“I’ve memorized everything.”

Unhwi gave a nod.

“How old are you?”

“I turned thirty-seven this year.”

Well now.

“What a coincidence. If I recall, that’s exactly how old your master was when he began devoting himself to the Heaven-Human Embodiment Technique.”

“That’s correct. My master began his march at my age—and when his disciple reached the same age, that march came to an end.”

Paewoon once again cupped his hands in a martial salute.

“Thank you, Young Master.”

Unhwi waved it off with a flick of his hand.

He didn’t particularly mind being thanked, but repeated gratitude like this was starting to give him goosebumps.

“You’re at the Harmonization Stage, right?”

“Yes.”

“Not bad at all.”

A smile rose on Paewoon’s lips.

Unhwi’s cultivation was at the level of Three Flowers Gathering Purity. In the orthodox martial world, a master of that realm complimenting someone at the Harmonization Stage was unthinkable—but Unhwi was an exception.

Because Unhwi couldn’t be measured by cultivation level alone.

His value stood shoulder to shoulder with the peak masters who had reached the Five Realms of the Martial God.

“I’ll be heading out now. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“...Truly, thank you, Young Master.”

Just as Unhwi was about to turn and leave, Paewoon stopped him.

“Young Master.”

When Unhwi turned back, Paewoon bowed his head deeply.

“...I apologize for drawing my sword against you. I’m sorry.”

Unhwi smiled gently.

“Did I get cut?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did my head fall off?”

“...It didn’t.”

“Then there’s no issue. You didn’t injure me or kill me. You merely drew your sword for your master’s sake. Isn’t that right?”

“...Yes, that’s right.”

“Then there’s no wrongdoing, and nothing to forgive.”

Paewoon raised his head.

“...You are extraordinary, Young Master.”

“I know.”

Excessive humility can become poison.

“You don’t seem ordinary either.”

“...Th... thank you.”

“Get some rest.”

With that, Unhwi and his party departed as naturally as they had arrived.

***

Inside the carriage, which was rolling along without incident, Commander Seong suddenly spoke out of nowhere.

“...There are times I wonder.”

Unhwi was about to ask what he wondered, but Seong continued before he could.

“How much more are you planning to surprise me, Young Master? And the thing is, I can’t even guess anymore. Just when I think I’m starting to understand, you show me something else entirely... Honestly, I don’t know anymore.”

Commander Seong knew that Unhwi had regressed. Even with that knowledge, he felt this way—so what about Wonyang, who didn’t know?

Right now, Wonyang was gazing at Unhwi with almost reverent admiration.

“You really are... incredible.”

Unhwi didn’t bother to deny it.

Whatever the case, it was undeniable that No Cheonmyeong had now become a keystone who would make everything easier moving forward.

That was the truth.

Until now, Unhwi had used Go matches to elevate at least five martial artists to new realms, but this was different.

This was Heaven-Human Unity.

In central Murim, that number might be in the dozens—but this wasn’t central Murim. This was a remote province far from the center.

An outer fringe somewhere between the foreign and central martial worlds. A backwater.

A master who has achieved Heaven-Human Unity... in a place like this?

That’s what’s truly strange.

“From now on, No Cheonmyeong will be a tremendous ally to you, Young Master. You helped him fulfill a fifty-year obsession—there’s nothing he won’t do for you now.”

Commander Seong lowered his voice and asked,

“You planned this, didn’t you? Raising No Cheonmyeong to Heaven-Human Unity?”

But surprisingly, Unhwi shook his head.

“What I wanted was control of Sinsam Valley, Commander Seong.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“You remember our conversation about destiny, don’t you?”

“...Of course.”

“No Cheonmyeong never stopped. Not even for a moment in fifty years. In the end, he forged his destiny with his own hands.”

“...Is that humility, or... you’re just amazing, Young Master.”

Unhwi ended up letting out a soft chuckle.

Regardless, everything he’d said was true.

He hadn’t come to Sinsam Valley to raise No Cheonmyeong’s cultivation. He came for control.

That was all he’d cared about.

Yangryeong was crowded because of its proximity to Everlasting Snow Palace—but the other three cities weren’t like that.

Jeokan, Bongrae, and Saryang.

How did these three cities qualify as “military districts”?

Historically speaking, there was only one reason they were ever granted that status.

Because of the Sinsam Valley embedded between them.

Countless factions had flocked to it to stake claims on its rights and profits. Even the mere scraps falling off that table were immense—no wonder people gathered like flies.

That’s why the three cities were military districts.

He had to get hold of that core—and fortunately, things had gone smoothly.

Control of Sinsam Valley. The favor of a master who had reached Heaven-Human Unity.

And the goodwill of his disciple, a Harmonization-level martial artist.

There was more than one thing he’d gained from today.

It bears repeating: even without any cards in hand, Unhwi had proven his value. Now that he had cards to play, that value would only rise.

As silence settled in again, Unhwi casually asked,

“Did you send a report to the Main Palace?”

“I did.”

Commander Seong hesitated a moment, then continued cautiously.

“But... ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ are you really sure about this?”

This was such an obvious procedure that they hadn’t even mentioned it until now, but technically, Unhwi had expanded Everlasting Snow Palace’s territory.

So, of course, they had to inform the Main Palace of the annexation and submit recommendations on how to handle the occupied land.

The final decision rested with the Palace Lord, but given Unhwi’s contribution, his suggestions would likely be accepted.

Still, there was something about it that bothered Seong.

“Appointing Yangso as branch lord of Jeokan and absorbing everyone under his former command in the Iron Mountain Sword Gate shouldn’t be an issue.”

“And?”

“...But Bongrae... are you sure about it?”

Naturally, that question came up.

Unhwi answered calmly.

“Is it the name Baekseol Sageumhoe (White Snow Four-Sword Assembly) that’s the issue?”

“It’s not exactly a problem... but you know what it means to break tradition.”

Unhwi chuckled.

“Seriously, you worry about the weirdest things.”

“No, Young Master, this one’s worth worrying about. You visited Yaksu recently, right? Even in a remote dump like that, they only have one branch lord in charge of the entire region. But in a city, you’re proposing that four sects jointly manage it? That’s never happened before. If your proposal passes, it’ll be the first time. The first.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Unhwi intended to preserve the current authority of the four sects in Bongrae.

He would entrust the city’s management to all four, and even planned to rename their collective title—no more vague talk of “the Four Great Sects.”

They would now be known as the White Snow Four-Sword Assembly.

“The reasoning’s sound enough, though.”

“...Sure. It’s tailored to the region’s unique border conditions, it preserves Bongrae’s internal stability, and still secures their loyalty to Snow Palace. But you know this will stir up voices from inside.”

Commander Seong wasn’t just worried about Unhwi—he was worried about Everlasting Snow Palace itself.

“...Will the external sects or elders just sit still?”

“If the external sects interfere, they’ll become another Hanbingmun. And if the old men in the back room stick their noses in—so be it.”

“So we’ll have no choice but to withdraw...”

“We cut off their heads.”

Commander Seong froze, then wiped his face with a hand.

“...When are you heading to the Main Palace?”

“As soon as things in Saryang are wrapped up.”

“...Please take me with you this time.”

“Didn’t I say? If I’m not there, the only one who can cover for me is you, Commander Seong.”

“...I don’t care if it’s Sim Munryong or No Cheonmyeong—just assign someone else. Please let me come with you.”

“Me too.”

Wonyang chimed in like she’d been waiting, and Unhwi, after a moment of thought, replied.

“All right.”

***

Before entering Saryang Province, Gang Cheolsan and Jang Unhong halted their horses along a quiet mountain road.

The two could read each other’s thoughts with nothing more than a glance.

Gang Cheolsan stroked his beard and spoke.

“...I didn’t expect Pae Cheonilju to reject our offer.”

Jang Unhong sneered coldly.

“More than the rejection, what shocks me is that that lunatic old man allowed a conversation with Snow Palace’s bastard son.”

Exactly. He wasn’t wrong.

Now that they’d seen it for themselves, it was clear.

That arrogant brat—he wouldn’t bow to anyone, not even if the world split in two.

Jang Unhong clenched his fist tightly.

“...If he said one day, that means he’s telling us to act the moment we return to Saryang. What will you do?”

“Why even ask? Of course we refuse.”

At that moment, both men were thinking the same thing.

In less than a month, that bastard had swallowed Bongrae and Jeokan whole—and now he was eyeing Saryang.

The world they knew was being overturned.

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t taken action.

They had already reached out to their higher-ups. But it would take time to get a response.

Maybe that was why the bastard had made his move now.

Gang Cheolsan’s eyes turned sharp in that brief moment.

“...I believe in the Main Alliance. If Lord Kang is involved, he will act.”

“I believe the same. If Lord Gun takes charge, he’ll move without question. That means our job is simple.”

It really was simple.

For now, they had to avoid direct confrontation.

They would stall until reinforcements arrived from the Main Alliance.

Yes—stalling.

“Why don’t we share what we’re both thinking?”

At Jang Unhong’s suggestion, Gang Cheolsan nodded.

There was no one around them. The two men naturally moved to a tree nearby and began discussing in hushed voices.

“First, Sinsam Valley. If we can’t control it, we have to at least disrupt the flow. Corner the distribution, dump our stock of Sinsamhwa all at once, or pool the funds of all the sects in Saryang and buy up every last batch on the market.”

“Not a bad idea. But wouldn’t it be better to identify disgruntled forces in Jeokan and Bongrae and support them from the shadows?”

He smacked his forehead.

“The three-family faction in Jeokan collapsed in a day, but there must still be remnants. Especially relatives of Lee Jagyeom’s maternal clan—they should still be alive. If we funnel funds and weapons to them in secret, Jeokan will fall into chaos again.”

The two men’s eyes gleamed with a deadly light.

Once the dam of conversation had broken, countless strategies began to spill out.