The Fugitive from Bing Palace
Woo-gang frowned as he popped the medicine into his mouth.
A few chews later, the pill melted smoothly and slid down his throat.
He could feel the rising heat in his gut being suppressed by the pill's effect.
The nights were still manageable.
But the desert days, like this one, were pure hell for him.
The scorching heat pressing down from the sky above.
And the blistering warmth stabbing up from the sands below.
Woo-gang pushed through the unfamiliar inferno as he crossed the endless dunes.
"Haa..."
In the end, he dropped to his knees.
Crossing the desert was grueling for anyone.
For Woo-gang, with a furnace raging inside him, enduring this long was already a feat.
Yeom Si-woo halted as well.
He glanced up at the sky.
Fortunately, the sun was drifting westward—soon, the biting cold of night would replace the daytime blaze.
"Sit down a bit. Rest, then we'll go. The sun's setting soon; just hold on a little longer."
"Yes. It doesn't hurt or anything. Just... tiring."
Yeom Si-woo nodded at Woo-gang's reply, set down his pack, and sat Woo-gang atop it.
Woo-gang caught his breath while perched on the bundle.
Yeom Si-woo handed him a waterskin, generously filled before their journey.
The water, once cool, had warmed in the heat, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
As Woo-gang gulped it down to slake his thirst, Yeom Si-woo's sharp eyes scanned the horizons.
The barren desert offered no cover, yet it was one of the world's most perilous places.
Of course, with the Flame King at his side, Woo-gang faced no ordinary threats—but caution never hurt.
"Sunset's near. Once it's fully dark, circulate your qi then."
"I can?"
Woo-gang's face lit up.
Since entering the desert, exhaustion had made him crave even a single session, but knowing his condition, he'd held his tongue.
Now, permission had come at last.
"Yes. Nights here are cold enough. And you've got the medicine."
"Yes!"
Woo-gang replied with renewed vigor.
The best news he'd heard lately.
The blazing sun plunged westward as if yanked by an invisible hand.
As darkness fell and chill winds stirred, Woo-gang crossed his legs and entered meditation.
Yeom Si-woo gathered the sparse dry grass and twigs, kindling a small campfire.
Less for warmth than to push back the oppressive gloom.
Gazing into the flames for a moment, he glanced at Woo-gang, then rose and walked off.
He trekked far—until the campfire shrank to a distant pinprick.
Even amid the all-engulfing night, that glow marked Woo-gang's spot.
"Come out."
Yeom Si-woo said lowly.
To whom?
Whoosh!
Flames erupted nearby, revealing a figure.
Yeom Si-woo stared impassively at the man holding a fire starter.
"An honor to meet the Flame King."
"No face I recall. Why trail me all this way?"
Yeom Si-woo asked warily.
He'd sensed the man shortly after entering the desert.
Three days now, without once showing himself.
"Simple admiration, nothing more. No need for suspicion."
The man bowed, his tone and posture laced with genuine respect.
Yet Yeom Si-woo's eyes narrowed.
"Your aura feels familiar. From that place, are you?"
"As expected, you see through me. Yes."
"Then go back. I don't care what you think of me—your kind isn't welcome. Keep following, and you won't keep your head."
What faction elicited such a sharp warning?
Yeom Si-woo turned away.
"Harsh words. She awaits you, you know."
He scowled and faced the man again.
"My going means your ruin. Don't provoke me. I've let you live this long out of mercy."
Another warning issued, he started off—then stopped.
"You're the one who fled Bing Palace."
"Correct. That's me."
"Heard you crossed the border."
"Left traces to suggest it."
Whoosh!
Yeom Si-woo's aura shifted.
"What did you steal?"
"Can't say."
"Hand it over, and I'll spare you."
"Impossible. Took too much risk to snag it. And I don't have it now."
Yeom Si-woo gathered his energy as the man stonewalled.
"You know where I'm headed?"
"Of course."
"Yet you show yourself. Bold, or just foolish?"
"Call it confidence."
"Confidence before me? Guess I'll drag you to Bing Palace. A fine gift for an old friend."
Thud!
Yeom Si-woo lunged.
Sand exploded from underfoot.
The man's fire starter extinguished, plunging them into pitch black.
Swish!
Undeterred, Yeom Si-woo thrust his hand.
The man slipped away by a hair's breadth.
Yeom Si-woo's face hardened; he pivoted.
The man dodged desperately, matching his speed.
No wonder he'd escaped Bing Palace.
Though stronger than expected, Yeom Si-woo pursued relentlessly, unperturbed.
Swish! Swish!
His grabs clutched only air.
No counterattacks came.
But Yeom Si-woo knew chances had existed—and darkened further.
After furious exchanges, they faced off again, positions swapped.
"That footwork. Not for the likes of you!"
"Learned it fair and square. Blame her, not me."
Anger flared on Yeom Si-woo's face.
The man smiled, teeth gleaming in the dark.
"She takes interest in the boy too."
"You scum!"
Yeom Si-woo roared forward.
The man spun and fled.
His hem eluded Yeom Si-woo's grasp by inches.
Pausing briefly, Yeom Si-woo accelerated in pursuit.
Woo-gang opened his eyes, meditation complete.
His body felt refreshed.
The inner heat hadn't flared as feared—thanks to the pre-sunset pill.
The campfire caught his eye first.
No Yeom Si-woo.
"Grandfather?"
Puzzled, he stood—then instinct kicked in at the odd presence behind.
Whoosh!
Sand scattered; Chu Pung Gu Hwan Bo unfolded.
A strange hand speared his spot.
Relentless, it pursued.
Woo-gang dodged fluidly, his steps elegant, preempting the foe.
Instinct guided him, but his feet executed perfect Wind-Chasing Nine Illusions Step.
His face mixed bewilderment, shock, and fear.
He spun away, creating distance.
A stranger's face emerged, grinning eerily at him.
Creak!
He lunged.
Woo-gang snatched up his nearby staff.
The hand closed on his face.
Staring it down, Woo-gang swung.
Clang!
It rebounded; he thrust seamlessly through the gap.
Thrust!
But pierced only air—the man had retreated.
Shimmer!
He dissolved like smoke.
Yeom Si-woo's hand filled the void.
He pulled Woo-gang behind him, glaring.
"Impressive for a kid. True heir to the Flame King. Regrettable, but we'll end here. Until next time."
The man bowed farewell, then melted into the dark.
"You alright?"
"Yes. Body just... moved on its own."
Woo-gang replied dazedly.
"Good. That's from your sealed chamber training—all those wounds honing senses beyond sight. And unknowingly, you mastered our sect's Chu Pung Gu Hwan Bo."
"The chamber...?"
"Yes. Sharpening other senses. Your feet showed perfect form—body reacting before mind."
Woo-gang didn't beam with joy, still rattled.
"Who was that?"
"Not sure."
Yeom Si-woo eyed the vanished spot curtly.
He knew the affiliation, if not the name.
Too soon for Woo-gang's ears.
An ominous hunch: a tenacious foe ahead.
'Hope Bing Palace handles it.'
Yeom Si-woo mused inwardly.
Yet unease lingered.
The man had escaped once, trailed him leisurely, boasted superb lightness skill and footwork.
Even faked a border crossing meticulously.
Bing Palace wouldn't catch him easily.
"Hoo..."
Yeom Si-woo sighed softly.
He shook off the gloom, turning to Woo-gang.
"Dawn brings harsh roads again. Need rest... but can you sleep?"
Woo-gang shook his head.
Heart still pounding from the scare.
Meditation had him alert anyway.
"Then let's walk now. Movement might settle you. Sleep later."
"Yes."
Night walking beat the brutal sun.
Yeom Si-woo shouldered the pack, smothered the fire with sand.
Grasping Woo-gang's hand to stay on course, they ventured into the dark.