Night deepened.The lights of the encampment faded one by one, leaving only the sound of flags in the wind.
Lee In-jung stood alone outside his tent.Moonlight brushed the edge of his armor—cold, fleeting.His breathing was short and uneven, the kind shaped by countless battles.
From afar came the snort of horses, the smell of damp leather, the weight of people layered upon the ground.All of it bound him here.
A memory surfaced—morning fog on Mount Guwol, dew on stone, days that needed no reason to be complete.
Here, the stars were different.Not distant and open, but measured, calculated.
Too many names clung to him now.Commander. Leader. Responsibility.
The more names one carried, the fewer places there were to return to.
The mountain does not ask.The world does.
If he stepped away, someone else would bear the weight.The moment he accepted that, the choice was already made.
Lee In-jung turned back toward his tent.A wind brushed past him, carrying the texture of the mountain—but it did not call.
His path continued here.
Park Seong-jin watched him go.
Calling out now felt forbidden, as if it would break something that could not be changed.
Lee In-jung's back was straight, steady—a back shaped by decisions that could not be undone.
Within Park's chest, a faint tremor stirred.Not fear, but recognition.
I could stand like that one day.
A man who studies, returns to the world, and never quite finds the way back.
Park clenched his hand, then released it.He drew up the breath he had learned on the mountain—alive, steady.
Which path he would choose was not yet decided.But one thing was clear.
That back was not failure.It was the result of accumulated choices.
Park lowered his head.
He was still standing where he could choose.
Quietly, he resolved to remember the mountain—to fight when necessary, but not let fighting become his entire life.
As he turned to leave the barracks, a low voice stopped him.
"Where are you going?"
A man seated at the far end looked up.In his eyes was the calm of someone who had already finished fighting.
"I've been ordered to return," Park answered.
The man shook his head.
"You stepped inside. From that moment on, you're Muin."
Around them, others nodded.This was not procedure, but judgment.
So that was why his senior had called him personally.
These were the ones who had moved through Liaodong like shadows.
Do I really belong here?
The man rose.
"We aren't bound by rosters. We gather when needed, and disappear when we're done."
His gaze settled on Park.
"And from now on, you fight here."
Park's inner breath stirred, reacting before thought.He steadied it at once.Here, even the smallest fluctuation would be seen.
"I've only just begun."
"You're already a warrior," the man replied."You have the breath."
At the mention of Master Iwol-gun's name, the air grew heavy.
Park bowed deeply.
"Then I accept."
That night, he did not sleep as a soldier of the Sungui Army,but as a nameless member of a unit without banners.
Outside, drums sounded as the main force prepared.Inside the barracks, no orders were given.
Only breath measured breath,quietly gauging depth.