Into the Tiger's Den
The moment Yoo Seol-ah made her declaration, the air across the training grounds dropped to an icy chill.
The unit members, whose cheers had shaken the courtyard moments before, swallowed their breath in unison. Yet their gazes burned with fervent anticipation.
"The Vice Commander is stepping in herself!"
"How long has it been since we last saw those twin blades drawn?"
Amid the hushed murmurs rippling through the ranks, Yoo Seol-ah leveled her gaze at Dokgo Jin.
"You'd better draw the sword on your back."
Dokgo Jin silently observed the pair of glistening steel blades she held. Then, turning away, he walked toward a weapons rack set along the edge of the grounds.
From among the countless cold-forged arms resting on the timber frame, what he drew was an ordinary wooden training sword.
Yoo Seol-ah's brow furrowed.
"What is that? You intend to face me with a piece of wood?"
"I am, for better or worse, a Dragon Tiger Plaque Master."
Dokgo Jin angled the tip of the wooden blade diagonally, settling into a calm, balanced stance. As he did, a keen, bone-chilling sharpness drifted from the blunt wooden edge.
Yoo Seol-ah inwardly flinched.
Forming sword qi with plain wood…!
She could not even begin to imagine what kind of devastating wave he would unleash if he wielded true steel.
I suspected as much, but he truly stands on a different plane.
Even so, the pride of the Iron Soul Unit's vice commander forbade her from faltering before a practice sword.
Her silhouette blurred. In the span of a single heartbeat, she materialized directly before him.
If Moon Heum's movement had resembled the insidious glide of a viper, Yoo Seol-ah's advance was explosive and linear—a falcon diving for its prey.
Two silver arcs whipped through the air, converging on Dokgo Jin from opposing angles.
Dokgo Jin met the onslaught with concise, measured parries, snapping his wooden sword into short arcs to deflect each incoming line.
Metallic sparks sprayed violently, and the sharp ring of clashed steel echoed across the cobblestones despite the core of his weapon being nothing more than carved timber.
That was merely the prelude. Yoo Seol-ah's dual swords descended like a howling tempest.
Fast, Dokgo Jin thought, his gaze sharpening.
It was not merely swiftness. As the right blade cut past, the left blade seamlessly thrust into the seam left in its wake. It felt less like facing a single warrior and more like enduring the synchronized pincer assault of two masters functioning as interlocking gears. It was an exquisite style, blending the raw, lethal practicality of the Iron Soul Unit with razor-thin martial finesse.
"Hey, are you only going to block?"
With a sharp cry, Yoo Seol-ah twisted her waist and spun, her blades churning into a blinding gale.
Dozens of silver sword shadows descended upon Dokgo Jin like an unyielding downpour. It was a suffocating perimeter strike designed to eradicate any possible avenue of retreat.
An ordinary martial artist would have buckled under the crushing momentum of that sword veil, forced backward only to be shredded to pieces. But Dokgo Jin did not retreat.
He swung his wooden blade with tranquil precision.
A crisp crack rang out as Dokgo Jin's wooden edge struck the flat of her right blade. He had not merely blocked it; he had read the return trajectory of her cut and knocked it off course, forcibly steering it directly into the path of her advancing left sword.
The two steel blades clashed against each other, spraying sparks between her hands. In that infinitesimal fraction of a second, a microscopic tear ruptured the flawless curtain of her attack.
Dokgo Jin did not let that sliver slip away.
His wooden sword slipped cleanly through the narrow seam between her crossed blades. Utilizing her own diverted force against her, the wooden tip surged toward her throat like a striking serpent.
Yoo Seol-ah proved why she held the rank of Vice Commander. Suppressing her shock by pure instinct, she feigned releasing her grip, hooked the pommel of her hilt downward against the wooden shaft to suppress its path, and pivoted her body on the balls of her feet.
The wooden tip whistled through empty air. Harnessing the rotational momentum of her evasion, she reversed her grip on the trailing blade and sliced upward toward Dokgo Jin's midsection.
Dokgo Jin drew his wooden sword back in a tight loop, intercepting the reverse-grip slash.
With their blades locked tight, their faces were brought inches apart.
"Not bad," Yoo Seol-ah breathed, a defiant grin touching her lips. "To disrupt my sword path like that."
"An opening presented itself," Dokgo Jin replied, meeting her smile with a faint one of his own.
From their deadlocked clash, both kicked out simultaneously as if by silent agreement.
Their boots collided with a dull thud, throwing them several paces apart.
Dokgo Jin adjusted his grip on the wooden hilt. That should be enough to preserve the Vice Commander's dignity.
He coaxed forth a sliver of the Nine Nether Dark Sky Scripture.
His presence transformed instantly.
An inky haze rose around his silhouette like dark heat wavering over stone. It was far more than a simple venting of internal energy; it was a suffocating, gravitational pressure that seemed to bend the surrounding space inward.
Yoo Seol-ah's eyes widened.
A primal shiver ran down her spine. The man standing before her felt no longer human, but an unyielding mountain—a fathomless, pitch-black abyss staring back at her.
Is this… your true depth?
It was an aura that far exceeded anything she had anticipated. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she ground her molars together and forced her footing to hold.
Don't look down on me. I am the Vice Commander of the Iron Soul Unit!
Converting the instinctual dread into roaring fervor, Yoo Seol-ah drove her inner arts to their absolute limit. She knew with terrifying certainty that if she gave ground here, she would never again catch even a glimpse of this man's back.
"Hah!"
Dropping low, she spun like a top. The paired blades became a silver vortex, churning up razor-edged gales that howled across the yard.
The destructive force gathered from her spin surged forward, aiming straight for Dokgo Jin's neck. The violent sword wind whipped at his robes as though ready to shred them to ribbons.
A fine technique, Dokgo Jin mused.
That was as far as his admiration went.
Even within the heart of that silver hurricane, his eyes picked out the hollow center.
He stepped forward, right into the storm.
Her blades whispered past his ear and grazed over his shoulder, parting the air with razor-sharp malice. For a heartbeat, she believed she had cleaved him in two, but the hollow sensation in her hands turned her blood cold. Her swords had struck nothing but empty wind.
Dokgo Jin was gone from her forward vision. He had bypassed her reach entirely, stepping deep into the innermost circle of her guard.
Yoo Seol-ah froze mid-rotation, unable to arrest her momentum before a cool sensation pressed gently against the soft skin under her chin.
The tip of the wooden sword rested an inch from her throat.
Had she taken half a step more, she would have impaled herself upon the blunt wood.
Breath deserted her.
Her twin blades hung uselessly in the air, extended high as though offering a hollow surrender. Meanwhile, Dokgo Jin stood relaxed, holding the point at her vitals as effortlessly as if he had occupied that spot from the very beginning.
"When the movement is too wide, the chest is left bare."
Confronted with an absolute defeat that admitted no excuses, Yoo Seol-ah could not summon a single word.
The watching Iron Soul warriors erupted into a deafening roar.
"To unravel the Vice Commander's Twin Flawless Dance Sword like that…!"
"A real monster just joined our ranks!"
Waves of awe and reverence rolled toward Dokgo Jin from every corner of the courtyard.
The following morning, Yeom Baek summoned Yoo Seol-ah to his third-floor office in Iron Heart Hall.
"What brings you to your desk, Commander? Seeing you in the office is a rare sight."
"What do you mean, rare? A commander has to attend to his minimum duties."
"Ah. You mean the report regarding the Dragon Tiger Plaque Master?"
"Precisely."
Yeom Baek slid a sheet of paper covered in coarse, sprawling scrawl across the desk. An uneasy premonition stirred in Yoo Seol-ah's chest as she cautiously picked it up.
"What… is this?"
"The report."
"Excuse me? This scribbled chicken scratch is a report?"
"Regrettably so. I submitted it yesterday, and it was promptly thrown right back in my face."
"..."
"Fix it up so the leadership can actually read it, will you?"
"Hah. I knew this would happen."
Grumbling under her breath, Yoo Seol-ah took her seat across from him. This was hardly the first time. Yeom Baek was hopelessly inept when it came to paperwork, leaving her to clean up and formalize his administrative disasters.
Yeom Baek leaned back with a satisfied grin. "How is our newcomer doing?"
"He's settling in fine," Yoo Seol-ah replied, dipping her brush into the inkstone. "Ever since the Battle Banquet, he's grown close with the men at surprising speed. He seemed quiet at first, so I was a bit concerned, but it worked out."
"I knew it would. Real men recognize real men on the training ground."
"He's quite bold, too. Just this morning, he brandished his Dragon Tiger Plaque and demanded a private chamber for himself."
"Haha! Is he really adapting that well?"
"I can understand why. If he had to share a common barracks room with the rest of those rowdy brutes… good grief." She shook her head with a faint grimace.
"Hmm. Do we have any empty rooms in Iron Heart Hall?"
"There is one, actually. Right here on the third floor."
"Right, of course."
Iron Heart Hall was divided into three levels: the first held the mess hall and assembly room, the second housed the barracks for regular members, and the third was reserved for the leadership's quarters and administrative offices. While other combat units maintained two or more vice commanders, the Iron Soul Unit had only Yoo Seol-ah, leaving a suite of rooms unoccupied.
"Still… why make extra work for yourself?" Yoo Seol-ah asked. "You should have just called me yesterday instead of submitting that mess."
"You were busy showing the newcomer around. I figured I could handle something this minor on my own."
"You vastly overestimated your abilities."
"Fair point."
Right then, Yeom Baek's expression hardened as his senses caught a presence outside. He turned his eyes toward the heavy oak door.
"Who goes there?"
"Leader of the Iron Soul Unit. It is the White Fang Brigade."
Yoo Seol-ah's brush paused in midair.
"We have arrived on orders from the Flag Master."
The office door swung open.
Standing in the hallway outside his quarters, Dokgo Jin looked at the white-masked figure before him.
"Who are you?"
"I am of the White Fang Brigade."
"The White Fang Brigade?"
The White Fang Brigade was the elite twelve-man personal retinue of the White Tiger Flag Master, commonly known throughout the alliance as the Twelve White Fangs. They were loyal retainers who answered to no authority other than the Flag Master himself.
No wonder his presence felt exceptional from the moment he approached, Dokgo Jin thought. Most martial artists under the White Tiger Banner spent years in the fortress without ever catching a glimpse of a White Fang operative. Why are they looking for me?
A subtle glint lit his eyes. "What business does the White Fang Brigade have with me?"
"The White Tiger Flag Master has summoned the Dragon Tiger Plaque Master."
"...!"
"Word has already been delivered to the Leader of the Iron Soul Unit. You need only follow me."
Without waiting for Dokgo Jin's assent, the masked warrior spun on his heel and moved off down the corridor.
A thin smile touched Dokgo Jin's lips. I am finally to meet the Flag Master, then?
He fell into step behind the white mask.
Stepping out of Iron Heart Hall, the pair took to the broad avenues running through the inner citadel.
Dokgo Jin watched the figure gliding before him. The masked guard did not produce a single footfall against the paved flagstones. They say the finest bodyguards share the same roots as elite assassins.
The operative's skill was undeniable. The Northern Heavenly Alliance… it truly holds an endless reservoir of masters.
Having gauged his guide's caliber, Dokgo Jin swept his gaze over his surroundings. It really is vast.
Northern Heavens Fortress was an enormous citadel sheltering over ten thousand personnel. Its internal layout was far larger and more rigorously compartmentalized than he had imagined.
The western sector where they walked, the White Tiger Camp, was a harsh, barren ground. Everywhere he looked, stone buildings carved roughly from native rock stood beneath chimneys venting the crimson flare of forge fires. The tang of iron and the sulfurous stench of burning coal carried on the night breeze, proclaiming that this sector was forged strictly for battle and slaughter.
Dokgo Jin shifted his gaze toward the eastern quadrant. There, rows of elegant estates roofed in azure tiles marked the territory of the Azure Dragon Banner—the Azure Dragon Camp. To the south lay the Vermilion Bird Camp, while the deep, shadowy ravines of the north harbored the Black Tortoise Camp.
These four cardinal sectors comprised the fortress's inner citadel. Outside its walls sprawled the outer fortress: a sprawling urban web of residential districts housing warriors' families and merchants, alongside massive open markets that drove the alliance's economy. Resting right upon the boundary dividing the inner and outer citadels was Ungaengnu, the pavilion where Dokgo Jin had briefly stayed.
Dividing the sectors limits casual contact and naturally stokes fierce rivalry between the banners.
While such factionalism had its drawbacks, it was unquestionably effective at sharpening their martial edge.
Before long, Dokgo Jin followed the white-masked warrior into the deepest reaches of the White Tiger Camp, where the terrain gave way to craggy, precipitous cliffs. Here, the atmosphere altered entirely. The clatter and din of the lower camp could not reach this high, solemn sanctuary.
Perched upon the very edge of a sheer cliff stood a massive, imposing stronghold. Resembling a great predator coiled to strike, it loomed over the abyss in precarious, arrogant defiance.
The bold calligraphy carved into the plaque seemed ready to leap off the wood and roar.
Dokgo Jin's eyes flashed with recognition. So that is the Tiger Gazing Tower.
It was the seat of the White Tiger Flag Master, the man hailed as the unmatched spear of the Northern Heavenly Alliance. Stripped of all ornamental luxury, the architecture itself radiated the stark ethos of the White Tiger Banner—revering nothing but sheer force and uncompromising struggle.
Remarkable. To think mere timber and stone could project such weight.
Dokgo Jin recalled the fragments of intelligence he had gathered regarding the man within. Among the Five Pillars of Northern Heaven, the White Tiger Flag Master was renowned as the most bellicose and domineering. Dokgo Jin found himself genuinely anticipating the sheer magnitude of the presence awaiting him.
It begins.
Following the white-masked guard, Dokgo Jin began his ascent up the steep stone stairway leading into the tower.
It was his first step into the true tiger's den, directly toward its beating heart.