The sun was beginning to sink westward when the commotion in the market finally ended.
The people who had gathered there began returning to their activities. The vendors picked up the goods that had fallen, while some residents were still talking about Brajamusti’s fight with the thug who had accused him of being a thief.
Brajamusti himself chose to move away from the crowd.
He disliked attention.
To him, the fight had merely been something he was forced to do because he refused to be blamed for something he had never done.
But only a few steps after leaving the market, Brajamusti suddenly stopped.
He remembered something.
The thug leader’s sword.
During the fight, he had caught sight of a strange carving on the weapon’s hilt.
“That symbol...”
Brajamusti turned around and headed back to the place where the fight had taken place.
Several people were still busy cleaning up the market. Not far from a damaged stall, the thug leader’s sword lay on the ground.
Brajamusti picked it up.
He brushed the dust from its hilt.
That was it.
There was an image of a dragon coiled around a small circle.
Brajamusti immediately remembered something.
He pulled the Dragon Flute from inside his clothes.
Carefully, he examined the bottom of the flute.
The same carving was clearly visible.
A coiled dragon.
Brajamusti fell silent.
“So it wasn’t a coincidence.”
He turned the sword over and found a small inscription on the back of its hilt.
The writing was nearly invisible beneath a layer of rust.
Brajamusti rubbed it with his fingertip.
There were only three words.
“Black Dragon Guardians.”
Brajamusti furrowed his brow.
“What does that mean?”
He had never heard that name before.
Suddenly, a cough sounded behind him.
“Don’t hold that sword for too long.”
Brajamusti immediately turned around.
An old man stood a few steps away. He wore simple clothes, had white hair, and carried a basket of vegetables.
“What do you mean, Grandpa?”
The old man stared at the sword in Brajamusti’s hand.
His expression turned serious.
“Give it to me.”
Brajamusti did not hand it over right away.
“Do you recognize this symbol?”
The old man remained silent for quite some time.
Then he answered quietly.
“Young man, there are some things you’re better off not knowing.”
“That’s exactly why I want to know.”
The old man sighed.
“That symbol was once used by an extremely powerful group in the martial world.”
“What group?”
“The Dragon Guardians.”
Brajamusti grew even more curious.
“Do they have something to do with this flute?”
The old man looked at the Dragon Flute.
For a moment, fear flashed in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t have it.”
Brajamusti was startled.
“You know about this flute, Grandpa?”
But the old man did not answer.
He simply turned and walked away.
Brajamusti chased after him for several steps.
“Wait!”
The old man stopped.
“Who are you really, Grandpa?”
The man glanced back at him.
“If you want to know the answer about that flute, find the person who gave it to you.”
Brajamusti fell silent.
“Grandpa Paijo?”
The man did not answer.
He simply continued walking until he disappeared into the market crowd.
Brajamusti stood there alone.
His mind was filled with questions.
All this time, he had thought Grandpa Paijo was nothing more than a kind old fruit seller.
But the more he discovered, the stronger his conviction became that Paijo was no ordinary man.
Brajamusti slid the sword into its scabbard.
Then he carefully put away the Dragon Flute.
“I have to go back to the village.”
Without wasting any time, Brajamusti left the city.
The journey to the village would take several days.
Throughout the journey, his mind was never at ease.
Why had Paijo given him the flute?
Why was the symbol on the flute the same as the symbol on the thugs’ weapons?
And who were the Dragon Guardians really?
On the second night, Brajamusti stopped beneath a large tree.
He lit a small fire and sat with his back against the trunk.
The Dragon Flute lay beside him.
Brajamusti gazed at the ancient object.
“Are you really just a flute?”
He picked it up.
But before he could blow into it, he changed his mind.
He remembered Paijo’s words.
“Perhaps one day that flute will save your life.”
Back then, he had thought it was nothing more than an old man’s joke.
Now he was beginning to realize that Paijo might have known something from the very beginning.
The next day, Brajamusti continued his journey.
Finally, after walking for several days, he arrived at the village where he had first met Grandpa Paijo.
But something felt different.
The village was too quiet.
There were no vendors’ voices.
No children playing.
Even several houses were tightly shut.
Brajamusti quickened his pace toward Paijo’s house.
“Grandpa Paijo?”
There was no answer.
The front door was open.
Brajamusti stepped inside slowly.
The house was empty.
The fruit basket still sat in the corner of the room, but everything was covered in dust.
The wooden table where Paijo usually sat was empty too.
Brajamusti searched the entire room.
Paijo was nowhere to be found.
There were no clothes.
No valuables.
It was as if the old man had deliberately left the house without telling anyone.
Then Brajamusti’s eyes fell on the wall.
Something had been written there in black ink.
He moved closer.
The writing consisted of only one sentence.
“Don’t search for my past. Find the answer on Mount Arwana.”
Brajamusti read the message over and over.
“Mount Arwana...”
He clenched his fists.
Now he was certain.
Grandpa Paijo was no ordinary fruit seller.
And the journey to uncover the truth about the Dragon Flute had just begun.
Brajamusti gathered his belongings and left the house.
Before departing, he looked back one more time.
“If you’re hiding your past, Grandpa, I’ll uncover it.”
The evening wind swept through the village.
Beneath his clothes, the Dragon Flute suddenly felt warm.
Brajamusti touched it.
For the first time, he felt as though the flute were pointing him somewhere.
North.
Toward Mount Arwana.
Brajamusti then walked away from the village, unaware that, behind the trees far away, a pair of eyes was watching him.
Someone had discovered that the new owner of the Dragon Flute had begun searching into Paijo’s past.
And that person immediately sent word to his master.
“He’s found a clue.”
A cold voice came from the darkness.
“Then don’t let him reach Mount Arwana.”