The martial world was in an uproar over the sudden abduction that had taken place during the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.

And understandably so.

After all, a supreme martial artist who had achieved Reverse Aging had kidnapped the Tang Clan’s future son-in-law.

There was no more sensational story than that.

Of course, within the Murim Alliance, things had completely turned upside down.

“How can this even be possible?! During an event hosted by the Murim Alliance! Right in the heart of the Alliance! A member of the Five Supreme Clans, kidnapped by some lowly unorthodox scum?!”

A middle-aged man leaped to his feet, livid.

His hair, streaked with gray, and his neatly groomed beard trembled as if reflecting the sheer intensity of his rage.

Watching him, a woman dressed in monastic robes spoke in a calm voice.

“Namu Amitabha… Lord Yeon, perhaps it would be best if you composed yourself. Everyone here understands the gravity of the situation, and we have gathered to discuss a solution. More importantly, there is someone here who is even more distressed than you or me.”

“That is…!”

Yeon Sahu, a middle-aged man born of a collateral branch of the Jinju Yeon Clan, and now the leader of Cheongpung Unit, one of the Murim Alliance’s armed divisions, hesitated and fell silent.

Although he was known for his righteous character, his fiery temper and strong sense of pride—along with his actual martial prowess—had allowed him to live without ever having to consider others’ opinions.

But this time was an exception.

And for good reason—among the gathered warriors, all of whom were at least vice-leader rank in the Murim Alliance, there was one clear outlier.

Tang Sowol, who had just lost her fiancé.

Yeon Sahu, who wasn’t completely oblivious to social cues, softened his tone and pounded his chest in reassurance.

“Do not worry! The Murim Alliance will mobilize all its forces to find your fiancé. We will have news soon! Right, everyone?”

Looking around for agreement, Yeon Sahu sought confirmation.

Everyone responded with either quiet nods or murmurs of agreement.

They didn’t openly express it because Yeon Sahu was already reacting strongly enough, but the abduction had enraged them all.

After all, this had happened in the Murim Alliance’s own territory, during the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, in front of countless witnesses.

It was an unforgivable humiliation.

Moreover, the culprit was none other than the infamous White-Haired Rakshasa, Seo Mun-Hwarin, an unorthodox martial artist whose name struck a nerve with many.

The enmity between the orthodox and unorthodox factions was as ancient as it was inevitable.

Tang Sowol, feeling the pitying gazes directed at her and the determined atmosphere in the room, offered a faint smile and cupped her fists in a polite gesture.

“Lord Yeon, and everyone gathered here, I sincerely appreciate your concern. Thank you for taking action on my behalf.”

“Huh…”

Some warriors exchanged glances at her unexpectedly calm demeanor.

After all, the person who should have been the most distraught was the one acting the most composed.

But there was a simple reason for Tang Sowol’s attitude.

‘Didn’t he say he’d return within a month at the latest? What is he even planning, stirring up all this trouble first…’

She was internally sighing in exasperation, but ultimately, she had been forewarned by Cheon Hwi that he would be “abducted” for a while.

For someone who trusted Cheon Hwi completely, this incident was absurd and tiring—but not dangerous.

‘I told Seol last night… but what am I supposed to tell Father this time…?’

“Haa…”

She couldn’t hold back a quiet sigh.

Noticing this, an older man in white robes slowly rose to his feet.

He was short and lean, his graying hair making him appear elderly.

But his eyes were sharp, his body packed with taut muscle, and his skin, surprisingly, was smooth—free of even the faintest wrinkles.

This was Gwak Hu, the Divine Sky.

Once the Leader of the Beggar’s Sect, he had been renowned for his chivalry.

After passing his position to a successor, he had retired—only to later assume the mantle of Murim Alliance Leader, making him a towering figure of the orthodox world.

As Tang Sowol instinctively swallowed nervously under his gaze, the Divine Sky finally spoke.

“Do not worry too much. The White-Haired Rakshasa is not inherently cruel—her infamy comes from the brutality of her vengeance, not her temperament. From what I observed, she seemed more startled than hostile when taking him. She may have suspicions, but she isn’t certain yet. Let me ask—does your fiancé have any connection to the annihilation of the Seo Mun Clan?”

“No. None at all. Though he is from Zhejiang Province, the only sects he was ever affiliated with were small unorthodox clans from rural areas. And even those… he dealt with himself.”

The Divine Sky pondered Tang Sowol’s words before letting out a wry smile.

“Born in Zhejiang, tangled with minor unorthodox sects… I can imagine the situation without even seeing it. But that alone is not enough. Do you know anything else? That surge of killing intent from him earlier—it has been on my mind.”

“That must be due to the nature of his martial art. He never explained it in detail, but he has mentioned having a master. It may be related to that.”

“Could you share whatever you do know? Capturing a Flowering Stage martial artist who is determined to flee is nearly impossible. But if the White-Haired Rakshasa is still uncertain, we might be able to manipulate the situation to draw her back willingly.”

“Understood.”

Tang Sowol carefully began recounting what she could remember from her conversations with Cheon Hwi.

Thus, while Tang Sowol worked to keep their staged abduction under wraps and the Murim Alliance mobilized under the banner of righteousness, tirelessly devising ways to pursue the culprit…

What were the most important figures in all of this—Cheon Hwi and Seo Mun-Hwarin—doing at that moment?

***

“Senior Seo Mun-Hwarin, the smell is really strong.”

“H-How rude! I bathed properly this morning!”

The two were arguing over whether or not Seo Mun-Hwarin smelled as Cheon Hwi hovered his face near the top of her head.

Perhaps due to the height difference, when Cheon Hwi leaned in, his nose naturally ended up near Seo Mun-Hwarin’s crown.

Startled, she quickly stepped back, shielding the top of her head with her hands.

“I am clean! The problem is not with me but with you, getting so close and sniffing around!”

“Being clean doesn’t change the fact that there’s a smell.”

“Nnghh!”

Seo Mun-Hwarin stomped her foot in frustration, unable to bring herself to actually hit him.

It lacked any real force—about as threatening as a cat hissing.

Cheon Hwi observed her for a moment before shaking his head.

“Perhaps I misspoke. It’s not a smell… it’s a fragrance.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“I’ve heard that those who achieve Rebirth undergo a physical transformation based on their deepest desires.”

Tang Jincheon, who had mastered poison arts, had undergone Rebirth to become a being of pure poison—allowing him to generate and manipulate toxins within his body, much like Tang Sowol.

Through Rebirth, Seo Mun-Hwarin had achieved Reverse Aging. Her desire had been to return to her childhood.

A complete reconstruction of the body—capable of transforming an ordinary person into a poison-human, and in some cases, even regrowing lost limbs with ease.

Given that, it wasn’t strange for her rejuvenated body to carry the natural scent of an infant.

“It’s not an unpleasant smell. In fact, it’s a rather calming fragrance. But regardless of whether it’s a scent or a fragrance, it’s far too strong. This makes you an easy target for tracking, doesn’t it?”

“Was that what you meant? Well, now that you mention it, those who specialize in tracking techniques don’t just sharpen their energy senses—they enhance all five of their senses to extreme levels.”

Seo Mun-Hwarin sighed in relief, running a hand over her chest, but soon tilted her head in thought.

“But how do you erase a scent that naturally emanates from the body? It’s not like it’s due to not washing properly.”

“There is a way to remove scents. Let’s give it a try.”

I pulled out an odor-neutralizing poison that I had received in advance from Tang Sowol.

As far as I knew, it was the most effective solution available—if this didn’t work, then we’d just have to accept being tracked.

I sprinkled a bit of the poison around the cave entrance and then placed a few drops onto Seo Mun-Hwarin’s hand.

“It’s safe as long as you don’t ingest it, so don’t worry.”

“Not that it matters—I’m already immune to most poisons.”

“Was that another effect of Reverse Aging?”

“No. That is simply because my internal energy is deep and profound.”

Seo Mun-Hwarin scratched her head awkwardly, then surveyed the area around us.

By now, the trackers would have started moving.

We couldn’t stay in this cave for long anyway, so I was looking around to decide on our next destination…

But no matter where I looked, all I saw was an empty mountain range.

Even after climbing to a high vantage point, there wasn’t a single village in sight.

“Where the hell are we?”

“I do not know either. I merely ran until I sensed a suitable cave.”

“???”

I blinked in disbelief, and Seo Mun-Hwarin, noticing my reaction, hastily added,

“B-But I do know that we’re in Anhui Province!”

“…Excuse me???”

Wait. We had already crossed into another province?

“How many days was I unconscious?”

“A little over a day.”

And yet we were already in Anhui Province?

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

Even a Peak Stage martial artist could run faster than a horse—it was just that humans tired easily.

However, at the Supreme Peak Stage, stamina ceased to be much of an issue.

Back in my previous life, when I was fleeing from the Demonic Cult, I had once run for an entire day without stopping.

If that was the case, then how fast could a Flowering Stage martial artist travel?

Even while carrying someone, crossing an entire province overnight seemed entirely possible.

“It’s not that the pursuit squad can’t find us… it’s that they physically can’t catch up, isn’t it?”

“Most likely.”

“Hah.”

All my earlier concerns—about erasing our scent, leaving quickly—suddenly felt foolish.

Right. Tricks like that were useless in the face of overwhelming strength.

I nodded in resignation, and Seo Mun-Hwarin chuckled.

“I thought you were just messing with me, but you were actually serious about it.”

“I’m always serious.”

“Then will you answer me now?”

“About what?”

“About why you asked me to kidnap you? If it’s that, then, as I told you before—it was to help you transition to the orthodox side.”

“No, not that. I meant why you won’t call me ‘Mother.’”

…I had let that comment slide earlier, but she was actually bringing it up again?

I hesitated for a moment, and Seo Mun-Hwarin, wearing a serious expression, continued speaking.

“During our time together, I’ve learned a bit about you. You lost your parents at a young age, did you not?”

“…That’s true.”

“And I lost my entire family. Not just those related to me by blood, but everyone I shared meals with—all of them.”

“That’s also true.”

Hearing this, I began to understand what she was getting at.

Seo Mun-Hwarin had always searched for a place she could belong.

In my previous life, she had chosen Ironblood Hall as that place.

I knew this well—after all, I had lived under her command for a time.

This was likely an extension of that same desire.

“The only two people who have properly inherited the Seo Mun Clan’s martial arts are you and me.”

“…”

“So tell me—what issue is there with me officially adopting you as my son?”

Seo Mun-Hwarin wanted to rebuild the Seo Mun Clan.

Or, more precisely, she wanted to restore the home she had once lost.

And she hoped that I would help her do it.

After a long moment of contemplation, I finally opened my mouth.

“That would be… difficult.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep