The journey to Mirror Lake was not marked by mountains or rivers, but by silence.
It was said that those who reached its shores did so not by map or road, but by fate. The lake itself existed in a hidden valley, cradled by mist-laden cliffs and ancient cypress trees whose roots drank from its waters. No birds sang near its edge. No wind disturbed its surface. It was as if the world held its breath in reverence.
Haejin arrived alone.
Min Jiwon had returned to Swordfall Academy to continue his own path, while Lady Myunghwa and the Blossom Rebellion remained embroiled in their struggle against the Orthodox Circles. As for Ryoo Saehwa—she had vanished once more, leaving behind only cryptic words about the price of truth.
So Haejin walked this path by himself.
He had spent weeks wandering the eastern provinces after leaving the Iron Lotus Temple, seeking answers that eluded him. He had seen war. He had fought in battles that changed nothing. And though the fire in his chest had cooled, it had not gone out.
Not yet.
But something within him whispered that the answer lay ahead.
At Mirror Lake.
The Lake That Sees
The sect that guarded Mirror Lake was unlike any other in the murim world.
There were no banners, no grand halls, no disciples clad in ceremonial robes. Instead, there were simple wooden huts nestled among the trees, stone bridges arching over quiet streams, and meditation platforms built upon stilts above the water.
And always, the lake itself.
Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting the sky like polished glass. But when one gazed too long, it seemed less like a reflection—and more like a window into something deeper.
Something within.
As Haejin approached the main hall, he was met by a young girl no older than ten, her black hair tied in a neat braid and her eyes sharp with curiosity.
"You're late," she said simply.
Haejin blinked.
"I didn't know I was expected."
The girl tilted her head.
"Those who come to Mirror Lake are never lost. They arrive when they must."
She turned and began walking.
"If you've come for training, follow me."
Haejin hesitated only briefly before falling into step beside her.
"Who leads this place?" he asked.
"The Grandmaster," she replied.
"That's not an answer."
She smiled faintly.
"It is the only one you'll get—for now."
The Grandmaster of Reflections
Inside the main hall, the air smelled of aged paper and incense. Scrolls lined the walls, filled with intricate calligraphy that spoke of Heart Qi , a rare form of internal energy cultivated through emotional clarity rather than brute force.
At the center of the room sat an old man draped in flowing robes of white and blue. His face was lined with years, but his presence was light—as if he carried no weight, yet bore everything.
He looked up as Haejin entered.
"You've traveled far," he said, voice calm as the lake outside. "Tell me, what do you seek?"
Haejin hesitated.
He had rehearsed this moment many times.
But now, standing before the Grandmaster, the words felt inadequate.
"I want to understand," he finally said.
The Grandmaster nodded.
"A worthy goal."
He gestured for Haejin to sit.
"What have you learned so far?"
Haejin exhaled slowly.
"I learned discipline under Master Yulsa. I learned precision from Min Jiwon. I saw the cost of war with the Blossom Rebellion. I struck the bell at the Iron Lotus Temple."
He paused.
"And now, I want to learn how to protect without destroying."
The Grandmaster studied him for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"You are ready."
The First Trial – Seeing the Self
Training at Mirror Lake was unlike anything Haejin had experienced before.
There were no sparring matches, no drills, no weapons.
Only stillness.
Each morning, he sat before the lake, watching his reflection ripple in the breeze. He was told to observe—not just the image of himself, but the emotions that surfaced when he looked.
Anger.
Grief.
Doubt.
Hope.
They all flickered across his face like passing clouds.
One evening, the Grandmaster joined him at the shore.
"Tell me what you see," he said.
Haejin frowned.
"Myself."
The Grandmaster shook his head.
"No. You see your past."
He pointed at the water.
"That reflection is not who you are. It is only what remains of who you were."
Haejin looked again.
His mother's face appeared in his mind.
His father's last breath.
The fire that had consumed Soryeon.
He clenched his fists.
"I can't forget them."
"No," the Grandmaster agreed gently. "Nor should you."
He placed a hand on Haejin's shoulder.
"But do not let memory chain you. Let it guide you."
The Second Trial – Listening to the Heart
A week later, Haejin was given his first true lesson in Heart Qi cultivation .
Unlike traditional ki, which flowed through meridians known as Jinmyeong , Heart Qi required synchronization between body and soul. It could not be forced—it had to be invited.
"You must listen to your heart," the Grandmaster explained. "Not the organ. The spirit within it."
Haejin sat cross-legged beneath a cypress tree, hands resting lightly on his knees. He closed his eyes.
At first, there was only silence.
Then came the sound of wind through leaves.
Then the distant cry of a bird.
Then—
A heartbeat.
Not the steady rhythm of his pulse.
Something deeper.
Something ancient.
It pulsed in time with the lake, with the earth, with the stars above.
He opened his eyes.
The surface of the water shimmered.
And for the first time, he understood.
Heart Qi was not power.
It was connection.
The Third Trial – Embracing Stillness
Weeks passed.
Haejin trained tirelessly, learning to move without thought, to strike without intent, to exist without resistance.
He sparred with senior disciples who moved like shadows, their strikes precise yet effortless. He meditated until his body no longer felt separate from the world around him.
And one night, during a final test, he faced the Grandmaster himself.
No rules.
No restrictions.
Just a single match to determine whether he had truly grasped the essence of Mirror Lake.
They stood at opposite ends of the training hall.
The Grandmaster raised a single finger.
"Begin."
Haejin lunged forward, Phoenix Palm flaring.
The Grandmaster did not move.
Instead, he shifted slightly—redirecting Haejin's force sideways, sending him stumbling off-balance.
Again and again, Haejin attacked.
Each time, the Grandmaster moved with the flow of his strikes, never resisting, never overpowering.
Finally, exhausted, Haejin fell to one knee.
Panting, he looked up.
"How…?"
The Grandmaster smiled.
"You fight like you are running from something."
Haejin gritted his teeth.
"I am."
The Grandmaster knelt beside him.
"Then stop running toward the wrong thing."
He placed a hand on Haejin's chest.
"Listen."
Haejin closed his eyes.
And for the first time in years, he did.
He listened to the rhythm of his own heart.
Not filled with rage.
Not burning with vengeance.
But steady.
Calm.
Alive.
And then—
He understood.