Clatter—

The sword of Seop Mugwang’s subordinate fell from his hands. His body, throat freshly slashed, crumpled to its knees before him.

Beyond him stood Namgoong Mucheon.

He had acted without hesitation—just as he had said. If Seop Mugwang would not kill him, then he would.

Seop Mugwang stood frozen, staring down at the corpse at his feet.

“I do not want to die.”

That was what the man had said. With his final breath, staring death in the eye—those were his last words.

Namgoong Mucheon’s blade had not wavered.

That, too, was an answer.

And yet—seeing a subordinate’s throat cleaved open right before his eyes, and feeling nothing, were two different things entirely.

“....”

Namgoong Mucheon let out a quiet sigh as he looked at Seop Mugwang, who stood dazed before the body.

He sheathed his sword and «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» turned to the Black Dragon Division.

“Take the wounded to the Medical Hall. Collect the bodies. They died in service to the clan. Do not neglect to honor them.”

The Black Dragon Division responded as one and moved swiftly to carry out his command.

Then Namgoong Mucheon turned to address the gathered crowd.

“Let us reconvene inside Tenhojeon. Seolhwa—you, too.”

Only then did the clan members notice where Seolhwa had been standing.

Eyes filled with Since when? turned toward the wall. Seolhwa and Ryeong stepped down from it.

Together with the others, Seolhwa entered Tenhojeon.

Elders and high-ranking members of the clan—those who had remained within the estate—soon arrived, drawn by the news.

The atmosphere was heavy.

Members of the Bipung Division, supposedly out on a mission, had returned and attacked the clan within its own courtyard. The severity could not be overstated.

It had not been long since the clan had rooted out infiltrators from the Blood Demon Cult and cleansed internal corruption.

Before the turmoil had even settled, another crisis had erupted. Tension gripped the air like a vice.

“Seolhwa. Step forward.”

She did.

She stood at the center of Tenhojeon.

Dozens of gazes, belonging to the clan’s elders, now focused on a single girl.

“Could you repeat what you told me to the rest of them?”

Seolhwa nodded and looked around the room.

Division heads. Elders. Swordmasters.

Their expressions had changed since the day she first entered the Namgoong Clan.

Faces once soft with complacency and polite smiles had hardened—now tinged with unease and vigilance.

They were beginning to prepare.

“It’s a kind of Gu poison,” Seolhwa began, her eyes moving from one rigid face to the next.

“If you implant the Gu in various blood vessels, then kill the host body, the implanted Gu ruptures. Its blood spills out. That blood becomes poison—it inflames the meridians and throws the internal energy into chaos. If that energy rides the blood vessels and reaches both the dantian and the baekhwe...”

Boom.

She opened her palm.

No one needed an explanation.

“The energy detonates like an explosion. The more internal power they have, the greater the blast.”

The Bipung Division members had all been elite—Peak Realm warriors.

If five warriors with the energy of an entire twelve-year cycle had exploded on the spot, anyone in the area apart from Namgoong Mucheon and Seop Mugwang would not have survived.

“There is a way to remove the Gu beforehand, but the host must never know. If they sense it, and the Gu dies, the poisoning begins. At that point, there are only two choices—let it explode, or sever the cervical vertebrae before it does.”

She pointed at her own neck.

That was why Namgoong Mucheon had beheaded them.

Seolhwa had realized the condition of the Bipung Division members instantly and had transmitted that knowledge to him through sound transmission before the worst could happen.

“Removing the Gu would have been best. But as you saw, they did not ask for help. They attacked the estate.”

She turned to Seop Mugwang.

His expression was harder than ever. A cold, seething fury bled from him.

“If they were not traitors, then the answer is clear. The one who planted the Gu was nearby—controlling them through it.”

And Seolhwa knew exactly who that was.

The Blood Demon.

If even Namgoong Mucheon could not detect the presence, then there was only one possible culprit.

She had met him in the inn. There was no doubt he was in Habi.

He had ordered the Bipung Division to strike. And now, somewhere unseen, he was watching with amusement.

“Kuhahaha! Ha, hahahaha!”

His laughter echoed in her mind.

The same laughter that had filled her ears when she lay dying in her past life.

“The mild toxin, the half-hearted resistance... those were likely the best they could do. The Bipung Division...”

No—he had enjoyed it again. Watching their agony. Laughing at the chaos tearing through the Namgoong Clan.

“They came back to die. At the clan’s own hands.”

Her voice quieted as she looked around.

She took in their faces—every one of them steeped in shock.

Though nothing had been publicly declared, everyone present knew of the Blood Demon Cult.

They had been the first to be investigated when spies within the clan were discovered.

They had heard about the events at Suro Stronghold, but few had witnessed it directly. The true weight of that reality was still abstract for many.

It was not easy to fear an enemy one could not see.

But now—they had seen.

The Blood Demon Cult.

Its cruelty. Its reach. Its very real threat to the foundation of their clan.

“I will take full responsibility.”

Seop Mugwang stepped forward.

He was calm—unlike his usual self.

That calm was what revealed the depths of his devastation more than anything else.

He always acted as if everything were a bother. He seemed disinterested in clan affairs.

But those who truly knew Seop Mugwang knew one thing above all else—

He cared more deeply for his people than anyone.

Those who understood his nature felt only sorrow as they watched him now.

Seop Mugwang turned to Namgoong Mucheon and spoke.

“I sent fifteen men to Yunnan. Five came back—like this.

As the leader of the Bipung Division, I have a duty to protect my subordinates. So let me go—”

“No.”

The voice that stopped him was Seolhwa’s.

Before Namgoong Mucheon could speak, she stepped beside Seop Mugwang and addressed him directly.

“It’s true that only five of the fifteen returned. But do you really think only those five were captured?

If that were the case, would the remaining ten not have sent word of the danger?”

The Blood Demon had visited her. He had spoken plainly.

He was going to take her master.

This incident—this entire ploy—was not a trap. It did not even deserve to be called one.

Who lays a trap and then tells their prey they’re walking into it?

“They are after the Division Head.

This is a scheme to shake the Namgoong Clan.

You must not let him go, Grandfather.”

But why would the Blood Demon choose such a transparent tactic?

“What does that matter?” Seop Mugwang said flatly.

Seolhwa slowly closed her eyes.

“As long as there’s even a chance they’re alive... that’s enough.”

His fist clenched tightly.

“I’m going. Even if you stop me, I’m going.”

In her previous life, the Wind and Thunder God had once gone to Yunnan for a similar reason.

He never returned.

Seolhwa had not been directly involved, but she had heard how it happened.

They said he walked into certain death. That he died just like all those upright martial heroes—out of sheer pride.

“I have to save my men. I must. So I will.”

A pitiful way to die, was it not?

“You will not save them.”

Seolhwa turned and met his eyes.

“They will not leave the others alive.

You saw their cruelty. Even now—it is likely already too late.”

Who sets a trap, lays bait, and then lets it slip away easily?

They had probably already killed the rest of the Bipung Division.

The Blood Demon Cult she knew—that was how they operated.

“If you go, you will die. The clan values your life far more than that of ten men—”

“They are not ‘just ten men.’”

“...”

“My subordinates are not just anyone.”

“...”

“They’re waiting for me.”

They had asked, Why didn’t you come?

They had pleaded, Why didn’t you help us?

They had screamed, I don’t want to die.

Those were the final words of the men who returned only to die by their own clan’s hands.

How could he hear those words and not go?

How?

“I will go, Clan Head. I will go myself.”

Namgoong Mucheon slowly closed his eyes.

A heavy silence fell over Tenhojeon.

Ten members of the Bipung Division were in Yunnan.

They were the core of Namgoong’s martial strength.

Their fates uncertain.

The trap—certain.

To go was to step into a grave.

And yet—

“...I permit it.”

Those ten were still Namgoong’s men—those who had pledged their lives beneath its name.

“Heaven does not turn its back on the righteous.”

Even if it was just ten lives.

“To ignore their pain, to forsake our trust in them—that is not the way of Heaven.

If they are dead, we must retrieve their bodies.

If they yet live, they are surely waiting for their clan to come.”

The Namgoong Clan would answer.

“Go.

Go, and fulfill your will.”