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Chapter 5 – The Silent Scroll
The sun had not yet risen when Ved left the Pavilion.
The gates did not open with ceremony, nor did anyone bid him farewell. Only Master Haejin stood beneath the ancient pine, arms crossed.
> "Do not stray from the path. Do not unseal the scroll. And trust no one until you reach the Mountain Circle Sect."
Ved nodded.
But something about the master's eyes… felt like goodbye.
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🌲 The Road East
The mountain roads outside the Pavilion were silent this time of year. Mist coiled between the trees like sleeping serpents. Every sound echoed louder than it should have.
Ved walked with steady steps. Sword sheathed, mind calm.
The scroll was sealed in crimson wax, with a symbol he did not recognize—a wheel with eight broken spokes.
> "Strange," he murmured. "Why send me?"
There were faster, stronger, more trusted disciples.
So why him?
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🐾 Shadows Behind Leaves
Midway through his journey, the silence broke.
Leaves rustled—not with wind, but movement.
Ved paused. Eyes narrowed. He reached for his sword, but didn't draw.
A whisper behind him:
> "You walk like one who doesn't want to arrive."
Ved spun. Empty path.
Another whisper, closer:
> "That scroll isn't meant for the Mountain Circle, is it?"
Still no one.
Then—a blur from above.
Ved dodged instinctively, his sword half-drawn. A dart struck the bark behind him, sizzling with poison.
Four masked figures stepped out of the forest. No insignia. No banners.
> "We don't want to hurt you," one said. "We want what you carry."
Ved stepped back slowly. He didn't recognize their stance. Their aura wasn't Murim… too smooth, too controlled.
> "You're not from any sect."
> "We're from the part of the world that remembers," one replied.
They moved.
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⚔️ The Fight
Ved's strikes were sharp—but they were probing. He wasn't going for the kill. His body moved out of habit, not intent.
And yet… his stance changed mid-battle. Something ancient surged through him. His footwork curved into a spiral. His breath slowed.
His blade—it shimmered with a faint hue, not qi… something else.
He parried two strikes, pivoted, and knocked one opponent into a tree with a spinning palm-strike.
He froze after.
> Where did I learn that?
The masked attackers withdrew—not defeated, but… watching.
One of them whispered before disappearing:
> "Just as it was said. He remembers what was never taught."
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🌑 That Night
Ved made camp in an abandoned hermit's hut.
As the fire crackled, he stared at the scroll.
The symbol of the eight broken spokes seemed to hum now. Almost like a heartbeat.
He looked away.
But the whisper came again.
Sanskrit. Clearer now.
> "शरीरं यदवाप्नोति यच्चाप्युत्क्रामतीश्वरः..."
"As a man casts off worn clothes and puts on new ones, so the soul casts off the body and enters another…"
Ved's eyes widened.
He sat upright, breath sharp.
> "Whose voice is this?"
But the wind gave no answer.
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🕯️ Elsewhere...
A shadow knelt in front of a shrine not of Murim, but carved with peacock feathers and Garuda wings.
A woman's voice, cold and calm, echoed:
> "So… the descendant has begun to awaken."
Another replied:
> "And the scroll?"
> "He still carries it. Let's see… how long before he opens what was never sealed for him."
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