The three bandits circled him like vultures, blades glinting in the fading light.
Their leader grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "Hand over anything valuable, boy. Or we'll take it along with your head."
Jin Mu-Won tilted his head, studying them calmly. Inside, his pulse raced, but he forced his lips into a faint smile.
"Valuable?" he said softly. "I only have this." He held up the blood-stained branch he'd been using as a walking stick.
The bandits snorted. One of them spat. "Pathetic."
But the leader narrowed his eyes. He had seen desperation before — the hollow look of prey before the kill. Yet this boy's gaze was different. Calm. Measuring. As if they were the ones standing on thin ice.
---
Three men. Two swords, one rusty spear. Leader's cautious, the others arrogant. If I rush, I die. If I hesitate, I die. So… make them careless first.
Jin's mind worked furiously. He let out a low laugh, mocking and sharp.
"Tell me," he said, "which one of you wants to die first?"
The younger bandit snarled. "Cocky cripple! I'll—"
"Quiet." The leader's hand shot out, stopping him. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.
Jin Mu-Won's smile widened. He dragged his branch through the dirt, drawing a crude line between them.
"Step across this line," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "and you'll never leave this forest."
The bandits exchanged glances. For a moment, the air thickened, doubt creeping in.
---
In truth, Jin's legs trembled from exhaustion. His wounds had barely healed. If they charged together, he would surely fall. But humans were rarely united. Pride, anger, suspicion — these were sharper weapons than any blade.
The younger one, still bristling, spat again. "Old man, are we really scared of a half-dead brat? Watch me gut him."
He stepped over the line.
Jin Mu-Won's eyes gleamed like a predator's. Hook baited.
The leader cursed under his breath. He wanted caution, but his subordinate's pride had been provoked. And now, whether he liked it or not, the fight had begun.
---
Jin raised the branch like a sword, bloodied lips curling into a thin smile.
"Good," he whispered. "The furnace burns hotter with fools."