp or startle, but with the quiet blink of someone who already knew the pain would be waiting when they woke.
Sun-Ho was there.
The boy looked at him, then slowly raised a sign from the table nearby:
Failed again.
Sun-Ho took the sign gently and set it down. "You didn't fail. You endured."
Another sign came up, shakier:
Wasn't strong enough.
Sun-Ho closed his eyes. "Neither was I. Not in that moment."
Yeon looked away.
Silence stretched, until So-Ri entered with a bowl of clear broth. She knelt, placed it on the table, then looked at Yeon directly.
"You being alive is strength," she said. "You stubborn, grumpy little storm."
Yeon blinked. Slowly—then nodded.
So-Ri glanced at Sun-Ho. "He needs rest. You need focus."
Sun-Ho nodded.
But his eyes lingered on Yeon for one long, quiet second before he stood and walked into the next room.
---
Garden Ruins – That Night
The stone from the morning's battle was still scorched, the mark of fire and restraint etched like a forgotten sigil.
Sun-Ho stood there, breathing in the scent of burnt moss and cold blossoms.
Master Jang joined him, holding a lantern in one hand, a wrapped scroll in the other.
"You know," the master said casually, "your qi's shifting again."
"I can feel it," Sun-Ho replied. "Something stirs. Fire and lightning… they've fused. But wind…" He turned his gaze upward. "Wind is the hardest."
Master Jang raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because fire and lightning were born of action. Wind is born of choice. Of restraint. I mastered the storm. But to let it pass without striking…"
He trailed off.
Master Jang unrolled the scroll and handed it over.
"This is from the era just before yours. A theory of elemental resonance shared by multiple sects. Look here—" he pointed to a diagram "—the third fusion always required a mental breakthrough. Not strength. Not energy. A moment of… stillness."
Sun-Ho's eyes scanned the ink strokes.
"Stillness," he murmured. "In the middle of battle. In the middle of loss."
Master Jang gave a slight smile. "Balance, in other words."
The lantern flickered.
Far in the distance, drums echoed faintly from the Assembly's inner halls.
"We'll be called soon," Jang said. "Sects will start choosing sides openly. You'll need that third element before they corner you."
Sun-Ho nodded.
And as wind curled gently past them—barely more than a whisper—he felt the smallest shift within his meridians.
Wind. Not as a storm.
But as a breath before the next step.
---
Elsewhere – Deep in the True Hands' Territory
"You failed to kill the boy."
The assassin bowed. "We poisoned him. We struck the Sovereign's heart."
A voice from the darkness rasped. "That was not the order. He still walks."
Another voice, gentler, female: "But now the Sovereign is preparing the third element."
Silence.
Then the leader of the True Hands stepped forward, face still hidden.
"No matter. Let him prepare. We have the past. He has the future."
He raised a hand.
On the wall behind him, the painting of the unknown woman beside Sun-Ho now bore a single drop of red.
---
End of Chapter 114 – Broken Masks and Quiet Flames