Yunnan Province. Kunming.
At the center of a vast lake stood a grand pavilion, its lights never extinguished even in the darkest of nights. The six-story building was called the Fire Crow Pavilion. It was a massive inn and tavern, famed throughout Yunnan for its wine, music, and women.
At the very top floor of the tavern, on a terrace overlooking the shimmering silver lake and the exotic city of Kunming, sat a man who looked to be not yet thirty. He sipped from a small teacup as he sat before the railing.
His long hair was a deep crimson, and half of his face was hidden behind a pitch-black mask, making it hard to read his expression or guess his mood.
“Storm Thunder God, huh…”
The corners of the man’s lips curled beneath the mask.
“You’re saying Ilhwa followed him without resistance?”
“Yes. The ones who killed the sect members chasing after the Young Pavilion Master were also under the Storm Thunder God. The Young Pavilion Master knew, but didn’t stop them.”
“How could that child have known?”
Surely, all her memories had been erased. How did she know she was of the Namgung bloodline? And since when?
“Shall we take care of it quietly?”
“Who? That child?”
“…She betrayed you, Pavilion Master. She also took your possession.”
“Kuhuhuhu…”
The man rolled the teacup in his hand. The cup moved this way and that with the motion of his fingers, yet the tea inside didn’t ripple in the slightest.
“She thinks she can just walk away because she wants to? After all I’ve invested in her?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll come back on her own soon enough.”
“…You’re going to take back someone who killed her own brothers?”
“The lives of those worms? If I can gain that child, it’s a cheap price to pay.”
“…”
“Do you have a complaint, Pawol?”
“…No, Pavilion Master. How could I possibly question your will?”
“Good.”
The man set down the teacup and rose to his feet. His crimson hair swayed at his waist. With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked down upon the glittering city of Kunming.
The lights of the night were filled with drunken fools, lost in wine and women. Even if a few of them disappeared, no one would care. Their lives were like insects.
“It’s about time I left this place.”
A dragon sleeping beneath the waters must one day rise to the heavens and command the world. That time wasn’t far off. His subordinates, hidden throughout the Central Plains, were fulfilling their roles well.
Five years at most would be enough.
‘Until then…’
It wouldn’t matter if she played around a little.
“I should check how she’s doing.”
“I’ll go.”
“I’ll give you a gift. Take it to her.”
“Yes, Pavilion Master.”
A faint breeze blew. When the man turned his gaze away from the city, Pawol was already gone. The corners of the masked man’s lips curled once more.
Only the teacup he left behind remained on the terrace, slowly cooling under the night air.
The Medicine Hall Master, summoned by the Clan Head, arrived. With Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang watching, the Medicine Hall Master immediately began examining Ilhwa’s body. She checked her pulse and examined various parts of her body for quite some time.
Then, taking a step back, she gave her report.
“As you said, there are traces of a forbidden seal placed through a spell.”
“Is there a way to undo it?”
Choryeon shook her head.
“Not through medicine. At least, not for me. Unless the one who placed the seal removes it themselves…”
“It will naturally be undone with time.”
As she adjusted her rolled-up sleeves, everyone turned their eyes to Ilhwa.
“She may not reveal her identity now, but in time, her name will spread across the world.”
Once the Blood Sect reveals itself in the Central Plains, the forbidden seal will be lifted. The Blood Sect members will roam the world, praising the name of the Great Asura Blood Sect and recruiting followers. To do that, the seal must be lifted the moment the sect appears.
“Your life is at stake. Don’t take it lightly.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Namgung Mucheon asked the Medicine Hall Master another question.
“What about the other conditions?”
“Her senses are dulled. Especially pain and emotion. I’m sure you understand how dangerous it is for a martial artist not to feel pain.”
Pain is the body’s signal. A warning that something is wrong and needs immediate attention. In the Martial World, where life and death are decided in an instant, missing such a signal could be fatal.
The instinct to sense danger and gauge an opponent’s level also stems from the fear of pain. It’s not something to be taken lightly. Namgung Mucheon slowly closed his eyes.
In his heart, he didn’t want her to wield a sword. But would this child ever put down the sword? She didn’t return to save herself, but to save Namgung.
“More importantly…”
At Choryeon’s hesitant voice, Namgung Mucheon opened his eyes again.
“What is it?”
“This child’s blood vessels are unstable.”
Namgung Mucheon looked at Ilhwa. She had a blank expression, as if she didn’t understand.
“You said she expelled her previous inner energy, right? That seems to be the cause…”
“Come here.”
Namgung Mucheon beckoned Ilhwa. She stood and approached him. He turned her around and placed his hand on her back.
At that moment, Ilhwa’s body flinched and trembled.
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head.
“It should hurt.”
“…”
She didn’t feel pain, but she could sense a massive energy stirring within her body. It was clear and pure, yet powerful—so much so that as it flowed through her meridians, it felt like a dragon was roaming inside her. When Namgung Mucheon’s energy reached her dantian, Ilhwa trembled once more.
Then, his energy withdrew.
“…?”
Even after a moment passed, there was no reaction. Ilhwa turned to look at him. When she saw Namgung Mucheon’s face, she thought for a moment that he was crying.
He raised his thick hand and placed it gently on her head. As always, his hand felt like stone.
“You’ve returned after crossing a vast stretch of time.”
Ilhwa’s eyes widened. Could it be… he realized she had returned from the past? Just from touching her meridians?
But his next words told her otherwise.
“Eight years must have been unbearably cruel to you.”
He gently patted her head.
“Welcome back.”
She didn’t know what he had seen in her. Masters often spoke and acted in ways others couldn’t understand, seeing things ordinary people couldn’t. Even in her past life, she had reached the Transformation Realm like Namgung Mucheon, but that didn’t mean she could understand him.
After all, there’s a difference between reaching a realm through forced accumulation and reaching it through true enlightenment.
‘In this life… could I become a master like Namgung Mucheon?’
Ilhwa recalled the energy that had surged through her body moments ago. She had only tasted a small portion of Namgung Mucheon’s power, but it was enough to make her thirst for more.
‘Someday, I too…’
Just then— “So it’s arrived.” Namgung Mucheon muttered something, and Ilhwa looked at him. He lowered the hand that had been patting her head and gripped her shoulder, his gaze fixed beyond her.
Ilhwa turned slightly to look in the same direction.
‘Someone’s coming.’
A strong presence was approaching quickly. Soon, a commotion was heard from the entrance of the Clan Head’s hall.
“First Young Master! You haven’t even reported to the Clan Head yet!”
It was the urgent voice of Chief Steward Namgung Mun. Then, a man appeared at the end of the path leading to the hall. His long black hair shone like freshly spilled ink.
A sharp jawline, thick brows, and eyes that seemed to cut with a glance. A high nose bridge and tightly closed lips. His pale skin framed mysterious black eyes.
His posture, honed through martial training, exuded a noble aura even as he stood still. Despite having rushed over, his clothes were neat and tidy. If not for the heavy breaths that showed he was out of breath even from afar, he would have seemed completely composed.
His gaze, fixed solely on Ilhwa standing before Namgung Mucheon, did not waver.
“First Young Master!”
The Chief Steward, arriving late, tried to stop him, but realizing it was too late, he sighed and let go. The man slowly approached the pavilion. The lights lining the path to the hall illuminated his figure clearly.
Thump. Thump.
‘…?’
A faint drumming sound echoed. It was like someone tapping on a desk. Ilhwa placed a hand on her chest, realizing the sound was coming from within her own body.
Her meridians were unstable, just as they had said. Something was definitely wrong.