Chapter 24

There are two reasons why a man might remain blind.

The first is obsession—when someone becomes so utterly consumed by something that they fail to notice they’re being devoured from the inside out.

Such was the case if one could be so focused that they failed to realize Yang Seoljin was quietly swallowing the Snow Palace whole.

And the second?

Blackmail.

If there had been something—something so grave it could paralyze a man like Seol Jungcheon, both as a man and as the Sovereign of the Everlasting Snow Palace—then everything from the past life could finally make sense.

It wasn't that Unwi had been foolish. He hadn’t avoided investigation. Quite the opposite—he’d pursued it thoroughly.

But the deeper he dug, the more baffling Seol Jungcheon's actions became.

Even with destroyed records—even with the few whispered truths Yang Seoljin had shared in his past life—there remained unresolved questions.

Now, as he played Go, Seol Unwi felt it clearly.

It wasn’t coercion.

No, it was the first case.

Seol Jungcheon was utterly consumed by something.

“...Father.”

“...Speak.”

“If you chase illusions, you may lose what is real.”

Silence followed.

Seol Jungcheon stared at the scattered white stones before him. They seemed adrift—just like his thoughts, lacking any true center.

“The sages said that the game of Go mirrors life. Sometimes, you must sacrifice a house to preserve the whole.”

A deeper stillness crossed Seol Jungcheon’s face. He hadn’t expected such profound insight from this son—especially not from the illegitimate one he had least hoped for.

“You know this better than anyone: life, like Go, may appear calm on the surface but can erupt into storms without warning. Yet even a mistake can become a blessing in disguise, and a single move can reshape the entire board.”

Unwi placed a black stone on the board.

“Just like this stone.”

That move flipped the tide of the match entirely.

Victory or loss no longer mattered.

Seol Jungcheon understood what that stone meant.

He felt the sincerity behind his son’s words.

And the resolve—to correct what had been overlooked.

Neither of them moved for a long while.

Unwi did not reach for another stone. Nor did Seol Jungcheon.

There was no need.

It was over.

A difference of five and a half points.

Not a large gap. But its meaning was weighty.

This was Seol Jungcheon.

The man renowned as the finest Go player on Mount Seol.

“Shall we continue?”

No.

Not anymore.

He was the finest Go player on Mount Seol.

“...I’ve lost,” he said.

“No, you haven’t.”

Seol Jungcheon tilted his head slightly at that.

“Today, I did not face my father at his fullest,” Unwi said. “Today, we merely shared a piece of our hearts.”

A faint smile touched Seol Jungcheon’s lips.

How composed this boy had become.

And then—

“How could I possibly deny a loss?”

Their eyes met, suspended in the space between them.

“Today, this father concedes. It was a clean defeat—not one I feel the need to argue.”

Yes, Seol Jungcheon...

He was a man who could accept loss.

Unwi slowly rose from his seat.

“When I return next time, I hope to read your heart more deeply.”

“And I, in turn, will try to read yours.”

Unwi smiled faintly.

“You already have.”

He had shown it all, without hiding.

His feelings for his father.

His loyalty to the Snow Palace.

Every last bit of it, without a trace of deceit.

****

Seol Jungcheon watched as Unwi walked away, toward Seolap.

It was a far distance—but for a man like Seol Jungcheon, it felt close.

Unwi never looked back.

He simply walked forward until he vanished from sight.

Even so, Seol Jungcheon stood in place for a long time, staring into the distance.

The change in his youngest son defied all logic.

It wasn’t just a shift in personality.

Everything had changed.

Especially how he played Go.

Every stone, every move, carried the weight of something extraordinary.

To most, it would seem like the skill of a veteran martial artist hardened by decades of experience in the murim.

But not to Seol Jungcheon.

He saw it clearly.

Unwi’s skill was not that of a seasoned master—it was that of someone who had once stood beside the heavens themselves.

It was astonishing.

He had grown complacent, it was true.

Ten years had passed since he failed to break through from the Vast Emptiness Beyond Form into Sovereign of Primordial Oneness.

He had chased every path he could find.

And in doing so, he had neglected the affairs of the Snow Palace.

‘That’—the thing he’d been chasing—he believed it to be the perfect answer for reaching the next realm.

But there was no excuse.

Unwi had opened his eyes.

Told him not to waste any more time.

Told him to wake up.

His son’s transformation went beyond extraordinary.

And still, he never asked why.

Because it didn’t matter.

Even if Unwi used demonic techniques.

Even if he devoured someone alive.

Seol Jungcheon would understand.

No—he would accept him.

Because he was his son.

Not in a fragile, sentimental way.

Seol Unwi was Seol Jungcheon’s son.

Even if the whole world pointed fingers at him—he would be the one to stand beside him. He had to be.

That’s what it means to be a father.

There was never a time when he didn’t give his heart to Unwi.

He always had.

He simply never expressed it plainly.

That was the only difference.

Had he done otherwise, it would’ve shattered the very foundation of the Snow Palace.

Sovereign Seol Jungcheon. Father Seol Jungcheon.

Between these two identities, he had always sought the best way forward.

As a martial artist.

As a father.

Eighteen years ago...

Seol Jungcheon, then at the realm of Dao-Conforming Insight, was preparing to ascend to the Vast Emptiness Beyond Form.

He had always lived within the Snow Palace.

He sought change—a different environment, new experiences that might lead to deeper insight.

He didn’t plan to stay long.

A couple of months, at most.

But everything changed when he arrived at a small village of slash-and-burn farmers.

What began as a detour became something more.

Little by little, Seol Jungcheon began to open up—as a man.

The woman named Iryeong... she was, without question, the one he loved most among all the women he had ever known.

And so she became pregnant.

At that moment, he revealed everything—his identity, his status.

He should have brought her to the Everlasting Snow Palace then.

No—perhaps even before that.

Returning to his quarters, Seol Jungcheon picked up a stack of documents on his desk.

At the top, one report read:

______________________________

Record of the Broad-Bloodline Constitution

First Recorded Instance: Iryeong

Manifestation Level: Maximum

Symptoms: Severe deficiency, extreme frailty

Outcome: Death after childbirth

Note: First recorded Broad-Bloodline bearer among non-martial artists

______________________________

Second Record: Baek Cheonu

Manifestation Period: 300 years before Iryeong’s death

Manifestation Level: Maximum

Affiliation: Heavenly Sea Gate

Symptoms and Outcome:

Extreme frailty until age fourteen

Cultivated the Violent Sea Heart Technique

Reached Yang Radiance Appears at twenty

Reached Samhwa Meditation Hall at twenty-one

Died at twenty-two due to bloodline explosion

Note: First verified case of Broad-Bloodline potential

Third Record: Sword Emperor °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Jin Muhun

Manifestation Period: 120 years before Iryeong’s death

Manifestation Level: Medium

Affiliation: Unaffiliated

Symptoms and Outcome:

Congenital weakness, delayed development

Ranked as high as 22nd in the Murim Hierarchy

Found murdered near Mount Cheonsan

This was not just research—it was a confession. An effort to avoid repeating a mistake. A chronicle born of guilt.

Broad-Bloodline Constitution.

That was the true name of the fatal condition Iryeong had suffered.

Seol Jungcheon had truly wanted to save her.

But there are some things even an inner power that shakes the world cannot overcome—such as the laws of nature.

If too much energy was transferred, the fetus would die.

If too little, Iryeong would.

No matter the strength of the energy, one of them would die.

And from the moment one intervened, the outcome was sealed: if Iryeong died, the fetus would follow; if the fetus died, the backlash would claim her as well.

Nature would not be defied.

He’d said he should’ve brought Iryeong to the Snow Palace sooner. But the bitter truth was—even if he had, she wouldn’t have survived.

That’s what it meant to bear the Broad-Bloodline Constitution.

Back then, Iryeong had smiled and said one thing:

“Save the child.”

She asked him—smiling—to watch over their baby, to take care of him.

And Seol Jungcheon had promised he would.

The man who didn’t cry even at his own father’s death—he cried for the first time that day.

He agonized over it.

Whether or not to give this record to Unwi.

Unwi’s Broad-Bloodline capacity was approximately six times that of an average person.

Iryeong, recorded at the maximum level, had about nine times the average. Jin Muhun, the Sword Emperor, measured at three times.

Even the records made it clear: for a martial artist, the Broad-Bloodline Constitution—though considered a terminal one—was practically a blessing.

The internal bloodline pathways were abnormally wide, allowing for significantly higher energy flow. A martial artist with this constitution could circulate energy at a volume far beyond the ordinary.

In childhood, symptoms would be severe—debilitating frailty. But once martial cultivation began, those symptoms would disappear entirely.

He had hoped.

Hoped that Unwi would grow upright.

Hoped he would realize it on his own.

Holding the middle path is always the hardest—but he never gave up.

He had planned to support every path Unwi chose.

The world is brutal.

There were already far too many seeking to strike him down just for being born of the Everlasting Snow Palace’s bloodline.

He had to awaken. No one could teach him.

If someone tried, Unwi would become a flower raised in a greenhouse—and die a meaningless, premature death.

The murim is not a world of romantic ideals.

It is cruel, soaked in blood, bound by grudges that lead only to killing and more killing. A hell for the living.

Seol Jungcheon set the document down.

A soft smile played across his lips as he looked out the window.

Had anyone else seen that smile, they would’ve been stunned.

Seol Jungcheon was not a man known for changing expression.

Even those who returned victorious with great achievements had never once seen him smile.

He hadn’t smiled when the Great Snow Kirin and the Second Snow Kirin reached the Realm of Harmony.

“...Thank the heavens.”

It was not the smile of a martial artist.

It was the smile of a father.

Slowly, it faded.

“Vice Lord.”

At his call, the Vice Palace Lord answered immediately from outside.

“Yes, Palace Lord.”

“Was it truly the work of Serpent Valley?”

“...Yes, it was confirmed.”

“Prisoners?”

“None. All committed suicide.”

There was much to be done.

He intended to formally confront Serpent Valley—but that could wait.

No one knew when Snow-Infused Frost Poison would be perfected.

It might already exist in secret.

Even if not now, it would come eventually.

They had to prepare for it.

He needed to develop a new grand defensive art—one that could preserve not only the Cold Snow Spirit Guard but also the very energy of the Everlasting Snow Mountains.

That came first.

Only after fortifying their defenses could they think of wiping out Serpent Valley... or even reigniting war with the Central Blood Sect.

Those knots could be untied then.

He’d already given Unwi a few gifts—but it still wasn’t enough.