The moment he saw the child, Namgung Cheongun knew.
‘Seolhwa…’
It had been eight years since he lost his daughter, but her youthful face still held the features he remembered so clearly. He had always told himself that if he ever found her, he would run to her and hold her tight. But now, his steps were slow and hesitant.
‘Seolhwa…’
Tears welled up in Namgung Cheongun’s eyes. By the time he reached the brightly lit pavilion, tears were already streaming down his face.
“A man shouldn’t be so clumsy,” came the gruff scolding of his father, Namgung Mucheon, but he didn’t hear it.
Cheongun knelt on one knee before the child and looked into her eyes. Ilhwa, meeting his clear and kind gaze, felt a strange tickle in her chest. Without realizing it, she raised her fingers to her chest.
Finding it odd, she clenched her fist and lowered her hand.
‘The last sword of Namgung I killed before I died.’
The man who had called her “Seolhwa” just before she died.
‘Namgung Cheongun.’
My… father…
As that thought crossed her mind, she felt something heavy drop inside her. Her body kept thudding strangely, and Ilhwa furrowed her brows slightly. Namgung Cheongun reached out his hand.
The hand that was about to touch her shoulder paused, hesitated, and finally stopped in midair.
“Confirm it first,” said Namgung Mucheon.
Cheongun lowered his hand and nodded. With a gentle smile, he spoke to Ilhwa.
“I need to check your body a little. Is that alright?”
Ilhwa nodded.
Cheongun nodded back. His eyes took on a serious light.
“There is a mark I engraved myself on Seolhwa’s body when she was born.”
He was speaking to everyone present.
“To others, it may look like five ordinary dots, but when connected, they form the shape of a dragon.”
In powerful clans, it was not uncommon for the father to mark the child at birth. The stronger and more influential the clan, the more enemies they had. And those enemies often used underhanded means.
Kidnapping a child, or even switching babies at birth, was not unheard of. So secretly marking the newborn was a common practice.
“Behind the left ear, right collarbone, under the left index fingernail, right knee, and left heel.”
As he listed the five spots, Namgung Cheongun carefully examined Ilhwa’s body. His hand was visibly trembling. Each time a dot appeared exactly where he said, quiet gasps escaped from those gathered.
Individually, they looked like ordinary moles, but they were too small and hidden for anyone unfamiliar to find. Finally, when his hand touched the back of her small foot, silence fell over the hall. Cheongun gently lowered her foot and looked up at her.
Tears streamed endlessly from his eyes.
“She is my daughter, Seolhwa.”
‘Namgung… Seolhwa…’
The moment she was acknowledged as “Seolhwa,” Ilhwa felt a strange sensation as she met his deeply emotional eyes. It was as if something bound her, and she couldn’t look away. Her throat tightened, and it became hard to breathe.
‘Is it because I confirmed with my own hands that I killed my father?’
Unconsciously, she clenched her fists tightly.
“Seolhwa… it’s me, your father…”
Namgung Cheongun raised a trembling hand and gently stroked her cheek.
“I am your father…”
His voice was choked, filled with overwhelming emotion.
Eight years.
It had been eight long years. He had searched for his daughter for eight years. He had met countless children during that time, but never had he felt such certainty.
That made Cheongun’s heart swell. As his memories of the child grew faint, he feared he was letting her go. But now, it felt like he was being rewarded for never giving up.
It felt like he was being told he had done the right thing by not giving up on her.
“You’ve grown… so much…”
‘Daddy! Don’t go! Don’t leave Seolhwa behind! Waaaah—!’
He saw the image of the child crying and begging him not to leave when he had to go out for work. The child who used to fit snugly in his arms had grown so much, but the image in his memory hadn’t faded. Namgung Cheongun finally pulled her into a tight embrace.
Seolhwa’s eyes widened as she was held in his arms. Over his shoulder, she saw the Chief Steward, Seop Mugwang, the Medicine Hall Master Choryeon, and the maid who had been attending to her. The Chief Steward, Choryeon, and the maid were all crying, and Seop Mugwang was sniffling with a red nose.
‘Why… is everyone crying?’
Seolhwa couldn’t understand. Aren’t people supposed to smile when they’re happy? Why is everyone crying?
But what she couldn’t understand even more was the strange ache in her chest. Even if she understood the emotion, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to smile either.
‘Strange.’
They found a child lost for eight years, and all they do is cry. She had her own burdens from her past life, so it was natural for her to feel uncomfortable.
‘Really strange.’
As Namgung Cheongun’s sobs reached her ears, Seolhwa lowered her gaze. In the warmth of his embrace, she remained stiff, fists clenched. It had been thirty years since someone last held her like this.
She didn’t know how to react. She stood there, unmoving, until his sobs finally quieted. It was the moment she was finally acknowledged as a child of the Namgung family.
After dinner, Seolhwa returned to the Heavenly Guest Room with Namgung Cheongun. Namgung Mucheon and Cheongun had told her to go to Cheongun’s residence in the Inner Hall, but she had asked to stay in the Heavenly Guest Room until she was officially recognized.
While Cheongun stayed behind to speak with Namgung Mucheon, Seolhwa returned first and sat cross-legged on the bed, circulating her Inner Energy. She hadn’t formally learned the Namgung clan’s cultivation method yet, but she needed to check her meridians.
‘Just a little should be fine.’
There were still traces of the energy Namgung Mucheon had used to examine her body, so there was no reason for suspicion. Seolhwa carefully began to circulate her Inner Energy. … A clear, white energy stirred in her dantian.
It was the pure internal energy of the Great Rebirth Pill, not yet fully settled in her body. This colorless and formless energy would gradually transform into the clear blue energy of the sky through the Namgung clan’s cultivation method.
‘Just a little.’
The energy that started in her dantian slowly flowed through her meridians, passing through the perineum, spine, and crown of the head. From the lower dantian, it traveled through the upper dantian and returned to the sea of energy. After completing one full cycle, Seolhwa opened her eyes.
A faint blue light flickered in her eyes before fading.
‘It’s still… really messy.’
She had thought she had expelled all the Blood Energy, but now that she circulated her energy again, she could tell. The remnants of Blood Energy clung to her meridians like leeches, damaging them.
‘I thought I got rid of it completely.’
No wonder they treated her like a patient.
“You really did learn martial arts.”
The door opened, and Namgung Cheongun entered. He was holding a basin of water and a towel. He walked straight to the bed where Seolhwa sat and placed the basin on the floor.
Then, with a joyful face, he rolled up his sleeves.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to wash your feet.”
Seolhwa’s eyebrows arched.
“My feet? Why?”
“No reason. I just want to. Will you let me?”
She didn’t understand why he suddenly wanted to wash her feet, but Seolhwa willingly offered them. Facing her, Cheongun grinned and gently held her small feet in his hands, giving them a little shake. After the playful gesture, he carefully removed her socks.
“Your feet are still small. When you were little, both feet fit in one hand…”
Cheongun’s face froze as he removed her socks. Her small feet still fit in his hand. But unlike an ordinary thirteen-year-old’s feet, they were covered in calluses and scars.
Could a martial artist’s feet look like this? Even for a child who had learned martial arts, the marks on Seolhwa’s feet were too deep and too many. How harsh must the past eight years have been?
The child’s feet, wounded and never properly treated, made Cheongun unable to smile.
“Why?”
“No… it’s nothing.”
He forced himself to move his hands in response to her innocent question. He gently soaked her feet in the warm water. Whether he was washing them or just wetting them, his movements were slow and unsure.
Eventually, Cheongun lowered his head. His hands, touching the scarred feet of the child, were smooth and unblemished. Unlike the rough feet, his hands were soft.
“Ugh…”
Tears fell into the basin. The ripples touched Seolhwa’s legs.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
Cheongun pulled her feet into his arms. Even as the wetness soaked into his chest, he didn’t care.
“This father… is truly sorry…”
His tears fell onto the tops of her feet. Seolhwa stared at Namgung Cheongun’s trembling shoulders for a long, long time.