Return of the Martial Soul

  Seoul. 11:42 PM. Rain poured like a broken sky.

  Kang Mujin stood at the edge of a restricted excavation site tucked into a forgotten mountainside. His jacket was soaked, his eyes hollow.

  A month ago, a junior reporter vanished here—this exact spot.

  “This can’t be real... Yakuzas and Korean mobsters trading ancient relics?”

  Below him, floodlights illuminated a strange scene. Japanese men in suits, local gangsters with tiger tattoos, and in the center… a bluish metallic tablet, glowing faintly.

  Mujin zoomed in with his camera. Then— a pulse. A high-pitched ring vibrated in his skull.

  The tablet was humming.

  “Get rid of the witness.”

  The words came sharp in Japanese.

  Mujin turned. Shadows moved. Guns raised.

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  “You nosy little journalist...” growled Lee Sung-pal, the enforcer of the Cheolryong gang.

  Mujin ran. Instinct took over.

  He crashed through a wire fence marked 'DO NOT ENTER'. Lightning struck the earth—

  BOOM!

  A cave mouth lit up with blue fire. The metallic tablet responded. Symbols lit up under Mujin’s hand.

  “The True One has arrived.”

  A flash. Gravity failed. His body floated, ears rang, world inverted—

  —Then silence.

  24th Year of King Uija’s Reign, Baekje.

  “Ghost! A ghost!”

  Soldiers in armor surrounded him. Mujin coughed, disoriented. His clothes—shirt, pants, smartwatch—were foreign here.

  “Avert your gaze! Do not defile heaven’s will!”

  A stern voice. The soldiers fell to one knee. An old man approached. White hair, sharp eyes. He looked at Mujin’s chest, then his wrist.

  “…The Heaven’s Seal. The mark of prophecy.”

  He was Un Gihyun, elder of Baekje’s secret sect: The Woonryong Order.

  “You wish to live? Then learn. This land, its fate, and the arts that rule it.”

  He led Mujin deep into the forest—to an underground hall filled with scrolls and symbols.

  Before him lay a book. ‘Heavenly Cloud Movement Technique (Cheonun Shinbeop)’

  Its first line read: “Hide your energy. Guide the world.”

  Mujin stared at the text. The silence hummed with old power. He looked at his smartwatch. Dead.

  “…Am I dead? Or dreaming?”

  He pinched his cheek. Pain.

  “This is real…”

  He thought of his family. His wife. His missing junior.

  “I have to go back.”

  He placed his hand on the book.

  “Hide your energy. Guide the world.”

  Not just technique. A prophecy. A code. A map for survival in a world of swords and secrets.

  “…Then let this be my first step.”

  (Continued)