The soft hum of ki pulsed faintly through the room, like distant echoes of a song no one could quite hear.
Jinmu stood in the center of the wooden floor, his eyes closed and breath steady. Across from him, seated in silence, were Haerin, Baekho, and Seryeon — their postures relaxed but upright, eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.
The energy in Jinmu's core stirred.
Let it flow gently… not forcefully. Just like mist.
He extended his palm outward, facing each of them in turn.
The sensation of the Blossom Vein Arts coiled along his spine, rising through his shoulders and out into his arms. The ki didn't burn — it whispered. Soft and patient. It moved through him like something alive, eager to share itself but unwilling to break what it touched.
It's not just a technique anymore. It's… part of me.
His palm hovered near his mother's chest — not touching, but close enough that the warmth of his energy could be felt.
Haerin flinched slightly, then steadied herself.
Jinmu gave her a quiet smile.
"Relax," he said. "It won't hurt."
She nodded and closed her eyes.
And then — with a breath no louder than falling petals — Jinmu activated it.
COPY–PASTE.
A pulse of ki extended from his hand and entered her body like a thread of light. It didn't surge or strike; it dissolved. Seamlessly. Silently. As though her body had always carried the shape of it, and only needed someone to remind it how to breathe that way again.
Haerin gasped softly. Her shoulders lifted, her back arched slightly — then settled.
When she opened her eyes, her breath was deeper. Clearer.
"I… I feel…" she began, voice trembling slightly.
"Don't try to explain it," Jinmu said. "Just sit with it."
She nodded slowly, her hands resting on her lap. Her fingers twitched once, unconsciously. Then stilled.
Jinmu turned to Baekho next.
His father didn't flinch.
The pulse transferred.
Baekho didn't move at all. His brows furrowed slightly, then relaxed.
"I remember this kind of sensation," he said after a long pause. "Like an old memory waking up."
"It's yours now," Jinmu replied. "So move slowly with it. Your body needs time to align."
Then he turned to Seryeon.
She was already scowling.
"I swear, if this makes my skin itchy, I'm gonna punch you."
"Stay still," Jinmu said with a smirk.
The moment the energy entered her, her eyes popped open.
"Oh."
Jinmu raised a brow. "Oh?"
She blinked. "It's… warm. I expected it to sting."
"It doesn't want to hurt you," he said. "Just teach you."
Seryeon flexed her fingers, then leaned back and groaned.
"Ugh. I already feel like I've been doing stance training all morning. Is that normal?"
"Very."
He stepped back from all three, finally letting his arms drop to his sides.
The room was quiet.
Not out of fear.
But reverence.
Even Seryeon — usually the first to break tension with some dry remark — stayed silent for several long seconds.
It was Baekho who finally spoke.
"What… what exactly did you give us?"
Jinmu knelt down in front of them and rested his hands on his knees.
"It's a technique," he said softly. "One I… received from someone strong."
He paused.
"I didn't steal it. Not directly. But I didn't exactly earn it in the traditional way either."
Haerin tilted her head. "Then how—?"
"I have an ability," Jinmu said. "One that lets me copy things. Techniques. Energy paths. Concepts."
Seryeon's eyes narrowed. "Like… any technique?"
"Yes. And I can paste them into others."
"You're saying… what we just received—"
"Is a martial technique used by elite warriors of Yeonhwa Lotus Palace," Jinmu finished. "It's called the Blossom Vein Arts. It's graceful, deceptive, and built on mist-like movement. But it's also secret. And extremely dangerous to show in public."
They were all quiet again.
Then Seryeon slowly said, "…Okay, now that sounds insane."
Baekho let out a short breath through his nose. "You weren't born with this ability, were you?"
"No."
"But you have it now. And you're using it to… protect us?"
"Yes."
Haerin's eyes filled with a strange mix of awe and concern.
"Is this going to bring trouble to our door?"
"It already has," Jinmu replied. "Which is why I'm asking you to never use what I just gave you in public. Never demonstrate it. Never mention it. Not unless it's a matter of survival."
"Even in defense?" Baekho asked.
"Only if you're alone," Jinmu said. "And even then, be sure no one lives to see it."
Seryeon snorted. "Comforting."
"I'm serious."
He looked at her.
"At your level, it'll be subtle. You won't be able to use the full seven forms — not yet. But the structure is there. The foundation. It'll guide your breathing. Your stance. Your instincts."
"Can we… train it?"
"You can let it settle," Jinmu said. "Practice slowly. Don't force anything. When the body is ready, it will call the forms forward on its own."
Haerin looked down at her hands.
"Even without understanding it… I already feel like I've changed."
"You have."
Baekho stared at the wall in thought.
Then he turned back to Jinmu.
"Where are you going?"
Jinmu looked down at his pack.
Then stood.
"There's a place I've heard about. A mountain not too far west of here. It's called Mount Mugang."
Seryeon raised a brow. "Is that one of the Five Great Mountain Ranges?"
"It is," Jinmu said. "Mount Mugang — also known as The Martial Forge. Unlike the others, it doesn't belong to a single sect. It's neutral territory. A gathering place for rogue martial artists, traveling duelists, and technique testers."
Baekho gave a slow nod. "That's where the Mugang Martial Pavilion trains, right?"
"Yes," Jinmu replied. "But the mountain itself is more than a school. It's a graveyard of old duels and ancient ruins. Some say if you walk the ridges long enough, you'll come across traces of forgotten martial paths, or echoes of techniques lost to time."
Seryeon tilted her head. "Sounds haunted."
"It probably is."
Haerin frowned. "Why go there?"
"Because it's the best place to grow stronger without being bound to a sect. No rules. No politics. Just martial arts."
He pulled the pack over his shoulder.
"I'll learn. And I'll return. That's my promise."
Baekho stepped forward and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You've grown," he said. "Far beyond what I ever imagined."
"I'm just starting," Jinmu said. "There's a long road ahead."
Seryeon groaned again. "Alright, fine. Go be cool and mysterious. Just don't forget to write."
"I won't."
He turned to Haerin.
She stepped forward — and pulled him into a quiet hug.
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Come back safe. That's all I want."
"I will."
He stepped away at last and walked toward the door.
The morning breeze touched his face as he stepped outside.
The road ahead curved gently toward the horizon, dust shimmering beneath the heat of the rising sun.
Jinmu didn't look back.
But he felt them behind him — their warmth, their presence, their trust.
Mount Mugang, huh.
Let's see what kind of monsters are waiting there.
The road west of Hwagok City was quiet in the late afternoon. Only the rustling wind and scattered cicada cries broke the silence, dancing between the tree trunks lining the dirt path.
Jinmu walked alone, his pack light on his back and the sun casting long shadows at his feet.
His robe sleeves fluttered gently, and each footstep felt more certain than the last. The world still felt strange, foreign even — but now, he was beginning to claim it piece by piece. His hands, once used to hauling bricks and tying ropes in a life far behind, now tingled with ki that moved like mist through his meridians.
Mount Mugang's still at least two days away by foot.
I'll rest at the edge forest before sunset and take the northern ridge road in the morning.
He was tracing the path with his mind, planning quietly as the gravel crunched beneath his boots — until something stopped him.
Not a sound.
A feeling.
His footsteps slowed.
Somewhere just beyond the next hill — hidden behind the tall brush and twisting path — he felt a subtle pressure in the air.
Ki. Uneven. Wild.
Jinmu narrowed his eyes.
He crept forward, careful to avoid snapping twigs or loose stones, and crouched low behind a bush near a sharp curve in the road.
That's when he heard it.
"Tch—! Stop dancing and fight properly, woman!"
A harsh male voice rang out, edged with frustration.
A few meters ahead, just within a sun-dappled clearing, three figures moved like streaks of tension.
Two men.
One woman.
And Jinmu's eyes instantly locked on the female figure in the center of it all.
Her dark hair was bound tightly, her movements precise — spinning just outside the edge of a sword's arc, her fingers tracing shapes in the air, her palms striking like water over stone.
But it wasn't the style of her movement that made his breath catch.
It was the pattern.
The curve of her step.
The ripple of her ki.
Blossom Vein Arts.
That's…
His eyes widened.
That's the same technique I copied.
But that means—
The woman pivoted sharply, her left leg sweeping in a fluid motion as her arm spiraled outward.
"Petal Curtain Dance," one of the attackers grunted. "So it was you!"
He lunged forward with a wide slash, but the woman deflected it with the Twin Lotus Coils, her body rotating on the spot, redirecting the blade's path just an inch from her side.
The second attacker rushed from behind, swinging a heavier broadsword.
No… not a broadsword. That stance—
Jinmu's jaw clenched.
I know those two.
Both men wore dark crimson robes with deep cuts along their sleeves. The moment they struck again in tandem, their movements screamed of one style.
Crimson Flow Blade Union.
The same bastards who wrecked our inn.
His fingers curled slightly.
And the woman…
He stared.
She's the one. The martial artist who stayed at our inn before them. She's from the Yeonhwa Lotus Palace…
Which means she's the rightful owner of the technique.
Everything started piecing itself together like falling tiles.
He watched the exchange unfold — the woman's breathing remained steady, but her steps were slowing.
One of the men feinted left, then lunged at her exposed flank.
She twisted, barely parrying, but Jinmu caught it.
A slight tremor in her right arm.
Fatigue.
She was wearing down.
She's strong, but fighting two Crimson Flow experts on her own... she won't last much longer.
And yet her expression hadn't cracked. She didn't ask for help. Her mouth was set in silent defiance, her eyes never left the enemy, even when she winced.
She taught me nothing directly.
She never offered me anything willingly.
She doesn't even know I copied her technique.
Jinmu exhaled, slow and deep.
But still… without her, I wouldn't have anything. No martial strength. No protection for my family. Not even a goal.
He looked down at his open palm.
A gentle tingle still lingered in his meridians from earlier, the echo of COPY–PASTE rippling like fading mist.
I owe her.
And debt… isn't something I like carrying.
His eyes locked back onto the battle.
The woman stumbled slightly.
Her hand shot out — a faint trace of Vein-Pulse Bloom rippled through the air — but it missed.
The taller of the Crimson Flow attackers grinned.
"Almost out of breath, are we?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she dropped low, attempting Sinking Root Spiral, but the other man cut off her step with a sudden upward slash.
They've figured out her rhythm.
She's outmatched now.
Jinmu's heart beat once — loudly.
If I move now, I can take them both before they even know what's coming.
But… do I get involved?
He frowned.
If they recognize me, it could bring more trouble. And I'm supposed to be laying low, not announcing myself in the middle of the road.
But if I just walk away…
The woman staggered backward, coughing.
A red stain bloomed across her left sleeve.
She dropped to one knee.
The taller attacker raised his blade, stepping forward with clear intent.
"That's far enough," he growled.
She spat blood and slowly lifted her gaze. Still not afraid.
Still fighting.
Jinmu felt his foot move before his mind finished weighing it.
But he stopped.
Just short.
Think carefully.
No impulsiveness. You're not the same person who relied on instinct and frustration.
This isn't about revenge.
His hand hovered near his waist.
This is about paying back what's owed. Quietly. Cleanly.
He watched, breath steady.
The next move would be theirs.
But Jinmu's choice… that was already forming in his heart.
I'll help her.
She just doesn't know it yet.