625.…It starts again.
As Park Seong-jin's party passed through the castle gate, the massive palisade door behind them slammed shut with a thunderousboom.
The sound of the outside world being severed echoed down the corridor.
The moment Motonari heard it, the color drained from his lips.
"…It starts again."
The corridor ran long and narrow.
High stone walls stood straight on either side.
On top of those walls, soldiers lined up in rows.
Dark shadows fell from above and pressed the entire passage down into gloom.
Song I-jeong murmured in a low voice.
"I don't like this."
"It's rough."
"There's something dark in there."
Park Seong-jin's face stayed calm.
"It's there."
"Follow as you are."
They reached the corridor's midpoint.
A decorative cabinet set into the wall jolted with a dull knock and shoved forward.
From the gap, two samurai in black sprang out as if exploding into the air, blades thrust forward.
"DIE—!!"
Two silver points flashed past Park's throat.
A harsh scrape tore through the air.
Park lowered his center and only twisted his wrist—lightly.
Both blades were shoved aside at once, their trajectories knocked off-line.
The two attackers crossed in midair, bodies twisting.
Their backs slammed into the stone wall.
A thin sound—like breath being cut—scattered and vanished.
Song I-jeong muttered,
"The first strike was light."
A new presence surged from above.
Planks in the ceiling split open.
Five samurai dropped through, spears in their hands.
"WAAAAA—!!"
Spearheads poured down from every angle and stabbed in almost the same instant.
The narrow corridor filled with a storm of metal points.
This was a place where a single graze decided everything.
Park took one step.
The short thud of his sole pressing the floor spread out.
His movement was already set—before those bodies even finished falling.
KWOONG.
The floor boomed.
The men dropping from above lost their posture for a heartbeat.
One of them widened his eyes.
"Wha—?!"
Thud.
Thud.
A long, tearing drag.
Spear shafts bent.
The flow collapsed.
Three were driven into the wall, pinned hard.
It was a current of force too fast for the eye to follow.
The remaining two recovered their stance—
and Park extended his arm.
Both were caught at the nape at the same time.
The strength was so light it looked like lifting children.
Then—
THUNK.
Their heads hit the floor.
A thin sound of necks folding carried once, and ended.
Both bodies went still.
Motonari swallowed the sound in his throat.
At the far end of the corridor, a samurai stepped out.
He wore an ordinary warrior's garb.
His footfalls felt different from the ambushers.
Depth showed in him, plainly.
He faced Park head-on.
"So you are the one they call the Goryeo commander."
Park answered,
"So what."
"What do you need to know it for?"
He made it clear: words were unnecessary.
He spoke anyway—almost to prove it.
The samurai drew a short breath.
His outline blurred.
His body folded like a shadow.
A horizontal cut came in—a single line of wind.
Startled by the speed, Song I-jeong shouted,
"General!"
The corridor held its breath.
The blade skimmed Park's throat exactly—
and passed through nothing.
Only emptiness remained where it had gone.
Park was standing one step to the side.
The samurai's eyes split wide.
"That… can't—"
Park raised his hand and pressed down on the man's wrist.
He gripped lightly, almost gently.
And spoke softly.
"Nabeshima's sword is too easy to see."
His hand twisted just a little.
Tok.
A hollow sound spread out.
The sword dropped to the floor.
The samurai's knees gave way and his body sank.
As Park walked past him, he said,
"Kill the breath first."
"Breathing."
Park continued toward the end of the corridor.
A door opened.
Ahead, a space spread wide—open as a field.
Dozens of startled samurai waited there.
Their faces carried the certainty that the assassination team had succeeded.
Park's party stood there intact.
Every body remained whole.
Without drawing his sword, Park said,
"Now we go meet your lord."
A wave of unrest rippled through the samurai.
Fear laid a thin film over the space.
Before the blood smell in the corridor could even cool, the heart of Karatsu Castle began to shake.
By the time Park's party stepped into the main plaza, screams and shouts were already colliding inside the walls.
"Twenty fighters rushed them at once—and all were taken!"
"Speak truth!"
The corpses strewn toward the corridor cut their arguments short.
Dead men lay where they had fallen.
Samurai shoved one another and shouted.
"Who gave the order?!"
"Was it the lord's will?!"
"Report first!"
"No report—someone moved!"
"Then who led it?!"
Hands clenched sword hilts everywhere.
Killing intent and suspicion flared together.
The house's unity cracked from within.
Katō Tadamitsu, the man who had driven the assassination, burst in red-faced.
"Silence!"
Every gaze snapped to him.
Pointing toward the corridor, Tadamitsu roared,
"They're ghosts!"
"I saw it myself!"
His face contorted with rage.
"Nabeshima's way does not reach that man!"
The temperature in the room dropped.
It was a blade plunged into samurai pride.
A few of the lord's close retainers rushed in.
"Tadamitsu."
"By whose permission did you do this?"
"The lord meant to speak of what comes after the apology."
"He did not choose the road of the sword."
Tadamitsu ground his teeth.
"The lord—apology?"
"That's selling the house's honor."
One retainer snapped back.
"If the house collapses, honor has nowhere to stand."
Samurai murmured, voices tangled.
"Karatsu has made the Goryeo general its enemy."
"The assassination failed."
"Now they will not withdraw."
Chaos swept through the castle.
Fear mixed with anger.
Sword points began measuring sword points.
Men measured men.
Inside the lord's chamber, Nabeshima Mototakehad documents spread before him.
A retainer came running, breath ragged, and bowed deeply.
"My lord—something terrible has happened."
Mototake looked up.
"What is it."
"An assassination attempt—within the corridor."
The paper slipped from Mototake's hand.
"Who ordered it."
The retainer shrank his neck.
"We can't confirm."
"They're all dead."
The structure Motonari had built with his kneeling apology wavered.
The house's logic of survival shook loose.
Mototake's face hardened.
"…Is he unharmed?"
The retainer answered at once.
"Yes."
Mototake's breath cut thin.
"Then… it becomes worse."
The retainer lowered his voice even more.
"The entire strike team fell."
Mototake said nothing for a long time.
A low groan leaked up from deep in his abdomen.
"…Stupid men of the realm…"
"Useless fools…"