After 5 days of travel they had arrived back in Daewon City and it was definitely louder than they remembered.
Crowded, aggressive, pulsing with ego. Cultivators passed in every direction, throwing glances like knives. There were more banners now. More sect colors. The city wasn't just hosting travelers.
It was preparing for war.
Sim Gwan could feel it in the tension of the merchants, the way beggars vanished, the number of patrols doubling overnight. No one said it out loud but the Heavenly Sword Sect was moving. Rumors said they were gathering allies. Others said they were rooting out hidden bloodlines.
All Sim knew was that his name was starting to circulate in dangerous corners.
And someone had noticed.
---
The messenger arrived mid-afternoon.
A girl. Young. Silent. She held a black lacquered box tied in crimson ribbon.
She bowed deeply and handed it over.
Then left.
Inside the box:
A folded silk invitation.
Two white gold entry rings.
A note:
> You are formally invited to the Red Moon Feast.
Your companion is expected.
Wear something clean.
Try not to kill anyone before dessert.
– M.
Baek-Ha leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the calligraphy.
"Is that blood on the corner?"
"Wine," Sim lied.
"Should we go?"
"Of course not."
"We're going, aren't we?"
He nodded.
---
The Red Moon Pavilion was the kind of place you didn't stumble into.
It stood on the city's eastern ridge, flanked by koi ponds and red lanterns that never burned out. White stone lions guarded the gate, eyes made of black jade. The building itself was layered like a cake of incense and sin—gold-trimmed, curtained, humming with low music.
Inside: silk, laughter, perfume. Courtesans in embroidered robes drifted past like ghosts who remembered how to flirt.
The invitation led them to a private table on the third floor.
A view of the lake.
Four dishes already waiting.
And a man standing behind the table.
Jang-Hun.
Sim's body tensed.
The same Inner Disciple from Howling Tiger Sect. The one who nearly caved his ribs in.
He looked calmer now. Cleaner. Older somehow.
"Didn't expect to see you in a place that doesn't reek of sweat and regret," he said casually.
Baek-Ha narrowed her eyes. "What is this?"
"A favor," Jang-Hun replied. "From someone bigger than me. I'm just the escort."
A curtain rustled.
She entered.
Mistress Seo. The woman from Violet Garden. The one who handed Gwan his first real mission and nearly got him killed.
She still moved like a secret being kept by silk.
"I see you haven't died," she said, sitting.
"No thanks to you."
She smiled. "Nonsense. You did very well."
Baek-Ha scowled. "Why are we here?"
Seo poured wine.
"The feast is a cover. There are eyes everywhere, and ears sharper than yours. I need to speak to you before your name becomes heavier than your spine."
Sim raised a brow and sighed. "How many people know about the Veil Root Path?"
"Enough to make you a bargaining chip. Not enough to make you a threat."
She passed him a scroll tied with thread, sealed with wax bearing an unknown symbol.
"Inside are the names of three sects. They've been testing for your… condition. Quietly. Experimentally. You're not the only one anymore."
Sim's heart skipped. "More of me?"
"More like the girl you fought. Unstable. Disposable. You're the outlier."
"And why tell me this?"
"Because I don't like what's coming," she said. "And because when the heavens refuse to answer, the demons don't wait politely."
Baek-Ha opened her mouth to reply.
But then someone screamed.
A waiter dropped a silver tray.
There was blood in the cake.
No, not blood a knife.
Embedded. Hidden under cream.
And written on the plate in delicate syrup:
> "The Veil does not belong to the gutter."
A message.
A threat.
Mistress Seo stood slowly.
"We need to leave."
Baek-Ha turned. "Who"
"Now."
---
Outside, the Pavilion erupted.
Fires in the kitchen. One of the courtesans dead on the steps. Two masked figures leapt from the upper balcony and vanished into the alley below.
Sim didn't chase.
His qi was boiling. Screaming.
It wanted out.
But he forced it down.
No slip. No panic.
Not here. Not tonight.
---
They returned to the rented room late. Blood still under their fingernails.
Sim peeled off his robe and sat in silence.
Baek-Ha stood by the window, watching the city.
Neither spoke.
Then she said quietly, "They're going to come for you. Not in secret. Not anymore."
"I know."
She turned, the moonlight cutting her face into soft silver and shadow.
"I should walk away now."
"You won't."
"No," she agreed. "I won't."
She stepped toward him.
Close. Closer.
Their breaths mingled in the quiet.
Sim's hand moved without thinking reaching, brushing her knuckles.
She looked up.
And he leaned in
Almost.
But she stopped him. Just a whisper between their lips:
"Not yet. Not like this."
Sim froze.
And slowly… stepped back.
She exhaled.
And smiled.
"Tigers don't meow," she said.
He laughed. Broken, tired. Real.
"No," he said. "But they sure know when to wait"
Sim ass was quietly beaten that night.