The return of the granddaughter of the Namgoong family

Chapter 3. The Returned Child

The dinner Ilhwa had promised to share with Namgung Mucheon was prepared in the residence of the Namgung family head, where he resided.

After washing up thoroughly and changing into the clothing provided by the Namgung family, Ilhwa made her way to the head’s quarters.

The interior of the residence was much as she remembered from her previous life.

The garden was filled with crimson poppies, and the large pond was shaded by a towering willow tree.

It was the same garden she had described when she first entered the Namgung family to prove her identity.

“Come on in.”

The dinner was set up in a pavilion near the pond.

Namgung Mucheon greeted her.

Standing behind him was Seop Mugwang, and apart from one maidservant who tended to their needs, there was no one else present.

“Sit wherever you feel comfortable. I’ve dismissed the attendants, so there’s no need to worry about prying eyes.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Ilhwa returned his greeting with a polite bow before taking her seat.

“I heard you enjoy good food.”

No sooner had she sat than the table was laden with all sorts of delicacies, which floated gently into place before her.

‘Gyeokgong Seobmul’ (Moving objects through the air).

A near-miraculous technique that only those who had reached the peak of martial arts mastery could perform.

By manipulating their internal energy, practitioners could move objects without physically touching them.

It required not only a solid base of internal power to support the objects but also an exceptional level of precision to control the energy, making it an incredibly difficult skill to execute.

Yet Namgung Mucheon wielded it as easily as if he were moving his own hands, effortlessly shifting items with the slightest flick of his fingers.

Despite the incredible sight, Ilhwa’s expression remained calm and indifferent.

“How is your injury?”

After arranging the food in front of her, Namgung Mucheon asked about her condition.

Ilhwa, who had just taken a bite of Dongpo pork, replied after chewing and swallowing.

“It’s fine.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No. I have dulled senses.”

Namgung Mucheon’s eyebrows arched slightly at her response.

“What do you mean by dulled senses?”

As she picked up a small dumpling topped with flower petals, Ilhwa answered, “I almost died when I was five.”

Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang froze for a moment, but Ilhwa didn’t notice their reactions.

“At the time, someone forced their internal energy into my body to save me. Because of that, I think I lost my memories and dulled my senses.”

Ilhwa popped the dumpling into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as the rich, savory flavor spread through her mouth.

‘Delicious.’

It wasn’t quite as good as the dumpling shop Seop Mugwang had taken her to last time, but it was still satisfying.

Perhaps this is why the wealthy children of great families always had such glowing complexions.

Although Namgung Mucheon had fallen silent, Ilhwa didn’t pay it much attention and continued eating enthusiastically.

“Was it the owner of Huaoru who saved you?”

Namgung Mucheon’s voice had grown heavier as he asked the question.

Ilhwa raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Then why did you betray him?”

“Because the person who pushed me to the brink of death was also him.”

“….”

Namgung Mucheon, gazing silently at Ilhwa, let out a low sigh and rubbed his forehead.

Death.

It was a word far too heavy for a thirteen-year-old to speak so calmly.

Yet the child spoke as if it were someone else’s story, with no trace of emotion.

Who had turned this child into someone like this?

‘I’ll find them and destroy them, no matter what it takes.’

The area near the pond trembled momentarily before settling down again.

Ilhwa, having just swallowed another bite, looked up at him.

“Namgung cannot defeat them.”

Namgung Mucheon’s expression hardened, but Ilhwa continued speaking.

“If you were to confront them right now, Namgung would not survive.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I personally took action?”

“Even then.”

In her previous life, Namgung hadn’t been able to match the Blood Cult.

Even with the united forces of the central martial arts world, they had barely managed to stand as equals. For Namgung alone to bring them down was impossible.

“There are ten great masters in the world—guardians of martial balance and order. What if I enlisted three of them?”

“You could eliminate half of Huaoru’s leadership, but it would be hard for them to survive unscathed.”

“And what if it were half of them?”

“You could destroy Huaoru, but you wouldn’t be able to kill its leader.”

Namgung Mucheon’s face grew even more rigid as he fell silent.

He didn’t entirely believe the child’s words.

Who Are the Ten Great Masters of the World?

They are the pillars that uphold the balance of the world.

Their existence ensures peace across the realm, preventing anyone from shattering it.

But even with half of these masters moving, they couldn’t kill the mere master of a single brothel?

“Who are they?”

In his conversation with Ilhwa, Namgung Mucheon discerned that there was a force backing Huaoru.

His question was about the identity of that force.

Ilhwa calmly set down her chopsticks, dipped her hand into a bowl of tea, and used her damp fingers to inscribe a single character onto the dry table.

(Prohibition).

At the sight of the character, shock flashed across the faces of Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang.

Seop Mugwang muttered quietly, “… Geumje?”

Geumje—a restrictive curse designed to prevent someone from speaking certain information.

The Blood Cult’s Geumje was notoriously vicious. Attempting to utter even a single forbidden word would rupture one’s blood vessels, causing blood to pour from every orifice and resulting in a gruesome death.

This was why, despite knowing her enemies, Ilhwa couldn’t speak a word about them.

“Mugwang, summon the Head of Medicine immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Namgung Mucheon’s expression grew grave.

He had thought Huaoru, the place that had kept the child, was merely another black-market organization.

One that the strength of the Namgung family could easily crush.

He had only asked Ilhwa about Huaoru to hold them accountable and mete out proper punishment.

But Geumje?

To think that such a meticulous and sinister force existed in this seemingly peaceful martial world—a force that would go so far as to curse a child with Geumje.

“Do you understand the gravity of what you’ve just said?”

“A tidal wave capable of submerging even Mount Tai will come. A crimson tide of blood.”

The child’s words and gaze were unwavering.

Though spoken by a child, the words were grave, and their weight couldn’t be dismissed.

“If such a force exists, why has no one uncovered information about them?”

“Because there are those who conceal their existence and blind others to the truth.”

“Spies, then.”

Spies—yes, it would make sense. But…

“There are countless factions in the central martial world. They couldn’t possibly plant spies in all of them.”

“What if they’ve had a very long time to do so?”

In five years, the Blood Cult would render the martial world helpless.

Their spies, planted within every faction, would blind and deafen the world to their existence, ultimately driving them all to the brink of ruin.

In her previous life, the martial world only became aware of their presence when they were already standing at the edge of the precipice.

And by then, when everyone was in peril, no master—no one—could save the martial world.

“Do you still trust me?”

Ilhwa’s earnest gaze bore into Namgung Mucheon.

It was a gaze imbued with the innocence of a child yet deeper than that of most adults.

“Let me ask you just one thing.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you return to Namgung?”

It wasn’t a question of reproach or blame.

Was her return simply because her memories had come back, or was there another reason?

“I know you helped guide the martial arts of the Red Dragon Squad’s child. What do you intend to do in Namgung?”

“I intend to prevent Namgung’s downfall.”

“Why?”

“Because I am a child of Namgung.”

The child’s unwavering eyes held no trace of deceit.

If anything, Namgung Mucheon sensed a fervent sincerity within her gaze.

A sincerity so strong that it was almost overwhelming—a genuine desire to save the Namgung family.

When was the last time he had felt such devotion toward the family? Even among his own children, who had spent their lives in Namgung, none had shown such passion for the family’s well-being.

And yet, this child—his granddaughter, who had returned after eight years—was determined to save the family.

Under the name of Namgung.

“Haha…”

Namgung Mucheon let out a quiet laugh.

He placed a dish out of her reach closer to Ilhwa, smiling as he spoke.

“You’ve answered me honestly, so I should respond in kind.”

Ilhwa picked up the dish he had moved and began to eat.

Watching her chew with calm composure, Namgung Mucheon spoke again with a gentle gaze.

“It’s hard for me to believe everything you’ve said.”

Ilhwa nodded.

“So, I will watch you from now on—to see what you intend to do in Namgung and how you plan to save this family.”

She nodded again.

“As the head of this family, I will stop you if you ever act in a way that harms Namgung.”

The Namgung family was vast and powerful.

Within it lay a complex web of interests and a fierce power struggle, including disputes over the vacant position of the Young Head.

In the midst of these struggles, Namgung Mucheon, as the head of the family, had to choose what was most beneficial for the clan. He couldn’t always be on her side.

“However.”

A person standing at the pinnacle of power.

One who rules over the martial world with overwhelming strength, reigning as the absolute authority of the family.

“If there is no doubt that what you do is for the benefit of Namgung…”

Namgung Mucheon, the head of the Namgung family, made a solemn promise.

“I will become the greatest sky upon which you can rely.”