The night air was thick and humid as Wol finally slipped back over the high walls of the Namgoong estate. Moving like a phantom across the tiled roofs, he easily avoided the patrol routes he had memorized earlier that day and dropped silently onto the ledge outside their guest quarters.
Without making a sound, he slid the wooden window open and stepped inside.
"Woah!"
Jo Mak nearly choked. He froze completely, a wooden chopstick holding a half-eaten piece of grilled fish suspended halfway to his mouth. He stared at Wol with wide eyes, looking like a startled cat caught stealing from the kitchen.
Wol calmly closed the window behind him.
Jo Mak swallowed the fish forcefully and let out a long breath, lowering his chopsticks. "You scared the life out of me. What took you so long? You said you were just going to the antique shop."
Wol didn't answer immediately. He walked past the small dining table where Jo Mak had set up his late-night meal and moved toward the bed. He sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress, the physical and mental exhaustion of the night finally catching up to his face.
"Things are getting more tangled," Wol said, his voice quiet but laced with a dangerous edge.
Jo Mak blinked, confused by the cryptic statement. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Tangled? Did something happen with the old merchant?"
"I'll explain later," Wol deflected, running a hand through his hair. He needed to properly process the sheer scale of the Black Market's operation before he laid it all out for Jo Mak. "What did you find? Did the beggars have anything useful?"
Jo Mak nodded, quickly shifting his focus back to business. He pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, his expression turning serious.
"Yeah, they did," Jo Mak replied. "The local beggars have been keeping a close eye on the estate's main gates. According to them, there has been a massive influx of guests over the past few weeks."
Jo Mak picked up his cup of water and took a sip before continuing. "It's not just the usual merchants delivering daily goods. A lot of high-profile envoys, wealthy traders, and even representatives from other minor clans have been pouring into the Namgoong territory to visit."
Wol looked up, a curious light flickering in his eyes. "And what is the reason for this sudden influx?"
"Trade," Jo Mak answered simply. "The Namgoong territory is now rapidly expanding its trade and business relations to outsiders. It's a new policy issued by the first son, who is currently in charge of the clan's daily operations. All these people pouring in are opportunists looking to carve out a piece of the wealth for themselves."
Jo Mak leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You know how it used to be. Under the current Patriarch and historically, the Namgoong merchants and business partners were all strictly vetted. They were 'chosen ones' who either had long-standing relationships with the family or belonged to an allied clan within the Orthodox faction. That strict gatekeeping was the very reason this territory was always hailed as peaceful, clean, and fiercely independent."
"But now," Jo Mak sighed, "under the first young master's orders, all of that is changing quickly. The gates are wide open."
Wol's expression darkened. The final piece of the puzzle clicked perfectly into place.
"That says everything," Wol muttered. "It explains exactly how the Black Market got their foothold here."
Jo Mak paused, noticing the grim, heavy shadow that had fallen over Wol's face. "Did you find something in the city tonight?"
Wol looked at him. "Sit down. This is going to take a while."
For the next half hour, Wol laid out the entire story, piece by piece. He told Jo Mak about the Grand Elder's deep-rooted scheme to usurp the clan, the fake rumor circulating in the slums about the Patriarch's botched medicine, and the horrifying discovery of the Black Market syndicate injecting the drug into the city's vegetable supply. He explained how the Grand Elder's new 'open trade' policy under the first son's name was nothing more than a front to allow the Black Market unfettered access to the Namgoong territory.
As Wol finally finished explaining how the Grand Elder and the Black Market were intricately connected, the room fell into a stunned silence.
Jo Mak sat frozen, his mouth slightly open as he processed the sheer, terrifying scale of the conspiracy. He couldn't help but agree with Wol. This was a complete, unmitigated disaster.
"This is all completely messed up," Jo Mak finally breathed out, rubbing his temples.
He looked at Wol, trying to summarize the nightmare they had just walked into. "So, Elder Pil is going to send a secret letter to Elder Han so he can start brewing a real antidote. Meanwhile, the Patriarch's official assassination is scheduled to happen in exactly two weeks, with the blame falling squarely on us. And on top of all that, a highly addictive drug is currently being pumped into the daily food supply of the entire city."
Jo Mak let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh and fell back against his chair.
"Damn," Jo Mak muttered, staring at the wooden ceiling. "I don't know if I missed anything in that summary, but that is a hell of a lot to digest for someone who only came here to deliver a box of pills."
"We have been getting tangled with Black Market affairs a lot lately," Wol said, his tone dead serious. "And according to that letter, they already have a strong hold inside the Murim Alliance. We need to move much more carefully from now on."
Jo Mak nodded slowly. He knew exactly what Wol meant.
Their ultimate priority had always been tracking down the Dark Wind Assassins. Curing the Patriarch was just a stepping stone. Once the Patriarch's health was resolved, the internal politics and the Black Market's infiltration of the Namgoong territory had to be dealt with by the Namgoong family itself. If Wol and Jo Mak interfered too deeply, it would undoubtedly backfire and ruin their original plan. Right now, their greatest and only advantage was their completely unknown identities. They couldn't afford to lose that shield before they found the Dark Wind Assassins.
"So," Jo Mak asked, lowering his voice as he leaned across the table. "What is our plan?"
"First, we secure our movements," Wol replied softly, his eyes flicking briefly toward the closed wooden window. "There are guards watching this building from afar. I located them when I was returning from the city. The Grand Elder must have sent them to monitor us after the medicine stabilized the Patriarch."
Wol stood up, keeping his movements relaxed and natural so the shadows cast by the lamp wouldn't look suspicious from the outside.
"Which means," Wol continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "if we want to move, we have to get out of this room without them knowing."
"At the same time," Wol added, his voice returning to its normal volume, "we need to occasionally go out through the front doors during the day. We have to make them believe we are just resting and having fun like normal mercenaries who just got paid. If they think we're just wasting time, they will slowly loosen their guard toward us."
Jo Mak nodded in agreement. "Play the fools while working in the shadows. I can do that."
With their immediate course of action decided, Wol didn't have much else to think about. The sheer physical toll of running across rooftops and the mental strain of deciphering the Grand Elder's plot had finally drained his reserves.
Without taking off his outer clothes, Wol fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, eager to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep after the long, tiring day.
But as he succumbed to the heavy darkness of sleep, he didn't find rest.
Instead, he was violently pulled back. A sudden, blinding light flashed—not from outside the window, but from deep inside his own mind.
He knew exactly what was happening.
Swept away by the internal light, Wol suddenly found himself standing in darkness again. But unlike the quiet, humid night of the Namgoong estate, this darkness was fundamentally different.
He recognized this sensation immediately. It was the exact same type of feeling he had experienced when he was learning the Void Severing technique for the very first time, and the same feeling from the repeated dreams that had plagued him ever since.
But the location was completely different.
Instead of the bright, sprawling geometric structures of the ancient sect he usually saw in these visions, everything here was completely dark. A familiar, heavy, biting cold pressed against his skin, accompanied by the thick, damp scent of ancient earth.
He was inside a cave.
Wol let out a small, measured breath. The sound echoed unnaturally in the pitch-black void.
But the sound was different.
It wasn't his own breath.
Wol looked down. Even in the crushing darkness, he could feel that the hands he was clenching were different. The arms were too thin. The height was wrong. He wasn't in his own body. He was in the body of the same young boy—the mysterious figure who had taught him the foundation of Void Severing in his previous dreams.
He was still bound to that boy's perspective.
With no other choice, Wol began to walk forward through the darkness, reaching out with his small, unfamiliar hands until his palms brushed against rough, freezing stone. He kept his hand pressed against the cave wall, using it to navigate blindly, hoping to find a way out.
There was no sound at all in the cave. Not a drop of water, not a gust of wind.
The emptiness was incredibly loud.
He walked blindly through the dark.
For about ten minutes, the only thing Wol could hear was the steady, rhythmic sound of his own breathing echoing against the freezing stone walls.
Unlike the previous times he had been pulled into this boy's body—when the purpose had been clear and the Void Severing technique had naturally unfolded before him—now he felt completely unsure and confused.
*What is all this?* Wol thought, dragging his small hand along the rough cave wall. *What am I supposed to do here?*
He had a creeping suspicion that he was missing something crucial. The absolute silence and the sensory deprivation were disorienting. *Is this a trap? Or am I just missing the point of this trial?*
He continued walking, his breathing growing heavier and louder in the suffocating silence.
As he dragged his palm against the stone, his fingers brushed over a sharp bump. Then a small, jagged hole. Then a patch of unnaturally smooth texture.
Wol frowned. He kept walking. A few minutes later, his fingers brushed over the exact same sharp bump, the exact same hole, and the exact same patch of smooth stone.
He stopped in his tracks.
*I really was going in circles,* Wol realized with a heavy sigh. *I've been walking the exact same path over and over, and not once have I found an entrance or an exit.*
"This is pointless," he whispered, the small boy's voice slipping past his lips. "I am just wasting my energy."
He took his hand off the wall and looked up, though it made absolutely no difference in the pitch-black void. He couldn't see a single thing. There were no hidden enemies waiting to ambush him. There were no secret doors.
*So what is this supposed to be?* he questioned the darkness.
As he stood there struggling to find an answer, a sudden realization struck him. This body belonged to a martial artist who had achieved something extraordinary in the ancient era. The boy who created Void Severing wasn't a normal practitioner.
In the Murim world, there were legendary masters who could walk with their eyes closed. They could fight, defend, and even kill without ever relying on their physical sight.
*Qi Sensing.*
Wol had never managed to achieve that elusive stage in his past life. His internal vessel had been too shattered to support the delicate external projection of Qi. But he knew the theory inside and out. He had spent years reading the private journals and forbidden texts of grandmasters in the archives, studying exactly how they had accomplished it.
He knew that Qi Sensing was different for every martial artist. Most experts who managed to grasp it could only sense killing intent or the presence of people approaching them within a limited radius, and even then, their physical movements were heavily restricted while concentrating.
But true geniuses—the Martial Overlords of the era—were entirely different. They could 'see' and sense the rustling of a leaf miles away, feel the shift of the wind, and fight at full speed without ever breaking their sensory net.
If this mysterious boy had created a technique that defied the heavens, surely he had mastered Qi Sensing as well. In fact, this pitch-black cave might have been exactly where he had trained his senses.
Wol didn't waste another second. He sat down right where he was, crossing his small legs on the freezing earth, and closed his eyes.
He slowly began to channel the Qi inside the boy's body.
He recalled the words from an ancient text: *The world is entirely composed of Qi. Living creatures, dead stone, the elements, the climate—everything breathes.*
If a martial artist could link their personal Qi to the natural Qi of the surroundings, they could expand their awareness. It was like a spider laying out its web in the dark. A spider doesn't need to see its prey; it simply feels the microscopic vibrations along the threads. If Wol could cast his Qi out like a web, he could feel the vibrations of the cave instead of relying on his useless eyes and ears.
It was incredibly easy to explain in theory, but absurdly difficult to put into practice. The sheer amount of focus and absolute concentration required to project Qi externally without it dissipating was immense.
Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, Wol pushed his Qi outward.
He tried to find the natural Qi of the cave. Almost immediately, he felt it. It was incredibly faint, but he could feel the cold, damp Qi floating in the air, brushing against his skin, and filling his lungs with every inhale.
The energy of the earth was everywhere.
But he couldn't link with it.
He tried to force his internal Qi to catch that external feeling, pushing his energy to rush out and intertwine with the air. He sat there in the darkness, sweating despite the cold, attempting the connection over and over again.
Hours passed in the dreamscape. He failed every single time. His forced Qi would just slip right past the natural energy of the cave, dissipating uselessly into the void.
*Forcing it to link isn't working,* Wol thought, his concentration wavering as exhaustion set in. *My Qi and the cave's Qi are like oil and water. They won't mix.*
He opened his eyes, staring blankly into the dark.
*If I can't force a link...* Wol's eyes slowly widened as a crazy, unprecedented idea formed in his mind.
*What if I don't link with it at all? What if I just absorb the surrounding Qi into my own body, and forcefully make it mine? *
If he absorbed the ambient energy of the cave, he wouldn't need to cast a web. He would *become* the web.
Closing his eyes again, Wol shifted his breathing technique. Instead of pushing his internal Qi out, he created a vacuum within his dantain, drawing the cold, damp ambient Qi of the cave directly into his small body.
As he did, the sensation changed instantly.
The energy that had felt so foreign and distant just moments ago suddenly felt exactly like his own. And it didn't feel limited to his physical body anymore; it stretched out in every direction.
He didn't need to force a link. He just needed to follow the flow of the Qi he had claimed.
Slowly, the darkness began to peel away in his mind's eye.
It wasn't physical sight, but it was just as clear. One by one, the details of the area around him snapped into focus. He could 'see' the uneven stones on the ground. He could feel the soft patches of moss growing in the damp corners. He sensed the tiny, jagged cracks running up the hard soil, and the exact curvature of the cave walls surrounding him.
He could feel everything around him as clearly as if he were seeing it in broad daylight.
Pushing his concentration further, Wol expanded his sensory net. The Qi stretched beyond the immediate stone walls, feeling out the true shape and scale of the cave. As he tried to push his senses even further, a sharp ache blossomed behind his eyes. His mental stamina was draining rapidly.
But just before his limit was reached, he found it.
The exit.
It hadn't been hidden behind a secret door on the walls. It was down. Hidden perfectly in the uneven floor of the cave was a narrow, sloping tunnel. He measured it with his Qi—the size was just barely big enough to fit the boy's body, perhaps only a palm's length wider than his shoulders. He would have to crawl through it.
Wol smiled faintly in the darkness. He knew what this trial had been for. The boy—or whatever remnant of his consciousness was guiding this dream—had locked him in this pitch-black cage for a single reason: to force him to learn Qi Sensing.
He had done it.
The moment that realization settled in, his 'vision' began to violently blur.
The crisp, detailed map of the cave he had built with his Qi fractured and dissolved back into the biting cold darkness. His body suddenly felt unimaginably heavy.
Wol knew exactly what was happening. He fell back onto the cold ground and let his eyes drift completely shut.
It was the same pattern as before. Whenever he learned enough from the dream, whenever he grasped the fundamental lesson the boy was trying to teach him, he would finally be allowed to sleep.
His mind was utterly exhausted. The mental strain of processing the Grand Elder's plot, combined with forcefully mastering Qi Sensing in this dreamscape, had drained everything he had left.
He didn't fight it. He didn't question the sudden wave of lethargy.
Wol simply surrendered to the darkness, allowing himself to sink into a deep, dreamless rest