The world he stood in shimmered with surreal clarity.
Polished jade columns stretched toward a ceiling veiled in golden latticework. The floor beneath Jin's feet reflected a mural of clouds chasing dragons, and the air carried the faint scent of sandalwood and ink. He was seated at a round obsidian table, etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly—alive, ancient. Seated across from him were three figures, their presence commanding yet distorted, their faces shrouded in mist, as if memory could not—or dared not—remember them clearly.
Two men and one woman.
Their voices rang through the hall, each word laced with authority. They spoke animatedly in a language Jin couldn't place yet somehow understood. Their discourse was intense, circling around the growing tension between a hidden clan deep in the mountains of the north and the Eastern Court, who claimed territorial rights to the verdant lands bordering the Azure River.
Jin leaned forward, speaking with purpose. "The land belongs to neither. If both parties are exhausted of conflict, then a union under shared stewardship may be forged. Let the land be a bridge, not a battleground."
The woman tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. One of the men gave a scoff. The third leaned back and smiled faintly.
They were bored. Not of the idea, but of the game of power. Jin could feel it. These weren't mere officials—they were rulers. Veterans of war and politics. Peers of his. He felt it in his bones.
He turned to the man beside him, ready to speak a name that teased the tip of his tongue—
Splash.
Freezing water hit his face like a slap from the heavens. Jin shot upright with a loud gasp, blinking away the dream—no, memory?—as the sunlight of the real world burned through the bamboo trees above.
Ruan stood over him, arms crossed, a metal cup dangling from her hand and water still dripping from Jin's soaked bangs. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips moved fast in the language he still hadn't grasped, but the irritation was universal. She pointed behind him.
Jin turned—and went stiff.
The ground where he had slept was cracked. A splintering web of fractures radiated beneath his bedding, like an invisible weight had dropped from the heavens and cracked the earth itself. Jin muttered under his breath, dragging his hand along the break.
"Did… I do that in my sleep?" he asked, wide-eyed.
Ruan didn't answer. She just gave him a long, flat stare.
"Right," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, "no idea what you're saying anyway."
Still, Jin washed up and prepared for the day. He couldn't shake the dream. The hall, the people, the familiarity of their presence—it clung to him, like forgotten warmth. Was that really a dream? It had felt like waking up from another life.
Their journey led them to a bamboo forest, where tall green stalks whispered with the wind. Light filtered through in columns, dust motes dancing lazily in the morning air. The air was serene, fresh, but Jin couldn't help but feel like the forest watched them.
They found a clearing beside a quiet stream, and Jin decided they would rest here for a while. It wasn't fair to push the horse nonstop, and truthfully, he was glad for the excuse to settle down and work on something he could control.
Training.
"Alright," Jin said, clapping his hands once. "Let's dance."
Ruan raised an eyebrow, stretched her legs out, and began her warm-ups in slow, flowing movements. Jin mirrored her as best as he could. The Tide Root Style was still the only form both of them had in common. Fluid motions, sudden turns, twisting power drawn from the waist and legs—everything flowed like water, but hit like steel.
Ruan, however, seemed off. She was sharper, more aggressive, her movements filled with unspoken fire. Jin noticed her eyes watching his every move, looking for openings.
"You're going hard today," Jin said, barely ducking a high kick.
Ruan answered with a spinning sweep that nearly knocked his leg off.
"Okay!" Jin yelped, hopping back. "I was just saying!"
They exchanged blow after blow. Jin focused intensely on keeping his strength dialed down. The last thing he wanted was to crack another cliff wall like he did with the master. But Ruan's style was fierce. She moved like a flame trying to burn him.
Then she snapped forward—a quick jab, a duck, and a spinning back kick that whooshed past his chin.
"HEY! That was my head!"
Jin flailed back, hands in the air, miming exaggerated fear.
"Are you trying to murder me again?!"
Ruan smirked faintly, shrugged, and reset her stance. Maybe she was teasing him. Or maybe it was payback for the near-decapitation last time. Either way, it felt good. A little chaos. A little joy.
Then Jin heard it—the sound of hooves.
He turned toward the treeline. Bamboo parted ahead as a group of horses made their way down the winding trail. The sound was organized. Disciplined. In the center, flanked by riders in half-armor, was a small but ornate carriage painted in dark maroon and gold. Its wheels left a crushed trail of fallen leaves and disturbed dust.
"Who's that?" Jin asked aloud.
Ruan immediately dropped her stance and walked beside him. Her eyes narrowed, focused. She whispered something—sharp and short.
"Is this an escort group?" Jin wondered. "Or a hunting party?"
His eyes swept the group. The carriage wasn't large, but well-protected. The horses wore decorated tack, the guards held halberds and short bows. They didn't seem hostile—yet.
Suddenly
Thwack!
A cheap shot. Ruan's knuckle tapped the back of Jin's head.
"OW! Seriously?!"
She crossed her arms. He glared.
The riders were close now. Tension hung in the air like fog.
Were they friend… or foe?
Jin straightened his back, dusted his robes, and muttered to himself:
"Here we go again... translation disaster incoming."
Ruan took a step back, clearly uneasy. She murmured something sharp and short—Jin only caught the word nobility.
"Yeah, I can tell they're loaded," Jin muttered. He glanced down at his travel-worn outfit and muddy boots. "We're definitely about to be judged."
The riders pulled to a halt just ahead of them. One of the guards raised a hand. "State your purpose," he barked—in a formal dialect Jin barely understood. The tone was rigid, authoritative.
Jin gave a casual wave. "We're just passing through. No trouble here." He looked at Ruan. "Can you translate that?"
But Ruan was already bowing. Deeply. Too deeply.
Jin turned toward the lead guard and decided to try again. "We're... traveling. Travelers." He pointed at the horse behind them. "Just resting."
The guard narrowed his eyes. "You're armed. And sparring in Crownland territory. That's illegal without a sanctioned permit."
Jin blinked. "...We need a permit to punch each other?"
The riders looked offended. The tension in the air thickened.
Suddenly, the carriage door opened. A figure stepped down.
She wore a long green-and-gold robe, embroidered with leaves and cranes. Her face was veiled with sheer silk, but her eyes were sharp and cold. There was power in her poise, a nobility that carried weight—not just social status, but something heavier.
"Who is it that dares to speak to my guards with such familiarity?" she asked softly. Her voice was calm, but the undertone of insult was clear.
Jin, unaware of how formal interactions were supposed to work here, offered a little salute. "Hi. I'm Jin. And you are?"
The woman paused, confused by his lack of decorum.
"Lady Yueyin," the guard snapped. "The heir of the Verdant Wing Pavilion."
"Oh," Jin said. "Cool. What's a Verdant Wing Pavilion?"
There was a collective gasp among the guards. Ruan turned pale and reached for Jin's arm, whispering frantically in her native tongue.
Lady Yueyin tilted her head, her voice still calm. "You insult my sect and claim ignorance. Are you a fool or a spy?"
"Wait, what? I didn't insult anything!" Jin said, stepping forward. "I just don't know who you are! That's not—"
"It is customary to kneel before the Pavilion heir when addressed directly," the guard snapped.
"I'm not kneeling," Jin said firmly. "No offense, but I've got bad knees."
The guards tensed. Swords were nearly drawn.
Lady Yueyin raised her hand. "Enough. This traveler... is clearly from some remote border province. Perhaps he simply lacks education. Still... his tone is dangerous."
Jin, flustered, tried to defuse the tension. "Look. We're not spies. We're just passing through, okay? You don't have to get your silk all twisted."
Another wave of gasps.
Ruan facepalmed.
"I see," Yueyin said icily. "Very well. Then let us test your 'innocence' with a match. If you defeat one of my guards, I'll consider your offense... forgettable. Lose, and you apologize. Publicly. With kneeling."
Jin, completely misunderstanding the challenge, brightened. "Oh! You want to spar? Sure! I haven't fought someone new in a while. Sounds fun."
The guards exchanged incredulous glances. Was this man mocking them?
"No lethal force," Yueyin said, eyes gleaming with interest. "Though you look like the type who doesn't know the difference."
Ruan whispered something into Jin's ear. He only caught part of it: ...don't go too hard.
A circle was drawn in the bamboo grove. One of the Pavilion guards stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. His stance was precise, low—clearly a martial artist trained in formality.
Jin copied the stance Ruan had shown him earlier. Tides Root Style. Flow like water.
"Begin!" someone called.
The Pavilion guard struck first, a sharp lunge forward aimed at Jin's side. Jin weaved, instinct overriding training. He parried with a spiral, catching the man's wrist, and twisted just enough to flip him over his shoulder without effort. The guard crashed into the dirt with a thud.
The other guards gaped.
Jin turned, scratching his head. "Is it over?"
The guard jumped back up, angry. He struck again, this time faster—three jabs followed by a high kick. Jin danced around him, his body reacting like it had done this a thousand times. He used minimal force but excellent control. A soft palm strike landed on the man's chest, and boom—he was sent flying five meters into a tree.
Silence.
Lady Yueyin stepped down from the carriage, eyes narrowed. "You fought with the Tides Root?"
Jin nodded. "How did you know?"
"That is a style of the Southern Sea Courts. Rare. And illegal in these lands."
Ruan looked terrified.
"I didn't know," Jin said. "It's just something we've been practicing. I'm not from here."
Yueyin looked at him, something calculating behind her gaze. "No, you are not. You are something else. What's your true identity?"
"I wish I knew," Jin replied honestly.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Yueyin turned away. "Let them pass. I've no time for riddles."
The guards didn't move.
"But," she added, "know this. The next time you cross into Pavilion land uninvited, there will be no duels. Only death."
Her guards backed away. The carriage moved on.
Jin turned to Ruan. "So... that went well, right?"
She stared at him.
He sighed. "Yeah. I know. I maybe just made a noble sect lady mad."