Cheon-oh walked two steps behind his master, following every footprint exactly. Even weeds grown up to his knees gently lay aside when his master passed, making a path. The living grasses, though trampled underfoot, quietly raised their stems again after Cheon-oh went by, returning to their lush state as before.

Cheon-oh was fully aware that the flora not interfering with his steps like a single, sentient organism, and the utter absence of any formidable monsters thus far, were entirely the result of his master’s profound harmony with nature.

Yet, unable to conceal the bizarre, overwhelming feeling swelling within him, Cheon-oh firmly pressed a hand against his chest.

He had exerted relentless effort over the past four years with the absolute goal of someday becoming as formidably powerful as his master, and he believed he was making spectacular progress, but his master’s bottomless capabilities remained infinitely awe-inspiring.

Occasionally, the mountain wind swept through, violently shaking the towering trees. Leaves and branches collided, producing a crisp, rhythmic rustling.

Whenever this happened, Cheon-oh stared blankly upward, gazing at the turbulent forest and the sky above. Detached leaves surged upward, caught in the wind’s vortex, while clouds that looked as though they had been painted on with a thin brush drifted across the azure expanse.

Gradually, the sound of flowing water drew nearer. The cries of an unseen flock of birds and the distant footsteps of four-legged beasts actively detouring around them drifted into his ears.

Lowering his gaze to the master walking ahead of him, Cheon-oh’s eyes landed on the slender shoulders and the impeccably upright back visible beneath the fluttering white hair.

The master’s face—which Cheon-oh definitively had to tilt his head back to see just a short while ago—now rested at roughly the same eye level as his own.

Was I really that small? Or have I grown this much, even if it’s just my physical body?

Or has Master…

Just as Cheon-oh traced the line of his master’s nape and shoulders with his eyes, on the verge of falling deep into thought, Cho Yoon spoke abruptly without even turning around.

“I have already told you about the six mountains residing within the Point of No Return Mountain Range. Do you remember them?”

“Yes, I remember,” Cheon-oh recited smoothly, instantly snapping to attention despite having no idea what he had done wrong, or if he had even done anything wrong at all. “Listed from closest to the secular world to deepest: Mount Oegong, Mount Jaecheon, Mount Dumang, Mount Wonik, Mount Cheongwe, and Mount Godo. You warned that as one ventures deeper, the terrain becomes impossibly treacherous, the natural arrays turn vicious, and the monsters grow unspeakably cunning, so one must never thoughtlessly step foot into the inner depths.”

Even a slight turn of his master’s head to glance at him made Cheon-oh swallow dryly, feeling exactly like a child caught committing a misdeed.

Looking forward once more, Cho Yoon spoke calmly.

“Furthermore, the deeper into the mountain range one travels, the more the flora and fauna retain their ancient, primordial forms, growing increasingly massive. They sustain themselves entirely on the energy harbored by the mountain itself. The innermost peak, Mount Godo, possesses such colossal nutritional density in its soil that consuming a single blade of grass there could sustain a person for a month. Why do you suppose that is?”

“…Is it because human hands have never touched it? You previously taught me that humans only plunder nature without end, returning practically nothing in exchange.”

“That is certainly a contributing factor, but in this case, the reason is far more fundamental.”

Cho Yoon slowly drew to a halt. Approaching his master’s side with a bewildered expression, Cheon-oh was finally able to behold the scene unfolding below.

He had sensed the sound of water growing closer, and sure enough, a massive river flowed steadily beneath a shallow cliff.

Its width appeared to be roughly fifty gil, and the gentle currents made it impossible to see the bottom. This undoubtedly had to be the Yeonpa River his master had mentioned.

Though the ripples glittering under the sunlight were blinding, Cheon-oh broadened his field of vision further. That was when he saw them: a continuous line of dead trees shedding their withered leaves along the riverbank, wildflowers drooping lifelessly, and the corpses of animals scattered haphazardly near the water’s edge.

“Water is the source of all life. The Yeonpa River flows between Mount Wonik and Mount Cheongwe, and the Mangmang River flows between Mount Cheongwe and Mount Godo, smoothly supplying both moisture and nutrients to the land. The streams flowing all the way from Mount Dumang to Mount Oegong all originate from here.”

Quietly taking in the sight of the river, Cho Yoon stepped lightly down the cliffside. The riverbank sand, baked warmly by the midday sun, crunched softly beneath his feet.

Cheon-oh followed him onto the white sand, but Cho Yoon raised a hand, stopping the boy from approaching any closer.

“Stay quietly right there until I say otherwise. You must absolutely not let this water touch you. Do you understand?”

“…Yes, Master.”

Though it displeased him, he couldn’t change the fact that he was still inadequate. Stubbornly insisting otherwise would clearly only create more work for his master.

More importantly, having arrived at the river—the very source of the poison—Cheon-oh could visceral feel a deeply ominous energy.

The scent of the water, which should have been refreshing and crisp, carried a nauseatingly foul stench, and the brightly rippling waves sent a terrifying chill constricting around his heart, completely contradicting their visual beauty.

Because the water flowing into the Estate of Deep Mists had already lost a significant portion of its toxicity, he had been slow to notice it, but the Yeonpa River was impossible to ignore.

Just as his master had deduced, an astronomical amount of poison had been unleashed here, and Cheon-oh instinctively knew he could not withstand it.

Having extracted an absolute confirmation from the boy, Cho Yoon waded ankle-deep into the river and spoke.

“Water flows from top to bottom. If someone had simply dumped poison here, the toxicity wouldn’t possibly remain this dense. It seems the source of the poison is either anchored somewhere or sunken to the riverbed.”

“…Is this someone’s deliberate doing?”

“It is too early to tell. However, if it is this specific poison…”

Trailing off, Cho Yoon tilted his head quietly. After a brief moment of contemplation, he began wading deeper into the water, pushing against the current. Utterly horrified, Cheon-oh raised his voice in a frantic shout.

“Master!”

“Did I not tell you to stay still because I am fine?”

Now submerged up to his waist, Cho Yoon briefly glanced back to reassure the boy. Biting his lip hard, Cheon-oh agonized for a moment before asking.

“Can you not extract it using the profound principle of Void-Grasping Art? When it comes to manipulating internal energy, are you not unrivaled and transcendent, Master?”

“When handling poisonous substances, one must constantly exercise extreme caution upon caution. Internal energy is ultimately nothing more than raw, fundamental force; there is no telling what reaction a delicate, volatile poison might trigger if it comes into contact with it. Furthermore, would it be wise to blindly reach out with energy when I don’t even know exactly what lies at the bottom? This is not fishing.”

Explaining in a perfectly serene voice, Cho Yoon resumed his march deeper into the water.

Tracing the flow of the currents beneath the surface, he estimated exactly where the toxic source had settled.

Though he hadn’t mentioned it to the child, if this poison was truly that substance, he absolutely needed to descend and confirm it with his own two eyes.

Finally, Cho Yoon vanished, as if sucked straight into the depths. The white silhouette that had been rippling above the surface disappeared completely, and not even a single air bubble rose in his wake.

Cheon-oh was left entirely alone amidst a pristine, natural landscape filled only with the flowing river, the wind, and the sound of birds. His anxious hand drifted up to the longevity lock hanging from his neck. The white jade lock, carved with exquisite cloud patterns, was glossy and smooth without needing to be polished, simply because he rubbed it so frequently.

Staring fixedly at the opaque water surface in a desperate attempt to deduce even the slightest hint of what was happening below, biting his lips, and taking deep breaths—how much time had actually passed?

The shadow in the center of the river gradually darkened, and the master he had been agonizingly waiting for finally broke the surface. His face lighting up with absolute relief, Cheon-oh opened his mouth.

“Mast—!”

But that voice failed to finish its sentence, staggering and dying away completely.

The very first thing that entered his vision was his master’s back, turned toward him.

The impeccably upright back he had observed for nearly ten years.

An inviolable sanctuary that sometimes offered profound comfort like a towering, protective fortress wall, and sometimes served as an absolute guiding light, instilling limitless admiration within him.

That very back was now vividly displaying its raw, unadorned lines.

The three layers of thin white cotton robes that always tightly bound and concealed Cho Yoon were now soaking wet, clinging perfectly to his skin. Through the outer garments—rendered semi-transparent by the water—his slender waist was starkly visible.

Cheon-oh’s pitch-black eyes lingered sequentially on the deeply grooved line of Cho Yoon’s spine, his perfectly balanced shoulder blades, and his impeccably straight shoulders.

Raising a pale hand, Cho Yoon swept his waterlogged hair forward over one shoulder. As his neat fingertips brushed past, his elegant nape was laid bare. A single, transparent drop of water slid smoothly down the back of his hand, dropping with a soft plop onto the water’s surface.

With his ears ringing deafeningly, only the crystalline sound of that splashing water echoed clearly. The entire world outside of that single figure blurred and smeared away, as if violently rubbed out. Cheon-oh swallowed his breath.

With a heavy thud, his heart plummeted.