Heavenly Archmage

Chapter 9: Shape of Shadows

"What exactly are you?"

The question came quietly, almost hesitant, but in the still air of the inn it cut like a blade through silk. Jin Ryeo sat across the table with his hands clasped tightly as if to steady himself, his eyes searching Yeon Arin's face for something—an answer perhaps, or even a trace of ordinary humanity that might explain the impossible things he had witnessed.

"You look no older than ten," Jin Ryeo continued, his voice remaining low and careful. "And yet you use powers I cannot begin to understand. I only ask because I have never seen strength like that in this world."

Arin's spoon stopped halfway to his lips. He set it down deliberately and looked at Jin Ryeo for a long moment, his gaze flat and colorless while the faintest glimmer of mana flickered behind his eyes. The silence stretched until it became almost suffocating, pressing down like the weight of deep water.

"I made it," Arin said finally.

Jin Ryeo blinked, clearly uncertain whether he had heard correctly. "You... made it?"

"Yes." Arin's tone carried no pride, no explanation—only truth delivered like the closing of a door. "Now stop asking questions you cannot comprehend."

Jin Ryeo lowered his gaze, his throat tightening visibly. "Understood."

The rest of the meal passed in heavy silence. Outside, rain had begun to fall, tapping softly against the window with a rhythm that seemed almost deliberate. When Arin finally spoke again, his words carried that same steady quality, as if they were part of some grand design that had already been written long ago.

"You will infiltrate the Murim Alliance."

Jin Ryeo looked up sharply. "What?"

"You heard me." Arin leaned back slightly, his eyes reflecting the candle's dim light. "You said you would make yourself useful. I need information—their internal structure, their movements, their real strength. And for that, someone must enter the walls."

Jin Ryeo's chest clenched. "That's impossible. The Alliance knows my face. They declared my family traitors. If I step within a mile of their gates, I'll be executed before I can speak a word."

Arin regarded him quietly, then stood and extended a hand. The air around his palm shimmered faintly, twisting as if bending around invisible heat. Circles of light appeared in the air—rune and intricate, their motion deliberate and slow.

"VEIL OF MIRAGE – Flesh Transmutation."

The light expanded, touching Jin Ryeo's skin. He gasped as warmth surged through his veins, his reflection in the glass distorting violently. His features blurred and reshaped themselves in moments—his hair darkening, his eyes shifting from blue to a dull brown, his jawline narrowing, old scars vanishing completely. Within moments, a different man sat where Jin Ryeo had been.

Jin Ryeo stared at his hands in disbelief. "This... this is—"

"Temporary," Arin interrupted. "It will last seven days. Long enough to blend with the lower ranks, no longer. You will act as a wandering swordsman seeking employment in the Alliance guard divisions. From there, listen. Observe. Record every pattern of patrol, every exchange of orders, every name that carries weight."

Jin Ryeo swallowed hard, his new throat tight. "You want me to study their military structure."

"I want to know their strength," Arin said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "Every sect that bows to them, every master that commands their soldiers. Power is only a weapon if you understand its edge. I do not strike blindly."

His voice carried no hint of emotion, yet something beneath the calmness radiated quiet finality.

Jin Ryeo bowed his head. "I'll do it. Even if it means walking into the den that destroyed my home."

"Good." Arin turned toward the window, his eyes fixed on the rain-soaked lights of the distant city. When he spoke again, those words fell like the opening move in some vast game only he could see. "Then the hunt begins."

Far away, in a tower lined with scrolls and flickering lamps, the atmosphere hung heavy with tension and barely contained anger. Inside the inner chambers of the Murim Alliance, two men knelt before a senior officer whose expression had been carved from stone itself. The faint scent of incense mingled with something far more bitter—the metallic tang of blood and failure.

"You failed again," the officer said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than any shout could have managed. The words fell like judgments, each one absolute and unforgiving.

The trembling martial artist bowed lower. "We tracked him to the eastern quarter, but... he vanished, sir. Our scouts found nothing. Even the Ki traces were gone."

"Vanished," the officer repeated, the word drawn out as if testing its flavor. "A convenient word for incompetence."

He rose from his seat and walked toward the window overlooking Hwagok City. Outside, thunder rolled across the plains as rain began to fall in earnest. "The young master of Mount Hwagyeong Sword Sect was supposed to be dead. And yet he continues to breathe. Twice now, he escapes. Twice, our shadows fail."

Another officer shifted nervously. "Sir, there were reports of strange energy in the alley where the bodies were found. It was not Ki. The witnesses said the corpses turned to dust—"

"Enough." The senior officer's voice cut through the air like a blade. "We will find whoever protects him. And when we do, no trace of them will remain."

He turned his gaze toward his men, kneeling in submission before him. "Send new orders to the hunters. The second attempt has failed. The young master of Hwagyeong is alive, and he is no longer alone. Someone of considerable power stands beside him."

He turned his gaze back to the window overlooking the rain-drenched city, his expression carved from ice. "Increase the patrols. Double the watchers at every gate. And send word—whoever brings me the head of the young master will be rewarded beyond measure. Whoever allows him to escape again will answer to me personally."

The officers bowed and withdrew, their footsteps echoing through the chamber as they departed to carry out his orders. The senior officer remained alone, watching the storm rage across Hwagok City, his mind already calculating the next move in a game where failure meant death.