Sangwan Jin-ho’s steps halted in front of the safe.
The steward had barged in, panting, speaking with clear urgency.
“The Third Clan Lord has arrived.”
Sangwan Jin-ho flinched.
“My father-in-law? Already? It’s not even evening yet...”
The Third Clan Lord of the Sangwan Clan was notorious for his punctuality, never arriving a moment early or late.
If he had arrived half a day sooner, there had to be a reason.
“It seems his plans changed. He’s already reached Sojeong Pavilion—you should hurry to greet him.”
Perplexed, Sangwan Jin-ho reattached the key to his belt.
‘I can finish sorting the documents later. But still...’
Unable to ignore the unease, he latched the extra shutters of the window—the same window he hadn’t properly secured earlier. No matter how rushed he was to meet his father-in-law, this time, he wanted peace of mind.
After fastening every window one by one, Sangwan Jin-ho hurried out of the office.
“Why are you looking at this old man like that?”
Inside the restaurant of Deokseong Prefecture’s inn, Danmok Seong asked as he faced Danmok Cheong across the table.
“Grandfather, you... feel unfamiliar to me today.”
“Oh? Because I babbled nonsense all day?”
“That too... but more than anything, I can’t understand what you did today. Even if you claim it was to observe that duel—”
“And what’s so troubling about what I did?”
“Surely, the Cave Daoist... no, Kwak Do-in is plotting something, is he not?”
“I find it unsettling that you got involved without knowing the full story.”
“Cheong-ah... I truly don’t know how I’m supposed to teach you.”
“It’s right to judge right and wrong based on the actions themselves. But there are times when you must judge by the person acting as well.”
“You trust Kwak Do-in that much, Grandfather?”
Danmok Seong’s gaze toward his grandnephew turned cold.
“You... you harbor defiance in your heart against my decision today.”
“I admit, I acted wrongly. I reflected deeply, and I swear I’ll never act so recklessly again. But Grandfather, it feels like you still don’t trust me...”
“It’s not that it feels that way. I don’t trust you.”
Danmok Seong cut him off mercilessly, continuing with unwavering resolve.
“Not you. Not your father.”
“Did it hurt, hearing such harsh words from me?”
“I know it’s not your true feelings.”
“Don’t grow complacent thinking the direct line of the main family has no other saplings to replace you. I will tolerate nothing and no one that brings ruin to the Danmok Clan.”
“Kwak Do-in is a noble benefactor Heaven has granted you. You have no idea what difficult decision I made to weave this bond for you.”
“To you, today’s events might seem absurd, even humiliating. Do you think I forced this on you without understanding that? One day, you’ll realize this was the best decision of your entire life. Trust me and follow.” Follow current novels on novel⁂fire.net
Seeing Danmok Cheong’s darkened expression as he replied, Danmok Seong quietly sighed.
He couldn’t express how much his heart ached, treating the child—so precious, he wouldn’t mind keeping him inside his eye—so coldly.
But if he faltered, he’d have to witness everything crumbling beyond repair.
It was all the karma of his own negligence—what could he do?
All he could do was raise the bitter teacup.
Danmok Seong planned to show his grandnephew through a duel just how extraordinary the Cave Daoist truly was—a hidden dragon of divine measure.
Only then might his heart open, even a little.
As he lifted the teacup with a faint, bitter smile, a sharp, piercing presence stabbed through his senses, and his body stiffened involuntarily.
Danmok Seong slammed the teacup down and bolted outside.
Stepping into the street outside the restaurant, Danmok Seong expanded his sensory perception, scanning his surroundings.
But the needle-like presence had completely vanished.
His expression darkened.
‘No, it can’t be that...’
He had only left Jeongyang a few days ago—surely, it wasn’t what he feared.
It must’ve been some other master’s aura, probing him.
Back when he parted ways with Kwak Do-in near Dongmun’s edge, he had sensed an unusual energy too. But it vanished almost immediately.
Since then, he’d kept his senses wide open, but the presence never returned, so he dismissed it as a fleeting illusion.
But now, if someone truly was tracking him and had just issued a provocation—why?
‘They may have been testing to confirm whether I’m truly Danmok In-ryong.’
If that were the case, there was no other concern. But if it wasn’t...
Danmok Seong’s face hardened in quiet dread.
‘Sigh... this too, my karma.’
Shaking his head, Danmok Seong turned back toward the inn.
“Where have you been all day?”
As Kwak Yeon entered the courtyard, Ju Yeoryeong snapped at him.
“Did something happen?”
Ju Yeoryeong was exasperated.
Not that she expected a real answer—but after making people wait all day, he could at least say a word. So her voice naturally sharpened.
“How could something not happen? After everything that went down yesterday.”
“Everyone’s been in a daze all day—like that Uncle Wang and his wife. I heard some patrol people came by, poking around investigating.”
“She’s doing much better. She’s not convulsing anymore, but...”
“She’s clenching her fist so tight it won’t open. Or maybe... she can’t open it. I’ve tried everything to loosen her hand, but nothing works. Not even Uncle Wang or his wife could do anything.”
Ju Yeoryeong’s eyes brimmed with worry.
“I’m afraid her hand’s going to seize up completely. And you...”
“You think you’re some miracle worker? Even her parents couldn’t—”
Kwak Yeon let her sharp words pass, knowing how much she had been struggling emotionally all day.
He approached the half-collapsed shed.
Inside, Wang Cheol-go was clearing out the debris, drenched in sweat.
He was so focused he hadn’t even heard the conversation outside. His back was soaked, covered in straw and dirt.
In Wang Cheol-go’s silhouette, Kwak Yeon saw a boy in a cave.
A boy clinging to the wall’s textures with desperate resolve, trying not to be torn apart by the twin rampaging energies of Yin-cold and Infernal Fire.
Just as that wall was the boy’s anchor, the ruined shed was Wang Cheol-go’s anchor now.
Surely, he longed to stay beside his sick son.
But bearing the family’s livelihood, suppressing grief, sorrow, even injustice—that was the only way forward.
If he crumbled, everything would fall apart.
Rebuilding the shed, raising silkworms—that was the last fragile hope he had.
“Even if Sangjeon Village disappoints us, I’ll go up into the mountains and farm, no matter how hard and lonely. Better than getting chewed up by the world.”
Wang Cheol-go’s exhausted voice echoed on the ferry across Lake Dongjeong.
Just ordinary people, driven into corners by life, trying to endure.
Kwak Yeon had seen then—the hardships this couple had withstood, and how their son, So-cheong, had given them strength.
No matter how cruel life got, as long as they had their son, they would endure.
A surge of Primordial Harmonious Energy roared within Kwak Yeon.
Wang Cheol-go flinched, turning.
“Ah! Master, you’ve returned.”
Kwak Yeon’s chest tightened at how much older Wang Cheol-go looked after just one day.
“May I check on So-cheong?”
“Of course. We’ve been waiting for you, truth be told.”
For Wang Cheol-go, the rumored miracles of a Wudang Daoist were the last thread of hope.
Turning from the shed, Kwak Yeon unfastened the Cheonggang Sword, handing it and his belongings to Ju Yeoryeong.
“Hold these for a moment.”
As expected, no answer came. Ju Yeoryeong pouted {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} but took the items.
Inside, So-cheong’s mother was massaging her son’s clenched hand, struggling to stand as Kwak Yeon entered.
Seemingly drained of strength, she collapsed weakly, lowering her head.
Kwak Yeon stared at So-cheong’s pale face, then placed a hand on the boy’s chest.
Thump-thump! Thump-thump!
The child’s heart pounded violently, as if it might burst from his frail chest.
First, he had to calm the turbulent blood flow.
Carefully, Kwak Yeon guided internal energy into the boy’s body.
He was young—the meridians weren’t obstructed, so the process shouldn’t cause major pain. But caution was still paramount.
Soothing the child’s entire system with internal energy, Kwak Yeon transitioned into the operation of Primordial Harmonious Art.
Unlike internal energy circulation, this art used pure mental will—it didn’t matter who was present.
Gathering his core energy, he transferred it to the boy through focused thought.
He longed to share his own primal essence, but with it already anchored within him, it wasn’t possible.
After about half an hour, the boy’s erratic heartbeat gradually stabilized.
Further transfer would be dangerous, so Kwak Yeon withdrew his hand.
Noticing So-cheong’s complexion brightening, Kwak Yeon gently held the boy’s clenched hand.
“No one will trample you again. This Daoist uncle made sure of that.”
His words were rough—Kwak Yeon wasn’t skilled at conveying sincerity. And there were truths one couldn’t speak to a wounded child.
Still, he could only offer his heart, crude as it was.
His lack of eloquence left him quietly frustrated and sorry.
Suddenly, the boy’s hand twitched.
So-cheong’s mother gasped, eyes wide.
“His hand... it moved!”
Kwak Yeon softly extended the boy’s little finger.
Miraculously, So-cheong followed his lead.
His chest clenched with emotion.
Kwak Yeon carefully extended the boy’s ring finger—again, no resistance.
Extending the middle finger next, a flicker of heat stirred in Kwak Yeon’s chest.
A bead of silkworm pearl nestled there.
He thought all the pearls had been crushed beneath the villain’s foot.
But the boy had safeguarded one, even through that brutal ordeal.
Kwak Yeon spoke softly.
The pearl had been preserved by the boy’s own will.
A refusal to surrender to the world.
Tears streamed down So-cheong’s mother’s cheeks.
At some point, Wang Cheol-go stood nearby, staring blankly at the ceiling.
From the doorway, Ju Yeoryeong’s faint sniffling carried over.
Kwak Yeon gently stroked the boy’s hair.
“And... truly... thank you.”