The deeper they walked into the ruin, the quieter the world became.
Gone were the shadows that had attacked them. Gone were the trembling walls, the whispering cracks, and the veins that pulsed in rhythm with Yeon's soul.
Now, there was only stone—immense slabs etched with ancient calligraphy, circling a vast basin at the heart of the ruin.
A garden of broken pillars lay around them. Petrified trees, their leaves turned to white crystal, sprouted from the cracks in the floor. Birds frozen in flight sat in the branches like statues made of silence.
Sun-Ho stepped carefully into the space.
"Stone Garden," So-Ri murmured beside him. "I've heard of places like this in legends. Dead zones, where too much memory pooled and calcified."
Ji-Mun whistled softly. "Romantic. Until one of those birds bites our heads off."
Yul-Rin crouched beside a shattered altar. "It's a seal chamber. I recognize the array work. This entire garden was designed to lock something in."
Ma-Rok squinted. "Or keep something out."
"No," Sun-Ho corrected, stepping forward. "It was made to wait."
---
At the center of the garden was a raised platform—an ancient altar shaped like a flame-bound eye. Around it, seven obelisks leaned outward like ribs.
And carved into the altar's face were six glyphs—and one central circle that remained dark.
"Six nodes, one heart," So-Ri read aloud. "And the final pulse shall reveal the path."
Sun-Ho approached. He could feel the pressure already—heavy, deliberate.
He touched the stone.
A faint warmth.
Then a pulse—not from the altar, but inside his own body.
It pushed him back.
"What was that?" Ji-Mun asked.
"The altar is locked," Sun-Ho said, frowning. "It's a Vein Map, but sealed."
Ma-Rok stepped up and gave the altar a hearty shove. Nothing happened.
Ji-Mun dusted his sleeves and looked up. "Well, it wouldn't be a proper ancient ruin if something didn't try to drain our blood or soul or whatever."
At that moment, the glyphs glowed—and a voice echoed in the garden.
> "To remember the path, a piece must be given.
The map awakens for one who offers continuance.
Through pain, through pulse—legacy shall breathe again."
---
Silence followed.
Sun-Ho stared at the glowing script. "It wants a sacrifice."
Yul-Rin's face darkened. "Like blood?"
"No," Sun-Ho said, eyes narrowed. "Not death. Qi. Life force. Temporarily, perhaps—but dangerously so."
Ji-Mun took a slow step toward the altar.
"I'll do it."
Everyone turned.
"No," Sun-Ho said immediately. "It's too risky."
Ji-Mun shrugged. "I'm the only one not holding a legacy, a future bloodline, or a buried sect. If this thing drains me, it's just a temporary coma. You? It could unravel fate."
So-Ri stepped forward, brows knit. "That's not how it works, and you know it."
Ji-Mun gave her a crooked grin. "I do. That's why I'm still the best option."
---
Before they could argue further, he stepped into the altar circle.
His hand hovered over the core glyph.
A deep breath.
And then, he pressed down.
Immediately, the glyphs flared—and the altar screamed.
Energy whipped up from the stones in bright, burning arcs. Ji-Mun's body arched, his teeth clenched, but he didn't cry out.
The others rushed forward—but Sun-Ho raised a hand.
"Wait," he said. "He's stabilizing it. Don't interfere."
Within the field, Ji-Mun's qi poured into the stone. Veins lit across the floor, branching out in perfect symmetry.
His knees buckled. His breath came in gasps.
But still—he pressed down.
"I hate ancient flame cults," he muttered. "Why does everything need to hurt?"
---
Then—
BOOM.
The altar cracked open at the center, and light burst upward like a beacon.
Glyphs rearranged. Lines drew themselves into place across the stone floor—a map.
Lines of ley-flow, curving through mountain ranges, valley systems, hidden temples. Seven points flared in gold—each marked by a distinct elemental crest.
One in the north glowed crimson. Another deep in the ocean pulsed blue.
At the heart, closest to their current location—an emerald flame, shaped like an open eye.
Sun-Ho stared. "Legacy Nodes."
Yul-Rin exhaled. "Seven of them. And this… this is a soul-engraved map. Impossible to forge. It's real."
So-Ri's voice was soft. "These are the anchors of your past life's will."
---
Ji-Mun collapsed backward.
Sun-Ho caught him.
His face was pale, drenched in sweat—but he grinned faintly. "See? Only half-dead."
Sun-Ho lowered him carefully. "You shouldn't have—"
"I chose to," Ji-Mun muttered. "And I'll do it again. You're going to change the world, Sun-Ho. I'm just here to make sure you get the chance."
Sun-Ho closed his eyes for a moment.
Then: "Thank you."
---
As Ji-Mun rested under So-Ri's care, Sun-Ho studied the map burned into the stone.
Each Node glowed with dormant potential.
And he could feel them now—connected by the same thread as the Verdant Flame Sect… the same energy Na-Eun once wielded… the same fire he buried long ago.
They weren't just places.
They were choices.
And the first one lay only two valleys west, marked with a jagged symbol etched like a fang.
"Prepare to move," Sun-Ho said.
Ma-Rok blinked. "Already?"
"Before word spreads. Before Kang Mu-Jin sends agents to destroy these places."
He turned.
"We're no longer uncovering the past. We're reclaiming it."
---
End of Chapter 126 – Sacrifice in the Stone Garden
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