His title was Guardian and Grand Steward.

His cultivation realm: Spirit Ascension Stage.

Cheonpung was still at the Root Heaven Stage, as was Han Murin.

Both were certain to break through to the Dual Light Manifestation Realm soon—but no one could say exactly when that would be.

As for Wonyang, she was already at the first level of the Dual Light Manifestation Realm—Yang Light Duality.

Unwi hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth.

“Chief Steward Seong.”

“Yes, young master.”

“I’ll be away for a few days. Handle the branch affairs in my absence. Han Murin, Cheonpung.”

“Yes.”

“You two will focus on cultivation. During that time, you may learn from the Chief Steward if necessary. And Wonyang.”

Wonyang flinched in surprise.

Unwi’s tone was far heavier than usual.

“It’s been a while, but you’ll have to dress as a man again.”

“...Me?”

“Hyeon Seollin, the Yangnyeong Branch Lord of Everlasting Snow Palace, never entered a secret realm. He remained at the branch, tending to official duties, and patrolled with the Chief Steward every four hours... That’s the version I want out there. Think you can pull it off?”

It wasn’t anything new for Wonyang to disguise herself as a man.

But men and women were physically different. Even the sound their feet made when touching the ground was distinct.

If those details were handled properly—and if a Spirit Ascension expert assisted her from the side—then for a few days at least, she could perfectly imitate Unwi’s presence.

“...I think I can do it... No, I can do it.”

Unwi silently turned and began to walk.

A moment later, a sound-transmission whisper reached Chief Steward Seong’s ear.

—Take care of the branch.

Seong nodded quietly.

****

Baekma Ancient Road was already swarming with people.

The secret realm was set to appear on the fifth bend hill of the road.

The Heavenly Compass reacted strongest at that hill—if the estimate was off, it wouldn’t be by more than five jang in either direction.

From the cliff that overlooked Baekma Ancient Road, Unwi narrowed his eyes.

Wonyang had compiled a thorough list of outsiders who had recently gathered in Yangnyeong and passed it to him.

That man leaning against the big tree down there—mid-forties—he was Gong Myeongu, the Drunken Swordsman. His realm: Harmonization Stage.

Unwi shifted his gaze.

Five men clustered together by the brush.

Among them was Wang Daesan, the Iron-Fist Guest, an elder of the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect. His realm: Five Banners Form.

The other four were martial artists from the same sect, all following Wang Daesan.

Two were at the Five Dragon Blooming Star stage, one at Three Flowers Gathering Purity.

A cold gaze pierced through the air.

When Unwi turned his head, he saw a man in a mask.

The glint of the man’s eyes through the mask was chilling.

According to Wonyang’s intel, that was Sacheon-u, the Ghost-Faced Assassin.

Known as the future of the Ghost Sect, he was highly valued by the current Sect Master Baek Yeongju, who had already named him as her successor. A rising star of the assassination world.

Current realm: Harmonization Stage.

Unwi met Sacheon-u’s gaze in silence. Before long, the assassin was the one to look away first.

Unwi turned his eyes back downward.

There was also Maeng Sohwa, the Venomous Snake Fairy, with a long scar slashed under her eye—a woman infamous for her poisons.

Nearby were three martial artists known collectively as the Three Thieving Devils, who were notorious for stealing and murdering without a second thought.

And then there was Ju Soa, the Thousand-Handed Beauty, the heir of the Killing Sword Sect, a sect with a single inheritor per generation.

Said to be the closest woman in the world to the ideal of absolute beauty—Unwi had to admit, even in his eyes, she was astonishingly beautiful.

Her cultivation: Five Banners Form.

And these were just a few.

It was shocking how many had caught wind of this place.

But even more shocking—Unwi hadn’t recognized a single one of them.

Sacheon-u, the Ghost-Faced Assassin? Future of the Ghost Sect?

That sect would be annihilated about thirty years from now.

And up to the very end, the Sect Master had been Baek Yeongju. Unwi had never once heard the name “Sacheon-u.”

Wang Daesan of the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect? In his past life, Unwi had personally exterminated every elder from that sect. And none of them had been named Wang Daesan.

Maeng Sohwa, the Venomous Snake Fairy? Never heard of her.

The Three Thieving Devils? Same.

At best, he vaguely recalled the name Ju Soa.

In the Central Blood Sect, there had been a bald pervert who lost his mind whenever a beautiful woman was mentioned. Thanks to him, Unwi remembered the names of every beauty the man had ever raved about.

Ju Soa—the Thousand-Handed Beauty—had been one of them. A woman who’d one day simply disappeared from Murim...

It seemed today was the day she vanished.

Fascinating.

What on earth had happened inside that realm?

Among those below, there were undoubtedly some concealing both name and origin.

But who were they?

A rough count suggested nearly a hundred people.

Was it one of them? Or were they still just watching from the shadows?

Unwi tapped his face.

His Disguise Art was flawless.

It had to be.

In his previous life, he had gathered numerous martial techniques from exploring secret realms. One of them was the Transforming Body Disguise Technique—a forbidden art passed down by Wan Maengnip, the infamous Black-Faced Color Demon, a lustful degenerate with unmatched skill in disguise.

Of all the techniques Unwi knew, none surpassed this one. Let it be clear: it was the pinnacle of disguise arts.

His eyes were now drawn long to the sides. His lips were ordinary. So was the bridge of his nose.

His jawline—plain. His body—unremarkable.

A face you might pass once or twice on the street and never remember.

He’d used this face more than a few times in his past life. It had a name.

Nameless.

That was the name of this face.

And soon—very soon—the secret realm opened.

****

Wang Daesan, elder of the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect, stood silently, gazing at the now-opened secret realm.

“...Elder...? Are you not going in?”

His first disciple, Goo Yang, asked from beside him—but Wang Daesan remained motionless.

“Wait.”

His low voice carried unmistakable weight—and he was right.

Secret realms were unique.

Above all, the treasures within weren’t granted according to who entered first.

The distance to the realm was considerable—at least fifty jang by estimation—and even a casual glance confirmed that more than fifty others were taking the same wait-and-see approach as Wang Daesan.

Making any sudden move or provoking a fight from the moment the secret realm opened would be suicide.

Everyone gathered here was wound tight, ready for anything. A little caution never hurt.

Before long, people began entering the realm.

Wang Daesan swept his gaze across the area.

Only three individuals remained.

One of them—a woman of overwhelming beauty.

‘...That must be Ju Soa, the Thousand-Handed Beauty.’

Truly, a face worthy of being called the most beautiful in the world.

He licked his lips.

Ju Soa caught his gaze—and smiled faintly.

“Aren’t you Elder Wang Daesan of the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect?”

“I am.”

“Any women in your life, Elder?”

“...Hmm?”

“Then stop making that face like a horny mutt in heat.”

Well. That was unexpected.

So Ju Soa turned out to be this crass?

He’d heard she was refined, elegant...

“Ugh. Ugly bastards always get the most worked up.”

Before Wang Daesan could say a word, his disciple Goo Yang shouted angrily.

“You impudent wench! Do you know who you’re speaking to? This man is—”

“Save it. I’ll see you inside.”

And with those words, Ju Soa turned on her heel and stepped boldly into the secret realm.

Wang Daesan gave a soft snort and turned his head.

Now, aside from the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect group, only two men remained.

One of them had a body as small as a child.

Barely five cheok in height, his face was completely obscured. A mask, a black conical hat, and an oversized robe that looked like it had been stolen from his father—it dragged along the ground, far too large for his frame.

Only the visible eyes and a faintly exposed collarbone suggested he might be male. If the robe had covered him fully, even his gender would’ve been a mystery.

Wang Daesan turned again.

The last man was—utterly average.

Average build, average features, average proportions.

The slightly slanted eyes were a bit unusual, but still well within the range of the forgettable.

Except for one thing.

His eyes.

Those eyes were sunken, cold.

Eyes that only true masters possessed—eyes that spoke of resolve.

‘...I don’t like this feeling.’

To be honest, Wang Daesan had stumbled onto this place by chance.

He’d picked up /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ a bit of intel and had come to check it out.

He’d even considered entering the realm.

But now something was gnawing at him.

He called out to the man.

“You there.”

The man turned to face him.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I ask your name?”

The man gave a thin smile.

“Nameless.”

Wang Daesan’s brow twitched.

Nameless.

If a man claimed to have no name, then clearly he meant to hide his identity.

“Not going in?”

“...Still deciding.”

“I’d recommend not going.”

“...Any reason?”

Nameless met Wang Daesan’s gaze with those emotionless eyes.

“The Iron Rhythm Sword Sect... It’s more valuable than people think.”

“...”

“Especially the Sacred Relic you’re guarding. That’s worth more than you know. But the Sect Leader alone cannot protect it. I didn’t know before—but you seem to have a decent instinct.”

Goo Yang looked like he was about to interrupt again, but Wang Daesan stopped him with a firm grip on the shoulder.

A silent signal: Don’t speak.

Goo Yang swallowed hard and backed down.

Wang Daesan asked calmly.

“I appreciate the compliment—but how do you know about our relic?”

“Oh, I know it well. You’d best be careful. And starting now, you should seriously consider something. Is that relic worth risking the annihilation of your entire sect?”

“...You seem to know a great deal. Would you tell me your real name?”

Nameless shook his head.

“If I gave my name, people would come after me. Why invite trouble?”

From those words, Wang Daesan gleaned one thing.

This man was absolutely certain he’d claim the secret realm’s treasure.

And it wasn’t baseless bravado.

From one master to another—even one as accomplished as Wang Daesan, at the Five Banners Form stage—he could see it clearly.

He made his decision.

“Our Iron Rhythm Sword Sect will withdraw from this.”

“A wise choice.”

“And... though I don’t know who you are, I’ll discuss what you said with our Sect Leader. Seriously.”

“That’s also wise.”

“...If, in the future, you ever require assistance from the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect—just mention this day.”

“Unlikely. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Without hesitation, Wang Daesan spoke.

“We’re pulling out.”

“E-Elder!!”

Goo Yang tried to stop him, but Wang Daesan’s will was firm.

“I said we’re withdrawing.”

“...Understood.”

Wang Daesan turned away.

The man in the wide hat and oversized robe was still standing there, not entering.

He remained just outside the secret realm’s entrance, observing in silence.

Nameless glanced once at the small-framed man—then stepped into the secret realm without hesitation.

Only then did the small man follow him in.

And with that—the secret realm closed.

Wang Daesan, who had observed everything from start to finish, returned to the Iron Rhythm Sword Sect.