The assassin's blood had barely dried when they started moving again.
Soldiers lit fresh torches. A new tension hung in the air—not from fear, but from urgency.
Shoubunkun arrived just before sunrise, his robes dust-covered, his face weathered and grim.
"Sei-sama," he said, bowing deeply. "We have little time. The capital is in uproar."
Sei stood tall. "Then we cannot wait."
As the sun crested the mountain peaks, Shin, Sei, and Ten made ready to depart.
They'd take only a small unit. The rest—including Ren—would stay behind at the hidden outpost.
"You'll be alright?" Shin asked, adjusting his sword belt.
Ren nodded. "I'm no good in your condition yet. But I'll be here when you get back."
Ten raised an eyebrow. "Try not to bleed out before we do."
Ren smirked. "No promises."
Before they left, Sei turned to him, his voice calm but firm.
"When I return… everything will begin. Stay ready."
Ren held that gaze. "I will."
Then the three disappeared into the forest, toward the Mountain Realm.
With them gone, the camp grew quieter—but no less tense.
Ren found himself seated beside Shoubunkun, poring over maps of Qin.
"These are the palace gates," the minister said, moving carved pieces like a battle game. "They've sealed them with elite guards. Inside, Seikyou claims the throne. Outside, Ryofui controls half the ministers."
Ren leaned forward. "What's the play?"
"The moment Sei sets foot inside the royal court, we declare him alive and crown him king again."
Ren frowned. "That easy?"
"No," Shoubunkun said. "It's impossible. Which is why we must attempt it anyway."
Days passed.
Ren healed slowly—ribs aching less each morning. He sparred lightly with a few soldiers, testing himself. Watched scouts come and go. Saw tension build.
Whispers filled the camp.
Some thought Sei wouldn't come back.
Some feared the mountain people would kill him.
Ren didn't speak much—but he watched, and listened. He learned more in those days than in years of survival.
This was what real war looked like.Not bandits, not beasts—but kingdoms, kings, betrayal, and belief.
And still… he waited.
On the fourth evening, a scout raced into camp.
"They're back!" he shouted. "From the mountain tribes!"
Trumpets blew once—twice.
All eyes turned to the east trail.
Through the trees came figures—dozens at first, then hundreds.
Massive warriors in bone armor. Spears and axes. War paint.
And walking calmly at the head—
Sei, flanked by Shin and Ten.
Behind them rode a tall woman in furs and feathers—Yotanwa, Queen of the Mountain People.
Ren stood in silence, eyes wide.
They had done it.
Shin smirked as he passed. "Told you we'd be back."
Ren didn't speak.
But in his chest, something settled.
This was no longer a boy king running from assassins.
This was a king returning with fire.