Chapter 28

Senior Ahn’s voice was low and soft as she gazed past the shafts of sunlight filtering through the leaves. There was something in her eyes—more than just memory.

“An old hermitage?”

Jinyoung repeated the word.

“It’s nothing grand. Just a bare patch of ground with a few foundation stones left. These days no one even remembers what used to be there. People just pass by thinking, ‘Guess something once stood here.’ It’s not far. Head down the mountain a bit and you’ll see it.”

Would going there really lead to anything? Beomjin was still weighing it when Senior Ahn jabbed him in the ribs.

“What’s with all the thinking? If you want something in your hand, you’ve got to dig, or break some rocks!”

“Huh? Wait, hold on—”

She didn’t give him the chance to argue. With a push against his back, she started off.

“Where are we even going?”

“Won’t take long.”

She bounded downhill faster than she’d climbed up, her movements so nimble it made both Beomjin and Jinyoung’s jaws drop. She moved like some kind of goblin, all spring and mischief.

The mountain path was nothing but obstacles. Going down meant throwing themselves into nature itself. Just when Beomjin wanted to ask for the tenth time if this was the right way, a narrow footpath opened. At the end of it, a small clearing waited.

The moment they stepped in, he knew. The air was thick, heavy, like the lingering scent of Beast-Blooded, a weight that clung like mist.

“Well? One look and you can tell, right?”

“…Yeah. Something’s definitely different here.”

Jinyoung shivered, arms pulled in tight against her body.

The path to what people called the hermitage site was flanked by trees and stones standing like guards.

“I’ve come here once or twice,” Senior Ahn muttered. “Always gave me the creeps walking in.”

No wonder. Two ancient trees framed the entrance, their trunks massive, as though they’d survived a thousand years. Between them stood the carved figures of the Great General of All Under Heaven and the Female General of the Underworld—the guardian generals. Wrapped in bark like natural armor, they looked majestic and grim at once.

Just standing between them, staring down the footpath, felt like stepping into another world. Stones and trees alternated in a line, as if watching intruders march by.

“Hey… wait.”

Jinyoung’s unease prickled the air, but Beomjin pressed on. His footsteps echoed too loud in the silence. The forest had gone still, no other sound but his own tread. Gooseflesh raced from his toes to his scalp.

“There’s something off about this place.”

When he turned back, both Jinyoung and Senior Ahn shuddered. They clutched hands and forced themselves forward.

About fifty meters in, the clearing opened. Just as Ahn had said, only a handful of foundation stones remained. Yet strangely, the stones were sharp-edged, unweathered, as though untouched by centuries.

“No signs of age at all.”

“Right? Creepy little spot, isn’t it?”

“Definitely strange.”

Beomjin studied the layout. Five stones in total. One sat at the highest square corner, another at an odd angle. Long and narrow, barely twice the size of a grinding stone.

“What’s with this one? A footrest?” Jinyoung muttered.

He noticed the shallow depression on top. Something had once been mounted there.

“If the Stele of King Munmu’s Tomb ever existed, this is where it would’ve stood.”

“Looks that way,” Senior Ahn agreed.

“…But for a king’s monument, it feels too small.”

She had a point. Even just the base was dwarfed by other royal steles. Compared to the stele of King Gwanggaeto or even the ruined stele of King Taejong Muyeol, this was nothing.

“You’d expect them to exaggerate a king’s greatness, not shrink it down like this.”

Her idle comments only prodded Beomjin’s thoughts deeper.

“…What if it wasn’t meant to honor the king?”

“Then what was carved on it?”

“About the flute. The tomb pointed us here, so maybe the stele held the next clue—the location of the Flute of Ten Thousand Waves.”

“But the stele’s gone.”

Jinyoung circled the tight clearing. When she returned to the path’s mouth, her eyes lit up.

“Look at this. The trees and stones lining the path—they alternate in perfect order. That can’t be natural.”

Of course it wasn’t.

Beomjin’s eyes sharpened. The “stones” weren’t just lumps of rock—they were human forms, carved like hidden statues. Just like the guardian generals at the entrance, their shapes had been disguised by time and bark.

Each one was different, but their poses were the same. Even worn by wind and years, it was unmistakable: every statue held a stick-like shape to its lips, as if playing a flute. The details had eroded, but the gesture was clear.

“They’re all playing. This place is tied to the flute, no doubt about it.”

“Where, where? Playing a flute?”

Jinyoung and Ahn rushed up, marveling at the carvings. To them, it was just odd scenery. To Beomjin, it was a puzzle gnawing at his mind.

He traced statue after statue, searching for a pattern, a secret, anything more. But aside from subtle differences in faces and clothes, nothing else revealed itself.

“There has to be something…”

And then—

Crunch. Footsteps on dry leaves. Someone was coming up the path.

A man in his mid-to-late twenties appeared, dressed in simple workout clothes. His short-cropped hair, the rigid angle in his movements—he reeked of a soldier.

He froze at the sight of them, startled. After a pause, he stepped forward, eyes fixed squarely on the three of them.

“Hello.”

The man greeted them, his wariness thinly veiled. Beomjin didn’t feel especially tense—he could tell the guy wasn’t Beast-Blooded, just an ordinary human.

“Are you here sightseeing?”

In his hand was nothing more than a broom. His smile made it clear he held no hostility, even as he studied the three strangers.

“I just wanted to check. Not that it makes a difference…”

“Are you the caretaker here?” Beomjin asked.

The man gave an awkward nod.

“Not really a caretaker, but I look after it now and then. My father should’ve taken over from my grandmother, but he never wanted to. So once in a while I come up here instead.”

As he brushed dust off one of the carved stone figures, he added, “Caretaking’s nothing more than sweeping away dust, really.”

“Do you know anything about this place? It seems historically significant,” Beomjin pressed.

The man studied them for a moment, suspicion flickering—but it didn’t last. From the casual rhythm of his broom, it was obvious this site wasn’t something he cherished deeply.

“My grandmother said it was a place to hold rites for an ancient king. She always told us our family had to maintain it… but honestly, I don’t know much. These days, I just stop by when she crosses my mind.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Abandoning such a duty, passed down through your family for generations? Young people these days…”

Senior Ahn’s grumbling drew sharp, and Beomjin quickly blocked her words with a hand before they landed too harshly. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to notice.

“Anything else? Did your grandmother ever tell you stories about this place?” Beomjin asked gently.

The man tilted his head back, eyes wandering over the treetops. His brows drew tight as he searched his memory.

“There was one thing she always said. To be careful. Not to let the wind blow. To stay quiet so no wind stirred. I never understood what she meant. And now… well, she’s gone. That’s all I know.”

He gave the broom a few more aimless sweeps, then dipped his head in a simple bow and started down the mountain.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s anything more to learn here,” Jinyoung muttered, her voice edged with disappointment. She was right. Even the caretaker’s family had forgotten what this place once was. Left alone, it would keep fading, piece by piece, until nothing remained.

“Let’s go. We’ll search for another lead—or call Duru Art and see what they’ve dug up.”

She headed down the footpath, Senior Ahn trailing after her without complaint this time.

Beomjin lingered a moment longer, replaying the caretaker’s words in his mind. Don’t let the wind blow. Yet in this place, no wind stirred at all. Was it telling them to bring the wind in from outside?

Pipers carved in stone. A path where not a breath of wind moved.

“Hey! What are you doing? Come on, we’re leaving!” Jinyoung’s voice called.

All that remained was frustration. Beomjin lashed out at the fallen leaves with his foot before finally turning to follow.

“I’m going, I’m going. Huu~. Guess there’s no helping it.”

That was when it happened.

Rrrr…

Like a millstone grinding, the nearby stone statues stirred.

What?

Beomjin froze mid-step.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“I didn’t see anything. Why?”

The statues that had clearly moved now stood frozen again, as if nothing had happened.

“They definitely moved. I swear!”

Beomjin stomped the ground in frustration. Jinyoung doubled back, peering at the statues. They were still facing the trailhead, immovable as ever.

“Moved? How?”

“I just sighed, like hoo, and they turned to face inward.”

“They’re not doing it now.”

He blew again, but nothing happened.

“What’s going on? Are you coming or not?” Senior Ahn grumbled as she returned.

“Whiii~.”

This time, Jinyoung pursed her lips and whistled. A clear, high note cut through the silence.

Rrrrnnnnnn.

The line of statues slowly rotated, facing one another across the path.

“Look! See? They’re moving!”

Beomjin’s excitement clashed with Jinyoung’s bewilderment and Senior Ahn’s slack-jawed awe.

“My goodness! They really are moving!”

When Jinyoung stopped, the statues froze. Urged on by Beomjin and Ahn’s frantic gestures, she whistled again. The statues turned fully, their stone gazes locking onto the narrow path.

Silence fell. The three of them held their breath, waiting. Was that it?

Then the ground rumbled.

Rrrnnnnnn.

Stone grinding, roots splitting, insects scattering—the forest itself seemed to awaken.

It wasn’t the path breaking apart. Between cracks in the earth, soil and leaves sloughed away, revealing something vast beneath.

What they thought had been a simple woodland trail was actually a colossal stone stele.

As the dirt slid free, sunlight struck the surface. Bold characters gleamed across the top:

[Stele of King Munmu’s Tomb]

Bathed in a faint bluish-gold radiance, the stele towered before them, every inch of it covered in dense carvings chronicling King Munmu’s life.

“This… this is the Stele of King Munmu’s Tomb?”

Beomjin shivered with awe. Jinyoung and Senior Ahn could only stare, equally stunned.

The three stepped back instinctively—not just out of reverence for their ancestor, but because of the sheer, overwhelming presence of the monument.

Beneath the main inscription, Beomjin noticed a section carved in a different hand. Most of the hanja was beyond him, but a few simple characters stood out. He pointed them out aloud, haltingly:

“King Munmu… Wind… Below… Sea… Water… Middle?”