Chapter 84

Why was Juche acting like this?

He was the captain of the White Snow Spirit Command.

For someone of such status to so persistently attempt to recruit a martial artist who was merely at the Five Dragon Blooming Star stage—anyone could see how strange that was.

Before long, Wonyang shook her head.

“I’m sorry. There is someone I wish to serve, and I’m already serving him. The only time I would consider changing whom I serve is if I’m told I’m no longer needed by that person. That’s when I’ll think about it.”

“Your resolve is firm.”

Just as Wonyang was about to speak again—

“It seems we meet often, Captain.”

It was Unwi, now radiating an even more formidable presence. Unlike just a few hours prior, his physique had grown visibly more robust.

He was walking toward them.

Juche smiled faintly.

“Greetings, Lord Hyeon Seollin. I trust you’ve been well.”

“I haven’t.”

“......”

“I bear no ill will toward the White Snow Spirit Command. But if you continue attempting to take someone who is mine in this way, that ill will is bound to grow.”

“It seems I’ve offended your mood.”

“Yes.”

“...I offer my apology.”

There was also the matter related to Chief Seong.

Unwi, staring silently at Juche for a moment, spoke curtly.

“It’s fine. More importantly—the Palace Lord is looking for you.”

“Ah, yes. Understood. I’ll be sure to offer a formal apology for today’s discourtesy at a later time.”

Before he could even finish nodding, Juche rose and left.

Wonyang smiled faintly.

It was a look that clearly said, I did well, didn’t I? But Unwi quietly turned his back and said,

“I’ll be returning to Yangnyeong.”

At once, Wonyang’s shoulders drooped—but then she heard Unwi’s voice at her ear.

“You are mine. Someone I need. Someone who must remain by my side.”

She lifted her head.

Unwi was looking at her with soft eyes.

“Only about two months have passed out of the twenty years we promised. And you already want to leave?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Unwi turned again and began to walk, and Wonyang followed closely behind.

Her steps were as light as her mood.

***

Just like when they had come, Unwi and Wonyang were descending the snowy mountain path in a carriage. But there were two key differences now.

First, they had a coachman. And they had an escort.

At the beginning, he had been little more than a minor illegitimate child with no development whatsoever—but not anymore. Naturally, the treatment had changed.

In the first place, it made no sense to bring only Wonyang with him when visiting the Main Palace.

After all, she was a Heir of the Polar Bloodline.

If likened to a royal nation, royal blood did not travel alone. What had happened until now had been the abnormality—this was the norm.

Inside the rattling carriage, Unwi was writing in a book. Yet there was no tremble in his brushwork.

Even that alone was clear proof he had reached a higher state of cultivation.

While writing, Unwi eventually set the brush down.

He looked up at Wonyang.

It had been over three hours since their departure, and during that time, Wonyang had been visibly uneasy, repeatedly hesitating to speak, biting her lip, and otherwise behaving strangely.

When asked what was wrong, she’d brushed it off as nothing—but it had been gnawing at him.

“It’s time you speak.”

“...Well...”

With a deeply conflicted expression, as if wrestling with internal strife, Wonyang let out a long sigh and pulled out a small, neatly folded paper from within her robe.

“...Back when we were in the lord’s quarters... I meant to leave this where it was, but by mistake, I...”

“You brought it with you?”

“...Yes.”

Unwi let out a short laugh.

“That’s what had you acting like this?”

“It belongs to the Palace Lord... Taking it is no different than stealing...”

“It’s fine. How could that be considered theft? Everyone makes mistakes. Even I make mistakes. If you were incapable of making one, then you’d be my master and I yours, wouldn’t you?”

Wonyang blinked.

Unwi accepted the paper from her hands and quietly unfolded it.

Unwi’s gaze sank. The carriage grew quiet.

“...I’d forgotten.”

“...Sorry?”

“I had meant to make sure I brought it with me. I must reflect. You’re making me reflect, Wonyang.”

Wonyang swallowed hard.

Because the weight in his voice didn’t sound ordinary.

Unwi stared silently at °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the portrait of his mother for a while.

“My father painted this.”

“...I had a hunch.”

“Did you know this is the only portrait of her left in the world?”

“...That I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

Folding the portrait and placing it into his sleeve, Unwi smiled faintly.

“Thank you.”

“...Ah...”

“Is there anything you want? If so, say it.”

Wonyang shook her head.

Then—

“If you ever do need something, tell me. Even later.”

Just as Wonyang opened her mouth to reply, the carriage suddenly jolted to a stop.

Wonyang moved as if to ask the coachman what had happened—but Unwi stopped her with a gesture.

“There’s the smell of blood.”

Wonyang didn’t seem to notice, but to Unwi’s nose, the thick stench of blood had pierced through sharply.

Before the coachman could open the door, Unwi had already moved, opening it and stepping outside.

What he saw was a horrific scene.

The first thing his eyes landed on was the corpse of a man who appeared to be a merchant. His body had been torn in half, and enormous footprints surrounded the remains.

And beyond that were more merchant corpses, shattered carriages, the mutilated remains of horses scattered across the ground, and about fifteen broken weapons strewn about. As for the bodies... roughly thirty.

“These are the tracks of a Black Bear of the Snow Mountains,” the coachman said, his voice trembling.

Unwi inspected the footprints. They were far larger than those of an ordinary bear. As the coachman said, it was indeed a Snow Mountain Black Bear.

And then—

“Are we really going to stop for this?”

He turned his head.

A man on horseback was yawning lazily, wearing a bored expression.

That man was the escort they had brought with them.

Sim Munryong, the Lone Phoenix of Mount Hua.

A master of the Spirit Ascension Stage—and someone who had joined the Baekryeong Guard only two days ago.

Why was he escorting Unwi?

Because of a direct order from Hyunshim, the Commander.

And how had a lunatic like Sim Munryong, infamous throughout the martial world, even joined the Baekryeong Guard?

Because Unwi had recommended him.

Even though he hadn’t known the man personally.

And now, Sim Munryong was proving exactly why people called him a lunatic.

“Don’t stir up pointless trouble. Let’s just head to that Yangnyeong place or whatever.”

Wonyang looked like she was about to lash out, but surprisingly, Unwi raised his hand to stop her.

“Coachman.”

“...Yes, Lord Hyeon Seollin?”

“Who do you think these people are?”

The coachman studied the shredded flags, the insignias on the merchants’ chests, the shape of the wagons, and the attire of the guards—and cautiously spoke.

“...This is the Yang Family Caravan from Yaksu. Judging by the flag’s design, it looks like they passed through Apju and Geongon Fortress...”

It was strange.

And just hearing that much, Unwi immediately realized what was off.

“The wagons are empty.”

“...Yes. Far too empty.”

Unwi approached one of the destroyed carriages. Sim Munryong, still on his horse, looked down with a puzzled face as if wondering what this illegitimate brat was trying to do.

Unwi walked between the shattered wagons, clearly searching for something. Before long, he reached toward the wreckage of one and pulled something out.

It was a small pouch.

Inside were black-colored pills. Unwi immediately recognized them. Anyone who had spent years inside the Central Blood Sect and didn’t know what these were didn’t deserve to live.

They were a forbidden drug, traded covertly among martial artists—a vital item for those who cultivated blood qi.

The name: Black Heaven Pills.

And there were quite a lot inside.

Why were these here?

Why were they lying in plain sight, in a region under Everlasting Snow Palace’s control?

It couldn’t be a trap set by someone. There would be no reason to.

This was pure accident—and they had stumbled upon it by coincidence.

Letting out a short sigh, Unwi quietly tucked the Black Heaven Pills into his sleeve.

The Yang Family Caravan of Yaksu.

He committed it to memory.

Then, Sim Munryong’s voice reached his ears.

“So, are you done now? I think we’ve maintained our dignity long enough. Let’s go, kid.”

Unwi turned his head.

“You’re trying to revive Mount Hua, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Giving it a shot.”

“How amusing. A man desperately chasing after Mount Hua’s martial arts—and yet doesn’t even know what Mount Hua truly was.”

“...The hell? You crazy bastard.”

Unwi spoke evenly.

“They say a nobleman doesn’t turn a blind eye to what he sees with his own eyes. Would Mount Hua’s head have ignored a scene like this?”

“Guess you picked up a few sayings...”

“The martial arts of Mount Hua you’re so obsessed with—do you know why they first picked up their swords?”

Sim Munryong’s eyes flickered.

“Mount Hua held benevolence as its highest virtue. They said protecting the weak was the path of a true nobleman. I neither follow Mount Hua nor was inspired by its teachings—but shouldn’t you be different?”

Sim Munryong dismounted.

“...Enough already.”

As he spoke, tremendous inner energy erupted from his body.

His aura shook the earth and pressed down on Unwi.

Or rather—it seemed like it was pressing down.

Unwi allowed the force of a Spirit Ascension master to pass over him like a gentle spring breeze.

Not only did he let it pass—he took a step forward.

The coachman had already fainted. Wonyang was enduring with clenched teeth, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. That was the difference in caliber. The difference in vessel.

Sim Munryong’s eyes widened, and Unwi spoke again.

“If all you’re after is swordsmanship, you’ll never find it. The true martial arts of Mount Hua were merely tools to uphold righteousness.”

“...”

“You could get your hands on peerless techniques in Mount Hua’s secret realm and try to rebuild it—but with that kind of mindset, it’ll collapse before half a year passes.”

“...Who the hell are you?”

“I am Hyeon Seollin. The fifth child of the Palace Lord you serve.”

At some point, Sim Munryong’s overwhelming aura had completely vanished.

“I’ll say this, so open your ears and listen. If you truly want to find Mount Hua’s martial arts, if you truly wish to rebuild that sect—then find Mount Hua’s heart first. Without it, any technique you acquire will be an empty shell.”

Sim Munryong covered his face with his hand.

“...Hyunshim said something like that.”

Through the gaps in his fingers, his eyes locked onto Unwi. Unwi did not look away. Seeing that, Sim Munryong chuckled and spoke again.

“There was someone who recommended me, you know. I wondered which lunatic would suggest a lunatic like me. Now I get it—it was you, huh?”

“I thought you were at least useful.”

“So that’s why you recommended me?”

“Because you’re someone who understands gratitude and resentment. That’s all.”

“...Then, is that ‘promise’ related to you too?”