The mark on Mujin’s palm burned, but not like fire.
It pulsed—like a second heartbeat.
Elder Gihyeon watched in silence.
“The Eighth Seal is not from this world,” he said slowly.
“It predates Baekje. Predates the Gate.
It’s... a memory of something that was erased.”
“What does it mean?” Mujin asked.
“It means you’re no longer just a bearer,” Gihyeon said.
“You’re a key.”
Suddenly, the Obsidian Fang, strapped to Mujin’s back, let out a soft hum.
Symbols along its spine lit up—matching the seal on Mujin’s palm.
And far above, among the stars,
a constellation blinked into a new shape.
Someone—or something—was watching.
That night, as Mujin meditated beneath the Tree of Sealed Echoes,
a man stepped into camp.
He wore a robe of shifting shadows,
and his face was hidden behind a mask of polished bone.
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His voice was calm.
“You carry the Eighth. That makes you dangerous.”
Mujin rose, blade half-drawn.
“Then you’ve come to kill me?”
The stranger chuckled.
“Not kill. Measure.”
The man’s name was Jao Xien,
an emissary from the Realm Beyond the Gate.
He claimed to be the last disciple of a forgotten order known as The Veinless Path—
martial artists who had severed their ties to qi... and survived.
“The seals were never meant to coexist,” Jao said.
“But you... you’re stitching together gods that never agreed to be bound.”
Then—
He attacked.
Jao moved like liquid smoke.
Each step twisted gravity.
Each strike ignored form.
Mujin countered with the Obsidian Fang—but the blade resisted.
“It doesn’t want to fight him,” Mujin realized.
This wasn’t just a duel—it was a warning.
Each blow from Jao echoed with a question:
“Who gave you the right to bear the Eighth?”
Mujin faltered.
Until the Fang whispered again—
"You chose. That is enough."
With a roar, Mujin merged the power of all Eight Seals.
The air cracked.
Time paused.
He struck.
And Jao Xien... staggered.
He laughed.
“Then perhaps... you’re worthy of what comes next.”
He vanished—leaving behind a scroll sealed in crimson wax.
Mujin broke the seal.
Inside were coordinates.
A location written in three languages—none of them earthly.
Gihyeon translated slowly.
“The Tomb of the Skybone Emperor.”
“It doesn’t exist,” another elder whispered.
Gihyeon’s eyes were locked on Mujin.
“No... it didn’t.
But now... I think you made it real.”
And far below the palace,
beneath a forgotten chamber sealed since before Baekje was born,
the bones began to stir.
To be continued...