Seol Jungcheon spoke after a brief pause.

“We need the core of a Ten-Thousand-Year Flame Carp.”

“…A Ten-Thousand-Year… Flame Carp, you say.”

“The highest grade possible, if it can be found.”

“I’ll send word and see if anyone has one in their possession.”

“I leave it to you.”

“Yes, Palace Lord.”

Outside, the Vice Palace Lord—Yang Seoljin—answered in a perfectly cold voice.

****

It had been two shichen—roughly four hours—since I entered the council hall, spoke with Father about the Snow-Infused Frost Poison, played a game of Go, and left.

A long time, depending on how you looked at it—but not something to regret.

There would be more time. I would return to the Main Palace again.

I reached into my robes and pulled out a small pouch.

A Storage Pouch.

And not just any pouch—a top-grade one.

Inside this small pouch was space large enough to hold an entire house.

To say I didn’t care about winning or losing that game of Go would be a lie. But there had been something more important than victory.

Reading Father’s heart.

That had been my true purpose.

And in that, I succeeded. He didn’t deny his loss, and instead gave me a gift—this very pouch.

A gift from Father. Refusing it would’ve been disrespectful.

I returned it to my robes and walked on alone, just as I had come, stepping beyond the Main Palace and reaching the entrance to Hyeongseol Mountain.

One of the five mountains surrounding the palace—crossing it would take me through three cities and four peaks before reaching Seolap.

I was just about to pick up my pace—

When I let out a sigh and came to a halt.

Three men stood before me.

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

“…What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you got lost.”

“…Still throwing around stupid jokes, are you? You arrogant little shit.”

Of course. One of the oh-so-precious bloodline heirs of the Polar Bloodline.

The Third Snow Kirin—Seol Unhae.

The air around us was thick with hostility.

The kind of tension that screamed: If you don’t see where ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ this is going, you deserve to die.

And then—

“…Where’s the pack mule?”

“…Pack mule? Oh—you must mean Jeongwoon.”

“If you’re referring to a man about six-foot-five, packed with muscle, then yes.”

“Well, aren’t you a strange little bastard. I don’t know how you know my servant’s name, but why the hell would I bring a pack mule to something this important?”

“I suppose our definitions of important differ. But no matter. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have quite a lot on my plate.”

“So what?”

“So I’d prefer not to waste time. Let’s get to the point.”

“Straight to it, huh? Fine. Let’s do that. Igyum, Ushim.”

“Yes, Young Lord.”

“Go beat the shit out of him. Like the old days.”

The two men flanking Seol Unhae grinned wide.

“At your command!”

****

You read the situation.

The mood.

And the men.

Igyum and Ushim.

Their realm: Five Dragon Peak Star—the third realm of the Four Realms of Refined Qi.

Seol Unhae was in Samhwa Meditation Hall, so someone like him wouldn’t bring guards stronger than himself.

He wasn’t that kind of person.

I raised my head—Igyum lunged first.

His fist came straight for my face.

I twisted slightly, letting the punch glance past me.

His fist ripped through empty air.

Ever since I used my blood energy not long ago, I’d realized something crucial.

I’m the weak one now.

But there are ways for the weak to fight.

And I—unlike most—carry insight and experience that go far beyond what any weakling should.

If I blended the two…

I could fight with ruthless efficiency.

Without hesitation, I reached for my Cold Ice Dagger.

It flashed as it pierced through Igyum’s arm.

“AAAGH!”

His right arm froze instantly, shards of bone and skin turning brittle in the blink of an eye.

But even before I could fully withdraw, Ushim came barreling at me from behind.

It was fine.

The moment Igyum anchored himself into that spot, I had already calculated every potential outcome.

Minimal movement.

I stepped back once.

Ushim’s sword missed my face by inches.

I immediately drew my Snow-White Sword and swung.

There was no wasted motion. The arc of my blade traced across both of Ushim’s arms.

Slice.

Both limbs dropped to the ground with a wet, final sound.

“A… AAAAAAH!”

I adjusted my grip on the sword and turned.

Igyum, with one dagger still buried in his arm, had pulled a sword with the other.

A final attempt.

Unfortunately for him, it missed again.

I reached with my free hand and yanked the Cold Ice Dagger free.

Crack—

The sound of frozen bones and torn muscle filled the air.

Before Igyum could even scream, I slashed the dagger straight across his face.

THWACK—

The blade pierced straight through Igyum’s left cheek and jutted out through the right.

And in that brief instant, I saw him—Seol Unhae—charging at me from across the clearing, drawing his sword.

“You… bastard…!”

Shoving Igyum aside, he launched himself forward.

But I moved first.

Faster than Seol Unhae. Faster than he could’ve predicted.

That was all I needed.

I caught Seol Unhae’s sword with my left hand. Blood spilled—but I didn’t care.

My right hand, already gripping the Snow-White Sword, slashed downward like lightning.

CRACK—!

A sickening crunch. His left arm shattered.

“AAAAAAGH!”

His scream rang out.

“I’m only showing restraint because of our father.”

I said it calmly, twisting his right arm until I felt the bone give way.

CRUNCH—

Another fracture.

“This sort of thing is rare.”

My foot split the air.

Seol Unhae’s right thigh broke like dry wood.

“Try to remember each step clearly.”

I stomped down on his left thigh.

CRUNCH-CRACK—

Bone ground into splinters.

Every movement flowed like water.

The flawless efficiency of experience—refined in a past life.

Looking down at Seol Unhae, I spoke quietly.

“I have no desire to kill my siblings. Quite the opposite—I want to save them.”

“…Khh… guh…”

“But if you keep forcing my hand like this, I’ll have no choice.”

As much as Father loved me, he must have loved this foolish man as well.

In my past life, I drove nails into them over and over.

If I did the same again after being given a second chance, I’d only loathe myself.

“Remember this. No matter what happens, I will never kill my blood.”

I reached out and grabbed Seol Unhae’s head.

“I’ll keep you breathing. But I’ll make sure you can do nothing else.”

“…You…”

“I’ve realized, Brother, that you’re particularly bad at understanding words. So I’ll give you more chances than most.”

“….”

“If something like this happens again, I’ll start by crippling your right arm.”

“…W-What?”

“I’ll tear it out, or rip your blood vessels apart—doesn’t matter how. I’ll make it so you can’t even lift a spoon.”

“And you’d do well to remember the sequence.”

“…No… you wouldn’t…”

“Oh, I would. You get five chances.”

“…”

“Why five? Because on the fifth, I’ll shatter your dantian. Even you aren’t stupid enough to let it go that far.”

He swallowed hard.

“When that day comes, Father will understand as well. So let’s make sure it doesn’t.”

I stood up.

Igyum was still on the ground.

He had a dumb, blank expression on his face—like he couldn’t figure out how to pull the Cold Ice Dagger from his face.

Sadly, that question didn’t matter.

And it didn’t need answering.

I stabbed him through the chest.

THUNK—

The sword punched clean through his solar plexus and exited out his back.

“Kh… keh—”

“You pointed your sword at me. Twice.”

“…ghhk…”

“There won’t be a third time.”

I pulled the sword free.

And then I swung.

SHHLLK—

Igyum’s head soared into the air.

I turned.

Ushim sat paralyzed in terror, staring at his severed arms like they were foreign objects.

He’d figured it out, at least.

Better than Igyum had.

I walked toward him without a word.

He crawled backward, but what good would that do with no hands?

I stopped a few feet from him.

“Got something to say?”

“Spare me… Please… I beg you…”

“You’re asking something I simply can’t do.”

“…What?”

“Drawing your sword against a bloodline heir of the Polar Bloodline is no different than begging for death. Even I can’t look the other way forever.”

“…I… I didn’t mean…”

“You’ve already lost both arms. You’ll live the rest of your life that way. Wouldn’t it be better to just start over?”

“…Start… over?”

“I don’t know if reincarnation exists—but you might as well find out firsthand.”

The Snow-White Sword swung once more.

THUNK—

Ushim’s head hit the ground.

I wiped the blade clean and turned.

“…Brother.”

“…Kh-huk…”

“Did you think I was joking when I told you to be more selective about who you surround yourself with?”

“…Y-You…”

I walked toward him.

“Yes, it’s your choice who follows you. But even if they’re comfortable, if they’re beneath you in cultivation, and you can’t protect yourself, then shouldn’t you at least bring guards at the Five Principles of Form or Heaven and Earth Realm?”

“…You dare lecture me?!”

“I call it advice. But clearly, it’s wasted on you.”

I stopped in front of him.

I was about to say goodbye, but he exploded first.

“You goddamn piece of shit! Hanbing Sect won’t stand for this! You bastard! You lunatic! You trash excuse for a human being!”

“As I’ve said before.”

I crouched down slowly.

“No matter what happens, your mother’s clan must not interfere.”

I gently placed my hand on his shoulder.

He tried to scream—but stopped.

Because the killing intent I released wasn’t something a flower raised in a greenhouse could possibly endure.

I spoke in a soft, almost kind voice.

“What I swore to protect is the Everlasting Snow Palace—not some second-rate sect like the Hanbing Sect. Especially not them.”

I met Seol Unhae’s terrified gaze and continued.

“But if you start pulling strings behind my back… if your precious maternal clan starts pressuring me or meddling in my affairs…”

CRACK—

I clenched down on his shoulder.

“…Do you truly not understand what will happen next?”

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