The return of the granddaughter of the Namgoong family

***

Yunnan Province, Kunming.

In the center of a large lake stood a grand pavilion that remained brightly lit even in the dark of night.

This six-story structure was named “Huaoru”, a grand tavern and inn famed throughout Yunnan for its wine, music, and women.

At the very top floor, on an open terrace overlooking the silvery lake and the exotic city of Kunming, a man who appeared not yet thirty sat near the railing, sipping from a small teacup.

The man, with long, dark crimson hair, had half his face concealed by a pitch-black mask, making his expression and demeanor unreadable.

“The Wind and Thunder God…”

The corners of the man’s lips curled deeply beneath his mask.

“So, Ilhwa went along willingly?”

“Yes. It was also the Wind and Thunder God’s subordinates who killed the cultists pursuing the young mistress. The young mistress knew but did nothing to stop them.”

“How could that child have known?”

Her memories should have been entirely erased.

How could she know she was a Namgung?

When did she start to remember?

“Shall we handle it quietly?”

“Whom? That child?”

“…She betrayed you, my lord. She even took your possessions.”

“Hehehe…”

The man rolled the teacup in his hand.

Despite the cup’s shifting and spinning, the tea within did not stir in the slightest.

“Do you think she can leave so easily just because she wishes to?”

How much effort had I poured into that child?

“Don’t worry. She’ll come crawling back on her own soon enough.”

“…Are you truly planning to take back someone who killed her own brothers?”

“Those wretched worms’ lives are a small price to pay if it means regaining that child.”

“…”

“Do you have complaints, Pawol?”

“…No, my lord. How could I ever harbor dissatisfaction with your will?”

“Good.”

The man set down his teacup and stood. His long, crimson hair swayed at his waist.

With hands clasped behind his back, he gazed down at the sparkling city of Kunming.

Amidst the lights dotting the night were countless drunken fools, stumbling aimlessly, intoxicated by wine and women.

Lives so insignificant that no one would care if a few went missing.

“It’s about time to leave this place.”

A dragon slumbering underwater must eventually rise to the heavens and rule the world when the time comes.

And that time was not far off.

His agents, embedded across Zhongyuan, were carrying out their roles well. At most, five years would suffice.

“Until then…”

He could let them roam freely.

“Perhaps I should check on how she’s doing.”

“I will go.”

“I’ll send a gift. Deliver it to her.”

“Understood!”

A light breeze stirred momentarily.

When the man finally averted his gaze from the city, Pawol was already gone.

For a brief moment, the corners of the man’s lips curled beneath his mask.

Left alone on the terrace, the only thing that lingered in the darkness was the now-cooling teacup he had left behind.

***

The family physician arrived in response to the family head’s summons.

Under the watchful eyes of Namgung Mucheon and Seop Mugwang, the physician carefully examined Ilhwa.

After taking her pulse and thoroughly inspecting her body for some time, the physician, Cho Ryeon, stepped back and gave her report.

“As suspected, there are traces of a curse binding her to the Geumje (禁制).”

“Is there a way to lift it?”

Cho Ryeon shook her head.

“Medically, it’s impossible—at least for me. Unless the one who cast the curse lifts it themselves.”

“It will eventually be undone on its own.”

Straightening her robes, she added, prompting everyone’s gaze to shift toward Ilhwa.

“It isn’t being revealed now, but when the time comes, its name will spread across the world.”

When the Blood Sect reveals itself to Zhongyuan, the Geumje will naturally be lifted.

Its followers will roam the world, exalting the name of the Dasura Blood Sect and recruiting new members.

For that, the Geumje will dissolve as the Blood Sect makes its grand entrance.

“This is a matter of life and death. Do not take it lightly.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Namgung Mucheon turned to the physician.

“What of her other conditions?”

“It’s true that her senses are dulled—especially her pain perception and emotions. You’re well aware of how dangerous it is for a martial artist not to feel pain.”

Pain is the body’s warning signal.

It’s the body’s way of saying something is wrong and needs immediate attention.

In the martial world, where life and death are decided in an instant, failing to recognize such warnings could be fatal.

Even a martial artist’s instinct to gauge their opponent’s prowess and anticipate danger stems from the fear of pain. This was no trivial matter.

Namgung Mucheon closed his eyes briefly.

If it were up to him, he would forbid her from wielding a sword altogether.

But would this child ever willingly set her sword aside?

No, she had returned to save Namgung.

“However…”

The hesitation in Cho Ryeon’s voice made Namgung Mucheon open his eyes again.

“What is it?”

“This child’s blood vessels are unstable.”

Namgung Mucheon turned to Ilhwa, who seemed unaware of the issue.

“You mentioned she expelled her previous inner energy, yes? That appears to be the cause.”

“Come here.”

Namgung Mucheon gestured for Ilhwa to approach.

She stood and stepped toward him.

Turning her around, he placed his hand on her back.

The moment his energy flowed into her, Ilhwa flinched.

“Does it hurt?”

Ilhwa shook her head.

“It should.”

She said nothing.

She didn’t feel pain, but she could sense something vast stirring within her.

The pure and overwhelming energy coursing through her veins felt like a mighty dragon spiraling within her.

When Namgung Mucheon’s inner energy reached her dantian, Ilhwa trembled once more.

And just like that, the energy withdrew.

“…?”

For a moment, there was no response.

Ilhwa turned around and looked at him.

The moment she saw Namgung Mucheon’s expression, she mistakenly thought he was crying.

He raised his large hand and placed it on top of Ilhwa’s head.

As expected, it was a rock-like hand.

“You’ve returned after crossing over an endless time.”

Ilhwa’s eyes widened.

Could he possibly have noticed that she had reincarnated, just from scanning her bloodlines?

But the following words made it clear that wasn’t the case.

“Eight years must have been an unbearably cruel time for you.”

He gently patted her head.

“Welcome back.”

Ilhwa couldn’t tell what he saw in her.

Martial masters sometimes speak and act in ways that are incomprehensible to ordinary people, and they can see things that others cannot.

Even though she, too, had been a martial artist of the same level as Namgung Mucheon in her past life, that did not mean she could understand him.

After all, the depth of one’s cultivation differed greatly between those who forcefully gathered inner energy to reach a peak and those who attained it through enlightenment.

‘In this life, can I become a martial master like Namgung Mucheon?’

Ilhwa reflected again on the internal energy that Namgung Mucheon had just poured into her body.

Though she had only tasted a tiny fraction of his power, it was an alluring strength, one that stirred a thirst within her.

‘Someday, I too…’

Just then, he spoke again.

“It seems someone’s coming.”

Ilhwa turned to look at Namgung Mucheon, who had muttered something to himself.

He lowered his hand from her head and placed it on her shoulder, gazing past her.

Ilhwa also shifted her body slightly and looked in the same direction.

‘Someone is approaching.’

A significant presence was moving rapidly toward them.

A moment later, loud voices could be heard from the direction of the entrance to the family head’s hall.

“Young Master Ilhwa! You haven’t reported to the family head yet!”

It was the urgent voice of the chief steward, Namgung Mun.

Soon after, a man appeared at the end of the path leading to the pavilion, leaving the voice behind.

His long black hair shimmered, as if freshly inked with glossy ink. He had a sharp jawline, thick eyebrows, and eyes that seemed sharp enough to cut through a glance.

A prominent nose and tightly closed lips framed his face, with his eyes carrying a mysterious, dark gleam amidst his pale skin.

Having trained his skills to a level that exuded an aura of nobility even when merely standing, he didn’t appear to be someone who had just rushed over. His attire was neat and orderly.

If it weren’t for the fact that his breath was heavy and visibly ragged, one might have even mistaken him for someone calm and composed.

For a brief moment, his gaze fixed solely on Ilhwa, who stood in front of Namgung Mucheon.

“Young Master Ilhwa!”

The chief steward, who had belatedly caught up, desperately tried to hold him back. But seeing that it was already too late, he sighed in resignation and let him go.

The man slowly approached the pavilion.

The light from the path leading to the pavilion illuminated his figure, making his appearance clearer.

Thud. Thud.

‘…?’

A faint sound of a drum echoed. It almost sounded like someone was tapping on a desk.

When Ilhwa realized the sound was coming from inside her own body, she was taken aback and placed her hand on her chest.

They had mentioned her blood vessels were unstable.

Something definitely seemed off.