Cheonghae took a step toward her.

“If it were up to me, I would kill you right here. I would expose everything you've done to the entire clan... and crush your family into the ground.”

He clenched his fist.

“...But I’m holding myself back.”

Solran’s mind spun rapidly.

Did the Yellow Dragon Lord confess everything before he died?

But that man... would he really have said it all?

A man so desperate to install his own child as Patriarch of Namgoong, to place him at the clan’s summit?

No... there’s no way he went that far. There’s no proof that Soryong is Horak’s son, after all.

He’d sooner die than betray his child and his lover. Which meant...

“...It’s true.”

“....”

“I asked the Red Dragon Lord to appoint certain people as martial attendants in the inner quarters.”

Solran decided to hide her connection to the Yellow Dragon Lord to the very end.

She still wasn’t certain what they had uncovered—still unsure how much they had truly heard.

“I suppose... I was blinded by the money they offered. As you know, I’m the daughter of a merchant. I couldn’t escape the blood...”

“You intend to deny it until the end.”

The voice that slipped from between Cheonghae’s lips was colder than ice.

Solran’s arms, which had been wrapped tightly around herself, began to tremble.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear so you don’t think this is a game.”

“...?”

“If you want to save your son’s life, I suggest you speak the truth.”

Her heart dropped. The tension that made her body shake turned into rigid stillness.

He knows everything.

Her last-ditch attempt to deny it now felt meaningless. Namgoong Cheonghae’s voice left no room for uncertainty.

Thump. Thump-thump.

He was said to be the calmest and most rational of the three sons, but bloodline was bloodline.

His rage—the chill it exhaled—froze the air within the dungeon and flooded it with darkness.

“I...”

Solran collapsed to her knees.

“He... he doesn’t know anything. That child... he really doesn’t...”

And in that moment, despair filled Cheonghae’s face.

‘Aunt Solran is having an affair with the Yellow Dragon Lord. Their child is Soryong.’

When he had first heard those words, he hadn’t believed them. He °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° couldn’t.

At the very least, he had hoped Soryong’s part in it was false.

He had raised the boy for thirteen years, believing him to be his own. Though the child had always been a painful thorn in his side, he had loved him—as a father.

‘There’s no way to prove paternity. So press her as though you know everything. A confession is the most certain form of evidence.’

Don’t ask. Corner her.

Solran confessed to it all—so easily it was almost pathetic.

“...You’ve destroyed me. You know that, don’t you?”

Her affair—and Soryong’s true identity—would forever be a stain on Cheonghae. A mark of his incompetence.

Who would accept as Patriarch a man who hadn’t even noticed the rot in his own household?

Even if it wasn’t truly his fault.

This was the moment when everything Namgoong Cheonghae had worked toward—acceptance, succession, authority—collapsed.

“...I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. But please... don’t cast the child aside. Our Soryong... he knows nothing. He truly doesn’t...!”

“You’re not worried about Woong?”

His voice twisted with fury.

Woong was his son, too. And yet, even now, she begged only for the child born of her affair with the Yellow Dragon Lord. Her pleas sickened him.

“From today, Woong loses his mother as well. Even if you lied to me... even if you held someone else in your heart... Woong is still your son...!”

“....”

“Not even a thought for him?”

Solran’s eyes wavered. Her lips trembled.

“...Woong... has his real father, doesn’t he?”

“...Hah.”

A hollow breath escaped him.

Cheonghae and Solran had never shared a burning passion. But there had been warmth, at least.

Regardless of how their marriage came to be—whether it was political or practical—he had been a decent husband. She had been a decent wife. Or so he had thought.

“You’ve made sure I leave this marriage utterly humiliated.”

“...Please... spare Soryong. He is Namgoong blood...”

“Blood is blood. The problem is, he’s the blood of the man who tried to sell out the clan.”

If it were up to him, he would strip Soryong of the Namgoong name and destroy his cultivation.

But the child was innocent.

This incident would leave a scar—and it would haunt the boy for the rest of his life.

“...Soryong will be sent to his maternal family. I won’t tell him the truth. That’s the last bit of mercy I can offer.”

Cheonghae turned his back on her without hesitation.

Then, he bowed his head toward the father who had silently waited by his request.

“...I’m sorry for the disgrace I’ve caused. From now on, I will follow your will.”

“You’ve done well.”

Namgoong Mucheon patted his son’s shoulder—twice. The gesture was distant, but held trust and comfort.

Mucheon’s gaze turned to the woman who had shamed his son.

Yun Solran trembled under the weight of it and bowed her head.

“...F—Father...”

It was too late to deny anything now.

And yet she remained upright, even after her confession—because she had something she believed would protect her.

The merchant house of Yeon, leaders of the Wanjon Trading Company, who controlled the markets of Henan and Hubei.

As long as my family is involved, they won’t be able to punish me too severely.

From the beginning, this marriage had been a business arrangement.

Namgoong had sought Wanjon’s wealth and commerce, and Wanjon had sought Namgoong’s name and martial strength.

If the marriage fell apart, it would erupt into a conflict between the trading company and the clan. Namgoong would want to handle it quietly.

“...Whatever punishment you decide... I’ll accept it...”

“It will be anything but easy.”

A slip of paper fluttered down before her.

Solran blinked, confused, and picked it up.

“F—Father...? This is...?”

“Read it.”

Only then did Yun Solran look down at the word written on the paper.

At once, her eyes trembled violently.

[Daesura Blood Cult]

“F—Father...”

“So you do recognize it. Read it aloud.”

Solran’s hands began to shake uncontrollably.

It was the name of the cult she had joined eight years ago—introduced to it by the Yellow Dragon Lord.

At the time, he had said:

“The cult leader’s strength rivals that of the greatest in the world. It is only natural that this cult will come to rule the world.

All we need do is endure the current restrictions for ten more years, and it will greatly aid our plan to seize control of Namgoong.”

That day, Solran had pledged herself to the Blood Cult.

And then she had lived the next eight years as if it had never happened—completely forgetting it.

Why... why is this here?

Why had that name suddenly appeared? Why now...?

“Read it.”

She couldn’t.

If she spoke that name aloud—if she confirmed it with her own mouth—her body would be torn apart. She would die.

“F—Father... doesn’t our clan still need the support of my family? I... I could speak with my father and have him surrender more of the Hanan trade routes. If I asked, I’m certain—”

“I told you to read it.”

Her lips quivered. Sweat and tears had already merged and were streaming down her face.

“W—Weren’t you hoping to expand your business through the trading company? I know powerful merchant lords in Jiangxi and Zhejiang... If you claim their markets—”

“I will not repeat myself. Read it.”

Namgoong Mucheon’s pressure crushed down upon her.

Solran clutched her throat, gasping—wheezing—just barely able to breathe.

Cheonghae stared at her in stunned silence, and Mucheon took a step forward toward the wretched woman before them.

“I’ve already sent someone to the House of Yeon. Your father—ever the merchant to the bone—handed your punishment over to Namgoong and surrendered the Hanan trade routes in exchange.”

The family she had believed in so dearly—the Wanjon Trading Company—had abandoned her the instant they heard the news.

They had done the math. Measured the cost. And cast her aside.

Solran’s teeth clicked together, clattering in panic.

“You truly believed the House of Yeon could pose a threat to Namgoong?”

Foolish woman.

“Read it.”

Solran collapsed, trembling, to the floor.

The dungeon ground was filthy and cold—but she had no mind to care.

“P—Please... forgive me, Father. I—I’ll do anything...! I even know who it was that trapped the First Young Lord eight years ago. I can tell you everything—just please...!”

Solran broke down sobbing.

“Please... spare me...! I beg you... sob...”

Eight years ago.

The day Cheongun became crippled. The day the first daughter-in-law died. The day Seolhwa was lost.

There were few within the clan who truly knew what had happened that day.

Masked assailants had supposedly been involved—but there had been no evidence, no trace. And Cheongun, the only one who had seen them, had shut himself inside his room for a long time.

“...That incident...”

The dungeon trembled with a low, echoing rumble.

“...Was it orchestrated from within the clan...?”