Just before dawn, after the funeral preparations were complete, two men were sent down to Surim Mountain Manor.
They carried orders: the Great General would be buried, and all were to ascend to the summit in full marching kit and formal uniform.
They were also instructed to procure funeral items—paper money, incense, and the necessary rites.
At the same time, two others were dispatched separately to the main household in Hanam.
The corpse had already begun to decay. They were to conduct a temporary burial first and report the exact location.
Detailed explanations would be delivered by the men themselves.
Sowoon, who had not slept through the night, sat beneath a rock, head bowed, unable to resist the weight of exhaustion.
The two entrusted with the most crucial roles departed toward the main estate.
They had to move faster than a courier relay.
The moment Ga Gyeongpil received Lee Hui's instructions, he selected the swiftest riders, delivered the mission clearly, and handed them a written account of the preceding events.
Because of training, the White Dragon Unit was already awake.
"Full marching kit. Formal uniform. Assemble in one shijin wearing the White Dragon's original attire."
Their armor had been returned, but their uniforms remained.
Even while reorganizing their gear, they had preserved their battle robes and wind cloaks.
The White Dragon Unit moved quickly.
As cavalry, skirmishers, and advance scouts, preparing equipment was as natural as breathing.
The explanation was brief, yet Ga Gyeongpil's expression differed from usual.
Resolve was written plainly across his face.
When they donned their blue and red battle robes and wrapped their wind cloaks over them, all trace of trainees vanished.
Ga Gyeongpil spoke shortly to those gathered at the training ground.
"The Great General has passed away. He was found at the summit. Several days have passed; the body has begun to decay. We will conduct a temporary burial and hold the funeral today."
When he finished, silence descended.
A thin, transparent veil seemed to fall across a hundred pairs of eyes.
No sobs were heard, yet the air trembled with strained breath.
They were fugitives.
They could not wail aloud.
The thought of an unjust death tightened their throats.
A covert operative sensed the strange atmosphere at the annex and reported to Surim.
"They say the Great General has died. Several days have passed, and the body has decayed. They will conduct a temporary burial and funeral today."
"A funeral?"
Surim's expression darkened.
He had disappeared for days. They had gone to find him. And now they said he was dead.
It fit the pattern of a life sacrificed to power, yet confirmation was needed.
"Continue the surveillance."
When the operative withdrew, Surim asked again,
"What of those who pursued General Lee?"
"No word yet."
"They have not found him?"
"It is strange. There has been no news at all."
Ga Gyeongpil knew this was the critical moment.
Once the Great General's death became official, Surim Mountain Manor would attempt to hold onto the White Dragon Unit.
They would gather at the summit under the pretext of the funeral—then scatter and withdraw.
That was Lee Hui's plan.
Surim Mountain was no longer a place to remain.
Who would not covet elite soldiers hardened by real combat?
More than a hundred horsemen set out.
Another ten descended to the village to obtain funeral supplies.
White mourning bands were tied over their shoulders.
That alone was enough to mark them as a funeral procession.
In the village, they let words slip naturally.
'The Great General Jin Mugwang died in the mountains.'
The White Dragon's battle robes carried trust.
The rumor spread instantly.
The cause of death was unknown.
But as the tale passed from mouth to mouth, the conclusion of murder began to attach itself.
After gathering again at the summit, Lee Hui summoned the captains.
After the funeral, they would leave Bokwu Mountain.
They would not return to Surim Mountain Manor.
Merely implying the manor's possible involvement in the Great General's death was enough to ignite hostility.
A line was clearly drawn.
Three days passed, and more visitors came seeking the burial site.
They dressed as commoners, yet their bodies were hardened.
Anyone could see they were martial artists.
Surim Mountain Manor did not move.
They lowered themselves.
It was not a moment to attempt recruitment.
Princess Sohye did not appear at the funeral.
There was a possibility that the royal court or the Black Blade would descend to confirm matters.
For now, concealment was wiser.
Lee Hui's plan unfolded as intended.
The assumption that a despairing general had taken his own life in the mountains, unable to return home, held sufficient plausibility.
Some even began to suspect the royal court.
The possibility remained that the grave might be exhumed.
But the body's decay was advancing quickly.
The burial goods were those the Great General always carried.
And the White Dragon Unit's tears—unaware of the truth—were the strongest proof of all.
When the White Dragon Unit descended the mountain, the manor did not stop them.
Surim ground his teeth.
"They are all leaving… after we fed and housed them for days."
He had already concluded it was suicide.
The calculation that a few days of kindness could bind life and death together collapsed.
"Your Highness, the manor may become dangerous. It would be wise to relocate for a time."
The princess's plan crumbled.
The funeral rumor itself might expose the refuge.
If the White Dragon Unit descended and simply mentioned Surim Mountain Manor, danger would follow.
The manor quietly lowered itself.
On Bokwu Mountain remained a single empty grave, borrowing the name of a dead man.
That grave had begun to shake the world.
The wind had fallen still at the summit.
Night's sleet had soaked the earth, and clouds hung low.
The grave pit dug for the temporary burial was not deep, yet it was square and neat.
The White Dragon Unit stood in a circle, fully armed.
Not one removed armor.
Their swords remained at their waists.
Only white mourning bands marked them.
Lee Hui stood before the coffin.
A steel sword rested atop it.
The scabbard was worn, marked by long use.
No one doubted it.
It was surely the Great General's blade.
Incense was lit.
With no wind, the smoke rose straight upward.
Lee Hui spoke quietly.
"Great General Jin Mugwang. He who crushed the barbarians, who guarded the battlefield, who founded the White Dragon Unit, has ended his life upon this mountain."
The words were short.
Their weight was not light.
"We do not ask why. Those who remain must survive. That is what the Great General desired."
Eyes trembled.
Some clenched their teeth.
Some lowered their heads.
No one cried aloud.
Breathing grew rough.
Lee Hui lifted the steel sword and struck the coffin three times.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
It was the way a commander was sent off from the battlefield.
A signal that the fighting was over.
The captains stepped forward.
Each placed a handful of earth upon the coffin.
Then the entire White Dragon Unit followed in turn.
With more than a hundred hands casting soil, the coffin vanished beneath earth almost instantly.
"Salute."
At Lee Hui's command, every blade was drawn at once.
Steel flashed.
Then all were driven into the ground together.
When a commander fell in battle, the final formation was raised around him.
Silence.
"White Dragon Unit!"
"Yes!"
"Do not forget the Great General's name!"
"We will not forget!"
The shout was not loud.
But it was low and solid.
The mountain swallowed its echo.
The earth was packed firm.
Stones were laid.
A marker was set.
Lee Hui drew out the steel sword once more, stood it briefly upon the mound, then took it back.
The sword was not buried.
The Great General's symbol was laid to rest, but the blade remained.
The White Dragon's swords still had to live.
The temporary burial was complete.
But it was not an ending.
It was a departure point.
Lee Hui summoned the captains once more and spoke low.
"From now on, we scatter. Descend as if after the funeral, then leave Bokwu Mountain. We do not return to Surim Mountain Manor."
"Chung."
"Chung."
"Chung."
"Chung."
The captains did not question.
The White Dragon Unit descended the mountain after the funeral.
In truth, it was a withdrawal disguised as mourning.