The room was filled with soft snoring. All three boys had collapsed in Jinhu's room the moment they returned from training, too tired to move, too wired to sleep. Earlier that night, they'd gathered to share stories, buzzing with excitement...tomorrow, at last, their joint training would begin.
Blue leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, telling them about chasing two crazy old men across rooftops and through forests in the middle of the night.
"I swear I thought they were trying to kill me," he muttered.
Jinhu, half-buried in his blanket, shivered. "I've replaced my door a dozen times... the table, the trunk... haven't gotten around to the chair yet."
Ilho pointed toward the corner. A shattered chair lay like the remnants of a small battlefield.
Blue chuckled. "That tracks."
Ilho's tone was quieter. "My master didn't speak. Not once. But somehow I knew what he wanted. Last night Wu Jin said... I might be the only one to ever master Sa Gwan's Shadow Step."
He paused. Then added with a faint smile, "Also, the Rod™ is real."
They all groaned in unison.
---
Hours later…
The room shook.
Jinhu bolted upright. "Not the door...I'm up, I'm up!"
Ilho rubbed his eyes. "Damn, that's some serious PTSD."
Blue groaned from the floor. "Man… I was finally sleeping good. Haven't slept in weeks on that damn mountain."
---
At breakfast the masters had chosen to let their disciples sleep in after training hard for two weeks. A well earned rest.
The morning sun hadn't risen yet, but two elders along with Mu Jang and Sa Gwan sat over breakfast in the open hall. Steam rose from their tea. Crickets still sang.
Mu Jang grinned wide, slapping his thigh. "Jinhu mastered two forms of Earthsplitting—earthshaker's mark and Quake Pulse. HAHAHA! I win!"
Sa Gwan gave him a long, unimpressed look. "It's not a competition, you brute."
He then took a sip of his tea calmly. "Ilho mastered Shadow Step. With silence. As it should be."
Wu Jin stepped into the hall like a ghost, arms behind his back. Silence fell instantly. Not because of Wu Jin but rather, no one had ever mastered Sa Gwan's Phantom Veil. Not fully. Until now.
Wu Cheng leaned on a nearby post. "Blue hasn't mastered his yet. But he will before the tournament. It's only a matter of time."
Yeol nodded. "Learning Flowing Steel is like learning a hundred forms of Earthsplitting at once. Give him time."
The elders chuckled quietly among themselves.
Then Wu Jin's voice cut clean through the air: "We have two weeks."
Everyone turned toward him.
"Two weeks to prepare them for the tournament," he said. "No more, no less."
He paused, eyes narrowing with quiet pride.
"These three will be the ones to bring Silent Edge out of the shadows."
---
Wu Jin stood in the middle of the courtyard, Sa Gwan, Mu Jang and the two elders behind. Blue, Jinhu, and Ilho stepped forward, standing in the early morning light. The stone tiles beneath them radiated a slight chill, the wind still carrying the edge of dawn.
Wu Jin's voice rang clear.
"You have two weeks," he said, "and I expect each of you to master two forms of your weapon style. Your masters will now begin teaching you. You will train separately here in this courtyard, then together throughout the day. The timing of that is up to them."
He gestured slightly. Without a word, Sa Gwan appeared behind Ilho. Two butterfly swords dropped into Ilho's hands. With a small grin, he nodded once at the others... and vanished. Just...gone.
Jinhu blinked. "What the fuck was that?"
Blue laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know. But I want to find out." His smile curled into something sharp. Almost wicked.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Heavy footsteps rumbled across the stone as Mu Jang approached. He stopped behind Jinhu, sized him up like a blacksmith evaluating raw ore—then grabbed him by the collar and hurled him across the courtyard. Jinhu crashed into a thick steel pillar with a grunt. Dust rose.
Mu Jang followed casually. "Good. You're warmed up."
Blue turned back, waving lazily. "Okay, elders. Let's go."
But it wasn't Tang Yeol or Wu Cheng who stepped forward. It was Wu Jin.
"Not today, my boy," Wu Cheng said from the side, arms still crossed. "You've learned our steps. But to master Flowing Steel, you'll need more than footwork."
Yeol nodded. "You need a blade."
Wu Jin's eyes didn't blink. "The Jian suits you. Flow and precision. Power without force."
Blue looked down as Wu Jin approached, offering him a sheathed blade...sleek, elegant, balanced.
Wu Cheng added, "He's the best in the corps to teach you. We'll be around as always. But from now on... he's your master."
Blue took the Jian. It felt like lightning wrapped in silence. He looked up at Wu Jin. And nodded.
They split across the training field. Each disciple, two blades, one pair of gauntlets, each style...completely different, yet moving toward the same summit.
---
Ilho stood in the far corner of the courtyard. Both butterfly swords hung loose at his sides. His breathing—controlled. Before him stood a simple straw dummy, swaying faintly in the breeze. Sa Gwan reached into his sleeve. Pulled out a single brass button. He walked forward and pressed it to the side of the dummy's neck.
"Hit here," he said. "Only here."
A pause.
"The first form of the Veiled Fang Arts is called Precision Blades."
He turned, eyes cool. "The term is literal."
He pointed to the air.
"Become the shadows. Strike from them."
Then he vanished. Ilho stepped forward. Shadow Step. He reappeared at the dummy's flank and stabbed. Missed. Again. Shadow Step. Blade struck shoulder. Missed. Again. Shadow Step. Missed. Again. Sa Gwan said nothing. Ilho clenched his jaw. Breathing harder now. His body blurred into movement...again. His blade sank into the chest. Wrong spot. Again. Finally, Sa Gwan walked forward. Stood beside him.
"Watch."
He moved like mist. In a blink, one of Ilho's butterfly swords was gone. And then it was back. A thin click sounded. Ilho looked over. The button had been pierced clean through. The blade hung from the dummy's neck, barely shaking.
"Use your qi to feel the target," Sa Gwan said quietly.
"Stop stabbing wildly like those brutes over there."
He gestured vaguely toward Jinhu.
"Attack to kill. Not to injure."
His voice was colder now. "There's no room for slipups with these techniques."
Then he disappeared again. The next few hours before lunch, Ilho kept performing shadow step, edging closer and closer to the button on the straw figures neck. Until he finally hit the button, not in the center, but he still hit it. Ilho then fell to the ground exhausted as he felt a little pat on his head.
---
Jinhu exhaled slowly. He stepped forward and dropped into a low stance...First Form: Earthshaker's Mark. The ground beneath him trembled. Dust shifted.
He inhaled through his nose. Drew back his right arm. Locked it like a cannon, his elbow tight, shoulders squared. His qi stirred. It surged from his core, spiraled around his hips, then climbed—shoulder, bicep, forearm. It reached the gauntlet just as he swung toward the steel pillar ahead. And fizzled. The strike hit with nothing behind it. No shock wave. No crater. Not even a dent. Jinhu gritted his teeth and let out a guttural yell. He ripped the gauntlets from his hands and threw them to the ground.
"Again," Mu Jang said calmly.
"I can't" Jinhu snapped. "It was there—I felt it! The qi reached my wrist, and then—just—gone!"
Mu Jang walked over, arms folded. His expression unreadable.
"There's a disconnect, Jinhu," he said. "You're focusing too much on the punch itself. You're trying to force the result."
He pointed toward Jinhu's feet.
"Your foundation wavers when you strike. You lose the flow at the base, and so the mountain never reaches its peak."
Jinhu blinked. Sweat beaded at his brow.
"The strength of a mountain," Mu Jang continued, "isn't in its summit. It's in the base."
He stepped back. Crouched slightly. Cocked his arm back...not tightly, but loosely. Naturally.
"Let Earthshaker's Mark guide the body. Let qi follow your breath. Don't force it. Flow it."
He moved.
BOOM.
The shock wave cracked the air as his fist struck the steel pillar from ten feet away. A split-second later—BANG. The steel exploded outward, fragments ricocheting off the courtyard walls.
Mu Jang rolled his shoulders. "That's Mountain Fist."
He looked back over his shoulder at Jinhu.
"Don't chase it. Become it."
Jinhu got into his stance, Earthshaker's Mark, he thought to himself, don't focus on the punch...from my base...up my legs, hips, back, through my arm down to my gauntlets, he threw a punch, and EXPLODE, he yelled. A tiny insignificant gust of qi followed by wind and some ruffled leaves followed. He hadn't mastered it yet, but he began to understand.
---
Wu Jin stood in the courtyard, his Jian resting in one hand.
"I don't recognize your footwork," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "It looks foreign...nothing like our styles."
He stepped forward, lifting the blade in a slow arc.
"But if Yoryeon truly used a Jian, like my father once claimed… then I'll help you wield both."
He slid into stance.
"The First Form of Silent Edge is called Edge of Dusk."
Then he moved. It wasn't a demonstration...it was a sword dance.
Every slash was clean. Crisp. The blade traced arcs of silver air. His feet never stumbled, his body never tensed. The rhythm was flowing, but sharp...like watching moonlight skim across glass. The form ended with a single forward thrust, the tip of his Jian stopping an inch from a practice dummy's core. Stillness. Blue stood there, dumbfounded.
"Uhh… how the hell am I supposed to learn two forms of that?!"
He glanced over at Wu Cheng and Tang Yeol, searching for a lifeline.
CRACK.
The Rod™ struck near his foot again.
Wu Cheng grinned. "Like this."
He tossed a scroll toward Blue. It hit his chest and flopped onto the ground. Blue bent to pick it up, then looked across the courtyard. Ilho and Jinhu were already sparring, ilho with his blades and Jinhu with his gauntlets, living in the moment.
He muttered, "I hate reading."
Still, he sat. From morning until afternoon, he studied the scroll...each diagram, each flow, each annotated line. The images burned into his memory. He traced every footstep in his mind.
Then finally—
[System Ping]:
[Silent Edge – First Form: Edge of Dusk – 25% Comprehension]
"You have learned through thought alone. The sword remembers."
Blue blinked. He hadn't moved his body once. But his mind? Was already learning the blade. He looked down at his hands.
"...Yeah," he murmured. "You're helping me again, aren't you?"
The system didn't respond.
But he felt it.