Yunnan Province. Kunming.
At the center of a vast lake, a magnificent pavilion stood tall, its lights never extinguished even in the dead of night.
The na of the six-story building was Huaoru.
It was a grand guesthouse and pleasure house, renowned across Yunnan for its unmatched wine, music, and won.
At the very top floor of the pleasure house, on a high balcony overlooking the silver-lit lake and the exotic cityscape of Kunming—
A man who appeared not yet thirty sat at the railing, sipping from a small teacup.
His hair, a deep blood-red, fell long down his back. Half his face was hidden behind a pitch-black mask, making his expression unreadable.
“The Wind Thunder God, huh...”
A slow curve ford beneath the man’s mask.
“And Ilhwa followed him without resistance?”
“Yes. It was the Wind Thunder God’s subordinates who killed the cult mbers chasing the Little Master. And the Little Master didn’t stop them, even though she clearly knew.”
“How could she have known?”
Her mories should’ve been erased completely.
How did she realize she was of the Namgoong bloodline?
And since when?
“Shall we deal with her quietly?”
“Who, that child?”
“...She betrayed you, Master. And she took sothing of yours.”
“Heh heh heh...”
The man slowly rotated the teacup in his hand.
The porcelain moved fluidly with his fingers, yet not even a ripple disturbed the tea within.
“Do you think she can leave just because she wants to?”
I invested too much in her.
“Don’t worry. She’ll co crawling back soon enough.”
“...Even after killing our own people, you’ll take her back?”
“Those worthless insects? If it ans I can have her again, their lives were a cheap price to pay.”
“...”
“Do you object, Paweol?”
“...No, Master. How could I dare to question your will?”
“Good.”
The man set down his teacup and rose from his seat.
His blood-red hair swayed near his waist.
With hands behind his back, he gazed down at the glowing city of Kunming.
The night shimred with lights, and between them, drunken fools wandered aimlessly, lost in wine and won.
A few of them could vanish and not a soul would notice. Their lives were as worthless as vermin.
“It’s almost ti to leave this place.”
A dragon slumbering beneath the waters must, when the ti cos, rise to the heavens and rule the world.
That ti wasn’t far off.
His agents scattered throughout the Central Plains were performing admirably. At this rate, five years would be more than enough.
Until then...
There’s no harm in letting her run free.
“I should at least check on how she’s doing.”
“Allow to go.”
“Take her a little gift, then. Give it to her.”
“Yes, Master.”
A faint breeze passed.
And when the man’s eyes returned from the city lights, the one called Paweol had already vanished.
A subtle grin crept beneath ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the mask once more.
Now alone, only the teacup remained on the empty balcony, cooling under the stillness of night.
****
The dicine Hall Master, summoned by the Clan Head, arrived promptly.
With Namgoong Mucheon and Seop Mugwang watching over, she imdiately began to examine Ilhwa’s condition.
She checked her pulse and carefully inspected several parts of her body for a long while.
Then Choryeon, the dicine Hall Master, stepped back and reported her findings.
“As you suspected, there are traces of a forbidden seal spell.”
“Is there a way to remove it?”
Choryeon shook her head.
“Not dically. At least, not by . Unless the one who cast the seal chooses to release it.”
“It’ll naturally lift with ti.”
As she adjusted the sleeve she had rolled up, all eyes turned to Ilhwa.
“Though her identity is hidden for now, soon enough the world will know her na.”
When the Blood Demon Cult reveals itself in the Central Plains, the seal will break.
The cult’s followers will roam the world, proclaiming the na of the Blood Demon and recruiting new believers.
To prepare for that, the mont the Blood Demon Cult returns to the world stage, the forbidden seal will dissolve.
“Your life is at stake. Don’t treat this lightly.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Namgoong Mucheon addressed Choryeon.
“What of the other issues?”
“Her senses are dulled, especially pain and emotion. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous it is for a martial artist to be unable to feel pain.”
Pain is the body’s warning bell.
A signal that sothing is wrong, that the body needs imdiate attention.
In the martial world, where life and death are decided in an instant, missing even that small signal could lead to death.
Even the instinct to read an opponent’s level and sense danger often stems from fear of pain. It’s no trivial matter.
Namgoong Mucheon slowly closed his eyes.
A part of him wanted to forbid her from ever drawing a sword again.
But would this child truly lay down her blade? After all, didn’t she return with the resolve to save Namgoong?
“More importantly...”
Choryeon’s hesitant voice made Mucheon open his eyes again.
“What is it?”
“Her bloodline... it’s unstable.”
Namgoong Mucheon looked toward Ilhwa.
She wore an expression of complete ignorance.
“You said she expelled her forr inner energy, didn’t you? That’s likely the cause...”
“Co here.”
Namgoong Mucheon gestured to Ilhwa.
She stood and approached him.
Mucheon turned her around and placed a hand on her back.
The mont his hand touched her, Ilhwa’s body twitched and shivered.
“Does it hurt?”
Ilhwa shook her head.
“It should.”
She couldn’t say it hurt, but sothing imnse and powerful began to stir inside her body.
A clear, pure, and overwhelmingly strong energy flowed through her ridians—it felt as though a dragon were winding its way through her veins.
When Namgoong Mucheon’s inner energy reached her dantian, Ilhwa shuddered again.
Then, the energy withdrew.
“...?”
Even after a mont passed, nothing happened.
Ilhwa turned around to look at him.
And the instant she caught sight of Namgoong Mucheon’s face, she thought he was crying.
He raised his broad hand and placed it gently on top of her head.
It was, as always, a hand like solid rock.
“You’ve returned across a vast stretch of ti.”
Ilhwa’s eyes widened.
Did he realize she had reincarnated? Just from examining her ridians?
But his next words made it clear that wasn’t the case.
“Eight years must’ve been an unbearably cruel ti for you.”
He softly tousled her hair.
“Welco back.”
She couldn’t tell what it was he saw in her.
Masters of the Flowing Realm often said and did incomprehensible things—and sotis, they perceived things ordinary people could never understand.
Ilhwa herself had been a master of the Flowing Realm in her previous life, but that didn’t an she could understand soone like Namgoong Mucheon.
After all, she had forcefully climbed her way to that level by pushing her internal energy to its limit. Whereas he had reached enlightennt naturally—there was bound to be a difference in depth.
“In this life... will I ever beco a master like Namgoong Mucheon?”
Ilhwa reflected once more on the energy that had coursed through her body monts ago.
She had only tasted a fraction of Mucheon’s strength, and yet it stirred in her an aching thirst.
“Soday...”
And then—
“Looks like sothing’s flying in.”
Ilhwa looked up at the sound of Mucheon murmuring to himself.
The hand that had been stroking her hair lowered to her shoulder, and he fixed his gaze on sothing beyond her.
Ilhwa, too, shifted her body slightly and looked in the sa direction.
Soone’s coming.
A strong presence was rapidly approaching.
Monts later, there was a commotion near the entrance of the Clan Head’s Hall.
“Young Master Il! You haven’t even reported to the Clan Head yet!”
It was the panicked voice of Chief Steward Namgoong Mun.
And then—erging from the end of the corridor leading to the main pavilion—ca a man.
His long black hair glead like it had been soaked in ink. A sharply defined jawline, thick eyebrows, and piercing eyes that seed as if they could cut through flesh with a single glance.
A proud nose, tightly sealed lips, and pupils that glead black with an almost mystical hue against his pale skin.
Though his posture carried the polish of refined martial training, and he radiated dignity simply by standing there, his clothes remained perfectly neat despite having clearly rushed here.
Had it not been for the way his breath was visibly ragged from exertion—rising all the way to his throat—he would have looked completely composed.
His eyes, unmoving, were fixed entirely on Ilhwa, who stood before Namgoong Mucheon.
“Young Master Il!”
Chief Steward Namgoong Mun arrived late, grabbing the man’s arm in haste. But realizing it was already too late to stop him, he sighed and let go.
The man began walking slowly toward the pavilion.
The lights along the path to the hall illuminated his face more clearly with each step.
Thump. Thump.
...?
A faint drumming sound rang out sowhere—like soone tapping on a table.
Ilhwa blinked in confusion, then slowly brought a hand to her chest as she realized—
The sound was coming from inside her own body.
Her ridians were unstable, just as Choryeon had said.
Sothing was definitely wrong.
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