"Are you talking about what happened at the Medicine Hall?"
Ilhwa had guessed wrong. She had assumed Namgung Mucheon would ask about the Medicine Hall, but instead, he brought up something unexpected.
"That kid from the Red Dragon Squad pointed a sword at you, I heard."
"I wasn’t hurt. It was just a wooden sword."
"A wooden sword is still a sword. A swordsman must always be cautious before swinging anything in their hand—whether it’s a blade, a wooden sword, or even a mere twig."
"That warrior wasn’t skilled enough to be a threat. More importantly, I wasn’t afraid of what he held."
"Because you’re stronger than him?"
"If we’re talking purely about inner energy, I wouldn’t say I’m stronger. But you know as well as I do that strength isn’t the only thing that determines who’s stronger or weaker."
The corners of Namgung Mucheon’s lips curled slightly. His gaze as he looked at Ilhwa was filled with pride. But soon, his expression turned cold again.
"I wish you weren’t my granddaughter."
Ilhwa lifted her head to look at him. A cool breeze rustled the long sleeves of Namgung Mucheon’s robe as he stood with his hands behind his back. Willow leaves fluttered in the wind, making soft, rustling sounds.
"You’re not like a child. An ordinary child couldn’t possibly carry the killing intent you do. To accumulate this much, you must have taken more than just one or two lives."
Namgung Mucheon could see it—the countless things surrounding Ilhwa. The blood on her hands, the pain she had endured. Perhaps even the memories of a past life hidden within her small body.
Ilhwa knew it too. That the killing intent she exuded was mixed with the aura of lives she had taken in her past existence. And that the blood most deeply entwined with that killing intent belonged to the Namgung family.
Time had reversed, but she had not truly returned. The resentment and tears of those she had killed could not be erased, nor should they be forgotten. They were a burden she had to carry.
Namgung Mucheon saw that weight in this little girl.
"What kind of person would wish for their own flesh and blood to live a life teetering between life and death?"
To kill, one must be prepared to die. The fact that she had taken many lives meant she had faced death just as many times.
"I wanted my granddaughter to grow up gently. Even if not in luxury, I wished for her to have an ordinary life—nothing more."
"..."
"Who raised you like this?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does."
At that moment, an unimaginable energy erupted from Namgung Mucheon. A suffocating blue aura surged around him, freezing the very air with its overwhelming pressure. Yet, Ilhwa felt none of it—he had deliberately controlled his energy to spare her.
"I need to know who it was so I can make them pay for their crimes."
His voice was low, carrying a bone-chilling coldness that betrayed deep-seated fury. Every word was deliberate, not spoken lightly.
"Whoever turned my granddaughter into this—I won’t let them die easily. Tearing them limb from limb wouldn’t be enough."
"What if I’m not your granddaughter?"
The suffocating energy instantly receded. Namgung Mucheon stared at her intently. Then, abruptly, he drew the sword at his waist and slammed it down beside Ilhwa with a thud! "You’ve still got a long way to go."
"What are you doing?"
"Just checking how much you’ve grown. Wondering when you’ll be taller than Cheonmyeong."
"Is this sword called Cheonmyeong?"
"Yes."
He sheathed it again as he spoke.
"When you used to hold my hand and walk around my quarters, you weren’t even half this tall."
He placed a large hand on top of her head with a thump. "You’ve grown so much." The hand ruffling her hair wasn’t gentle—it felt more like rubbing against stone. But it wasn’t unpleasant.
"Let’s have dinner together tomorrow evening. I hear you like good food. I’ll prepare plenty."
"... Alright."
"Good. Rest now. I’ll send someone for you."
With that, Namgung Mucheon left the Heavenly Guest Room. He never brought up the Medicine Hall incident. Whether Seop Mugwang had kept silent or if Namgung Mucheon already knew but chose not to mention it—Ilhwa couldn’t tell.
After he left, she headed to the training grounds within the Heavenly Guest Room. She still had unfinished external martial training to complete. She didn’t want to be seen training alone, but today, she couldn’t afford to cause any more disturbances.
By the time she finished training, bathed, and ate, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon. The interior of the Heavenly Guest Room was quiet. The only sounds were the soft footsteps of servants and guards patrolling—a peaceful, secluded place.
Ilhwa sat on the plush bedding, gazing at the ashen clouds drifting across the night sky. The moon peeked in and out of the clouds, its pale face appearing and disappearing. Before she knew it, Ilhwa had fallen asleep.
It was her first night in the Namgung household. --- Ding-dong— Ding-dong— A clear bell tolled through the Heavenly Guest Room. At the same time, a chilling energy enveloped the area. Like a thick fog, a faint mist rapidly began to fill the entire estate.
Yet, none of the guards or servants noticed the change. It was as if they had all been bewitched by something. Ding-dong— Ding-dong— The sound of the bell spread through the mist.
Amidst it, a sharp energy swiftly moved toward one particular location. It passed by the patrolling guards, swirling around as if searching for something. Finally, it headed toward the guest quarters.
Ssshh— The sharp energy slipped into the hallway of the guest rooms. Just as before, it moved swiftly, brushing past the servants stationed there. After traversing the hallway, the energy stopped in front of one door.
It lingered for a moment, as if gauging something. Thud! Without hesitation, the energy passed through the door. The sound of the door trembling echoed through the quiet hallway.
"...?"
One of the servants on guard sensed something amiss and turned toward the room. Ding-dong— Ding-dong— Inside the room, thick with eerie energy, Ilhwa opened her eyes in the flickering darkness. Her black pupils, staring blankly into the void, seemed empty—as if she wasn’t truly awake.
After a moment of gazing at the ceiling, she sat up. Ilhwa turned her head, looking in one direction—toward the bedside table where her sword rested. She got out of bed and picked up the sword.
Shing— The sound of steel being drawn. A silver blade flashed amidst the swirling mist. A white haze shimmered around her sword—pure, untainted inner energy.
"Young Mistress, do you need anything?"
Ilhwa’s gaze shifted toward the door. The shadow of a servant, having heard the noise, flickered outside. Ilhwa’s sword began to tremble—hum, hum. --- "Would it kill you to speak a little more gently?"
In the family head’s office, Seop Mugwang had been grumbling at Namgung Mucheon for the past two hours.
"No matter how mature that kid acts, she’s still a child at heart. Couldn’t you have been a little warmer to the girl who came all this way to meet her family?"
"Hmm."
Namgung Mucheon crossed his arms, closing his eyes in contemplation.
"Flying Wind Sword, enough."
Chief Steward Namgung Mun tried to mediate.
"Look at the family head. Doesn’t he seem like he spoke warmly enough?"
Namgung Mucheon opened his eyes and glared sharply at the chief steward. The steward sighed deeply and shook his head.
"Glaring won’t take back what’s already been said. You should’ve listened when we sent you mental transmissions earlier."
Namgung Mucheon’s brow twitched slightly. While he had been talking to his granddaughter in the Heavenly Guest Room, these two had been eavesdropping from the roof. They had commented on every word, offering unsolicited advice until he got so annoyed he sealed off the entire area with energy.
"And why did you have to bring up that bet? It’s not like you needed to prove how strong you are, old man."
"Ahem! Ahem!" Namgung Mucheon coughed awkwardly, caught off guard.
"My granddaughter was uneasy. I just wanted to reassure her."
"Was that really the only way? If anything, you probably scared her even more..."
"Says the one who tattled on her every move."
"Sigh..." Seop Mugwang averted his gaze as well.
He was only supposed to watch over the child until she arrived at the family estate, but he had unintentionally ended up reporting everything—from the Outer Hall training grounds to the Medicine Hall incident.
"So what if I did? That little one was in danger! Was I supposed to keep my mouth shut until your granddaughter died?"
In moments of urgency, Seop Mugwang’s old habit of calling Namgung Mucheon "brother" resurfaced.
"Brother, you should’ve seen her in the Medicine Hall! The look in that kid’s eyes was—!"
Then, suddenly— "...!" Seop Mugwang’s words cut off. Namgung Mucheon’s gaze sharpened.
Chief Steward Namgung Mun, who had been nodding along without understanding, sensed something amiss and looked between the two. But by the time he turned, Namgung Mucheon was already gone. Namgung Mun asked Seop Mugwang, who was now standing.
"What’s wrong?"
"The smell of blood."
"...!"
"Head to the Heavenly Guest Room. You’ll need to bring a Sword Unit with you."
"The Heavenly Guest Room...?!"
Namgung Mun shot up from his seat. At the same moment, Seop Mugwang vanished before his eyes. Only the fluttering curtains of the open window remained, swaying in the night breeze.