“Lady Yeon?”
Cheongang’s voice ca from outside the narrow passage.
“J-Just a mont.”
“Is sothing wrong?”
“It’s just...”
Yeon hesitated. She almost blurted out “The sarira just spoke to ,” but that would’ve only gotten her labeled insane.
“Cheongang, can you wait a little?”
“You’re sure everything’s all right?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. There’s sothing I want to check.”
She gave the hardened dirt floor a few gentle taps with her foot. As long as her soles were grounded, she’d be okay—for martial artists, it was a way to dispel creeping unease.
The sarira sat in complete silence, exactly as before. That solemn presence from earlier now looked more like the poised calm before an attack.
Yeon quietly clenched her fist.
“What is this, so kind of golden zombie? I don’t care what it is—if it jumps at , it dies.”
As she braced for an ambush, the voice returned—not in her ears, but inside her skull.
[Are you stupid?]
What?
[I said, are you stupid? You really gonna fight a gold-plated skeleton?]
Yeon darted her eyes around, searching for a trick or trap. But the grotto, as she’d confird earlier, was just a burial site for the sarira.
“Who... who are you?”
It was the kind of line every horror movie heroine uttered when she first heard a ghost. Yeon had always rolled her eyes at that—until now. Standing here, she got it.
[You’re asking who I am?]
“Yes.”
[Then who are you?]
“I’m...”
She answered politely—just in case. If this really was Master Myoeun...
[Don’t wanna say? How about we play a ga? One question each. If either of us lies, we lose a turn.]
“...Excuse ?”
[I’ll go first. What’s your na?]
Sothing about this felt off. Master Myoeun was said to have gone mad, murdered his fellow monks, and died in agony. A man who burned himself alive in ditation wouldn’t speak like this.
“Is this... so kind of malevolent spirit?”
Yeon didn’t know if such things really existed in the martial world—but she wasn’t about to bet they didn’t.
She imagined a wall—no, layers of psychic walls in her mind—and positioned herself safely behind them, peeking through a slit. Then she answered, keeping pace.
“My na is Hwangbo Yeon.”
She whispered it, just in case her voice carried outside.
“My turn. Who are you?”
[I’m a dead monk.]
“No, I ant your na.”
[Then you should’ve asked for my na. Next question—]
“Wait a second! That’s not fair!”
Yeon hissed quietly. She swore she heard laughter—even though the sarira’s face had no lips, its sunken mouth seed curved into a smile now. Had it always looked like that?
[Fine, just this once. I’m Myoeun.]
At that na, Yeon’s heart lurched.
A single beat so heavy it made her chest ache.
And then ca his next question.
[It’s my turn, right?]
What would he ask? Maybe now he’d finally get to the point—sothing like “Free from here,” or “Help reincarnate and I’ll give you Shaolin’s secret texts.”
But instead, he asked:
[Do you love the man you ca here with?]
“...What?”
Whether he was Myoeun or just so ghost, the question was absurd. A real monk wouldn’t ask about romance, and a ghost wouldn’t toss around words like love.
Whatever he was, Yeon didn’t like that he was focusing on Cheongang. What if she answered yes and it sohow put him in danger?
Sorry, Cheongang. I’m lying for your own good.
Yeon whispered, low enough not to be heard outside.
“No, I don’t.”
[Liar.]
“...What?”
[Don’t even think about lying to . No one can lie to . I was famous for this—being able to detect it. It’s what made my martial arts so—]
His voice stopped abruptly.
[...Anyway, you lied, so you lose your turn. Now I ask again.]
Even as a ghost, he insisted on controlling the conversation—like so demonic version of a gaslighter. Yeon suddenly thought he was worse than Pang Donghu.
[What’s the na of the Northern Sea Ice Palace’s master?]
“What kind of question is that? How would I know?”
Not knowing that felt like proof that he wasn’t Myoeun after all.
Yeon’s expression tightened as she replied:
“I don’t know.”
[Truth.]
Was that relief in his voice? Did he relax because she’d been honest?
Yeon figured this strange conversation had reached its natural end, and so she gave it one last try.
“What’s the exact location of the Northern Sea Ice Palace?”
No answer.
[Why do you want to know?]
“My turn.”
[That ga just ended.]
“Says who?”
[Says . If you really want to know—ask the pile of bones that got slathered in gold and left without rest. If there’s anything left in it, it’s this voice.]
“Left without rest...”
Even though she knew better, the wording made her feel strangely guilty. Yeon adjusted her evaluation of this thing—he wasn’t just Pang Donghu level. He was worse.
She sighed.
“Are you really Master Myoeun?”
[Yeah.]
“...Liar.”
Yeon tried imitating his tone, but he didn’t budge. The clear laughter ringing in her mind was answer enough.
“So I wasn’t imagining it before.”
[I don’t lie. That’s how I can tell when others do.]
“You an to tell you never lied? Not once in your whole life?”
[Not once.]
“Not even once?”
Before he could answer, Cheongang’s voice echoed from outside the passage.
“Lady Yeon? Do you need any help?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She really had been in there too long.
Yeon knew it was ti to leave—but sothing about this encounter made her hesitate. Outsiders weren’t allowed in this place. She might never co here again. She’d probably never talk to this ghost—or whatever it was—again either.
But apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
[Take with you.]
“...You? If I walk out of here carrying a sarira, I’ll get locked up in this cave for real.”
[Not that. You keep talking to the skeleton, but that’s not what I ant.]
“Then what?”
[Lift the sleeve.]
He probably ant the robe draped over the sarira’s body. Yeon didn’t particularly want to touch it, but with the tip of her finger, she nudged the fabric aside.
Around the mummified wrist, she saw a string of dark brown prayer beads.
[Take the beads. That’s all you need.]
Yeon froze, torn between impulse and reason. Wasn’t this how horror movies always started? Taking the haunted object out of the cursed cave?
Even his voice—so innocent—felt like bait. A trap laid by sothing pretending to be harmless.
[I’m not a bad person.]
“That’s exactly what bad people say...” Yeon rembered soone else once using those sa words. A boy nad Song Sunwoo.
She was about to walk away when—
[I’ll tell you.]
It was the first ti his voice sounded urgent.
“...Tell what?”
[The location of the Northern Sea Ice Palace.]
“...And if you really do know, how am I supposed to believe you?”
[I already told you—I can’t lie. But if I give you that answer, you have to take with you.]
From outside, the monk’s voice called out.
“Miss, I’m afraid you must co out now.”
Yeon finally moved. She lowered her body and bent toward the passage.
“I’m coming.”
But just as she was halfway through the narrow gap, she abruptly turned back, striding toward the sarira. She reached for its narrow wrist and slipped the prayer beads off in one swift motion, tucking them into her robes.
****
“Where is Yi Cheongang now?”
“He remains at Shaolin.”
“Is that so?”
Namgung Myeong leaned back lazily in his chair. Before him stood the leader of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion, head bowed in report. Myeong rather liked that about him.
“Knows his place.”
The battalion leader wasn’t even a blood relative of the Namgung Clan. He’d clawed his way up through swordsmanship alone, so his skills needed no explanation. Anyone else in his position would’ve acted arrogant by now—but this man wagged his tail like a well-trained dog.
“I trust your work, Leader. The clan is grateful for your loyalty.”
“Thank you, Young Lord.”
To Myeong, the battalion leader was like one of his father’s cherished hunting dogs. But what dog needs more than one master? The one who feeds it is the true owner.
And Myeong intended to beco that new master.
Of course, that would require establishing a firm hierarchy first.
“Any luck figuring out what the necklace does?”
“We’ve been searching based on your description, but no results yet. We also tracked down the herbalist who sold it. He had no idea what he was dealing with.”
Myeong casually shifted to informal speech. The battalion leader accepted it without blinking, and Myeong acted like he’d spoken that way from the beginning.
“What are the odds he was lying?”
“He was just a common herbalist. If he’d been hiding sothing, I would’ve noticed. And frankly, I doubt he had the guts to cross Namgung.”
There was an unspoken ssage: no one dares to deceive the Namgung Clan. Myeong smirked. This man was clearly a better fit for him than for his father.
“Keep digging. There’s no way that necklace is ordinary.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about Hwangbo Yeon?”
That voice ca from his sister, Namgung Jihyeon, seated beside him.
The battalion leader’s tone softened slightly as he answered her.
“She’s currently with the heir of the Yi Clan.”
“Just call him Yi Cheongang.”
“Yes, she’s with Yi Cheongang.”
After Jihyeon’s correction, the leader bowed again and continued.
“We’ve been watching Shaolin carefully. The mont anyone leaves, we’ll know.”
“That lunatic girl could do sothing unpredictable at any mont. Stop thinking of her as so average woman.”
“Understood.”
Watching the battalion leader’s humility, Namgung Myeong felt almost like the patriarch of the clan. He had been skeptical when his father said he’d be given temporary command of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion, but he hadn’t expected the leader to be so obedient.
“How many n did you bring this ti?”
“Thirty, including myself.”
“That’s all?”
“...Apologies.”
Most likely, that was his father’s order. Myeong clicked his tongue in disappointnt. Still, thirty elite swordsn from the Azure Sky Sword Battalion could handle just about anything.
He was pleased that the man hadn’t started spewing sothing like ‘It was the patriarch’s command.’ The battalion leader prioritized Myeong over his father—but smart enough not to say it out loud.
“He knows how to pick his alliances.”
Myeong smiled—an expression a rciful superior might wear.
“How’s your father doing?”
“Well, thank you.”
The battalion leader’s father had been a loyal servant of the Namgung Clan. So had his grandfather. The only difference was—they hadn’t known martial arts.
For soone descended from common retainers, this leader had made remarkable strides. He’d climbed all the way to the top of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion, no small feat.
“Send him my regards. After all, your family isn’t exactly strangers to ours.”
Considering the age gap between them, the statent was downright arrogant. But status had its own gravity. In this world, it crushed social norms like twigs.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell him.”
“When I beco the clan head, you won’t just be a battalion leader anymore. I hear your son has talent with the sword, too?”
“...I didn’t know you were aware of my son.”
For the first ti, a flicker of emotion passed across the man’s face.
“He’s still got a long way to go. Not soone the Young [N O V E L I G H T] Lord needs to worry about.”
“Haha. We’ll see about that. Bloodlines don’t lie.”
“Yes, sir.”
Watching the man’s subtle shift in expression, Myeong finally brought up the topic he’d been debating. He let it slip out casually, like it was nothing.
“Father said to avoid physical conflict if possible. Did he ntion that to you, too?”
“He did, yes.”
“Right, but... that wasn’t really an order, was it? Just... sothing to keep in mind?”
“...Excuse ?”
“That’s how I understood it. Or am I mistaken?”
Myeong’s lips were smiling, but his eyes were not.
He stared the battalion leader down like he could dissect him on the spot—like this very question would decide not just the man’s future, but his son’s as well.
“I...”
The pause dragged on, a silent war of calculations unfolding in the man’s mind.
Eventually, he answered slowly.
“The patriarch instructed to support you, Young Lord. The Azure Sky Sword Battalion will do whatever is necessary... for you.”
“Even if it ans crossing a line?”
“Yes.”
Namgung Myeong’s smile deepened.
“I understand where you stand now.”
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