CHAPTER 18: CHAPTER 17: LOTUS BENEATH THE MASK

Night had fully settled across the vast terrain of Jeonghwa, and even the mist-laced hills guarding the Yeonhwa Lotus Palace had fallen into a hush. From a distance, the palace shimmered like a floating bloom—serene, untouchable, layered in walls of mist and spiritual pressure. Jinmu stood beyond its outer formations, his gaze following the gentle curve of the palace walls as they traced the cliffside.

There were no guards openly patrolling the upper perimeter, but the presence of refined ki barriers brushing against his senses told him enough. They didn’t rely on swords or harsh alarms here—the energy surrounding the palace was like a veil of water, not meant to wound, but to quietly suffocate any who dared intrude.

This is unlike Mugang Martial Pavilion I’ve infiltrated. No bloodthirst. No killing intent. It’s calm... even welcoming. But that’s the danger, isn’t it? You don’t notice the water pulling you under until you drown.

He reached up and adjusted the dark cloth over his face. His movement was fluid—deliberate. With a deep breath, Jinmu stepped forward, activating SHADOW VEIL STEP, his body melting into the folds of the mist like he belonged in it.

His presence shrank to nothing. He was no more than a drifting breath in the wind.

The courtyard spread wide beneath him as he passed over the outer wall, unseen. Structures of pale wood and flowering gardens gave the entire palace a fragile beauty. There were no harsh corners, no towering watchposts. Instead, the architecture flowed like water itself—curved beams, layered roofs, lanterns that glowed like fireflies.

So this is the Yeonhwa Lotus Palace...

He couldn’t help but slow as he drifted between walkways and stepped through the mist gardens. A strange calm pushed into him, eroding the edge of his usual urgency.

I can see why she fights so hard for this place. Even now, I don’t feel like an invader. I feel like... I’m being let in.

But sentiment had to be buried. He pressed on, careful not to trigger the ki-sensitive grounds. His information was limited—he didn’t know the layout, hadn’t scouted the full terrain, but one thing he did know was Eun Haria’s presence. He could feel it. That faint signature of burning serenity—like a flame refusing to rage—was unmistakable now.

He followed it past an open courtyard, then down a curved staircase, into one of the practice halls. The building was open-air, the walls replaced by columns that welcomed the night wind. Inside, under the quiet watch of the moonlight, stood Haria.

Her back was to him, dressed in white training robes, black hair untied and slightly damp. She had likely just finished a late-night practice session. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow breaths, and her palms were held in front of her in a closing meditative stance.

He didn’t call her name.

Instead, he stepped into the moonlight, silently lowering his mask.

The moment he did, she turned. Slowly. No urgency. No alarm. Her gaze fell on him and remained there, unmoving. At first, there was no flicker of recognition—just silent observation.

Then, her brows twitched.

"...You," she whispered.

Her voice didn’t tremble, but her stance loosened. Her hands, still half-raised from meditation, lowered slowly. The silence between them was heavy, not with hostility, but disbelief. Her steps were cautious—measured—but not defensive.

Jinmu said nothing.

She closed the distance one pace at a time, her eyes narrowing. Her gaze searched his face, as though peeling back months, maybe years, of memory.

And then it happened.

Her breath caught.

"Back then... the inn," she murmured.

Still, Jinmu said nothing.

"I was being chased," she continued quietly, her voice distant now, like she was reliving the memory instead of speaking it aloud. "By the Crimson Flow Blade Union. That forest... I should’ve been cornered. But someone help me out. Someone with..."

She looked down at his hand.

"Calluses," she said. "On the fingers. But no sword on the back. Just strange movements. Not a palace guard, not a rogue cultivator. Someone... completely outside the path."

She met his eyes.

"It was you."

He didn’t nod. Didn’t confirm it. But something in his expression must’ve said enough, because she took a breath—and for the first time since their meeting—Eun Haria’s composure cracked.

Her hand slowly came to her chest.

"...Why?"

It was one word. A quiet whisper. Not asked in anger. Not even confusion.

More like a question she didn’t expect to have the chance to ask again.

"Why did you help me?"

Jinmu’s gaze didn’t move away. But again, no words followed. Not yet.

He watched her eyes as they continued to search his, not for deception, but for some unspoken truth. The way someone searches the stars, trying to prove a constellation really meant something.

She took one step closer. Then another.

"You’re not from the palace," she said softly. "You’ve never trained in our techniques. Your stance... your breathing... it’s wrong. Even now, you carry no sword, but you walk like one."

Her voice lowered.

"And yet, when I think back to that day... the one who saved me didn’t draw steel. He used nothing but movement. Redirection. Palm counters. I was so disoriented I didn’t even understand what happened."

She tilted her head slightly.

"You didn’t need to do it. That forest was already a death sentence. The Union wouldn’t have spared anyone nearby. And yet..."

Her voice trailed.

Finally, Jinmu opened his mouth. "...You looked like someone who shouldn’t die in a place like that."

The words were quiet. Matter-of-fact. Almost cold in their honesty.

But for some reason, they made her shoulders fall.

Not in defeat. In relief.

"...I see."

She turned slightly, her profile now half in shadow, half in moonlight. Her hair moved with the breeze, and her voice dropped with it.

"You came here for a reason, didn’t you."

A quiet pause.

"I did," Jinmu said.

She didn’t press.

Not yet.

Instead, she turned her body fully to face him again, then stepped to the side and gestured toward the open space in the practice hall.

"We’re alone," she said. "No guards will interrupt. And no one will hear us out here. The mist silences more than footsteps."

Jinmu looked at the spot she indicated, then looked back to her.

"I don’t want to fight," he said.

"I didn’t say we would," she replied.

Another long silence stretched.

Finally, Jinmu stepped forward, moving into the practice space beside her.

But even as they stood together, separated by only a few feet of polished floor and moonlight, neither spoke again for a long time.

And yet... everything had changed.

Because in that silence, beneath the moon and the veil of mist, something had been understood between them.

And that was enough. For now.

The night mist had begun to thin when they left the inner training hall, but the silence that stretched between them had only grown heavier. Jinmu walked behind Haria, their footsteps soft against the garden stones. She hadn’t asked him anything more since agreeing to take him to the Palace Master. That silence wasn’t cold or hostile—it was patient.

She was waiting for him to explain.

The lanterns ahead flickered slightly as a breeze passed, casting moving shadows over Haria’s back. Jinmu let out a quiet breath and spoke.

"I know why they came after you."

Haria didn’t stop walking, but he saw her shoulders react—just slightly.

"Crimson Flow Blade Union doesn’t move without cause. Especially not across sect territory."

That was true. Even among the unorthodox, crossing into an orthodox mountain stronghold to attempt a public assassination... wasn’t something done lightly. Especially not to someone so high-profile.

Jinmu continued, voice low.

"They didn’t want to kill you just because of who you are. You were a piece in a bigger plan."

She finally came to a stop.

They were just outside the moon gate that led to the Palace’s central courtyard now. A still pond sat ahead, the surface like polished silver, dotted with lotus leaves. Lantern light shimmered over its edge.

"...Go on."

Jinmu stood beside her now.

"I infiltrated Mugang Martial Pavilion nights ago."

That made her glance at him. He could feel it.

He went on without turning to meet her gaze.

"I didn’t plan to stay long. Just observe from the outer disciples’ quarters. But then I saw something strange. The Pavilion Master... was confined. Sick. Isolated. And no one was allowed to approach."

Haria frowned.

"That’s impossible. The Pavilion Master—Hyeon Ryu—is a Grandmaster."

Jinmu nodded.

"That’s what I thought, too. Until I saw him with my own eyes."

He could still feel the weight of that moment. The elder’s breath trembling, the black streak in his tongue, the slow-spoken words.

"He was poisoned. Slow-acting. He couldn’t trust anyone inside the Pavilion anymore."

Haria’s eyes darkened.

"...Do Giseon."

Jinmu finally turned toward her.

"He’s the one pulling the strings."

The silence tightened like a rope between them.

Jinmu didn’t let it drag.

"He’s trying to take over Mugang Martial Pavilion. And he needs to isolate the Pavilion Master."

She was quiet.

"So how does that involve Yeonhwa?"

Jinmu’s tone grew sharp now. Intentional.

"Because he needs a war."

Haria’s lips parted slightly.

"He’s planning to start a conflict between Mugang and Yeonhwa Lotus Palace."

She didn’t say anything for a long moment.

"...Why?"

"Because it gives him an excuse," Jinmu replied. "An excuse to ’avenge’ the Pavilion’s honor. To step up as the new master and unify the Pavilion under his own rules. He wants the Five Great Mountain Sects to be rebalanced—with him at the center."

Haria lowered her gaze. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"And I’m the key," she murmured.

Jinmu nodded.

"They went after you because your death would force Yeonhwa to retaliate. And when Yeonhwa strikes back... Mugang would be forced to respond."

"A full sect war," Haria whispered. "Manufactured. Orchestrated."

"Exactly."

She folded her arms, frowning deeper now.

"And the Crimson Flow Blade Union?"

Jinmu looked ahead, eyes narrowing slightly.

"They’re working with Giseon."

"Why would an unorthodox group ally with an orthodox First Blade?"

"Because they benefit either way. If Yeonhwa falls, they get territory. If Mugang weakens, they get chaos. And either way, no one suspects them."

Silence returned.

But this time, Haria broke it.

"...You said the Pavilion Master told you all this."

Jinmu nodded.

"He’s still alive. But barely."

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard then, rustling the petals above the pond. Haria closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. When she spoke, her voice was steady.

"I’ll take you to the Palace Master."

Jinmu looked at her.

She turned to face him fully this time.

"But I have to warn you. She doesn’t trust easily. And you’re still a stranger."

"I understand."

"She’ll listen. But if she doesn’t like what she hears..."

"I won’t run."

She studied him for a second longer, then finally gave a small nod.

"...Alright. Follow me."

They crossed through the moon gate, stepping into the inner sanctum of the palace. The quiet deepened here—almost unnaturally so. A single wooden hall stood ahead, long and low, flanked by willow trees. The inner lights were dimmed, and a pair of maidens in light robes waited by the doors. When Haria spoke softly to them, they stepped aside without question.

"Her name is Danhye Yeoryeong," Haria said as they walked down the corridor. "She’s been the Palace Master of Yeonhwa for nearly three decades."

Jinmu nodded slightly.

"And she’s the one who created the current foundation of the Blossom Vein Arts. She was never the strongest in raw power, but she’s... untouchable when it comes to refined ki."

They stopped before the final chamber. A single curtain separated them from the inner sanctum.

"I’ll go in first," Haria said quietly.

She slipped through the curtain, and Jinmu waited. He could hear the faint murmur of voices inside. Then silence. Then—

"You may enter."

Jinmu stepped forward.

The room was bathed in soft light. A single brazier burned at the far wall, and the scent of lotus and sandalwood hung thick in the air. Sitting on a woven mat at the center was a woman clad in pale violet robes, her dark hair streaked with silver, her gaze calm and penetrating.

"Jinmu Yeon," she said softly. "Haria has spoken for you."

Jinmu bowed.

"I don’t deserve such trust," he replied. "But I appreciate it."

"You have something to tell me."

"Yes."

She gestured.

"Then speak."

And so he did.

He told her everything—every word Hyeon Ryu had spoken, the signs of poisoning, the way the inner pavilion was shifting under Giseon’s command, and the arrangement with Crimson Flow. He didn’t embellish. Didn’t hold anything back. Only the truth, exactly as he had seen it.

When he finished, Danhye Yeoryeong sat very still.

"I see."

Her voice was almost a whisper.

"So Giseon wishes to raise a war between mountain peaks."

"Yes."

"And he chose Haria because we would never ignore such an attack."

"...Yes."

She looked at Haria for a long moment.

Then back at Jinmu.

"You come here without a name. Without proof. Without allegiance."

Jinmu didn’t flinch.

"But you come with eyes that have seen too much," she said quietly. "And a voice that doesn’t tremble."

A silence passed.

Then she spoke again.

"You ask for our trust. But in Yeonhwa, trust is not given—it is tested."

Jinmu said nothing.

"Tomorrow at dawn, you will demonstrate your strength. Not to show power—but to show essence."

Her eyes gleamed faintly.

"If you wish for Yeonhwa to stand with you... then show me who you are without hiding."

Jinmu nodded once.

"I will."

She didn’t smile. But her gaze softened—just enough to feel like a leaf settling over still water.

"Then rest well, Jinmu Yeon."

She stood slowly.

"Tomorrow, the Lotus will decide."