“Yes. I do.”

He truly did.

“The Murim Alliance will lower their heads on their own, the Sacheon Alliance will beg for mercy, and Central Blood Sect will soon reach out first.”

“Are you confident?”

“I am.”

Seol Jungcheon tapped the table with his fingers before nodding once.

“Very well. I will stay silent—just as you said.”

In a game of Go, placing a single stone wrong often collapses the entire board.

This was no different.

An illegitimate child who had once amounted to nothing had started to run wild, overturning the balance that had been long maintained. And now, even the previously fixed positions of the stones had begun to shift.

Naturally, the entire board had to change.

Then—

“May I say one more thing?” Unwi asked.

“As Blood Heaven’s True Restoration?”

“No. As your son. And as Hyeon Seollin.”

Seol Jungcheon quietly gazed at him before nodding.

“Speak. I’ll listen.”

“Thank you. Then I will speak plainly. Father—there’s something crucial you’ve forgotten.”

“Me?”

“Yes. While I don’t think your methods are wrong, the timing is. Everlasting Snow feels like a sandcastle not because of spies or external opportunists.”

“Then what is the issue?”

“You.”

“...Me?”

“Yes. The reason others dare to target Everlasting Snow is because they think you’re easy to challenge.”

“...”

“Yes. Because you seem easy to challenge. They say you're close to reaching Absolute Oneness—but the truth is, you have not.”

Seol Jungcheon’s gaze turned serious. So did Unwi’s.

“The fourth realm of the Five Divine Realms—Grand Void Formless—is indeed powerful. But there are already those who stand at Absolute Oneness. Like the sect leader of Central Blood Sect. The Lord of Heaven’s Gate. And the Patriarch of Maitreya Brahma Sect.”

Seol Jungcheon’s eyes widened.

“...You’re saying the Undying Maitreya has already reached Absolute Oneness?”

He was widely believed to still be in the Grand Void Formless Stage, just like Seol Jungcheon.

“That’s false. He has already attained Absolute Oneness—even at this point in time.”

And there was more.

“...Heaven’s Gate? That’s the first I’ve heard of them.”

“I know little myself. But currently, Heaven’s Gate holds one Absolute Oneness, one Grand Void Formless, and two Dao Flower Realm masters. Likely, two more will ascend soon.”

Seol Jungcheon’s expression grew grave.

“...I was a frog in a well.”

“Not anymore.”

“...”

“Everlasting Snow has more potential than any of them. Besides, both Heaven’s Gate and the Maitreya Sect won’t move for small matters like war.”

There was a pause. Seol Jungcheon was silent. So was Unwi.

He had spoken not as Blood Heaven’s True Restoration, but as a son—as a direct heir of Everlasting Snow—with utmost honesty.

He had delivered truth.

Before long, Seol Jungcheon finally spoke again.

“So you’re telling me... to reach Absolute Oneness as soon as possible.”

“That’s right.”

Unwi squared his shoulders.

“If you—the Palace Lord—remain firmly in place, the sandcastle can become a steel fortress.”

“...”

“As I said before, you don’t need to concern yourself with what happens in the palace. Nor with the Murim or Sacheon Alliances. Their leaders are also on the verge of Absolute Oneness, and they’re trying to eliminate future threats before they rise. You don’t need to stoop to that level. Leave such matters to those below.”

“You mean to say you’ll handle it?”

“I will.”

He met Seol Jungcheon’s gaze head-on.

“I intend to protect your Everlasting Snow Palace. We are bound by unshakable trust. As long as I exist, this palace will endure. That is why I was born again.”

The scent of tea drifted faintly through the air as silence settled between them.

In Seol Jungcheon’s gaze, Unwi saw it clearly:

Trust.

Expectation.

A look he had never seen in his previous life—not even in dreams.

That look alone was enough.

This... was the place he was meant to be.

***

The inner palace was vast.

So large, in fact, that many of its rooms went unused under normal circumstances. Yet the room Wonyang had stepped into now was unlike any other.

It was the place where Hyeon Seollin—no, Seol Unwi—had spent his childhood.

The room was shockingly modest.

On the wall were old books, neatly aligned. By the window sat a single dust-covered desk.

Through that window, the snowy mountains of Seolgung could be seen. Wonyang wondered what the young Unwi had stared at beyond those peaks. As she turned her head, she noticed a folded sheet of paper tucked in the corner of a bookshelf.

The moment she unfolded it, a strange emotion swept over her.

A woman.

A portrait of a woman.

The upper torso had been carefully drawn. The clothes weren’t silk or finery—just simple garments, like something worn by mountain dwellers.

And yet, the portrait exuded an unmistakable grace and warmth. Whether this aura came from the woman herself or from the feelings of the one who had painted her—Wonyang couldn’t tell.

But no artist can paint what isn’t there.

Wonyang was a martial artist.

And as one, she could read brushstrokes, judge the force behind a stroke, and sense the level of the artist.

This wasn’t drawn by some ordinary hand.

This was the work of a master—at least someone of the Five Divine Realms.

A strange assumption surfaced.

There was only one possible artist.

The supreme lord of Seolgung—Seol Jungcheon.

He had painted this woman.

Then this woman must be Unwi’s mother.

When he was young, Unwi must have sat before that window, looking out at the snowy peaks while thinking of his mother.

Wonyang carefully folded the portrait and began wandering again.

The inkwell on the desk bore deep signs of use.

Brushes still sat in their stand—untouched for what must have been over a decade.

As if time had frozen, the room remained exactly as it was the moment Unwi had left.

Before leaving for Seolap, what had Unwi been thinking in this room?

Wonyang brushed her fingers over the desk. The chill of old wood carried with °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° it the weight of time.

In one corner was a small weapon rack.

Empty now—but once, surely, Unwi’s sword had rested there.

Could Unwi have imagined, back then, that he would become such a powerful man?

Wonyang suddenly wondered if she was intruding.

Unwi had told her to wait here. If she got bored, he’d said, she could train at the nearby martial yard. But now, she worried she’d lingered too long.

And yet, she couldn’t make herself leave.

Traces of Unwi remained in this place—ones no one else could know.

Another side of him—one she had never seen, and perhaps never would again.

She wanted to know more. But this would have to suffice.

She turned to leave.

And froze.

Someone was standing just outside the door.

Since when? She hadn’t noticed a thing—only saw the man when her eyes fell on him.

A truly overwhelming presence.

The kind of person whose level was so high that someone like her—barely in the Spirit Convergence Realm—couldn't even begin to sense them.

His figure was utterly ordinary.

Not tall or short, not particularly handsome or ugly.

No weapon at his side, just casual attire. And in this freezing cold, not even a cloak over his shoulders.

He spoke.

“Hyeon Seollin must be quite fortunate. A descendant of the Namgung clan... I’ve always wanted to see their famed martial arts myself. But what a pity, that it was all lost in the Thousand-Year Chaos.”

“...Who are you?”

“Ah, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Jutae, commander of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade.”

Baekseol Ghost Brigade.

Jutae.

Wonyang swallowed and lowered into a respectful martial bow.

“Namgung Wonyang, your humble junior, greets the Heavenly Halberd Swordmaster.”

Heavenly Halberd Swordmaster—Jutae.

His fame preceded him.

Said to be the finest swordmaster in Seolgung.

When fighting at full strength, it was said he could wield a hundred swords in the air at once.

“I was truly impressed by Hyeon Seollin’s performance in Seolap,” Jutae said. “And each time he stood tall, someone always stood at his side.”

His eyes curved with a soft smile.

“I saw you earlier today. Your swordsmanship is quite unique. Clearly the Namgung style—but there’s something else, too. A wild, explosive power, like that of a beast. The evolution of Namgung techniques post-Chaos is... fascinating. I find myself curious to learn more.”

Wonyang’s spine tingled.

Something felt off. Jutae’s tone had a hidden edge—sharp, though faint.

A woman’s instinct, perhaps. Or just her intuition. But something felt wrong.

Only one person in recent days had addressed her with such direct references to the Namgung name—Unwi.

She didn’t overthink it.

“Martial arts naturally evolve over time,” she said. “And whether that path is right or wrong is something each of us must determine for ourselves.”

“Oh...?”

Jutae’s eyes turned to her. They seemed warm—but Wonyang didn’t miss the sharpness beneath.

The situation wasn’t right. There was no reason for the commander of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade to come speak with her directly.

“Is there something you want from me?” she asked.

“Something I want...? Indeed.”

A serene smile touched his lips.

“Would you consider joining the Baekseol Ghost Brigade?”

There was no hesitation.

“No.”

His brow twitched faintly.

“...If you joined, you could learn all of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade’s techniques. Seong Yangho may only be an Entry-Spirit Realm cultivator, but in truth his power rivals the Mythic Realm.”

His voice dropped.

“Our martial arts are that powerful.”

Wonyang felt herself grow increasingly uncomfortable.

She had already declined once.

She intended to serve only one person for the rest of her life.

Unwi.

Everything he had done for her—his words, his actions—had moved her.

Her heart belonged solely to him.

Baekseol Ghost Brigade? She didn’t care. Even if it were the White Spirit Guard—it wouldn’t matter.

Her eyes locked onto Jutae’s.