If the blood vessels were completely purified, all poisons removed from the blood, a few herbal decoctions boiled and administered… and that process repeated three or four times, then the child could return to being a normal person.

Because it wasn’t a complete Poison-Soul Constitution—just an incomplete one.

“What do you think I’ll do?”

At Unhwi’s question, Commander Seong replied cautiously.

“How about taking the body and attempting negotiations with the Blood Sect’s warriors?”

Unhwi looked at Commander Seong with an expression of faint surprise.

“You think that’s the right move?”

“…Just as you have your own priorities, young master, I have mine. And my first priority is your safety.”

Someone else agreed with Commander Seong’s opinion.

It was Han Murin.

“Vice Commander.”

“Speak.”

“I also believe we should take the corpse of that Poison-Soul child.”

“You share Commander Seong’s view?”

“Yes. While the Tae-Yeong Record provides evidence, it’s not enough. The child’s corpse is needed to complete the credibility of the Record. If you have both, your range of options will widen significantly.”

Neither Wonyang nor Ju Soa said anything.

Because they agreed.

It was simple.

If Unhwi possessed both the corpse and the Tae-Yeong Record, just as Han Murin had said, his range of strategic choices would vastly increase.

He could rally the entire martial world to exterminate the Original Blood Sect—or, conversely, use it to negotiate with them.

But fundamentally, Unhwi had no prior knowledge that the Mixed Poison Tae-Yeong experiments were still being conducted at this point in time.

Frankly speaking, he had stumbled upon this by sheer chance.

And what he stumbled into was so massive that it more than justified the killing of Blood Sect warriors—it was enough to bury everything else entirely.

“It’s rare to have a chance not only to resolve old grudges, but to make the Blood Sect indebted to you.”

The Tae-Yeong Record, with its detailed step-by-step documentation, and the child’s corpse as irrefutable evidence—

Those two formed a complete set. Without one, the other’s credibility would be called into question, and the options available would narrow drastically.

Unhwi quietly looked around and then spoke in a calm tone.

“Burn it all.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“This was knowledge I came upon unwillingly. And while I could gain a great deal from using it… I’m not so desperate that I need to.”

“……”

“If not me, then who else will put these vengeful souls to rest?”

Han Murin bowed her head without saying another word.

Unhwi turned his body and spoke decisively.

“Burn everything.”

White stones like clouds and black stones like crows danced upon the grid. On the jade Go board, two people’s qi crossed like swords.

The Celestial Daoist picked up a white stone with his fingers.

It hovered in the air for a moment, then landed on the board with a soft tak.

Yu Cheong’s eyes shifted.

Caught off guard by the unexpected move, he looked up.

“As expected… You always make the unthinkable move.”

A deep wrinkle appeared at the corner of the Celestial Daoist’s eye. It wasn’t a sneer—but a pure, childlike smile.

“Heuheuheu… And that’s why I’m the Sect Master, and you’re the Vice Sect Master.”

“Indeed.”

Yu Cheong studied the board. The battlefield formed by the white and black stones resembled a miniature version of the martial world itself.

“I hear the martial world’s grown noisy of late.”

Yu Cheong picked up a stone, rolled it between his fingers, and placed it on the board.

“Yes. The waves stirred by this Seol Unhwi are significant. Just a mere ‘royal-born youth’ choosing to walk the path of a martial artist wouldn’t normally amount to much—but each move he makes shifts the current of the entire martial world.”

“I heard he’s good at Go…”

The Celestial Daoist paused, narrowing his eyes like an old man as he continued.

“Better than you?”

“Well… excessive humility becomes poison, they say—but until now, I’ve never once considered anyone other than you, Sect Master, to be a ‘worthy opponent.’ I don’t mean to underestimate Seol Unhwi… but I don’t believe he’s a match for me. Of course, with time and experience, that might change. But as of now…”

Yu Cheong picked up another Go stone and continued.

“…he certainly has the skill to shift the current of the martial world.”

“Hmm… That royal-born boy resolved the long-held wish of No Cheonmyeong of Shinsam Valley, they say. What do you make of that?”

Yu Cheong smiled gently.

“A blessing. No Cheonmyeong, who pursued the martial path with unwavering will for fifty years, finally seized the opportunity given by Heaven—and ascended to the state of Union of Heaven and Man. I do think that’s remarkable, but… as you’ve likely already been informed, he personally stepped forward for Seol Unhwi.”

“It was the Blood-Spirit Fivefold, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Blood-Rain Sword Demon Hyeol Unam. You personally granted him the ‘Blood’ surname. And not just him—the poison-bearers there were all killed as well.”

“Poison-bearers, hmm…”

The Celestial Daoist’s voice dropped low.

“What were poison-bearers doing there?”

Silence fell.

His gaze turned sharp. Though his outward form was that of a kindly elder, his eyes held the weight of a thousand years.

Yu Cheong smiled.

“I wouldn’t know. Perhaps… Cheonsa-eum was preparing something of his own.”

“Heuheuheu… You don’t know? You?”

“As you well know, Sect Master, the Original Blood Sect is vast… and my eyes aren’t enough to monitor every activity of the Blood-Spirit Division and the branches.”

The Celestial Daoist picked up a stone—and then placed it back down without playing it.

Instead, he stared directly into Yu Cheong’s eyes.

In that fleeting moment, the look in his eyes held a storm vast enough to shake the heavens and earth.

“If one’s actions disturb the balance of the world in the name of the Way… then even I cannot let it pass.”

Yu Cheong remained silent. An invisible pressure clashed between them. The stones on the board trembled faintly.

And then—

The Celestial Daoist placed a stone down and rose to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Yu Cheong asked.

The Celestial Daoist smiled.

“A new peak has risen on the green mountain. This old man ought to go take a look.”

“…Are you going to meet Seol Unhwi?”

“Heuheuheu… Just as rivers flow to the sea, each era seeks out its rightful master. I’m curious about you, but I’m more curious about him. Where will that current flow? Is he the kind of martial artist who might stir the heart of this old Daoist?”

Like a child, the Celestial Daoist was gleeful.

“The move I played in jest has returned as a storm. In nearly sixty years, no one has intrigued me this much—since you.”

“It’s an honor.”

Heuheuheu.

Laughing, the Celestial Daoist strolled leisurely away.

Left alone, Yu Cheong naturally glanced at the board.

The final move the Celestial Daoist had played—

He traced the board from that one stone.

And let out a hollow laugh.

“…I’ve lost.”

That single move changed the entire board.

Five moves… no, seven… no—

At most, nine.

Nine moves from now, Yu Cheong would lose.

He could only laugh.

This was what they called a divine move.

In this vast world, Yu Cheong could name exactly one person who should never become his enemy.

The Celestial Daoist.

…Incredible.

Impossible to read. Impossible to withstand in power.

A monster who could likely stand against five masters of the same level, alone.

That was the Celestial Daoist.

Yu Cheong could only watch the spot where he had vanished.

And then—

Heuheuheu. Not nine—but six.

The Celestial Daoist’s voice echoed across the sky.

A Transmitted Sound technique combining Six-Harmony Resonance and Thousand-Mile Whisper—a message that pierced straight to the mind.

A remarkable level of skill—but that wasn’t what shocked Yu Cheong.

He was a supreme master of Singularity and Independence. Such a technique was trivial to him.

But the Celestial Daoist had spoken of the exact number of moves.

He had read Yu Cheong’s thoughts perfectly.

Yu Cheong could only offer a strained smile.

…Freaking monster.

***

Having returned to Chongta, Unhwi was now receiving a report from Han Seokhyeon, newly appointed as Grand Commander.

“The gathering of Divine Ginseng Blossoms is proceeding smoothly. However… there’s one problem.”

“Speak.”

“Due to the death of Yi Myeonghwa of the Medicine Hall, the preparation of the ginseng compounds has slowed considerably. He left behind some of his formulas, and they’re decent… but…”

“The other pharmacists can’t properly follow them?”

“Yes. As you’re aware, young master, Yi Myeonghwa’s skill was truly exceptional. He dictated every detail—when and how to proceed at each stage of refining. With him gone, the quality of the ginseng extracts and pills has fallen to mid-grade, or even low-grade.”

Unhwi rested his chin in his hand.

It bears repeating: Unhwi held the skills of Viper Valley in very high regard.

Cheonsa-eum’s poisonous arts approached peerless levels, and Yi Myeonghwa, as his disciple, was likewise formidable.

As he had once told Seol Jungcheon—anywhere else, he wouldn’t have cared, but Viper Valley? He would have dragged them back in chains if necessary.

Now, however, the situation had shifted.

Tsk.

So be it.

“Wonyang.”

At Unhwi’s call, Wonyang immediately stepped out from the corner where she had been waiting quietly.

“Bring brush and paper.”

She promptly ran inside the Chongta compound and returned with an ink set, handing it to Unhwi respectfully.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Lord.”

Unhwi silently took up the brush and scribbled something onto a letter, then handed it to Wonyang.

“Send this to the Hanbing Gate.”

“…Hanbing Gate?”

Hanbing Gate was Unhwi’s maternal clan, famed for their mastery of forging and alchemical techniques.

And Unhwi still held a tight leash on Hanbing Gate.

“I’ll deliver it immediately.”

Among the many buildings within Yangryeong’s Chongta, there was one called the Flying Message Pavilion.

It had previously been a mere nameplate—but ever since Han Seokhyeon’s appointment, it had been staffed ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) with messengers, porters, and several carrier hawks, most of them from the Heavenly Commerce Guild. The Pavilion was where they managed the birds.

Watching Wonyang sprint toward the Flying Message Pavilion, Han Seokhyeon chuckled softly.

“If it’s the pharmacists from Hanbing Gate… that gap will be filled in no time.”

“Most likely.”

Unhwi looked up at Han Seokhyeon.

The man was managing far more than most could imagine.

He oversaw not only the twin mines of Seolap nearby, but also the gold mine in Oksu Village—and now even the Divine Ginseng Blossoms in Shinsam Valley.

If Unhwi had told him to monitor the black market in Cheongsu Village too, his head might’ve exploded.

“Oh—and someone came from the Cheongsu black market.”

“When?”

“While you were away with the sub-division.”

“Who was it?”

“The newly appointed branch head of Cheongsu Village—someone called Jeonbi.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep