The early morning sun filtered through the thatched roof of the hut, casting golden threads of light across Han Jiho's straw mat. He slowly blinked awake, tiny hands stretching wide before flopping lazily back onto the bedding like a well-fed cat.
He blinked at the roof and let out a long sigh.
"Today's the day. No swords, no Qi, no secret martial manuals… but something just as important: terrain. Survival. Basics. The stuff most young masters in novels skip before getting themselves killed."
Across the room, his father, Han Daesik, laced up his worn boots while humming a low tune. He looked up to see Jiho watching him with sleepy but focused eyes.
Before he could speak, Han Soeun stepped into the room, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Darling," she said, eyeing the wooden sword tucked under Jiho's arm, "are you sure it's really necessary to take Jiho to the mountains today? He's still just a child…"
Daesik stood up, brushing off his trousers with a smile.
"He's not just a child," he said gently. "He's our child—and a smart one at that. Haven't you seen how quickly he learned to talk? How early he started walking? His head's clearer than some grown men in the village."
Jiho, sitting cross-legged on his mat, tried his best to look like a wise old sage rather than a toddler holding a carved stick.
"And today's my day off," Daesik continued. "What better way for a father and son to spend time together?"
Soeun hesitated, biting her lower lip.
"I just worry," she murmured. "The forest has been strange lately…"
Daesik walked over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We're not going deep. Just the safe edge trails. I'll take care of him."
Jiho looked between them and gave his mother a smile that was somewhere between innocent and smug.
"Nice try, Mom. But plot demands development. And I need that terrain knowledge before it's too late for any unwanted future twist"
The edge of the mountain stood tall in the distance like a slumbering beast. The trees had dressed themselves in fire—red, gold, and orange fluttering in the wind. Fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet as Daesik and Jiho walked side by side, Jiho clutching his wooden sword proudly.
"The mountains are alive this time of year," Daesik said, his voice calm. "Animals stir before winter. Some are looking for food. Some just become… meaner."
Jiho nodded solemnly. "And some are manipulated by sinister background villains," he muttered.
Daesik raised an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"
"Nothing, Father!"
They moved along the outer trails, Daesik crouching now and then to point out herbs, markings, and dangerous-looking plants.
"This is starleaf," he said, handing Jiho a crushed green leaf. "Boil it for fever. But eat it raw, and you'll regret it on the toilet for three days."
Jiho blinked. "That's oddly specific."
As they continued, Daesik paused near a tree marked with long claw scars. His gaze lingered there.
"You know, last year… I was supposed to lead a party up into the mountains."
Jiho glanced at him.
"I remember. But you didn't."
Daesik nodded slowly. "Because you and your mother begged me not to. You cried so hard that night… and I agreed."
He exhaled sharply. "Everyone who went… died. Mauled. Torn apart. One of them crawled back to the edge of the forest. He died hours later, muttering about red eyes in the trees."
Jiho's small hands tightened around the wooden sword.
"So it wasn't just animal aggression. Something—or someone—is manipulating them. But we're still too early in the story for that confrontation."
Daesik shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if your mother's worry saved my life."
"It did. You're welcome."
For the rest of the morning, Daesik shared his knowledge like a proper master passing on a secret technique:
How to spot a hidden animal den by upturned soil and claw marks.
How to follow moss-covered rocks to avoid getting lost.
Which berries were edible, and which would make your soul leave your body.
At one point, Daesik even pointed at a steaming pile of dung with scholarly reverence.
"That belongs to a green-furred boar. Big, nasty beast. If the dung's still warm, it means it's close. And trust me, you don't want to see it charge."
Jiho grimaced.
"First rule of survival: trust the poop."
By midday, they returned to the village. Jiho's little legs ached, but he refused to complain. He had learned valuable knowledge, and more importantly—he had earned it.
At home, Han Soeun welcomed them with a hot bowl of stew, and Daesik praised Jiho's curiosity and quick memory.
"He's got sharp eyes," Daesik told her. "Smarter than most grown men in this village."
Jiho slurped his soup with pride.
That night, lying on his straw mat, he stared at the wooden sword beside him. It was still just a toy, but today… it had felt real.
"The Hyperbolic Time Chamber opens when I turn three. Just one more year. Until then, I'll keep learning. Keep preparing. Because this world might look peaceful now…"
He closed his eyes, listening to the chirping of insects outside.
"But I know better. Storms are coming."
End of Chapter 10