Chapter 5
The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, heavy with a cold, suffocating silence.
Kang Mu-shin stood motionless on the paving stones, his eyes locked onto the figure standing before him.
The Commander of the Royal Guard unrolled a heavy crimson scroll stamped with the King’s golden seal.
His voice boomed across the court, cold and unyielding as tempered steel:
“By supreme decree of His Imperial Majesty the King! Kang Mu-shin—you stand accused of high treason against the throne, assembling an unlawful private force, and plotting rebellion within the capital! By royal command, your titles are stripped, your estate is forfeited to the Crown, and your life is sentenced to immediate execution tonight. Submit your head to the throne and receive the King’s justice!”
“What…?” Mu-shin breathed, a bitter laugh dying in his throat.
Before the scroll could even be rolled shut, a royal guard lunged forward with a drawn blade.
Mu-shin moved like a flash of lightning.
He caught the soldier’s wrist, twisted the weapon free, and shoved the man aside in one seamless motion.
“Strike him down!” the Commander roared.
“Kill the traitor!”
Blades hissed from their scabbards.
The quiet courtyard erupted into a bloodbath as Mu-shin fought like a demon possessed, cutting down soldier after soldier.
The clash of steel and shrieks of dying men shattered the night, waking the household and throwing the entire estate into terror.
“Take the children and run!” Mu-shin yelled over his shoulder, his blade cleaving through another guard’s armor.
Inside the main quarters, the Lady of the house stood frozen, tears streaming down her pale face as panic paralyzed her.
Seeing her mistress undone by grief, the old midwife acted on instinct.
She bolted into the boys’ chambers, grabbed ten-year-old Pung and young Woon by their hands, and dragged them into the hallway.
Outside, dozens more guards flooded through the gates.
Mu-shin was surrounded, holding the entire tide of soldiers at bay with a wall of red steel.
“Run!” Mu-shin bellowed, his voice raw with desperate fury.
“Take them and run!”
As the Lady wavered in place, the midwife grabbed her arm, snapping her back to reality.
“My Lady, we must go! Now!”
The midwife dragged her and the two boys toward the servant’s rear exit, slipping out into the darkness of the estate’s rear estate gates.
Behind them, Mu-shin’s frantic last stand bought precious seconds, allowing them to escape into the shadow of the woods.
Seeing his men falling one by one and realizing Mu-shin could not be easily overcome in hand-to-hand combat, the Royal Guard Commander gestured sharply to a squad of scouts.
“You, you, and you—follow the fleeing family! Do not let them escape the capital!”
Turning back to the blood-soaked commander, the Commander raised his hand.
“Archers! Release!”
A hail of heavy iron arrows whistled through the dark.
A warrior as formidable as Mu-shin could not be felled by a single shaft; he took one arrow to the shoulder, then another to the chest.
He kept swinging his blade, a wall of pure willpower, until nine shafts pierced his body.
As his knees finally buckled, the Commander stepped forward and ran a heavy longsword straight through his heart.
High on the slopes of Mount Mongmyeoksan, the night air was thick with the scent of pine and pine needles.
The family scrambled up the rocky paths, but the heavy footfalls and torchlight of the pursuing guards were closing in fast.
Breathing heavily, Mu-shin’s wife turned to the midwife, her eyes filled with terrifying resolve.
“Take my two sons. Take the North slope down into Pil-dong! I will cut South toward Itaewon-won to draw their attention away. If we are separated, meet me at the old stone bridge near the Han River before dawn—”
*Thwip!*
An arrow ripped through the canopy, embedding itself into the tree trunk beside them.
“Jump in, Your Ladyship!” the midwife hissed, grabbing Pung and diving down into a deep, moss-covered mountain ravine—a natural trench hidden beneath tangled roots and fallen branches.
As the Lady turned to grab Woon and leap into the pit, a brutal *thud* echoed in the dark.
An arrow pierced her back, bursting through her chest.
She collapsed onto the earth with a soft gasp.
“Mother!” Woon cried out.
He turned and threw himself onto her body, shaking her frantically.
“Wake up, Mother! Please, wake up!”
“Over here! Found them!” a guard shouted.
The Commander emerged from the brush, his sword dripping with fresh blood.
Without a word of mercy, he stepped forward and slashed Woon across the back.
The young boy screamed, collapsing face-down over his dead mother.
To ensure the boy’s death, the Commander drew his bow, casually notched a shaft, and shot another arrow directly into Woon’s back.
Down in the dark ravine, the midwife clamped her trembling hand tightly over Pung’s mouth, pinning the weeping boy against her chest in the suffocating dark as the boots of the guards passed inches above them.
Back at the Mu-shin estate, the thundering hooves of royal horses tore through the front gates.
The Crown Prince dismounted, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the slaughter—servants, guards, and noble retainers lying dead across the stone courtyard.
“Mu-shin!” he screamed, sprinting wildly through the ruined corridors.
He found his friend lying near the inner pavilion, pooled in his own blood, breathing his last shallow gasps.
The Crown Prince fell to his knees, cradling Mu-shin’s head in his arms.
“Hold on! Hold on, my friend! Please… be at ease, I am here!” the Prince wept.
Mu-shin’s eyes fluttered, glassy and fading.
He looked up at the heir to the throne, his lips trembling with a final, desperate question: “…Why?”
Before the Prince could answer, the heavy tread of iron boots filled the room.
A squad of palace guards knelt behind him.
“Your Highness,” the squad leader announced coldly.
“His Imperial Majesty the King has ordered us to escort you back to the East Palace immediately.”
The Crown Prince was dragged to his feet and led away into the dark, leaving his friend’s cold body behind.
By the Hour of the Ox (3:00 AM), the mountain was deathly quiet.
The royal guards had abandoned their search and retreated to the capital gates.
From the damp depths of the ravine, the midwife slowly emerged, holding tight to Pung’s trembling hand.
Tears silently cut through the dirt on their faces.
Kneeling beside the fallen mother and young Woon, they offered a silent, heartbroken prayer of farewell before vanishing down the dark mountain paths toward the southern river crossings.
Inside the East Palace, madness reigned.
The Crown Prince smashed porcelain, overturned tables, and tore down silk drapes, screaming in helpless rage.
The commotion echoed down the stone corridors, reaching the ears of the King.
Sitting in his quiet chamber, the monarch heard the cries of his son—and said nothing.
As the first faint light of dawn broke over Mount Mongmyeoksan, a lone tiger hunter trudged through the thick brush.
He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat.
Lying on the forest floor was the bloodied body of a noblewoman, and pinned over her was a small boy with an arrow buried in his back and a deep sword slash across his spine.
The hunter rushed forward, checking the woman first—she was cold and lifeless.
But when his fingers touched the boy’s wrist, he felt a faint, flickering pulse.
“He’s breathing…” the hunter muttered.
Without hesitation, he hoisted the bleeding boy onto his back, wrapped him tightly in his fur cloak, and slipped away through the mountain passes, heading far beyond the capital walls toward Mount Gwanak.
There, tucked away in a quiet mountain sanctuary, a senior monk took the boy into his care, immediately beginning the desperate struggle to save his life.
By midday, the imperial court was assembled in solemn silence.
The King sat upon his high throne, gazing coldly down at the gathered ministers and the pale, trembling Crown Prince.
The King’s voice cut through the grand hall like a blade:
> **”By royal command!
Kang Mu-shin has died a convicted traitor to the Crown.**
> **His name is hereby struck from all records of this dynasty.
From this moment forth, anyone—noble, commoner, or royal blood—who speaks his name or mourns his death shall be executed for treason!**
> **Let his name never be spoken beneath this sky again!”**
>
The court bowed in unison, their foreheads touching the cold stone floor.
Beside them, the Crown Prince lowered his head, choking down his grief as he forced the obligatory words from his lips:
“We obey your royal command, *Jeonha*…”
Outside the palace walls, Kang Mu-shin’s lifeless body was hoisted high and hung above the main gates—a grim, silent warning to the kingdom.
Far away on Mount Gwanak, inside the incense-filled halls of the temple, young Woon lay clinging to a thread of life, completely unaware that his brother was fleeing into the south.
And just like that, at ten years old, two brothers were torn apart, their family erased, and their bloodline cast into the shadows.