Before heading to the Falling Moon Stockade, Seolhwa stopped by her quarters, sent the hidden woman back to the village, and packed.

In truth, there was hardly anything one could call baggage.

She cooked the remaining rice, pressed it tight, wrapped it in lotus leaves, and took the leftover dumplings as well.

A spare set of clothing and shoes the villagers had shared out to give her.

That was everything Seolhwa owned.

Having packed, Seolhwa sat on the porch for a moment and waited for something.

After the span of an interval, she tied cloth over the bundle, slung it over her back, and stepped out.

Before she left, Seolhwa halted and looked back at the house.

A small house the villagers had pooled together to repair and provide for her.

Humble but warm, small but ample.

This house, and the villagers’ hearts.

They were not telling her to leave.

Yet Seolhwa faintly felt she would not return here again.

“...”

Seolhwa gave her dwelling a brief parting glance and moved on.

She walked in the exact opposite direction of the village.

She did not head straight for the Falling Moon Stockade.

Instead, she climbed the mountain she used to range through in search of good wood.

She went up a rough, pathless slope, passed through a steep ravine choked with rock, and pushed deep into a place with no trace of people at all.

Only when she reached a spot where no one could be found did she stop.

Thuk.

Setting her bundle down by a boulder, Seolhwa drew a sword and stepped in among the trees.

Then she gripped the sword.

“...”

The blade wrapped to her hand like a garment tailored to her body.

Turning her sword-hand this way and that, Seolhwa swung the blade toward the tree standing before her.

Shwiik—

“...”

Silence pooled.

She had clearly cut the tree, and yet nothing happened.

“?”

Seolhwa blinked.

She approached the tree and examined where she had struck.

On the wood there was the faintest trace, a hairline running across the grain.

“...”

Following that threadlike line with her fingers, Seolhwa took one step back and firmed her grip.

Then—

Shwishwishwishwik—!

She swung again toward the tree.

This time her movement was not lateral, and it followed no pattern.

In the span of an instant she cut dozens of times and returned to her original spot to stand—at that moment—

Seur-reuk— seureuk—

Thud— thud! Thud!

Pieces of the slantedly severed trunk fell one by one to the ground.

It had been cut perfectly.

Seolhwa looked down at the hand that held the sword.

The result surprised even her, and yet her expression was far from bright.

‘Who... am I.’

Small hands crowded with calluses even before she learned to work wood.

A body that responded on its own when facing an enemy.

Legs that moved the same way, by reflex.

What kind of person had she been before she lost her memory?

What kind of person had she been, that she ended up adrift on a river with her memories gone?

Why was the emptiness so great?

Just then—

Ssssss....

Suddenly black smoke began to rise from the hand that gripped the sword.

The black smoke flowed along Seolhwa’s hand to the hilt, crept up the blade, and slowly began to cloak the sword entire.

As the smoke gradually covered the blade, the dusky shimmer like heat-haze deepened and thickened.

From that black smoke there emanated a force whose depths could not be plumbed.

Seolhwa looked past the sword to the pieces of wood that had fallen.

A black snake was coiled there.

The snake’s black eyes were fixed on her.

Seolhwa knew by instinct that this black-tinged force was the snake’s power.

A soft, involuntary laugh slipped out.

She had suspected it was no ordinary snake.

“Monster or spirit, whichever.”

The black snake let out a sharp Haaah! of displeasure.

At that, Seolhwa laughed again.

The snake flicked its tail—tak, tak.

Something that had not been there an instant ago dropped in front of the snake.

Seolhwa stepped closer and picked it up.

A black mask adorned with gold.

“...A mask?”

The snake flicked its tail again—tak, tak.

It seemed to be telling her to put it on.

Staring at the mask’s fierce patterning, Seolhwa put it on.

For some reason it felt familiar.

Looking through the mask at the sword still wreathed in black power, Seolhwa swung the blade in a great arc with a detached gaze.

Whoo— Kwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwa—!!

In an instant, the trees that had filled her view vanished, and an open flat appeared, blown clear.

A deep crimson sunset shone as if setting the earth ablaze.

Seolhwa looked a moment at the searing sky, then turned.

She picked up the bundle she had set to one side and held out her hand to the snake.

“Let’s go, you creature.”

The black snake hissed—shaaa— with narrowed eyes and climbed up along her arm.

****

Three months prior to that.

The Martial Alliance main compound during the period when Seolhwa had been pulled from the river by the villagers’ hands.

Warriors who had returned from street patrols changed shifts and spoke among themselves.

“Step outside and it’s Blood Cult talk wall to wall. This time they say the cult handed out food to the poor and gave out clothing.”

“Last time they said they brought the dead back. Commoners are clamoring to join the Blood Cult!”

“But listen...”

A warrior shedding his patrol gear darted a glance around and whispered.

“Aren’t we holding the Blood Cult as our public enemy? But from what people say, they don’t sound like they’re doing such evil things... Are they really the villains... the Blood Cult?”

“You! Do you know what dangerous nonsense you’re spouting! Haven’t you heard everything the Blood Cult did to the Martial Alliance!”

What happened at Shaolin, and what happened at Mount Hua.

And the moles exposed within the various sects and clans, and what happened at the last Dragon & Phoenix Gathering.

“Warriors of the martial world died by the Blood Cult’s hands beyond counting! You can’t let yourself be swayed by commoners’ talk and say such things!”

“I’m only saying this because you’re my senior! Frankly, didn’t Namgoong Seolhwa cross over to the Blood Cult too! There’s something there! Something we don’t know!”

“Crossed over! You—!”

“She’s the Alliance Lord’s granddaughter; that’s why everyone’s hushing it up! You really don’t know?”

The warrior snapped, belly-first, then spun on his heel.

The warrior who had to take his gear from him looked at his colleague in disbelief.

But what he said was not wrong.

Because the Martial Alliance Lord Namgoong Mucheon, Ouyang Do—whose standing in the martial world was the highest—and Shaolin were all holding the line, everyone was simply keeping «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» quiet.

Among the warriors, the rumor that Namgoong Seolhwa had betrayed the Martial Alliance had already spread as a fait accompli.

“In any case, I’m saying I don’t buy it. Don’t be so naive, senior!”

With that, the warrior strode out.

The one left behind watched the door slam and let out a long sigh.

****

Drrrrrrrr....

Under the force that pushed the stone door, the ground trembled finely.

After waiting motionless for a long while, the Martial Alliance’s strategist Jegal Myeong approached the door with two clean cloths.

Presently, two men came out from within.

They were the Martial Alliance Lord Namgoong Mucheon and Ouyang Do of Neungji Mountain.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Jegal Myeong handed the cloths to the two men.

Namgoong Mucheon and Ouyang Do wiped away the sweat that ran.

The place they emerged from was an array Jegal Myeong had constructed.

An array that slowed the flow of time and maximized the circulation of inner power—an array for the Alliance Lord’s training.

Namgoong Mucheon had been training here every day together with Ouyang Do.

“It seems there is a mole inside the Martial Alliance.”

Namgoong Mucheon, wiping his sweat, stilled his hand and looked to Jegal Myeong.

“Explain in detail.”

“Since the Interdiction was lifted, rumors inciting disorder within the Alliance have been spreading with speed. Unless someone is seeding them, they could not spread so fast.”

After the Blood Cult’s rampage, the Interdiction had been lifted.

Because of that, the Martial Alliance could no longer easily root out moles.

“And these rumors—are they of Seolhwa.”

“Yes.”

Namgoong Mucheon was well aware of the whispers circulating inside the Alliance.

Namgoong Seolhwa betrayed the Martial Alliance and crossed to the Blood Cult.

In the process, two promising young elites lost their lives, and dozens were injured.

“Pay no mind to such rumors.”

Namgoong Mucheon turned to Ouyang Do.

“Gong Cheon and I do not doubt that child. If anyone tries to make issue of it, we will step forward.”

“Thank you, Ouyang Do.”

“No thanks. I bear part of the blame for what befell that child.”

Ouyang Do had heard of Seolhwa at Mount Hua.

He had hurried back to the Martial Alliance, but found a situation already too late for him to affect.

Nor had he found any trace of the master he met at Mount Hua; how could his heart not be heavy.

“More than that—any word from the Imoogi?”

Namgoong Mucheon shook his head.

“None yet.”

Namgoong Mucheon recalled the day Seolhwa vanished.

[I said I will return without fail. Trust the child and wait.]

Leaving only those words, the Imoogi had disappeared.

“No news means Seolhwa is safe; we should count that a blessing.”

“Indeed. If it’s that creature, it will surely be circling close to her.”

But despite their words, worry and care filled both men’s faces.

Two months had already passed.

Not long ago, when they learned Seolhwa would be going into the fray, they had drafted a meticulous plan to bring her back, but the problem was that after that day there had been no sign of her.

She had vanished as if she had evaporated.

Namgoong Mucheon let out a long breath.

Even now he burned to storm the Blood Cult and take Seolhwa back.

But the one who stopped him was Ouyang Do.

‘If you go now, it is certain defeat. You will not rescue your granddaughter; you will hand this Central Plains to that man.’

‘She gave her word to return without fail. We will gather strength for that time.’

Namgoong Mucheon clenched his fist.

How long had it been since he felt this powerless.

He lost his wife to the dark way and swore he would never again suffer helplessly.

What right had a man who could not protect even his own granddaughter to claim he could protect the martial world.

‘As Clan Lord and as Alliance Lord, I am unworthy.’

Tak, tadak—

He sensed someone approaching.

Ouyang Do and Namgoong Mucheon turned their heads at once toward the source of the presence.

“Alliance Lord...!”

The one who rushed up, breathless, was the Mounted Pursuit Chief, Yu Gang.

“We have found Seolhwa’s trail...!”

“!”

“...!”

At Yu Gang’s words, all three faces tightened at once.

Yu Gang, unable even to steady the breath that surged in his chest, looked to Namgoong Mucheon.

“Seolhwa... Seolhwa seems to have broken out of the Blood Cult...!”