The footsteps grew louder.

  At first they blended with the usual noise of the street—the distant creak of cart wheels, the low chatter of merchants, the shuffle of people moving through the market road. But as the sound approached, it separated itself from the rest of the city's rhythm.

  Measured.

  Deliberate.

  Not hurried.

  The crowd noticed before the figures even came fully into view.

  Several people standing at the edge of the gathering turned their heads first. Their expressions shifted, and the quiet ripple of unease spread backward through the watching onlookers like wind across tall grass.

  Then the men stepped into the street.

  Four of them.

  They did not look like the ones Chunma had already beaten.

  Their clothing was simpler than Kang Daejun’s fine robes, but far cleaner than anything worn in the lower districts. Their movements were disciplined, their posture relaxed but ready. None of them reacted to the sight of the three injured men scattered across the stone road.

  If anything, they seemed almost disappointed.

  Chunma watched them closely.

  These were not street thugs.

  One of them stepped slightly ahead of the others.

  He was taller than the rest, his dark hair tied high behind his head, his expression calm in a way that suggested he rarely needed to rush anything. His eyes moved slowly across the scene, taking in the fallen men, the tense crowd, and finally Chunma standing in the center of the street.

  Kang Daejun exhaled in visible relief.

  “You took your time.”

  The tall man glanced at him briefly.

  “We came when the message reached us.”

  His voice was quiet, but it carried easily through the silence that had settled over the street.

  His gaze shifted back to the men on the ground.

  “You lost to him?”

  Daejun’s jaw tightened.

  “He’s not normal.”

  The tall man studied Chunma again.

  That much was clear.

  Around them, the crowd had begun to retreat further. The open circle surrounding the confrontation widened as merchants pulled their carts away and servants hurried off down nearby alleys.

  No one wanted to be too close anymore.

  Chunma noticed the shift.

  Fear spreads quickly, he thought.

  He had seen entire armies crumble because of it.

  The tall man stepped forward.

  The other three followed behind him without speaking.

  Min stood frozen several paces away, his bowl clutched in both hands. His mouth had opened slightly the moment the new group arrived, and it had not closed since.

  Chunma ignored him.

  His attention remained fixed on the man now standing a few steps away.

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  “You caused quite a disturbance,” the man said.

  Chunma shrugged.

  “They started it.”

  A faint smile touched the man’s lips.

  “That seems to be the common explanation.”

  Daejun folded his arms.

  “This is the beggar I told you about,” he said. “The one who forced Seo Hyunmin to kneel yesterday.”

  The tall man raised an eyebrow.

  “Did he?”

  Chunma tilted his head slightly.

  “He chose to kneel.”

  The man behind the tall one snorted quietly before catching himself.

  The tall man ignored the interruption.

  Instead he studied Chunma carefully, the way someone might study an unfamiliar weapon before deciding how dangerous it was.

  “You’re either very brave,” he said, “or very stupid.”

  Chunma smiled faintly.

  “Those two things often look the same.”

  The answer seemed to amuse him.

  “My name is Baek Sunho,” he said.

  The name meant nothing to Chunma.

  But Min sucked in a sharp breath.

  Chunma noticed the reaction from the corner of his eye.

  Good.

  That meant the name mattered.

  Sunho noticed it too.

  “You know who I am,” he said casually.

  Min didn’t answer.

  He didn’t need to.

  Sunho’s attention returned to Chunma.

  “You’ve embarrassed the Hwang household twice now,” he continued. “That usually ends poorly.”

  Chunma shrugged again.

  “I’ve had worse mornings.”

  The men behind Sunho exchanged brief looks.

  Daejun scowled.

  Sunho, however, simply watched him.

  Then he lifted one hand.

  The change in the air was immediate.

  At first it was subtle. A faint ripple passed through the golden particles drifting lazily through the sunlight above the street. The dust floating in the air shifted slightly, as though caught in a quiet current of wind.

  Then the pressure arrived.

  It settled over the street like invisible weight.

  The nearby crowd felt it instantly. Several people stepped backward again, confusion spreading across their faces as their bodies reacted to something they could not quite see.

  Chunma felt it clearly.

  A faint crimson glow wrapped itself around Baek Sunho’s arm.

  Nyros.

  The aura was not explosive or dramatic. It did not flare outward like fire. Instead it clung tightly to his arm and shoulder, dense and controlled, like heat trapped beneath steel.

  The pressure deepened.

  Min staggered backward slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

  “What… what is that?” he whispered.

  Chunma did not answer.

  He already knew.

  Resonance.

  This was what the elders had spoken about.

  The power that had appeared in the world long after his own time.

  Sunho watched him carefully.

  “Most people kneel the first time they feel this,” he said calmly.

  Chunma remained standing.

  The weight pressing against his chest increased.

  It was not painful.

  Not exactly.

  But it was heavy in a way that forced the body to acknowledge it. His muscles tightened involuntarily, his breath deepening as the pressure pushed down on him.

  This body was weak.

  Weaker than he liked.

  Sunho’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “You’re still standing.”

  Chunma met his gaze.

  “Should I sit instead?”

  One of the men behind Sunho chuckled.

  Daejun did not.

  The crimson aura pulsed once.

  The pressure thickened.

  This time several people in the crowd actually lowered themselves slightly, instinctively reacting to the weight pressing through the air.

  Chunma felt it clearly now.

  His legs tensed.

  His body recognized the force pressing against it.

  A weaker man might have fallen.

  Chunma shifted his stance slightly.

  Not backward.

  Forward.

  Sunho noticed immediately.

  For the first time since arriving, the calm certainty in his expression shifted slightly.

  “You’re resisting.”

  Chunma smiled faintly.

  “Is that not allowed?”

  Sunho ignored the remark.

  Instead he stepped closer.

  The crimson aura deepened.

  The pressure sharpened again.

  For a brief moment Chunma’s breath caught in his chest. His knees threatened to bend beneath him, the weakness of this borrowed body making itself painfully obvious.

  He refused.

  The old instinct rose quietly within him.

  He had stood before kings.

  He had stood before armies.

  He had stood before things far worse than this.

  The idea of kneeling now, in a dusty street in a city that was not even his own, offended him more deeply than the pressure itself.

  His feet stayed planted.

  Sunho studied him silently for several seconds.

  Then, unexpectedly, he laughed softly.

  “Well,” he said, “that answers that.”

  The crimson aura vanished.

  The pressure disappeared from the street as quickly as it had arrived.

  Several people in the crowd exhaled sharply, straightening as the invisible weight lifted from their shoulders.

  Sunho rolled his shoulder slightly and looked at Chunma with renewed interest.

  “You’re strange.”

  Chunma shrugged.

  “I’ve heard that.”

  Sunho glanced briefly toward Daejun.

  “This is the one you were worried about?”

  Daejun frowned.

  “He’s dangerous.”

  Sunho nodded slowly.

  “Yes.”

  Then he looked back at Chunma.

  “But not today.”

  The words were calm.

  Almost casual.

  Daejun blinked in surprise.

  “You’re letting him go?”

  Sunho’s expression didn’t change.

  “For now.”

  He turned slightly, already beginning to walk away.

  Then he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

  “When we meet again,” he said, “I want to see if you’re still standing.”

  Chunma’s answer came immediately.

  “Bring more people next time.”

  For the first time, one of Sunho’s men laughed openly.

  Sunho smiled faintly.

  Then he continued walking.

  The others followed without another word.

  Their footsteps faded slowly down the street.

  The crowd remained silent long after they disappeared.

  Chunma stood still for a moment longer before finally exhaling.

  His legs felt heavier than he liked.

  Good.

  Now he understood the gap.

  And now he knew exactly what needed to change.