Chapter 9 Edge of the Blade

Steel clashed in the forest clearing as Wolseong’s blade whistled down in a clean overhead cut. Taeyang raised his sword to meet it, his wrists jolted from the force. The impact rattled through his arms. Wolseong pivoted instantly, sweeping low at his knees.

“Too slow!” Wolseong barked.

Taeyang jumped back, boots skidding on dirt, then lunged with a downward chop. Wolseong sidestepped and rapped Taeyang’s elbow with the flat of his sheath. The sword nearly flew from Taeyang’s grip.

“Guard high and loose again. Plant your feet like you mean it, boy. Again.”

Taeyang took his stance again, breathing hard.

Wolseong moved deliberately this time, shifting his weight to his back foot, he lifted his sword from the hip in a smooth diagona arc, before snapping forward with a straight thrust. “Watch your hips. They drive the power.”

Taeyang copied the motion. His thrust jerked short, shoulder dipping. Wolseong’s sheath cracked across his ribs.

“Elbow in tighter. Do it right or we stay here till midnight.”

They drilled the sequence. Taeyang repeated it—twenty times, thirty—sweat stung his eyes but with each repetition he smoothed out the jerkiness. His muscles burned, but the thrust extended farther, landing cleaner.

Wolseong kept his attack going without warning from high cuts, low feints and spinning slashes. Taeyang blocked the first, twisted away from the second, and met the third with a rising parry that forced Wolseong back a half-step.

“Not bad,” Wolseong muttered. “Again. Put in your all this time.”

Baekho and Soohyun stepped in.

Soohyun darted forward on a sudden gust of wind, blade whistling at Taeyang’s flank. “Try catching this!”

Taeyang twisted, caught the strike, and shoved back hard. Soohyun skidded, laughing.

Baekho formed a quick ice shield with a grunt. “Come on, Hit this quickly!”

Taeyang's blade hammered against the shield striking three heavy blows. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ice. Yohan waited for an opening before slipping i2n when Taeyang overextended and tagged his shoulder cleanly. “Got you.”

“Focus,” Wolseong snapped. “You fight like you drink—sloppy when it matters.”

They sparred until the sun dipped.

Taeyang’s shirt clung to his back, arms heavy as lead with exhaustion, he breathed a sigh of relief the moment Wolseong finally lowered his sword. “Enough for now. Get some rest. At dusk, we’ll continue.”

The four friends dropped near the stream. Soohyun flicked his wrist, sending a cool breeze across them. “You actually pushed the old man back that last time.”

Baekho shaped ice into chunks. “His progress is too slow, but it's progress anyway.”

Yohan grinned through a split lip. “Keep this up and maybe we won’t have to carry you back to camp every night.”

Taeyang splashed water at him. “Keep talking and I’ll set your bedroll on fire. Remember the workshop?”

They laughed aloud, the banter carried on for a while before Taeyang caught sight of his master, Wolseong settling into meditation.

He tapped the boys. “Quiet, the old man is about meditating, you guys would help me watch him a bit, so I can hop out to town.”

“Where are you going?” Baekho asked.

“The Broken lantern, come on, watch him for me please.” He said standing up and dusting himself quietly before slipping away.

The Broken Lantern's sign creaked above the door. Taeyang shouldered through.

A thick-necked guard at the bar spotted him first. "Well, if it isn't the powerless prince who else could it be."

Laughter spattered across the room.

"I'm happy the Emperor finally threw you out with the trash!"

A scarred woman hawked and spat. It landed near Taeyang's boot. "He even burned the imperial forge trying to look useful. What good is royal blood if it's useless?"

Taeyang dropped onto a stool. Coins clattered on the bar. "Give me the strongest wine you've got."

The barkeep set down a clay jar. Taeyang poured, downed it, and poured again. The wine hit his empty stomach and spread warmth through his chest. The room blurred at the edges.

"Pathetic." A man's voice from somewhere behind him. "He is even out running with outlaws now."

"I knew he was always useless."

Taeyang raised his cup toward the room. "Palace food was bland anyway. This gutter's got better company than those ass-kissers at court."

A serving girl appeared at his elbow. Her sharp eyes fixed him in place, She lifted his jar and refilled his cup, the wine sloshed over the rim onto his fingers.

"Bold to drink alone with everyone watching," she said.

Taeyang caught her wrist, feeling hee pulse beat against his thumb. "Long shift ahead. Stick around after. I'll make the night worth your while."

She didn't pull away. Her eyes dropped to his hand, then back up. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Bold for a disgraced prince. We'll see if you can keep up."

Her fingers dragged across his knuckles as she pulled free.

From a corner table, a woman in a worn dress lifted her jar toward him. She rose and crossed the room. Her hip pressed against his as she settled onto the stool beside him.

"Heard you got beaten out of the palace like a dog."

Taeyang's arm circled her waist. He pulled her closer. "Even dogs bite back. Are you interested in finding out?"

Her finger traced down his chest, slow. "Maybe I am."

The serving girl returned with the wine jar. She poured without asking and stayed, her hip pressing into his shoulder.

"Making friends?" she asked.

"The best kind."

The bold woman leaned in. Her breath was hot against his ear. "Two of us. You think you can handle that, Prince?"

"I've handled worse."

He turned his head and kissed the serving girl's neck. She inhaled sharp. A whistle from across the bar. The bold woman caught his chin and pulled his mouth to hers. Someone shouted something crude. Neither woman pulled away.

The bold woman left first. A last kiss on his cheek and a whisper that made the serving girl roll her eyes. The serving girl stayed until his cup was empty again, her hand resting on his chest.

"Another night," she said. "When you're less drunk."

"I'll hold you to that."

She smiled and slipped into the back room.

Taeyang blinked at the empty jars in front of him. He fumbled coins onto the bar — too many, he didn't count — and pushed himself upright. The room tilted. He caught the bar and steadied himself.

The door swung shut behind him. Cold air bit his cheeks. The night was very dark. He stood breathing for a moment, then laughed once and started walking.

---

Tree branches interlaced above the forest path. The moon was a sliver. His boots scuffed dirt. His sword bumped his hip with each step.

Snap.

A twig. Somewhere to his left.

Taeyang's hand closed on his hilt. The humming stopped.

Three figures detached from the pines ahead. Two more rustled behind. They moved without speaking, spreading across the path. Moonlight slid along the edges of their blades.

He pulled his sword free. The hilt was slick in his palm.

The first man swung without warning — a hiss of steel aimed at his throat. Taeyang's parry was slow. The impact shuddered through his wrist and up into his shoulder. He stumbled back, boots sliding on pine needles.

The second man lunged low. Taeyang twisted. The blade caught his sleeve and the sting came a heartbeat later — a cold line of fire across his arm. Blood darkened the torn fabric.

"Who sent you?"

No one answered, instead the ring of masked faces tightened around him.

A third blade arced toward his ribs. He knocked it aside, gasping. His lungs burned. His sword arm felt weighted with stones. A fourth attacker moved behind him. He tried to turn, but the first man was already swinging again.

Pain opened across his forearm. Hot this time. His grip faltered.

His shoulder slammed into a tree trunk, the bark bit through his shirt. The five shadows pressed closer. Blades glinting from every angle.

One of the masked men broke forward and raised his sword slowly, ready to strike.

Taeyang's pulse spiked up.

The blade swung down aiming for his ribs.

He saw it coming and tried to lift his sword to parry the blow, but his arm didn't obey the command.

The blade struck hard.