The bustling sounds of bells ringing, porcelain clanking, and metal tinkling filled the next few minutes as Shin-Ki darted around the room, retrieving several items and gathering them in their arms.

"What's all that, by the way?" Nao-Zai asked, feeling more useless just sitting behind a low, rose wood table watching a lifeless Kai-Se beside him. "Why do you need so many things for the ritual?"

A sharp clink dropped against the table's surface as Shin-Ki set a porcelain plate down. Did they need to eat first? Of course, they need their energy since they're going to be performing something Nao-Zai could only assume would take up too much magic.

"Ryeong-sen is the act of tuning into the hidden realm of what makes us and the world," Shin-Ki explained as a candelabra with an elegant, carved stem and three prongs joined the plate on the table. "To do that, we need a primal space where we would be able to sense the currents and harness them much more easily. This is why temples are built on mountains or next to a body of water—anywhere close to a force of nature. It synchronizes our korza with the natural flow."

Nao-Zai nodded along. "So...now that I'm in a temple and inside a thick forest," he tilted his head to one side. "Can I cast magic too?"

A ceramic tube with sticks of red incense stopped halfway towards the table. Nao-Zai watched the shaman's eyes travel from his head to the blade strapped to his belt. Then, they sighed and set the tube down. "Anyone can do it so long as they are trained properly and with enough time," Shin-Ki answered, seemingly hating the fact it had to come out of their lips. "It's simply dangerous to mess with things you don't fully understand."

Nao-Zai mulled on this knowledge as Shin-Ki turned and disappeared out of the room. In the silence, he had no choice but to survey the space. It was a decently-sized room, with furnishings of red and gold much like the halls in the Imperial City were decorated. The floor was made of polished wood, covered all throughout with woven mats painted a faint olive green. Behind Nao-Zai, an array of chest-high tables ran along the walls, bearing the sticks of candles, the various golden statues glinting with the flickering flames, and all sorts of paraphernalia he hadn't even seen before.

He was studying a contraption resembling a tree branch brimming with fruits except that the fruits were replaced by big, golden bells, when the room's door swung open once more. Shin-Ki came back bearing an instrument that's a hybrid of a table and a harp. It reached the shaman's chin when they let it rest vertically on the floor. Judging from the strings, the pegs, and the fretboard with the width of two of Nao-Zai's palms side-by-side, it was none other than the famed zither he had only seen in theater troupes.

What was it called again? Ah. Sangpyungdo.

He watched as Shin-Ki heaved the huge instrument to somewhere behind him. When he turned, it occurred to him then that the shaman was slowly closing Nao-Zai and Kai-Se inside a ring of tables. The zither just closed it off as Shin-Ki approached it from outside the circle. What were they planning?

"Stop looking at me like I would gut you and offer your head to the spirits," Shin-Ki clicked their tongue with a shake of their head. "But then again, I might just do it if I get fed up with you."

Was he supposed to feel better after hearing that? It's a mystery. Nao-Zai blew a breath. "Was the zither really necessary?" he asked. "And why have you locked me in?"

Shin-Ki rolled their eyes. "Do I look like I'm someone who likes to explain things?" they said. "See that yellow ribbon beside the incense tube? Take that and don't let go until I say so."

True enough, when he looked down at the assortment of stuff on the table, a yellow ribbon as thick as his finger sat on the polished surface. His fingers closed around it, his skin feeling how soft and silky the ribbon was. "What was this supposed to be?" he glanced at the shaman who tucked their hair behind an ear. "I know you don't like explaining things but it'd be helpful for the both of us if you tell me what's going to happen with the ritual."

The shaman's frown didn't look like they were convinced. Nevertheless, they dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged, prompting Nao-Zai to do the same. His ankles were starting to hurt anyway. His sheathed sword tapped against the mats in a series of erratic clicks.

"I will start it by invoking Shaoryeong's flow through the zither. Don't ask me why it's possible. Music just has that effect," Shin-Ki said. "Then, once we have established the primal space, I will harness the currents which will require me to not be distracted. That means no noise, no whimpers or squeaks. Nothing."

Nao-Zai pursed his lips. This was more like it. As a soldier, he was more keen in following what he wasn't supposed to do than what he's free to do. The shaman plucked one string from the zither, driving a stringent twang. As they turned the peg related to that string, they continued. "When I have opened the gate, focus on the yellow ribbon. It will serve as a line to connect you and Kai-Se's korza."

Then, before Nao-Zai could react, Shin-Ki produced a dagger from their wide sleeves. Wait, weren't shamans supposed to be peaceful people? "I will need the anchor's blood to fully bind you and Kai-Se's korza to the mortal realm," the glint in Shin-Ki's eyes made Nao-Zai conclude this person wasn't meant to be trifled with. "After that, it will all be up to you to convince Kai-Se to stay rooted."

He knitted his eyebrows. "Convince?"

Shin-Ki nodded like it was quite an obvious fact. "Yes. You have to make sure his korza doesn't go unruly and attempt to go back to Shaoryeong," they said. "You have to be able to squash all resistance to make the binding permanent and effective."

"And if I fail?" Nao-Zai said.

"Then you will die," the shaman answered. "You and Kai-Se both."

A stone of dread dropped in Nao-Zai's gut. It's...

Shin-Ki clapped their hands together and grinned brightly. "Now, shall we start?"

Despite the loud pounding of his heart against his chest and the various worst-case scenarios playing in his head, Nao-Zai met Shin-Ki's gaze. "Let's do it," he said.

With a flourish, the shaman placed their hands over the strings and began playing. A stringent and soulful melody rang across the room, going up and down the scales with every movement of Shin-Ki's fingers. In a few minutes, Nao-Zai couldn't keep his eyes off the shaman's rigorous plucking, their skillful vibrato to prolong and do that characteristic shake, and their control over the volume, the speed, and the dynamic of the piece.

A cold wind rose from the east, and even though the room's windows were all sealed shut, it still made Nao-Zai shiver. As Shin-Ki continued playing, he felt the temperature drop and rise, like it couldn't decide between two extremes. He couldn't see what the shaman was probably seeing behind their closed eyes, but he imagined it was amazing.

Then, just as the music was coming into a climax, it stopped. Shin-Ki's fingers froze mid-air. Their eyes flew open and trained with disdain towards one of the windows. "How did they find you?" they hissed.

Nao-Zai frowned but climbed over one table to go and look into what's bothering the shaman. He slid a window open and peered through. A flash of red and orange caught his eye. With the temple's spot on the hilltop, he could see a line of torches steadily climbing the soft incline leading to the temple's steps.

A curse flitted out of his lips as he shut the window before any of them saw him from below. He turned to the shaman. "Keep the ritual going," he said. "I'll deal with them."

Shin-Ki's eyes darted around the room, already calculating things. "How are you planning to do that?" they asked. "You're only one man."

Nao-Zai came across Shin-Ki's paraphernalia and swiped them from the table. The bells, a box filled with yellow stacks of something, a tube of incense, and a folded paper fan joined him as he marched past the shaman towards the door.

Shin-Ki sputtered, either in shock or indignation. "What are you doing?" they demanded, failing to catch the ends of Nao-Zai's trousers as he breezed past them when they lunged. "Those are not something you can play with!"

"You said anyone can learn to use these things," Nao-Zai shrugged then jerked his chin towards Kai-Se. "Open the gate while I deal with the intruders. We'll figure the rest out."

"The ribbon?" Shin-Ki prodded.

Nao-Zai stuck the fan and the bells' handle into his belt. Then, using his teeth and his free hand, he tied it around his arm. "It's not going anywhere," he vowed. "I'll be off."

Before Shin-Ki could say anything more, Nao-Zai strode out of the room. The bells rang with every step but he paid it no heed. He opened the box and took out the stack of yellow paper as he dashed towards the openings he spied upon entering the temple. Let him hope there weren't any hidden ones Zhi-Xen and her soldiers knew about.

The first sheet on the stack bore a painted red symbol. Stop, it said in the universal language in Xuijae. What's that supposed to mean? Stop what? His answer was delayed when the ruckus of footsteps, weapons being drawn, and rustling clothes erupted from beyond the wall. He cursed again. They're here.

He ran towards the first door he could find and plastered the yellow sheet against it. A distant memory of seeing one being used in the same manner back in his mother's hometown. His aunties had been religious and superstitious people. Something about warding evil and bad luck? Yeah. By the looks of it, the people striding towards the temple were those two things.

His teeth ground against each other. How to activate it, though? Shin-Ki was far too touchy to inform him about that crucial step. He focused on the symbol. Focus. He had watched Shin-Ki become lost in the melody they're playing. That must be the time when they're tuning into the natural flow of the world. Whatever that meant.

Nao-Zai didn't have time for that, though. Zhi-Xen was coming. He needed to try something quick. Something...

"Stop," he chanted.

A ripple of invisible energy spread from the paper and over the door. He blinked. To his untrained eye, it looked like nothing happened, but he felt it—the slight prickle in his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, and the silent shiver running down his spine. Let him hope it worked.

The next few minutes were composed of scrambling around the temple's first floor, pasting the sheets of paper into windows, doors, and other possible ways a person might use to make it inside. His breaths sounded labored in his ears as he tackled the stairs towards the second floor two at a time. He had to make it there. While Zhi-Xen and the others were scouting. While they're deciding whether to use the front door or sneak through the back.

The stack in Nao-Zai's hand thinned by the time he sealed off the last window on the third floor. Wait. Was there an attic or a way through the roof? That'd take a long time to reach and check. Not worth it.

Nao-Zai's footsteps thumped loudly against the stairs on his way down. Only a few sheets were left in his hands. He reached the wide foyer connected to the front door and was about to retrace his steps back to the room where the ritual was taking place, when something crashed against the front door. His arms flew over his head as he skidded to a stop, eyeing the splinters that once belonged to the wooden door.

The sound of mechanical whirring filled Nao-Zai's ears. He lowered his arms to come face-to-face with a cannon's muzzle. What the—

How in Shaoryeong's korza did they manage to haul it up the hill? Also, a cannon? Who blows up a temple's front door?

Zhi-Xen grinned as she blew on a match's flame, sending it to die off in a puff of smoke. "It's a shame the blast didn't knock you off your feet, Paekdora," she said. "But we can still make that happen."

Nao-Zai's grip tightened around the yellow sheets. What did he even put over the front door? He racked his memory. Oh, right. Hold. It's so vague even he didn't know what it's supposed to be doing. He clicked his tongue. Well, no matter. His hands were free now. It would be a fairer fight this time around.

His other hand, the one belonging to the arm with Kai-Se's string tied around it, gripped his sword. With a practiced push of the thumb against the guard, it slid free. He lowered himself into a stance. Twenty or so people. It'd be easy if they wouldn't go at him all at once.

They went at him all at once.

Nao-Zai dove to the left, slashing his sword in a wide arc. Blades flashed from all directions, aiming for his fatal spots. He gritted his teeth as he parried another swing just as another streaked towards his neck. He whipped the next sheet up, glanced at the unmistakable red symbol painted on it, and met the soldier head on. With a ducked head, letting another attack from behind sail past his nape, he slapped the paper against the soldier's forehead. "Freeze!" he yelled.

In an instant, the soldier's limbs turned rigid. His facial expression was immortalized as somewhere between confusion and fear. Before Nao-Zai could think of laughing, he turned to block another oncoming thrust. He ducked, rolled, and swung his sword because his life depended on it.

He dove behind a pillar, when the fight took him near one. One of the soldiers took an unfortunate swing just as Nao-Zai whipped around it. A soulful thwack later, the blade was now stuck into the wood. At that, Nao-Zai slapped another sheet into the soldier's forehead, shouting, "Despair!"

Instantly, the soldier's face crumpled and they dropped to the ground, sobbing their eyes out. Nao-Zai blinked. Whoa. That's awesome.

That's two out of twenty, discounting Zhi-Xen. The woman wasn't joining the fray. Nao-Zai spotted her long, dark hair fluttering with the wind beside the cannon through his periphery as he was getting pounded with strong blows. Watching. She was watching for things to exploit in his stance, attacks, and defense, so she'd have an easy time when it came to her turn.

That, or she's letting him tire himself out.

Why were everyone in here if they're after Kai-Se? Shouldn't some be tromping towards the interior rooms? They wouldn't even need this many soldiers to keep him occupied for a while. Why...why were they all fixated on him?

Nao-Zai grunted as he met another attack. He swiped another sheet. This time, the affected soldier curled into a fetal position and slept. Huh. He would have wished to skim the rest of the sheets to at least time his attacks, but the hail of slashes aimed at him took his attention away.

So, he spent the next few minutes slapping foreheads with the enchanted sheets. He didn't want to hurt them. They were still members of the Yomaura fortress. He just needed to even out the men to a number he could handle without resorting to magic.

When the sheets ran out, there were only three men left standing. Their eyes flicked towards their comrades who were now either frozen, wailing, sleeping, running around screaming, or afflicted to do jumping jacks for the remainder of the time. Nao-Zai leveled his gaze at them, shifting his hold around the hilt of his sword.

The poor lads gazed back with equally defiant faces. Then, they lunged. First mistake. They didn't stop to assess Nao-Zai's change in his stance or figured out the reason why he widened the gap between his legs. He ducked under the first swing, using his momentum to slash his sword across the second soldier's midsection. His head slammed against the first soldier's stomach just as he swiped his leg underneath his third attacker. As the man fell down, Nao-Zai finished it with another strike, this time, across the arm. Lastly, he swung his sword across the first soldier's legs, earning a pained shriek.

That should keep them occupied for a while.

The sound of clapping by the cannon reached his ears. He raised his gaze towards Zhi-Xen who watched the whole thing with some sort of wild glint in her eyes. Her manic grin was of pure amusement and glee.

"What a grand performance, Paekdora," she cooed. "Consorting with shamans? Ha. Don't joke with me. You might as well be one already!"

Nao-Zai exhaled through his mouth, shaking off the haze creeping up in his mind after dealing with the rest of Zhi-Xen's platoon. He needed all the clear-headedness he could afford himself with the upcoming fight. "Perks of visiting a temple," he rolled his shoulders to appear nonchalant about it even though his heart had never stopped banging against his ribs since forever. "You should try it sometime. Without the cannon."

Zhi-Xen drew her sword and lowered herself into her own signature stance—one that Nao-Zai had read and found faults on a long time ago. Was she planning to start off with that? "Unfortunately for you," she said. "I don't believe in spirits."

Then, she burst forward. Nao-Zai angled his sword to block her attack. The sound of two blades meeting had never been louder in his ears.