The walls were not the harshest thing in the prison... It was the silence that followed their discovery.
The captain of the guards stood before the open cell, examining the door that hadn't been broken, the chains that were opened without a trace, and the three shadows that vanished, leaving behind only one question: How?
His face was frozen, but his heart pounded like war drums. He did not dare shout, nor did he call for help. He merely whispered to two of the elite guards:
"Kill the children if you must… but the boy, I want him alive. If he returns as a corpse, you won't be the only ones buried."
Then, with heavy steps, he headed toward the inner headquarters, where the Gray Elder resided.
---
"Escaped?"
The Gray Elder said it softly, as though it wasn't a question... but a foregone conclusion.
The captain of the guards bowed deeply, beads of sweat dripping from him: "It wasn't my fault. The chains were secure, the cell was forgotten… I didn't think he would survive, how could he escape?"
The Gray Elder slowly raised his head. His pale eyes were not looking at him… they were looking into him.
"The mistake isn't in his escape, but in your belief that he had nothing left to lose. The punishment? We'll decide it tomorrow. If the boy returns alive… or if you bring me his corpse."
Then he turned his face, speaking with a tone colder than the northern ice:
"But remember... if he returns dead, you won't return alive."
He paused for a moment before adding:
"Those who leave the darkness of the cell… do not escape. They return."
---
On the other side of the mountains, under the faint moonlight, "Jang Hon" sat by the edge of a shallow river. The cold water washed the blood and mud from his body, while the two children laughed for the first time in days... splashing water as if the world was no longer chasing them.
As for him, he remained still, staring at his reflection in the water.
A strange face... pale skin stretched over thin bones, hollow eyes, and cracked lips like dry earth. As if he had seen a dead man rise from the grave.
His body was not stronger, but he felt something inside him... something still, watching, waiting.
The Void Core.
Then he heard the crackling of branches. It wasn't a loud sound… but a familiar sensation, like the chill before the rain.
"Move."
He said it without explanation, lifted the children, and slipped through the trees as if the forest had known him since his birth.
---
When morning broke, they arrived at the outskirts of a small, remote village.
The wind was cold, and dew clung to their feet, but the village seemed like it belonged to another world... one that knew neither prisons nor chains.
"Jang Hon" stopped behind a dense tree on a hill overlooking the village. He watched in silence.
No flags of the sect, no signs of guards... at least on the surface.
He wore a rough gray uniform he had stolen during the escape, the same as the prison guards responsible for the patrols. It smelled of iron and sweat, tied together with a tattered leather belt.
As for the children, their clothes were torn, stained with mud and dried blood.
He said as he watched:
"We'll attract attention like this... I'll go alone."
---
He slipped into the village with the light footsteps of someone who had spent his life fleeing from shadows.
At the back corner of the market, he found a clothesline hanging between two huts.
It held five pieces of clothing: a simple adult male outfit, three child-sized outfits, and a worn women's robe.
He stole them all except the women's clothes and one of the child-sized outfits, then left without leaving a trace.
He then passed by a vegetable cart, grabbed three rough pieces of bread and a half-full water bottle.
He returned to the children, who had hidden behind an abandoned hut on the village's edge. The hut's walls were dilapidated, and its roof almost collapsed.
He handed them the bread and water, washed their faces, wiped the mud off their feet, cleaned their hair as best as he could, and gave them the clothes to change into.
Then he removed the guard uniform and put on the adult-sized clothes.
One of the children whispered:
"Will… will we stay here?"
"Jang Hon" looked at the village, at the smoke from the baking bread, at the simple life... then he answered:
"We won't stay long. After noon, we leave."
---
That afternoon, "Jang Hon" wandered the narrow alleys, pretending to be a villager looking for work.
He approached a vendor selling farming tools and asked:
"Uncle… do you know how far the city of Jeong-Do is from here?"
("Jang Hon" had known the city's name since childhood, but he had never known the distance, or the road to it.)
The man answered as he sifted a handful of dirt between his fingers:
"Jeong-Do? Southeast. Four days on foot if you're alone, five if you have children."
"Is there a trade route?"
"Yes, but it's watched. Silk traders pass through it… and the guards are always with them."
"Thank you."
"Jang Hon" said, then left.
Inside him, the map began to form... and he began to plan for the greater escape.
But a heavy feeling suddenly settled in his heart... The shadow of the sect wasn't just behind him... it might be ahead.
---
On his way back to the children, he saw faces he shouldn't have seen.
Two guards.
Entering from the other side of the village, looking around, watching.
Time was no longer on his side.
He stood between the alleyways, his breathing slow, his eyes fixed on the cooking smoke rising, then in the distance... as if something inside him whispered:
"It's time to move."
(Sorry, I'll stop here. The amount of effort put in makes a person tired. Now that I've tried writing a novel, I'm amazed at how a person can write all those details and groups of different characters and many things. Now I respect them. Thank you.)