Pung Muhwi wore a bewildered expression.

So did Commander Seong, walking a few paces ahead.

Anywhere else it might have made sense, but at least in this case—it didn’t.

The Soulflame Demonic Palace was unmistakably Unhwi’s enemy.

And as it was the enemy of Han Murin, Unhwi’s own subordinate, there was no denying it.

So why was he suddenly talking about joining hands with the Soulflame Demonic Palace?

Given Unhwi’s nature, it made no sense. But right now, logic didn’t seem to apply.

Commander Seong said nothing. Pung Muhwi blinked at Unhwi’s words—“Hwa Muryeong will side with us”—and spoke hesitantly.

“...Do you perhaps have some personal connection with the Soulflame Demonic Palace?”

Unhwi gave a short, dry laugh and shook his head. Then he asked quietly,

“Do you think Hwa Muryeong is loyal to the Soulflame Demonic Palace?”

“...Naturally, I do. I don’t understand what you mean, Lord Cheonsusa.”

Unhwi didn’t bother explaining at length.

“I’ll be the one drawing the grand picture. If you follow it, much will come your way. If you trust me—wait.”

“...Understood.”

Unhwi sighed softly as he looked at the confused Pung Muhwi.

“To say a little more—Jang Icheong is likely thinking along the same lines.”

Pung Muhwi swallowed hard.

“...You don’t mean...”

“Something similar happened in Yangryeong Province. Before seizing a region, the first step is always to purge the existing powers.”

“...”

“The moment I enter the secret realm, Jang Icheong’s forces will move. They’ll try to annihilate the Seongjak Alliance and claim the entire province. Those powers you saw stationed along the Celestial Sea weren’t there to monitor me—they’re the ones who’ll move the instant the time comes.”

The realization hit like a shock.

“...So that’s why there were three Cheonsusas, wasn’t it?”

“You see it clearly. I’ll give you detailed operational orders before I enter the secret realm. Until then, keep your blade sharp—ready to be drawn at any moment.”

Pung Muhwi bowed deeply.

“I will, my lord.”

As Unhwi stepped into the carriage waiting at the foot of the mountain, he gave a short order.

“For the time being, don’t move alone. Keep at least ten of the Cheonrak Division with you at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Deep inside Celestial Dragon Hall, Unhwi’s quarters were utterly still.

Moonlight streamed through the window, painting the room in pale silver. In that light, a ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) thin wisp of smoke rose into the air.

It was from Shinsamyeon—the divine ginseng smoke he’d been all but addicted to recently. His supply had dwindled so badly that a new shipment had to be requested from Yangryeong Province.

Unhwi quietly closed his eyes.

Even for someone called a prodigy, being born with the Berserk Bloodline meant there was one fatal flaw—

A bottleneck in realm advancement.

Not even Unhwi could avoid it. Under normal circumstances, he would have had to remain in the Five Harmonies Realm for at least half a year before advancing to the Realm of Harmony.

Only then could his bloodline stabilize enough to endure the breakthrough.

But a question had begun to gnaw at him.

Did it really have to be that way?

Ever since he’d recognized the bottleneck as a problem, he’d simply waited—never attempting to solve it.

But as the situation grew more urgent, his mind began to turn in another direction.

And then he found it—

A path no one else in the entire martial world had ever dared to even imagine.

Unhwi’s mind contained countless memories. He couldn’t recall everything, but certain things were engraved deep within him—especially martial arts.

Every martial art he had seen or heard in his past life, every secret technique of the so-called supreme masters of the world, every insight they had left behind.

Even the revelations contained within the Yijinjing, the scripture he had obtained from the Shaolin Temple’s secret realm not long ago.

All of it began to intertwine into one single thread.

No—it had already intertwined.

The martial world classified a warrior’s advancement through structured stages:

Four Foundations of Internal Flow, Four Phases of Heaven and Earth, and the Five Divine Realms.

But who had first established these divisions?

No one knew.

They were likely the product of countless masters’ accumulated experience over centuries—naturally forming into a system.

But that didn’t mean it was absolute.

The difference between the realms was clear:

The Four Foundations governed internal energy.

The Four Phases of Heaven and Earth governed the natural forces.

The Five Divine Realms governed the celestial essence between heaven and earth.

And to handle that celestial essence, one’s very existence had to evolve.

Body, energy, and spirit had to unite; the upper dantian had to be fully opened; every element of the human body had to transcend normal limits. That was simply impossible by conventional means.

However—within the Four Phases of Heaven and Earth, integration was possible.

That training method was what he called the Threefold Frozen Convergence.

It wasn’t about merely ascending to a higher realm. It was about compressing all enlightenment within the Four Phases of Heaven and Earth into a single, unified state.

To follow the existing structure, yet carve out a completely new path within it.

Threefold (Samhyeon)—

The upper dantian, the lower dantian, and between them, a newly created Frozen-Heart Dantian (Bingsim Dantian, 氷心丹田).

Unhwi slowly removed the ginseng pipe from his lips. Smoke drifted gently between them.

The theory was flawless. The calculations, precise.

In the Realm of Harmony, entry began with the opening of the upper dantian. The Mythic Realm—two levels above—was attained when the upper and lower dantian fully merged.

Unhwi’s plan was simple.

First, forcibly open the upper dantian.

Second, create a new dantian—the Frozen-Heart—between upper and lower.

Third, link the three through the Frozen-Heart as a central node.

That was all.

By circulating energy through a triangular structure—lower, frozen-heart, upper—and compressing it before detonation, one could theoretically encompass every aspect of the Four Phases of Heaven and Earth.

It was unprecedented.

Creating it was one thing; using it was another.

No one in the martial world had ever tried such a thing.

It was, in the truest sense, the creation of a new realm.

But there was one problem.

How long could his Berserk Bloodline endure it?

The Frozen-Heart Dantian would buffer the surge of energy and the strain on his bloodline—but only to a limit.

The coming battle would be a war of inches, and when Unhwi had explained this method to Commander Seong, the man had vehemently opposed it.

He could still recall that voice clearly.

—Absolutely not, Young Master! That’s not cultivation, that’s suicide!

—What kind of lunatic would ever attempt such madness?

—Just summon someone from the main palace! No—let me handle it. Whether he’s at the Celestial Being Stage or higher, a sword through the throat kills all the same. I’ll go and assassinate him myself!

Unfortunately, even at the Mythic Realm, Commander Seong could never face Jang Icheong.

Assassination was impossible. The moment he drew his sword, he’d be discovered. Worse yet, before he even got close, Jang Icheong’s blade would already have taken his head.

Of course, Commander Seong wasn’t wrong.

Conceiving the Threefold Frozen Convergence was one thing; actually attempting it required torturous tempering of the flesh.

To create a Frozen-Heart Dantian meant completely overturning one’s internal structure—and the pain that accompanied that process was beyond imagining.

Pain was one thing. The risk of death was another.

A single mistake could plunge him into qi deviation, or worse, strip him of all his internal power.

Even for someone as extraordinary as Unhwi, losing his qi meant the end.

But—

Unhwi drew a deep drag from the ginseng pipe. The scent filling his lungs only hardened his resolve.

He had already reached the second stage.

His body was tempered, and the Frozen-Heart Dantian he’d crafted would link seamlessly once the upper dantian opened.

This was the final step, and he was confident he could succeed.

Every experience from his past life, every insight he had gained—they all told him the same thing.

He could do it. He would do it.

Unhwi turned toward the window. In the distance, the moonlit waves of the Celestial Sea shimmered like liquid silver.

Calm yet fierce—beautiful to behold.

Then—

He sensed someone approaching.

Beyond the closed door came Commander Seong’s voice.

“Young Master, Hwa Muryeong has arrived.”

A faint smile touched Unhwi’s lips. As expected. No—planned.

“Show her in.”

The door cracked open, and Commander Seong peeked inside.

“...Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry. Let her in.”

“...But she’s from the Soulflame Demonic Palace—what in the world are you planning?”

“If you’re that worried, stay and watch.”

“...I’ll hide somewhere out of sight.”

“Do that.”

Commander Seong hesitated, sighed, and vanished.

Moments later, the door opened again, and Hwa Muryeong stepped inside.

Clad in a robe white as moonlight, she looked almost ethereal. Unlike earlier, she carried a note of caution now—and it was understandable.

She entered the room, sat across from Unhwi, and spoke at once.

“That whisper earlier—what was it?”

“You’re rather impatient. And your tone’s changed too.”

“It’d be laughable for fellow Cheonsusas to act formal. Besides, aren’t I the senior? Isn’t it natural for the senior to speak casually?”

“I won’t deny that.”

As Unhwi remained unruffled, Hwa Muryeong leaned closer, eyes narrowing.

“Hey. I didn’t come here to play games. Are you saying Dong Yuseong’s youngest son is alive?”

Back on the cliff, Unhwi had sent her exactly two voice transmissions.

The second had said: If you wish for a deeper conversation, come secretly to Celestial Dragon Hall.

But the first had said this—

—Bloodshade Lord Dong Yuseong, former Vice Palace Master of the Soulflame Demonic Palace, whose entire clan was executed under false charges of treason—his youngest son is alive.

No one from the Soulflame Demonic Palace could have forgotten that incident from ten years ago.

“You’re not answering my question. I asked if he’s alive.”

“He is.”

“Where?”

“I’ll tell you where in due time.”

“...You little bastard. I had a feeling since earlier—you’ve got nerves of steel. Aren’t you half a corpse right now?”

“If I’m half a corpse, then why didn’t you attack me back there?”

“...”

“No matter what you said aloud, your martial instincts told you otherwise. If you’d attacked, the one injured would have been you.”

Unhwi reached out and lightly pressed a hand to her forehead, pushing her back.

“Step back. You’re too close.”

That same feeling she’d had on the cliff swept through Hwa Muryeong again.

It was strange.

Utterly strange.

What was this atmosphere—and why couldn’t she resist it?

“I’m going to start talking now,” Unhwi said calmly. “If you have questions, wait until I’m done. Interrupt me—and you’ll die. Understood?”