Chapter 9 - 8: Mist and Steel
Mount Mugang loomed like a silent giant.
Not the tallest of the Five Great Mountains, but perhaps the most solemn. Its slopes were carved not by time alone but by the weight of countless duels, sect negotiations, and silent pacts made by wandering warriors who bled and vanished beneath its pines.
Jinmu reached its foothills by the following morning. With the female martial artist still unconscious across his back, his movements had been cautious — not rushed, but purposeful. Every step told him more about the terrain. Narrow paths twisted through mossy ridges, old inns resting quietly under hanging rock cliffs, and faded banners flapped with sigils he didn’t recognize.
But no one stopped him. No one questioned a masked man carrying a wounded person through the mountain road.
This was Mount Mugang, after all.
Too many things happened here to notice just one.
He spotted a modest inn tucked into a crag near the base of a steep ridge — small, two stories, weathered wood and smoke trailing from the chimney. No guards. No sect flags.
Perfect.
He adjusted her weight and stepped into the shade of the eaves.
Inside, the innkeeper blinked up at him. "You look like you’ve seen ghosts, friend."
Jinmu kept his voice low.
"She’s injured. Needs a room, rest, and quiet. I’ve already paid."