The rain had ceased, but the sky above remained cloaked in ash-gray clouds. Jinhyuk stood at the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping against his coat as he stared down at the sprawling forests below. The path ahead was veiled, not just in mist, but in uncertainty.
Behind him, the others waited silently. Seol-ah had taken to observing the horizon through a spyglass while Hayeon stood close to Jinhyuk, arms folded, her brow creased in thought. Despite their many victories, there was an unmistakable tension in the air. Word of Jinhyuk's return from the Dragon Bone Ruins had spread like wildfire, drawing attention not just from sects and martial clans, but from powers that lurked beyond the borders of Murim.
"Do you sense it too?" Hayeon finally asked, voice barely audible over the wind.
Jinhyuk gave a curt nod. "Something is stirring. The wind carries more than cold."
Far below the cliff, a caravan moved silently along the mountain path, bearing the crest of the Nine Heavens Pavilion. Though seemingly mundane, Jinhyuk knew the weight such a symbol carried. Alliances were shifting. Old agreements were being tested. The discovery of the relic within the ruins had upset the balance.
Suddenly, a soft chime rang out—a signal from Seol-ah. She handed the spyglass to Jinhyuk without a word. Through the lens, he spotted a group of riders, robed in black and silver, advancing fast. Not from the path, but from the wilds. Their movements were too swift, too organized. Assassins.
"Looks like we'll have our first greeting from the outside world," Jinhyuk muttered.
He turned to the group. "Prepare for contact. Don't reveal your full strength unless needed. I want one alive."
The team sprang into motion. Within moments, they had descended into the forest, blending into the underbrush with practiced ease. Jinhyuk moved ahead, weaving through trees with a speed that belied his large frame. His senses sharpened with every step.
He met the attackers in a clearing just beyond a fallen tree. There were six of them, masked and wielding crescent-bladed sabers. They didn't speak, only advanced.
Jinhyuk drew only his short blade, letting his aura swell just enough to rattle the leaves around him. The leader lunged first—fast, precise. But Jinhyuk sidestepped and struck the man's shoulder with the blunt edge, sending him crashing into a tree. Two more followed, their blades flashing in a synchronized arc. Jinhyuk crouched, letting the strikes pass above him, then unleashed a pulse of ki that flung them backward.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Hayeon and Seol-ah flank the rest, disarming one and knocking another unconscious. The last one hesitated—and Jinhyuk was on him in a blink, pressing the cold edge of his blade to the man's throat.
"Who sent you?"
The man remained silent.
Jinhyuk pressed harder. "Speak, or I start slicing muscle instead of cloth."
"T-The White Lotus Society," the man gasped. "They said you would bring chaos. That the relic should never have been touched."
Jinhyuk's brow furrowed. "White Lotus? They haven't moved in decades."
"They are moving now."
A low rumble echoed through the forest. The sky above shifted. For a moment, Jinhyuk felt something heavy press against his spirit—a presence watching from afar. He stood, eyes narrowing.
"Take him. We're heading to the Eastern Outpost."
"But we were supposed to regroup at Baekho Fortress," Seol-ah protested.
Jinhyuk turned his gaze to the east, where dark clouds gathered in unnatural spirals.
"Plans have changed," he said. "The storm is coming from the East."
The mist coiled tighter around the craggy walls of the Dragon Bone Valley, as if the ancient bones themselves exhaled a breath of anticipation. Jinhyuk stood upon a jagged ledge, eyes narrowed at the convergence point of energies below—a crimson vortex of Qi swirling above the cracked altar. The fragment of the dragon soul nestled in his chest pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Beside him, Yeonhwa knelt, her fingers weaving a detection sigil with quick, elegant movements. "The energy distortion is intensifying. If it reaches the core threshold… this entire valley might rupture."
Jinhyuk's gaze didn't waver. "Then we'll stop it before that happens."
Behind them, Baek Soojin leaned on her spear, her brows furrowed in frustration. "There's something off about this. Even if the Dragon Soul is awakening, this reaction feels… artificial. Like someone is forcing the valley open."
Jinhyuk's senses prickled. That word—forcing—drew a sharp memory to the surface.
He turned toward a fractured bone spire just ahead. The whispers that had laced the valley since their arrival were no longer mere illusions of wind—they carried purpose. Names. Warnings. Blood must pay for blood. Bone must rise for bone.
The echo wasn't of vengeance—it was of ritual.
Suddenly, the ground trembled violently. A fissure split across the altar, and from within it rose a figure shrouded in crimson scales and silver bone—a malformed dragon hybrid, its soul fragmented and tormented. Not truly alive, but not dead either. A construct of vengeance bound to ancient betrayal.
Yeonhwa staggered backward. "That's not a guardian relic… it's a sacrificial vessel!"
Baek's eyes widened. "Someone is forcing the soul's awakening. But why?"
The answer arrived in the form of laughter. Deep. Mocking.
From the mists beyond the altar emerged a figure wrapped in black and crimson robes, adorned with talismans etched in forbidden ink. His face was pale, almost corpse-like, but his eyes glowed with a familiar azure light.
Jinhyuk's breath hitched. "No… it can't be…"
The man smiled. "Surprised, Jinhyuk?"
It was Eun Chansung.
But different. Older. His aura was darker, soaked in a demonic miasma that whispered of Abyssal contracts and blood-forged deals.
Yeonhwa's voice quivered. "That's… not the Eun Chansung we knew. That's his echo. A preserved will from another timeline… another future?"
Chansung's smile grew wider. "Not quite. I am a fragment—born of regret, failure, and wrath. The version of me that fell in the Eternal Sky Tomb. Before your interference." His eyes bored into Jinhyuk's. "But now, thanks to the Valley's resonance and the dragon's sorrow, I've been given one last moment to correct the error of fate."
A dark spear materialized in his hand, pulsing with necrotic Qi.
Jinhyuk stepped forward, his own aura igniting. The crimson and gold Qi flared from his core, wrapping around his limbs like living flame. "Then I'll correct you."
The two forces clashed in an explosion that shattered the bone altar.
The impact of their collision cracked the earth, shockwaves toppling spires and scattering dust into the heavens. The dragon hybrid roared behind them, feeding on the ambient chaos.
Jinhyuk parried the first three strikes, his footwork honed and precise, but Chansung's spear adapted—its trajectory shifting like it had a mind of its own.
"You think you can change fate again?" Chansung spat, his movements wild but focused. "Your luck won't save you this time."
Jinhyuk smiled despite the pressure. "It's not luck if I make it happen."
A sudden burst of Qi from his palm interrupted Chansung's flow—just long enough for Yeonhwa to slam a glyph into the ground. The glyph expanded, and golden chains shot forth, wrapping around Chansung's ankles.
"NOW!" she cried.
Jinhyuk didn't hesitate. His foot launched off the broken altar, his blade coated in concentrated dragon flame. He roared as he slashed downward—just as Chansung roared with unfiltered rage.
Their clash ended in silence.
Chansung staggered, crimson energy leaking from his form. He looked at Jinhyuk not with hatred—but with something close to envy. "You… always find a way…"
And with a final exhale, his body scattered into mist.
But the valley didn't settle.
Instead, the altar pulsed again—and the hybrid dragon shrieked as its body began to collapse into light. Instead of a beast, what remained was a boy. Young. Barely older than ten. Pale white hair. Scales at his neck.
Jinhyuk caught him before he hit the ground.
The boy looked up at him, dazed. "You… are warm."
Yeonhwa knelt beside them. "A soul fragment. Innocent. He wasn't a guardian… he was the sacrifice."
Baek whispered, "What kind of monster builds a ritual like this?"
Jinhyuk held the boy gently as he began to fade. The boy's fingers touched Jinhyuk's chest, where the dragon fragment pulsed in quiet resonance.
"You are… the last echo now."
With those words, he vanished into particles of light—and the valley quieted.
But before silence took over completely, a final voice echoed within Jinhyuk's soul.
This was only the beginning. The deeper bones still dream.
Shadows curled far beneath the valley floor—hidden, watching, waiting.
Jinhyuk looked toward the horizon. "Then we'll meet them in their dreams."
The wind that swept over the Dragon Bone Valley was no longer laced with whispers—it carried the weight of memory. As the echoes of combat faded into the jagged cliffs and the broken altar now lay in still ruin, a quiet melancholy settled over the valley. Not the sorrow of defeat, but the solemn calm that follows a revelation too deep for words.
Jinhyuk stood at the edge of the cliff, where the remnants of the spectral altar had crumbled into motes of light. The boy—no, the soul fragment—had vanished into him, merging silently with the dragon fragment in his chest. But unlike before, it wasn't just power he'd gained.
It was responsibility.
Yeonhwa approached, her cloak torn and her robes smudged with ash. "He was the last piece, wasn't he?"
Jinhyuk nodded. "Not of power… but of memory. That child wasn't just a sacrifice. He was the purest form of the dragon soul—untainted by vengeance or duty. Just… hope. Forgotten hope."
Baek Soojin leaned against her spear, gaze on the swirling mists that slowly receded. "So what does that make you now?"
Jinhyuk turned his palm upward. Golden fire, once volatile and raw, now danced with eerie calm between his fingers. A thin, draconic crest shimmered beneath his skin, etched like a birthmark.
"I'm not sure," he said after a moment. "But whatever I've become… it's not finished yet. That fight was just one gate."
Yeonhwa's brow furrowed. "You mean there are more like this?"
Jinhyuk looked past the cliffs, toward the mountains beyond—toward the unknown.
"I saw something when I clashed with Chansung. A glimpse into the memory of the dragon's original fall. There are bones buried not just beneath this valley, but scattered across the continent. Seven total. And each one holds a sealed emotion."
"Emotions?" Baek tilted her head. "What kind?"
"Pride. Grief. Rage. Fear. Regret. Longing. And betrayal." His voice hardened. "Each one left behind an imprint of the dragon's will—and something, or someone, is trying to resurrect those fragments into something monstrous."
Yeonhwa inhaled sharply. "If someone succeeded in merging all those… they'd recreate the ancient dragon in its most twisted form."
Jinhyuk's fingers clenched. "Or worse—use that power to rewrite the balance of heaven and earth."
Baek grimaced. "Then we can't let them. But who's behind this? Who would go that far?"
Jinhyuk didn't answer at first. But in his mind, the vision of Chansung's corrupted echo loomed large—twisted by a future that should've never existed.
"It might not be just one person," he said slowly. "It could be an entire order… or a forgotten clan. Whoever's pulling the strings, they know me. They're rewriting the legacies of history."
Yeonhwa touched his arm. "Then let's stop them before they write the ending."
He smiled faintly, appreciating her presence more than words could express.
They spent the next few hours cleansing the valley, sealing the broken veins of energy, and carving runes to ensure no one else could force another awakening. Jinhyuk performed a quiet rite where the boy's spirit had vanished, placing a stone inscribed with the word: Hope.
By nightfall, the sky over the valley was clear. The first stars emerged, twinkling faintly against the obsidian sky.
The group gathered near the valley's edge where their horses and provisions were waiting. It had only been days since they entered, but they each felt like they'd aged years.
Before mounting, Jinhyuk turned one last time toward the Dragon Bone Valley. He whispered a vow—not to the dragons, not even to the world—but to the boy who trusted him with the last piece of a forgotten truth.
I'll find the rest. I'll set them free.
Baek was already adjusting her gear when Yeonhwa approached Jinhyuk. "Where to now?"
Jinhyuk held up a small crystal that pulsed with faint light—left behind after the ritual collapsed.
"It reacted when I poured Qi into it. It showed me a vision of a coastal monastery surrounded by crimson trees. And… a bell that never stops ringing."
Yeonhwa's eyes widened. "The Crimson Bell Monastery. That place is abandoned… or cursed, depending on which tale you believe."
Baek whistled. "Oh, joy. Another haunted ruin."
Jinhyuk smirked. "We're not exactly on a picnic, are we?"
The three riders mounted their steeds, and beneath a moonlit sky, they galloped north—toward the coastline, toward crimson leaves, and toward the next sealed emotion.
Far beneath them, deeper than any mortal could dig, the roots of the Dragon Bone Valley stirred.
In a vast cavern of black stone, unseen by any eye, hundreds of crimson candles flickered around an altar of bones. Hooded figures chanted in silence, and a single name echoed within the chamber:
"Jinhyuk."
The flame of a single candle went out.
[End of Chapter 43: Crimson Echoes in the Bone Valley]