CHAPTER 7

Training did not stop. It became structured.

Mornings were devoted to breathing and stance maintenance, held for hours while Roa spoke of how the world functioned. He explained rules, hierarchies, and the invisible lines that governed the martial realm. He never spoke of his own past, but the depth of his knowledge made one thing certain.

Roa had once stood far above ordinary men.

Afternoons were for weapons. Sword. Spear. Bow. Knife.

Evenings were the hardest. Body conditioning. Endurance runs. Strength drills.

Months passed. Rae's body grew taller. His limbs became lean and corded. His eyes sharper.

He was fourteen when Roa finally ended the lesson early.

"Enough," Roa said, lowering his blade.

Rae froze mid-stance. His breathing did not falter.

"…Did I misplace a step?"

"No."

Roa turned and walked toward his pack. He knelt, rummaged briefly, then pulled out two items.

"There is something I should have returned long ago."

He placed them on the stone between them.

A necklace. A smooth river stone, worn by time and water, threaded onto a faded cord.

And a book. Patched leather. Crooked stitching.

Rae stopped breathing.

His hands moved before his mind did.

"…My mother's."

"You never let go of them," Roa said quietly. "Even when the river tried to take you."

Rae's fingers trembled as he picked up the necklace first. The stone was cool against his palm, familiar in a way that made his chest ache.

Then he reached for the book.

The moment his skin touched the cover, warmth pulsed outward.

The pages fluttered on their own. Symbols etched between childish drawings began to glow faintly, silver light threading through the ink like veins.

"What is this?" Rae whispered.

Roa's eyes narrowed. "Qi. It looks like your mother intentionally imprinted it."

The symbol at the center of a sprout resonated.

The air grew heavy.

Everything disappeared.

Rae stood above an infinite lake.

Its surface stretched endlessly, perfectly still, reflecting a sky without sun or stars. Only soft, boundless light.

Then a voice spoke.

"Hello, my dear son."

Rae's vision blurred.

A figure formed before him, rising from the water like mist taking shape.

His mother.

Her hair flowed softly as if underwater. Her green eyes were warm, filled with sadness and pride.

"If you are seeing this," she said gently, "it means you are finally ready."

Rae fell to his knees.

She did not move to comfort him. She only watched, warmth and grief intertwined.

"I am Jin Seola," she continued. "Wife of Jin Kan, leader of the Silent Wave Clan."

Rae stiffened.

It was the first time her past had ever been spoken aloud.

"We were a peaceful clan," she said. "Living in seclusion by the Silent River. Our strength was never meant for domination."

Images surged into Rae's mind.

Flowing currents. Qi moving like water. Power that did not clash but consumed through harmony.

Techniques that bent momentum. Redirected force. Turned an opponent's strength into their undoing.

"We learned faster. We adapted quicker," she said softly. "But believing peace would protect us became our greatest mistake."

Her expression darkened.

The images shifted.

Fire. Screams. Bodies in the river. A red moon.

"Our Clan was erased in a single night by those who feared what we cultivated."

Rae's chest tightened. His fist clenched.

"That night," she continued, "your father forced me to flee." Her voice carried weight. "Leaving everyone behind… so that you could live. So that one day, you could choose."

She stepped forward.

"This is not a command, Rae. It is a choice."

"To revive our clan," she said, "or let it remain a memory."

Her gaze softened.

"Whatever your choice may be," she said softly. "I will give you the foundation."

Qi flowed from her palm into Rae's chest.

Pure. Refined. Impossibly precise.

Crack.

Something inside him opened.

Not shattered. Not destroyed.

Opened.

The energy did not surge violently. It spread through Rae's body like water filling cracks in stone. It did not settle. It imprinted, carving itself into muscle, bone, and breath.

Worldflow Perception.

He felt it immediately.

The world expanded.

Not through sight. Not through sound.

Through flow.

Movement pressed against his awareness. The subtle shift of Qi in the air. The weight of his own breath. The rhythm of his heartbeat. His mother's presence before him, vast, calm, immeasurable.

Everything within five meters existed to him at once.

"This is Worldflow Perception," she said. "The foundation of every Silent Wave technique."

The lake beneath them stirred, currents forming slow spirals.

"You will feel motion before it happens. Intent before it becomes action. Qi before it becomes force," she continued. "This ability will grow as you do."

The pressure in Rae's chest tightened.

"Do not fear it," she said gently. "Breathe with the world."

The pressure eased.

It settled.

Passive. Permanent.

Her form began to flicker.

"There is more to learn," she said softly. "But not yet. Grow strong first, Rae. The book will open again when you are ready."

She smiled faintly.

"I am proud of you, my son."

Rae reached out instinctively.

"Wait!"

The lake shattered.

Rae gasped, lurching forward as the outside snapped back into focus.

The book lay open before him, pages still glowing faintly before the light slowly faded into the ink.

Roa knelt beside him, one hand steady on his shoulder.

"Steady."

Rae's chest burned where something had opened. His entire body felt lighter. Sharper.

More aware.

He lifted his head slowly.

"I made my choice," Rae said.

His eyes glowed with determination.