CHAPTER 15: CHAPTER 14: SHADOWS BENEATH THE FLAME

The wind blew low, brushing the blood-soaked leaves with a faint rustle as Jinmu landed without a sound behind the black-robed Peak Master. His mask glinted red in the moonlight, the material identical to his blade—quiet, yet unmistakable. He didn’t announce his arrival. He didn’t need to. His blade did it for him.

"...Hmph," the Peak Master muttered, his stance freezing as if something ancient had just crept onto his spine. "You’ve got no aura. But that pressure... who the hell are you?"

Jinmu didn’t answer. Not with words. Not with pleasantries.

FLAME PETAL DRAW.

A searing arc of crimson light carved through the cold night, but the man was fast. His blade clashed against Jinmu’s, and both were pushed back—neither retreating, neither gaining.

The silence after that first clash was heavy.

"Blossom... ki?" the Peak Master narrowed his eyes, but shook his head. "No. Too sharp. Too unrefined. You’re not from Yeonhwa Lotus Palace."

Jinmu remained silent, his blade humming softly as ki flowed into it. Flames danced faintly along the edge, licking the metal like a predator starving for blood.

He matched me. The same level. No... perhaps a little more refined. But not faster.

The Peak Master chuckled, adjusting his stance. "You’ve got the air of someone used to killing. The stillness in your feet. And that last strike... you’ve seen real death, haven’t you?"

"You talk too much," Jinmu finally muttered, tilting his blade slightly. "Draw again. Or run."

That amused the Peak Master more than it should’ve. "So you’re the one. The boy who killed the beast during the recent incident. That wasn’t a rumor, was it?"

He stepped forward, raising his weapon—its curved edge gleaming with a dark, wine-like hue. "I heard the report. A young martial artist, fighting alone, slaying a monster that terrified even masters. And here you are. No name. No clan. Just a mask and a flame."

I didn’t mean for that incident to get around... But someone saw. Of course they did.

Jinmu responded the only way he knew how.

WINDING PULSE DASH.

He disappeared low, rushing beneath the man’s line of sight with a sidestepping motion, his blade a blur. But the Peak Master countered smoothly.

CRIMSON FANG DRAW.

The clash was furious this time. Sparks and fire, a split second of nothing but sound and weight, swords grating against each other like thunder on steel. Jinmu slid back, his boots kicking dust as the Peak Master grinned.

"Ah, I see it now. You’re a practitioner of something... new. But those footwork patterns? That’s not ordinary blossom art." His eyes sharpened. "That’s hybridized. You’re a copycat."

Jinmu narrowed his gaze.

He’s perceptive. Dangerous.

The man stepped forward again.

FLOOD EDGE RUSH.

He lowered his body and surged forward with blistering speed. Jinmu didn’t retreat. He twisted.

CRIMSON CURTAIN DANCE.

His blade spun in a spiraling arc of defensive slashes and redirecting palm strikes. The two forces collided again—and again—every technique exchanged was a brush with death.

The Peak Master was grinning wider now. "You know our techniques? Who are you really?!"

"I told you," Jinmu replied calmly. "You talk too much."

SCATTERING BLADE RAIN.

The Peak Master launched into a flurry of diagonal cuts, each one tearing at the air in a pattern reminiscent of falling flower petals—if those petals were sharpened death.

COILED VEIN RAIN.

Jinmu met the onslaught with his own flurry, mixing acupuncture-focused palm strikes with bladed redirects. Their feet slid along the forest floor, branches falling around them, trees trembling.

"You’re fast," the man admitted, "but you’re just mimicking power you don’t understand."

"And yet... I’m still standing."

That was the final line before a new presence surged in.

Two more black-robed figures arrived from the trees—martial artists, faces hidden, blades already drawn.

Jinmu’s eyes flicked between them.

Reinforcements. Just what I didn’t need.

The Peak Master exhaled as he gestured toward the masked Jinmu. "Kill him. Whoever he is, he’s not some bystander."

The two martial artists nodded and leapt forward with coordinated strikes.

Jinmu grit his teeth and spun.

GHOST BLOOM STEP.

Afterimages scattered like petals in the dark, misleading one of the attackers who struck through empty air. Jinmu countered with a low kick and a sideways parry, only to meet the blade of the second one.

His mask cracked slightly at the corner as he narrowly avoided a deep cut to his cheek.

The Peak Master raised his blade again, now joined by the two newcomers.

"Outnumbered now, masked one. I don’t know how you killed the beast, but three of us? You’ll be ashes before dawn."

Jinmu said nothing.

I can’t use Funeral Flame Blossom unless I’m ready to end it all... Too much exposure. I have to conserve.

He spun, his blade flickering with fire and speed.

VEIN-RUPTURE SPIRAL.

The ground shook beneath his feet as a spiraling upward slash pushed two of them back. But the Peak Master didn’t flinch.

He responded immediately—

CRESCENT RUPTURE.

A compressed half-moon slash of ki tore across the air toward Jinmu. He crossed his blade and blocked, but the impact sent him skidding back, dust and flame erupting around him.

His timing is sharp. These techniques... he’s lived them. I merely adapted them.

"You’re skilled," the Peak Master admitted, now casually walking forward with the two others fanning out to his flanks. "But you don’t have the discipline of someone who trained for years. That’s what you’re missing."

Jinmu’s hand tightened on his hilt.

No. I’m missing the time to experiment.

He inhaled slowly. Let the fire calm. Let the thoughts settle.

This isn’t about surviving. They won’t kill me quickly. But if I don’t start thinking tactically—

A rustle to the side.

The two martial artists flanked him again.

He leapt backward, barely avoiding their strike—

—and landed hard on his knees.

The Peak Master smirked. "Fatigue, already?"

"No," Jinmu replied, standing slowly. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He met their gaze through the cracked edge of his mask.

"About how many seconds it would take to end all three of you if I were truly trying."

The wind carried the silence between them.

Then Jinmu exhaled sharply.

This isn’t working. I need to change tactics. But I can’t let them know.

"You’re bluffing," one of the attackers said.

"Am I?" Jinmu asked, stepping forward again. "Then attack."

And they did.

The moment the blade of the last crimson-robed martial artist fell to the dirt, severed cleanly at the hilt, the forest returned to silence—but only for a breath.

Jinmu exhaled slowly as he lowered Yeomhwa, now flickering faintly with residual ki. His eyes didn’t rest long. The real threat, the Peak Master, still stood opposite him, panting but grinning beneath his hood. Blood dripped down his shoulder where Jinmu had scored a deep cut moments ago. Yet even with his injury, his stance didn’t waver.

"Hah... you’re really not from Yeonhwa Lotus?," the man muttered, tilting his blade upward.

Jinmu’s expression remained blank beneath his mask. His fingers tightened slightly around Yeomhwa’s hilt, but he didn’t answer.

"I didn’t believe it," the man continued, stepping forward. "But now I see. That pressure... that footwork... That’s no ordinary sword technique. That’s—" He stopped, frowning, before shaking his head with a bitter laugh. "Doesn’t matter. You’ll still die here."

"...You talk too much," Jinmu said flatly. "Just attack."

The man didn’t need a second invitation.

He launched forward with CRIMSON FANG DRAW, the signature opening form. Jinmu met it head-on, sliding into FLAME PETAL DRAW with equal speed, their blades shrieking in a red-hot arc of sparks.

The clang of steel burst through the trees like thunder. The man followed with FLOOD EDGE RUSH, sweeping low like a serpent to try and catch Jinmu’s legs. But Jinmu lifted, spinning just over it with GHOST BLOOM STEP, and came crashing down with a flaming spiral of VEIN-RUPTURE SPIRAL, the arc trailing ember-petals behind him.

The Peak Master grunted, barely dodging the strike, his robe singed at the sleeve. "That movement... It’s too refined. Your technique isn’t from any sect I’ve ever seen."

Jinmu didn’t reply. He was already moving.

The man threw up SCATTERING BLADE RAIN, surrounding himself in a storm of diagonal cuts, but Jinmu pierced through the chaos with a narrowed gaze. He sidestepped to the left, slashing away two stray strikes, then twisted into COILED VEIN RAIN, parrying three more in a single motion before unleashing a crosscut that nearly tore the man’s chest open.

Blood flew again. The man gasped, staggering back. "You’re not just strong... you’re faster too."

It’s not speed alone. It’s the flow, the rhythm. These forms aren’t meant to block each other. I designed them to overwhelm. I already understand where he’ll step next.

The black-robed man growled, his ki flaring. "Then let’s end this!"

He leapt with CRESCENT RUPTURE, his blade arcing through the air, sending compressed ki hurtling toward Jinmu. Jinmu didn’t even dodge.

He stepped into CRIMSON CURTAIN DANCE, deflecting the arc with a tight spin of blade and palm. The flaming petals rebounded and scattered the compressed ki like smoke on wind. Jinmu’s eyes narrowed again.

"You’re predictable."

The man’s expression twisted in rage. "I’ll tear your veins open!"

He surged in with FINAL VEIN BREAK, aiming a deadly thrust toward Jinmu’s danjeon.

Jinmu, anticipating the move, let his sword fall to his left side. A feint.

Then he unleashed MOONLIT BLOOM SEVERANCE—a horizontal slash not to kill, but to disarm both weapon and will.

The man’s blade flew from his hand, knocked skyward. Jinmu appeared behind him in an instant and pressed the edge of Yeomhwa

to the man’s throat. A burst of flame hissed into the air as the ki-imbued metal flared against skin.

"You’ve lost."

The man stood frozen. For several heartbeats, neither of them moved.

Then the man exhaled, almost laughing. "You... you’re not from any sect. You’re something else entirely..."

Jinmu didn’t loosen his stance. "Talk."

"You want names?" The man coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. "Fine... this wasn’t my plan. I was following orders. All of us were."

Jinmu waited, silent.

"It’s Do Giseon." The man’s voice cracked now. "First Blade of the Twelve Blades... from Mugang Martial Pavilion. He’s the one who gave the order."

"...Why?"

"To provoke the Yeonhwa Lotus Palace. To spark something bigger. He wants to shatter the balance."

Jinmu’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. Do Giseon... so he’s the one colluding with the Crimson Flow Blade Union. And he wants war between the Pavilion and Yeonhwa.

The man gave a dry chuckle. "Heh... you think killing me will change anything?"

"No." Jinmu’s voice was low. "But you’re not leaving."

The man’s face twisted. "Then do it. If I die, he’ll know something went wrong anyway. You’ve only bought time."

Jinmu didn’t move for a long moment.

Then, with a clean and quick motion, the back of his blade slammed against the man’s neck. He dropped instantly, unconscious.

Jinmu exhaled.

He glanced up at the moonlight filtering through the leaves, then stepped back, dragging the unconscious body out of sight.

Do Giseon... so this goes deeper than just sect rivalry. He’s moving pieces already. I need to be careful. And if Haria is their target, this won’t be the last attempt.

As he disappeared, Jinmu’s silhouette faded into the shadows once more, flame-kissed petals falling behind him like embers in the dark.

The forest path leading east was silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind brushing past leaves. The smell of blood had faded, though the tension still lingered in the air like a storm that hadn’t truly passed. Eun Haria walked alone, her robes tattered at the sleeves and stained with ash and crimson.

Her breathing was calm, but inside, her thoughts churned without rest.

That man in black... he was too strong. If I hadn’t been spared... no, if he had been just a little more ruthless, I would’ve died right there.

Her pace didn’t slow.

Why didn’t he kill me?

She reached a ridge where the trees opened up to reveal the distant silhouette of Yeonhwa Lotus Palace nestled within the misty mountains ahead. The soft glow of its lanterns barely visible beyond the horizon, framed by lotus-shaped rooftops and moonlight.

She paused only briefly.

Master must hear of this. The Crimson Flow Blade Union isn’t acting alone. This reeks of something bigger...

Her jaw tightened.

Then we may already be in danger.

The wind shifted behind her, rustling her hair. She didn’t turn, but her gaze narrowed.

"I don’t know who you are,".

And then she stepped forward again, each step more urgent than the last.

Behind her, in the upper branches of a tall pine, Jinmu crouched silently, watching her figure grow smaller with each stride. He remained motionless, shadows wrapping around his form like a cloak. His blade had already been cleaned. His aura was sealed so tightly even a Peak Master wouldn’t sense him there.

But his eyes—sharp, unwavering—followed her.

She’s heading back to report. Good. If she tells them, they’ll strengthen their defenses. But Do Giseon won’t stop with one attack. He’s probing. Testing.

He lowered his gaze, expression unreadable behind the faint flicker of flame at his side.

I’ll have to move ahead of them. Track the next group. Kill in silence. No recognition, no reward. That’s fine. I don’t need a name.

If I can erase their fangs before they bite, there’ll be no conflict to begin with. That’s my way of helping her... without her knowing.

His figure disappeared as silently as it had come, merging into the darkness between the trees.

And somewhere far ahead, the lotus palace awaited... unaware that war had already begun whispering at its gates.