Gwanghan looked at Unhwi with an expression like he had lost the words in his mouth.

“A funeral…? Put that aside for now. I just told you earlier that I wanted to take that guy as my disciple, so why are you framing that as some kind of request? What are you getting at?”

“There’s nothing to get at. If anything, it’s just to make the priority clear.”

“…From the beginning, you were planning to send him to me?”

“Yes.”

“…You’re a terrifying bastard, huh?”

Unhwi walked forward slowly and stood between Cheonpung and Gwanghan.

“If you obtain the Divine Spear, you will see the path that leads toward the realm of the absolute. But that doesn’t come from the spear itself—it comes from the soul and spirit of the one who forged it. And you, Senior, must pass that enlightenment on to Cheonpung.”

Unhwi, who had been looking at Gwanghan, now turned his gaze to Cheonpung.

His eyes were profoundly warm.

“This isn’t a simple exchange. I am opening a path for Cheonpung, and for you, Senior, I’m giving you the chance to grasp the true meaning of the absolute.”

“…The true absolute, huh…”

“Martial arts and martial ways shine only when they are passed down. What you’ve been pursuing all this time was ultimately that realm of the absolute—and now that you’ve realized what is truly precious in the pursuit of that realm, don’t you need someone to carry it forward?”

Gwanghan fell silent for a moment. A deep insight shone in his eyes.

“If the location of the Divine Spear you gave me is real… and your words that gave me that true realization are right…”

“The absolute lies in the passing of it on, Senior. The essence of encompassing heaven and earth, past and future—that is none other than the unbroken transmission of teaching. Your 73 years of life, the 400 years of longing passed down by your predecessors—all of it will culminate in Cheonpung. That is where another kind of absolute will be completed.”

A light of awe bloomed in Gwanghan’s eyes.

“From one absolute to another, and from that to yet another… Yeah, I suppose everyone has their own meaning of the absolute. Since the absolute embraces everything one holds. Yes… an endless current of transmission… I like that. I really like it.”

In his entire life, Gwanghan had never seen someone with such depth and insight at just seventeen.

No—

He likely never would, not even on the day he died.

“I’ve… made up my mind. Your three requests—no, all four of them—I’ll grant them all.”

Gwanghan accepted.

But Cheonpung was silently looking at Unhwi, his eyes reddened.

They needed to speak—just the two of them.

***

Everyone nearby stepped back to give them space.

Now it was just Cheonpung and me.

Tears were already forming in the corners of Cheonpung’s eyes.

“…Tajo-nim… Are you… abandoning me?”

I shook my head.

“Did it look like abandonment to you?”

“…If it’s not that, then why are you sending me to that man… I can do better. Really… I can do so much better. If you just entrust me with anything, I’ll accomplish it no matter what. Even if it costs me my life, I will…”

“Cheonpung.”

“…Yes…”

I reached out and gently brushed his shoulder.

“When I’m not around, there are two people I consider capable of standing in for me. You know one of them.”

“…That would be Commander Seong, wouldn’t it.”

“Right. He’s the person I trust the most and the one with the highest cultivation among those around me. But if even Commander Seong had to step away… who would fill that position?”

“…Ju Soa… isn’t it?”

“No. I’ve always thought of you.”

Cheonpung’s eyes opened wide.

I’m not lying right now.

From the beginning, I’ve always said there’s no one better than Cheonpung for the position of sub-commander or acting division head.

His sense of responsibility is immense, and his strength is undeniable.

He has the courage to push through anything he’s entrusted with.

And—

“You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? That the greatsword doesn’t fit your hand. Haven’t you?”

“…How… did you know…”

“How could I not know? Aren’t you my man?”

“Tajo-nim…”

“It probably didn’t matter up to the state of Jucheongyeong. But ever since you stepped into the Flame-Awakened Realm, there’s been a clear change in how you move. You no longer wield the sword like a sword. And yet you held onto it, wasn’t that for the sake of following after me?”

“Ah…”

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Cheonpung lowered his head. Tears rolled down from his eyes and fell to the ground with a drip, drip.

“There’s no need to follow after me. Walk your own path. Your hands were made for a spear, not a sword. So is your divine strength.”

The wind blew, and the hem of my robe fluttered. I looked up at the sky for a moment and continued.

“Everyone has their own path. Yours is the path of the spear. Gwanghan will be the best guide to show you that path.”

In the distant future, Gwanghan would reach the Grand Void Formless.

When it came to spears, his skill surpassed mine.

Because I am a swordsman.

Cheonpung sank to his knees on the spot and spoke through his sobs.

“…I, Cheonpung, will never forget Tajo-nim’s grace, not even in death. When I was in Seolap, no one ever looked at me. But Tajo-nim…”

He couldn’t finish. I looked at his trembling shoulders and spoke quietly.

“Stand.”

At my words, Cheonpung shook his head.

“I can’t stand. Tajo-nim saw what was inside me. What I didn’t even know myself… and opened the path for me. So how can I stand? How can I lift my head?”

I placed my hand back on his shoulder.

“The flame inside you was always yours. All I did was show you what color that flame really was.”

Cheonpung slowly lifted his head.

His face was soaked with tears.

“Do I… have to leave Tajo-nim now?”

Silence fell for a moment.

I slowly nodded. And another stream of tears flowed from Cheonpung’s eyes.

“But Tajo-nim… I don’t want to leave your side… I really don’t want to.”

I smiled.

“You’re not leaving entirely.”

“…Huh?”

“Your place will always be left open.”

I moved the hand on his shoulder to rest atop his head.

“When you’re satisfied with yourself—when you believe you can stand in my shadow and not be ashamed—come back. I’ll have use for you.”

Tears burst from Cheonpung’s eyes again. Unable to hold them back, he began to sob.

“Tajo-nim… I… I swear…”

Even without saying the words, I could feel everything he meant.

Cheonpung was the first subordinate I received after returning.

I don’t block the path my people must walk.

Even if they idolize me and wish to be like me—if that won’t truly help them, I confront it directly.

Because that’s right.

Because they are not outsiders—they are mine, fully.

“When you return with the spear in hand… I’ll be watching to see what light rests on its tip.”

Cheonpung raised his head. The expression he saw on my face held only one thing.

Conviction.

“There is a realm that cannot be reached with the sword. That realm will open only when your hand grips the spear. Return as a dragon.”

Cheonpung nodded even through his sobs. He wiped his tears over and over, but they didn’t stop.

“Tajo-nim… When I return… I will live up to your expectations. I swear it with my life.”

I nodded and rummaged through my sleeve.

I hadn’t predicted this exact situation, but I had prepared in advance. What I pulled out was a large pouch. Inside were 300 premium-grade Shinsamlotuses.

“When you’re training or need to recover your body, take one out and burn it at your own judgment. It’ll help greatly.”

Cheonpung accepted the pouch with both hands.

“Thank you!”

“Go.”

At that, Cheonpung bowed deeply three times on the spot.

“I will return. Without fail.”

Before long, Cheonpung stood up and approached Gwanghan.

It looked like they were having a conversation, but then, with tears still in his eyes, he came back to me.

“Um… Tajo-nim…”

“What?”

“…He’s getting on my case… asking why I didn’t ask where in Hwaseongsan it was…”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing.

***

Gwanghan looked at the seven-foot-tall man next to him, crying like a child.

Starting today, this guy would be his third disciple. Normally he’d have snapped at him to stop bawling, but today… he figured he’d let it slide.

He turned his head.

Seol Unhwi.

Seventeen years old.

With about three months left before the new year, he’d soon be eighteen.

Never in his life had Gwanghan seen a monster like that.

Martial knowledge wasn’t something you could understand just from being smart.

Just the formulas of martial techniques made that clear enough.

Even the simplest lines often held dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of hidden meanings.

Understanding all of it without real battle experience was impossible.

He had a brilliant mind, and his spirit was no joke either.

Judging from his hands, he seemed to use a sword—but honestly, Gwanghan felt like forcing him to switch to a spear on the spot.

The light radiating from him was so dazzling it almost hurt to look.

But even someone like that had one threat. Not that he seemed aware of it.

So Gwanghan sent him a sound transmission.

—Hey.

The reply came instantly.

—Did you forget something?

—Not really. But you know that saying?

—Which one?

—There’s that one. About how no matter how smart you are, you’d better know that under lips dyed with rouge, the fangs ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) of a viper might be hiding.

To that, Unhwi gave a response Gwanghan hadn’t expected at all.

He smirked.

—…Wow. You’re really the type to get bitten hard one day ’cause you trust your own smarts too much, huh? I don’t really feel like giving this one away for free, but fine, try interpreting that properly.

Unhwi was still smiling.

And with that same smile, he sent another sound transmission back to Gwanghan.

—They say a fool sees only the palm, while the wise see the shadow. But I, Senior… I see the shadow, and beyond it—I see the eye watching through it.

At that, Gwanghan’s eyes started to tremble violently.

Ah.

Looks like… I made a mistake.

It was ridiculous.

—Wow… You sly little bastard. You planted him in my lineage knowing everything?

—Yes.

—…Why?

—Why do you think?

—Don’t tell me—because he’s skilled?

Unhwi nodded.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep