Min-jun's victory over Kwang-ho was a firebrand tossed into a powder keg. The news, warped by fear and amplified by hope, spread like wildfire through the Mugwi slums. He was no longer just a fugitive—he was a symbol. A legend. A figure of rebellion. Mugwi from all corners of Neo-Seoul sought him out, their pleas a constant, overwhelming chorus that shattered the quiet anonymity he and Seulgi had tried so hard to build.
Their new hiding place, once a sanctuary, was now a nexus of desperate hope. Mugwi came with stories of stolen food, of Ki-powered extortion, and of cruel Hwarang enforcers who treated them like property. Min-jun, with his new power, felt a crushing weight of responsibility. He couldn't help everyone. He had to pick his battles, a cold, strategic decision that felt wrong every time he made it. Seulgi, ever his silent anchor, would watch him as he trained, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and a deep-seated sadness. She knew the cost of his newfound power—it was their freedom, their peace, and his safety.
Min-jun's training became more rigorous. He realized that the Ki he was absorbing was not just raw power; it was a reflection of the user's intent. Kwang-ho's Ki had been a chaotic, brutish fire. He had to learn to not just mimic the power, but to understand the form and intent behind it. He would use the faint Ki signatures of the city's lights and machines, absorbing their subtle hum to practice mimicry, creating small, perfectly formed shadow-whips that could extinguish the light itself. The Shadow was no longer an uncontrollable beast; it was a tool, albeit a terrifying one, that he was slowly learning to master.
Meanwhile, in the Hwarang's central floating city, the atmosphere was a perfect storm of fury and cold dread. Grandmaster Jin sat at the head of the council table, his face a perfect mask of serene power. The reports of Kwang-ho's defeat were on a holographic screen before him, a detailed analysis of the mysterious energy that had consumed the Hwarang's Ki.
"The parasite has grown bolder," Grandmaster Jin said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that commanded absolute silence. "It is not a random anomaly. It is a rebellion. A plague that feeds on our power and spreads through the Mugwi's discontent."
A murmur of fear rippled through the council. This was not a simple Mugwi uprising; this was a war against their very existence. The Ki, their sacred power, was being consumed, corrupted, and turned against them.
"We cannot send patrols anymore," the Grandmaster continued. "This is not a street brawl. This is a sickness that must be eradicated with surgical precision." His gaze, a cold, terrifying force, swept over the assembled Hwarang until it landed on a woman who stood in a corner, her posture as still and sharp as a blade.
This was Jina, a Hwarang of the highest order, and a master of the Blade Ki, a rare and deadly form of energy that could slice through solid steel. Her Ki was not a chaotic flame or a gentle breeze; it was a focused, perfect point of lethal energy. She was not a bully; she was a master, a true warrior of the Hwarang. She had been observing the proceedings with a quiet, unwavering intensity, her mind already dissecting the problem.
"Jina," Grandmaster Jin said, "The council has agreed. We are activating the Purge Protocol. You will lead a strike team. Find the Mugwi, find the source of his power, and eliminate it. Do not bring him back. Do not attempt to study him. The Shadow is an abomination. Destroy it."
Jina bowed, her face devoid of emotion. "It will be done, Grandmaster. But a parasite does not reveal itself by force. It hides. It feeds in the dark." Her words were a chilling promise.
Jina's tactics were a cruel work of art. She didn't search the slums with brute force. She laid a trap, using the very thing Min-jun had become: a symbol of hope. In a small Mugwi community Min-jun had helped before, she and her team orchestrated a fake threat. They didn't hurt anyone. They simply created a large, visible Ki signature, a beacon of distress that would draw "The Shadow" out. They damaged a few structures and then hid, a perfect hunter's ambush.
The message reached Min-jun through Jae-min, who arrived at his hiding place, his face full of panic. "The Hwarang are back! They're terrorizing the community! They're looking for you!"
Min-jun felt a cold spike of dread. This was a direct challenge. He looked at Seulgi, then at Jae-min. He knew it could be a trap, but he couldn't turn his back on people who were suffering because of him. He had to go.
"Stay here," he told Seulgi, his voice filled with a desperate need for her to be safe. "Don't move. Don't speak." He turned to Jae-min. "Show me the way."
He moved through the slums with a speed born of years of evasion, his senses on a razors edge. He arrived at the community and immediately felt the Ki signature—it was strong, but it felt… empty. It was a decoy. A pit in his stomach told him this was a mistake. He had walked right into their hands.
He stepped into the main plaza, his eyes scanning for the enemy. But there was no chaos. No violence. Just a single figure standing in the center, her arms crossed, her presence a cold, focused point of power. Jina.
"The Shadow," she said, her voice clear and precise, cutting through the silence. "I knew you would come. The Mugwi's hope is your greatest weakness."
Min-jun felt the full weight of her Ki—it was not raw power, but pure, deadly control. It was a blade honed to perfection. He knew instantly that this was a different kind of enemy. This was not a bully; this was a hunter.
Jina's Ki flared, not as a chaotic fire, but as a silent, invisible blade that sliced through the air towards him. Min-jun tried to mimic it, to create a wall of Shadow energy, but her Ki was too fast, too pure. It was not a physical force he could absorb, but a precise cut through the very fabric of reality. He dodged, the blade of Ki missing his head by an inch.
The fight that followed was a blur of motion and raw survival. Min-jun's Shadow power was powerful, but Jina's skill was unmatched. She was a master of evasion and precision, her attacks coming from every angle, each one a lethal threat. He managed to absorb some of her weaker attacks, but he couldn't mimic the Blade Ki. It was a skill beyond his current grasp, and it was slicing him to ribbons.
He took a cut to his arm, a shallow, but burning wound that bled a dark, coppery fluid. He was outmatched. This was not a fight he could win. He had to run. He used a massive surge of Shadow energy, creating a blinding cloud of dark smoke to disorient her, and then, using his intimate knowledge of the slums' tunnels, he vanished. He could feel Jina's Ki raging behind him, a cold, determined fury.
He returned to Seulgi, his arm bleeding, his body trembling with exhaustion and terror. He had escaped, but only barely. The fight was over, but the war had just begun. The Hwarang were no longer underestimating him, and they had sent a hunter who was more than his match. He was no longer a symbol of hope; he was a target.
Chapter End.