The trail climbed into thinner air and colder stone.
Seoryeon's shoulder hung lower than it should. Each step sent a dull grind through the joint. His side held three shallow cuts that reopened with sweat and movement. The thin slice under his jaw stiffened as blood dried. His Heart-Thread vibrated faintly and unevenly, like a wire that had lost its clean rhythm after being stretched too many times.
The courier stayed tethered close.
The boy's lips carried a bluish tint from smoke-sickness and cold. His breath came in quick pulls that never seemed full. His eyes darted at every sound. Fear made people loud. He tried to be quiet and failed.
Seoryeon let him fail.
A quiet courier survived longer than a brave one.
They reached a shrine at dusk.
Stone steps rose from the trail, cracked and slick with moss. A weathered statue sat under a roof of warped tiles, face worn smooth by time and fingers. Incense ash lay cold in a small bowl. Someone had swept the floor recently.
A man waited beside the shrine.
He wore simple robes, clean, gray-brown in the failing light. No emblem. No banner. Hair tied back. Hands folded in front of him. His posture carried the relaxed balance of someone who could draw steel from stillness without warning.
Master O Jinbaek.
Neutral Blade.
Seoryeon approached with his escort fanned out behind him. Spears angled. Eyes sharp. Breath held.
O Jinbaek's Heart-Thread felt different.
Not louder. Not brighter. Thicker in a quiet way, tension held without tremor. His body carried the calm of a predator that never needed to chase.
Seoryeon stopped three steps away.
O Jinbaek looked at him and then at the courier tethered to his belt. "Lieutenant Jin Seoryeon."
Seoryeon's gaze stayed steady. "You know my name."
"Names travel faster than carts," O Jinbaek said. "News moves on hunger."
Seoryeon measured the man's hands. Rope-like calluses sat on the fingers and palm edges. Work-hardened. Not the soft hands of a scholar. Not the battered hands of a bandit. Something between.
The gray robe detail flashed through Seoryeon's mind and settled into a quiet corner.
O Jinbaek's eyes shifted to Seoryeon's shoulder. "Your arm carries damage."
"It carries function," Seoryeon replied.
O Jinbaek smiled slightly. The smile held no warmth. "You walk toward a place where function costs blood."
Seoryeon didn't deny it. Denial wasted breath.
O Jinbaek gestured toward the shrine steps. "Sit."
Seoryeon sat on the lowest step. His escort stayed standing. The courier sat beside Seoryeon and kept his hands close to his own chest, as if he could shield his Heart-Thread with fingers.
O Jinbaek produced a small clay cup and poured water from a skin. The water looked clean. Clean water carried price.
"You came to bargain," Seoryeon said.
O Jinbaek nodded. "Safe passage."
Seoryeon watched the cup. "Through what?"
O Jinbaek's gaze turned toward the ridge line beyond the trees. "A trail that avoids the worst zones. A trail that avoids most eyes."
Seoryeon listened to what the man did not say. Most eyes meant some eyes.
O Jinbaek continued. "Information. A map. A place to sleep without knives in the canvas."
Seoryeon's fingers tightened slightly on his knee. His shoulder flared with pain. The offer smelled like incense, faint, controlled. Something carried under the robe.
"And your price," Seoryeon said.
O Jinbaek set the cup down. "Your ledger of supply routes. Your knowledge of Alliance movements. Your courier's message."
Seoryeon's gaze remained flat. "You ask for my throat and call it commerce."
O Jinbaek's smile stayed thin. "Commerce keeps throats attached longer than virtue."
Seoryeon's escort shifted. A spear tip dipped and rose again.
Seoryeon lifted two fingers. His men steadied.
He met O Jinbaek's eyes. "Why offer anything? You can take."
O Jinbaek's eyes held calm. "Taking creates enemies. Bargains create obligations."
Seoryeon understood the structure. A neutral man gathered obligations like coins.
He reached into his oilcloth bundle and removed a folded map and a strip of writing, his own ledger condensed into symbols and lines. He laid it on the shrine step.
O Jinbaek's eyes lowered to it, sharp and hungry for detail.
Seoryeon had already altered it.
A landmark shifted slightly. A ravine marked as shallow sat deeper than it looked. Soil there turned soft after rains, a slope that would swallow weight. A pursuer following that path would disappear without needing a blade.
Seoryeon slid the map forward. "Safe passage."
O Jinbaek's fingers hovered above the paper. "And the courier's message."
Seoryeon's hand stayed on the map. "The message carries blood."
O Jinbaek's gaze lifted. "Blood already stains it."
Seoryeon removed the copied strip of cloth from his sleeve and placed it down. He kept the original. Originals mattered.
O Jinbaek read it, eyes moving quickly, face barely shifting. His Heart-Thread vibration remained clean. No surprise. No outrage. The lie sat comfortably in his mind.
O Jinbaek folded the strip and tucked it away. "You walk between two jaws. Both want you chewed."
Seoryeon nodded once. "I plan to leave teeth behind me."
O Jinbaek's smile widened slightly. "You suit this world."
Seoryeon stood, shoulder grinding. "Trail."
O Jinbaek turned and pointed toward a narrow cut between trees. "Follow the stream until it splits. Take the left fork. Climb the stone shelf. Avoid the cairn with three stacked rocks."
Seoryeon memorized the directions. Memory cost less than paper.
O Jinbaek added, "Sleep at the shrine tonight. My people keep the area quiet."
Seoryeon looked at him. "Quiet draws knives."
O Jinbaek's eyes held steady. "Quiet draws bargains."
Seoryeon accepted the offer because it contained risk either way.
Night came with cold mist and distant smoke.
Seoryeon set watches. Two men at the tree line. One near the shrine steps. One near the courier. He kept the tether looped to his belt while he lay on the stone floor under the shrine roof. His sword stayed within reach, wrapped but ready.
Sleep did not come easily.
His shoulder throbbed. His Heart-Thread vibrated in short uneven pulses. Every time his eyes closed, he saw the depot fire blooming in dust and the storm squeezing lungs like hands.
He heard the first shift in air.
A soft scrape at stone.
A breath held too carefully.
His Heart-Thread tightened. Vibration sharpened.
Seoryeon opened his eyes and rolled.
A blade slid through the space where his throat had been.
The attacker wore dark cloth and a face wrap. The stance stayed low. The knife aimed for soft places, joints, tendons. A killer trained for silence.
Seoryeon drew his sword and met the knife with the flat.
Contact rang sharp in the shrine.
He released a short push through contact.
The knife hand jerked away a handspan. The attacker's wrist opened briefly. The attacker stepped in anyway, trying to close into grappling range where the sword line would choke.
Seoryeon stabbed into the attacker's forearm near the wrist tendons. Steel sank shallow and precise. Fingers spasmed. The knife dropped and clattered against stone.
The attacker swung the free hand toward Seoryeon's eyes, aiming to blind and finish later.
Seoryeon slammed the guard into the attacker's mouth. Teeth clicked hard. The attacker's head snapped back. Breath turned ragged.
A second attacker came in from Seoryeon's side with a short spear aimed at the inside of the thigh, hunting the artery line that dropped a man fast.
Seoryeon pivoted. His injured shoulder screamed.
He parried the spear shaft. Contact jolted his arm. Numbness flashed across his fingers. His grip threatened to fail.
He released a push.
The spear tip slid outward and scraped the edge of his trousers, tearing fabric. The attacker tried to follow with a shove, using body weight to drive the shaft into Seoryeon's hip.
Seoryeon anchored his sword point into the attacker's shoulder pocket where collarbone met muscle. The steel bit deep enough to hold.
He pulled.
The attacker lurched forward. Shoulder dragged out of alignment. The spear arm sagged. The spear fell from slack fingers.
Seoryeon drove a knee into the attacker's inner thigh. The leg folded. The attacker dropped low with a choking sound as breath left.
A third shadow dropped from above.
Wire looped around Seoryeon's neck.
Garrote.
Tight.
Air vanished. Heat climbed behind his eyes. The world narrowed to pressure and pain. His Heart-Thread surged into a harsh vibration. Snap-risk hovered close enough to feel real.
Seoryeon forced his sword hand backward without looking.
Steel caught flesh behind him. Resistance. Anchor set.
He pulled hard.
The body slammed into his back. The garrote tension broke for a heartbeat. Seoryeon sucked in air like a drowning man and drove his elbow backward into ribs. Bone gave a dull shift. The attacker grunted and tightened the wire again.
Seoryeon dropped his weight and rolled toward the shrine pillar, dragging the attacker with him by the anchored blade.
The attacker's shoulder hit the pillar first. The wire slipped. Tension weakened.
Seoryeon twisted his wrist and released a short push through the contact line of steel lodged in flesh.
The attacker's body jerked, pulled off balance, shoulder forced wider. The garrote hand lost its line. The wire slid up Seoryeon's jaw and cut a shallow line under the ear.
Seoryeon ripped the blade free and turned.
The garrote attacker raised the wire again, eyes hard, breath controlled.
Seoryeon stepped in and drove his point into the lower ribs. Anchor set.
He pulled.
The attacker's body lurched forward into the steel. Breath broke into a wet cough. The hands loosened. The wire fell.
Seoryeon slammed the pommel into the jaw hinge. Teeth clicked. The attacker's eyes unfocused. Knees softened. The body collapsed onto stone.
Seoryeon stood still for a breath and listened.
Footsteps outside. Shouts from his watchmen. A brief clash of steel. A wet thud.
His men dragged one more body into the shrine. The man carried a small pouch of incense under his robe, crushed now, scent leaking into the air.
Seoryeon stared at the pouch.
Gray robe. Incense. Rope hands.
His gaze shifted toward the dark beyond the shrine, toward the trail O Jinbaek had offered.
The bargain carried teeth.
Seoryeon's shoulder trembled. His neck burned where wire had cut. His Heart-Thread vibrated unevenly, fray rising. A knot tightened behind his ribs from the push he had forced while choking.
He looked at the courier.
The boy stared at the bodies, face pale, lips pressed tight. His breath shook.
Seoryeon tightened the tether again. "Move at first light."
The courier swallowed. "The neutral sect?"
Seoryeon wiped blood from his neck with the back of his hand. "Neutral men collect debts."
He lay down again under the shrine roof with a sword in reach and sleep held at a distance.
Outside, mist drifted through trees, quiet as a blade sliding free.