Day 10–16: The Week of Preparation
Recovery was frustrating.
My body demanded rest while my mind raced with plans, contingencies, and calculations. But Grandmother Cho was adamant: no training, no exertion, just healing.
"You're fourteen years old and you've been stabbed twice in the same shoulder," she said when I tried to argue. "Your body needs time to repair. Push it now, and you'll cause permanent damage."
So I sat.
And planned.
And observed.
The village was changing.
Day 10 – Morning
Chen came to thank us, his daughter Hana clinging to his leg.
The girl was traumatized but alive. She wouldn't speak—just stared with wide, haunted eyes.
"I don't have money to repay you," Chen said, tears in his eyes. "But anything I can do, anything at all—"
"Information," I said. "Tell people what happened. Who took your daughter. Who refused to help. Make sure everyone knows."
He nodded, understanding.
"I will. Everyone will know."
And he kept his word.
By midday, the entire village knew that bandits had taken Hana, that Kang's people had refused to help, and that only the blacksmith and the "strange orphan boy" had acted.
Public opinion was a weapon.
And we had just armed it.
Day 11
Kang emerged from hiding, his face a mask of barely contained rage. His shop was destroyed, his goods lost, his reputation in tatters.
He came to the forge, flanked by two hired thugs.
"You," he snarled at me. "You did this. You burned my shop."
I looked up from where I sat, arm in a sling.
"I was in the village square when the fire started. Dozens of witnesses saw me there."
"You planned it. Organized it."
"That's a serious accusation. Do you have proof?"
His jaw clenched.
"I know it was you."
"Knowing and proving are different things."
"But let's say, hypothetically, someone did burn your shop. Why would they do that? What could you have done to make someone that angry?"
"I've done nothing—"
"Nothing? Not the extortion? Not the collaboration with bandits? Not the human trafficking?"
I let each word land like a blow.
"Because people are talking, Kang. They're asking questions. And they're not liking the answers."
His face went pale, then red.
"You little—"
Grandmother Cho appeared in the doorway, and suddenly the temperature dropped. Not literally, but the weight of her presence was palpable.
"I think you should leave," she said quietly.
Kang looked at her, and something in his expression shifted.
Fear.
"You… you're—"
"Leaving. Yes, you are."
Her eyes were cold.
"And Kang? If anything happens to this boy, or anyone else in this forge, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand?"
He understood. He left quickly, his thugs following.
After they were gone, I looked at Grandmother Cho.
"You didn't have to do that. I could have handled him."
"I know. But why should you have to?"
She sat down beside me.
"You're carrying too much weight for someone your age. Let others help share the burden."
"I'm not used to having help."
"I know. But you do now. So use it."
Day 12–14: Training Through Observation
I couldn't train physically, but I could train mentally.
I watched Yoon work with Min-ji—memorizing every technique, every correction, every principle.
Yoon had started teaching her properly now. No more secrets.
She was progressing rapidly—natural talent combined with months of self-practice.
"Your daughter is gifted," I observed during one session.
"She is," Yoon agreed. "Takes after her mother. She was the real martial artist in the family."
"Was?"
"Died in childbirth. Min-ji never knew her." His expression softened. "She would have been proud to see Min-ji now."
I filed that away.
Everyone had their tragedies—their losses.
It's what made them human.
During breaks, Min-ji would sit with me, and I'd analyze her forms, suggest improvements.
"Your hip rotation is fifteen degrees off optimal," I'd say. "It's reducing your power generation by approximately twenty percent."
"How can you even tell that just by watching?"
"Pattern recognition. I see the movement, compare it to the ideal form stored in my memory, calculate the deviation."
"That's… actually really useful. And kind of scary."
"Why scary?"
"Because you notice everything. It's like being watched by a very analytical hawk."
"Is that bad?"
"No. Just… intense." She smiled. "But I'm getting used to it."
There was something in her smile that made my heart rate increase—not from danger, but from something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Jin Seo-yun's memories: Min-ji laughing at his joke. The warmth in his chest. The desire to make her smile again.
Affection. Attraction. The beginning of what humans called love.
Was I falling for her?
Or just echoing Jin Seo-yun's residual emotions?
Did it matter?
Day 15: The Village Meeting
Village Elder Hong called a meeting to discuss "recent events."
Everyone attended—the fire and rescue had shaken the community.
Hong tried to project authority he no longer had.
"We need to discuss the bandit problem. And the fire. And certain… accusations that have been circulating."
"Accusations?" Chen stood, Hana clinging to him. "You mean facts? Facts about how Merchant Kang works with bandits? How he refused to help find my daughter?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"Now, we don't have proof—" Hong started.
"I have proof," I said, standing.
My shoulder throbbed, but I ignored it.
"I worked in Kang's shop. I saw his ledgers. I can testify to payments from unlisted sources, correspondence with known criminals, and goods that don't match any legitimate trade."
"The boy is lying!" Kang shouted. "He's trying to destroy me because I made him work for his debts!"
"Then let's examine your ledgers," I said calmly. "If I'm lying, they'll prove it. If I'm telling the truth, they'll prove that too."
"My ledgers were destroyed in the fire!"
"How convenient."
I looked at the crowd.
"But I have perfect memory. I can recreate them. Every transaction. Every suspicious payment. Would you like me to start?"
Kang's face went white.
"Furthermore," Grandmother Cho added, "I can testify that bandits attacked this village multiple times over the past years. That they had detailed information about targets. That someone was feeding them intelligence."
"And I," Yoon said, "can testify that I found a bandit camp five li from here. That they had weapons matching Kang's inventory. That they held a kidnapped child."
The murmurs became anger.
Hong tried to regain control.
"These are serious accusations. We should wait for the Murim Alliance—"
"The Murim Alliance doesn't care about one village!" someone shouted. "We have to handle this ourselves!"
"Kang should be exiled!"
"He should be executed!"
The mob was forming—dangerous, but useful.
"Wait," I said, and the crowd stilled. "Exile or execution won't solve the problem. The bandits are still out there. Wei Liang is still out there. We need a real solution."
"What do you suggest?" someone asked.
"We defend ourselves. Organize a militia. Train fighters. Make this village too dangerous to attack."
I looked at Yoon.
"Blacksmith Yoon is a former temple disciple. He can train volunteers. Grandmother Cho has connections to the martial world. She can advise."
"And Kang?" Chen demanded.
"His assets should be seized and distributed to his victims. He should be placed under house arrest until the Murim Alliance can be contacted. And if he tries to leave or cause trouble…"
I let the implication hang.
It was a compromise. Not as satisfying as execution, but more effective.
Hong's face was tight, but the crowd was nodding.
"All in favor?" someone called.
A forest of hands rose.
"Then it's decided," Yoon said. "We defend ourselves."
Day 16: First Training Session
Twenty villagers showed up for training. Farmers, merchants, craftsmen—none martial artists, but all motivated.
Fear was a powerful teacher.
Yoon organized them into groups, starting with basics.
Stance. Grip. Simple strikes.
It would take months to make them competent, but even basics were progress.
I watched from the sidelines, my shoulder still healing. But I was learning too—how Yoon taught, adapted, inspired.
Min-ji helped demonstrate techniques.
She'd improved dramatically.
"You should be resting," she said during a break, sitting beside me.
"I am resting. I'm sitting."
"You're analyzing everyone's form. That's not resting."
"It's resting for my body. My mind doesn't need rest."
She laughed.
"You're impossible."
"I've been told."
We sat in comfortable silence, watching the training.
Then she said quietly,
"Thank you. For what you did. Taking that sword for me."
"It was the logical choice. You're more valuable alive than I am."
"That's not true."
"Objectively, it is. You have martial talent, family, connections. I'm an orphan with a weak body."
"You have the smartest mind I've ever met. You saved Hana. You're organizing the village. You're…"
She hesitated.
"You're important. To me."
My heart rate spiked. 142 beats per minute.
Slight tremors. Rising warmth in chest.
Emotion.
Unquantifiable.
Real.
"You're important to me too," I said. "I don't fully understand why yet. But you are."
She smiled, and that strange warmth spread again.
Maybe some things weren't meant to be analyzed.
Day 16 – Evening
I was reviewing defense plans when Grandmother Cho found me.
"We need to talk," she said. "About your Ki."
"I don't have Ki. I can't even sense it yet."
"That's not entirely true."
She sat down beside me.
"When Wei Liang attacked, something happened. I felt it—a surge of energy, raw and uncontrolled, but present."
"I don't remember that."
"You were in survival mode. Your body accessed Ki instinctively. That's rare. Most train for years before their first sensing."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you have potential. Real potential. But also danger."
She placed a hand on my chest. Warmth flowed through me.
"Your Ki is… unusual. Chaotic. Like it doesn't know what it wants to be."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it."
She withdrew her hand.
"But we should start teaching you. Meditation, breathing, Ki sensing. Not physical training yet—your shoulder needs more time."
"Will that help me get stronger?"
"Eventually. But more importantly, it'll help you control what's already inside you. Uncontrolled Ki can damage your meridians, harm your body—even kill you."
"Then let's start."
She smiled.
"Eager. Good. But first—why do you want to get stronger? What's driving you?"
I thought about it.
"Initially, survival. I needed strength to protect myself."
"And now?"
"Now…" I looked toward Min-ji practicing.
"Now I want to protect others. To be strong enough that people I care about don't have to be afraid."
"That's a good reason," she said softly. "Better than most."
She stood.
"Come. Let's begin your real education."
END CHAPTER 9