“May I ask where you’re going?”

“To Yangnyeong.”

“…Alone?”

Seol Unwi had never said it aloud, but he preferred moving alone.

It had always been that way, even in his previous life.

Even after joining the Central Blood Sect, even after nurturing hundreds of martial artists in the Four Realms of Heaven and Earth and dozens of monsters in the Five Realms of the Martial God, that preference had never changed.

Unless it was a full-scale war where entire strike units mobilized, at most he would take one or two companions. And even now, that habit remained unchanged.

“Do you wish to come with me?”

“…I would like to, but I know I’d only be a burden.”

“You’re right. As you are now, you would be.”

His words were cold, but if you looked deeper, they weren’t heartless.

“If I grow stronger, would I be able to move alongside you?”

“Perhaps. But after exhausting your body so brutally this morning, training again without resting will only slow your progress.”

Seol Unwi had offered an opportunity, and Wonyang had accepted it.

She no longer disguised herself as a man.

And she doubled her usual training hours.

Serving under Seol Unwi was the opportunity of a lifetime.

A slight touch would awaken techniques not only from Hancheol’s martial arts, but even from the Namgung clan’s inner arts.

She had even created the Fivefold Snowflake Formation—something so rare that no one could have predicted it.

The most astonishing was the formation itself.

Martial arts and formation arts were similar in spirit but fundamentally different. They could never truly be the same.

And with her, no clear limits could be guessed.

Following him was the right decision. She could feel herself slowly becoming one with his path.

Wonyang slowly took off the Snow-White Fur Cloak she was wearing.

Normally, warriors of the snowy mountains didn’t wear only a single cloak.

Over their black robes, they wore fur mantles made from white weasels or foxes, called Snow-White Fur Cloaks.

Once she fully removed it, she extended it toward Unwi.

“It keeps the warmth well,” she said casually, but her voice trembled ever so slightly.

So did her fingertips, stretched out toward him.

She didn’t even know exactly why.

Was it because she wanted to warm him, standing there in nothing but a black cloak under the freezing sky?

Or was it simply because she served him?

Unwi stared at it for a moment, then took the cloak.

It still carried Wonyang’s lingering warmth.

“Is it all right if it gets a little dirty?”

“I don’t mind,” she answered calmly.

But her eyes said otherwise.

“I’ll make good use of it,” he said, turning around without further word.

The cold wind of the snowy mountain flapped the edges of his cloak.

Wonyang gazed after him endlessly.

The cloak, infused with her body heat, now draped over his back—as if she herself were embracing him.

Even after Unwi’s figure disappeared from sight, her eyes remained fixed on that spot.

Snow began to fall.

She stayed there, unmoving, until Unwi’s fading footprints were finally swallowed by the snow.

Quietly.

****

The light snow soon turned into a blizzard.

Whether this was a stroke of fortune or misfortune, Seol Unwi didn’t ponder it.

Snowfall or no, he simply did what needed to be done.

Past midnight, he stood atop the roof of an unnamed building, his eyes narrowed toward the large manor visible in the distance.

The head of the Snow Compression Branch’s Open Gate Division had provided all the information he requested—

including the layouts of the Four Great Sects’ compounds ruling Yangnyeong.

The manor before him was the Cheongun Sword Gate.

Its master was Do Cheonhaeng, his martial level at the Samhwa Meditation Hall stage.

His deputy was Do Sogong, at the Yang Radiance Appears stage.

Though Seolap was small, Yangnyeong was not an enormous city either.

Given the brutal climate—clear from the current blizzard—no proper sects would willingly settle here.

Only one real concern remained.

The Juryung Sword Sect, highest among the Four Great Sects, served as the Martial Alliance’s regional office.

Yet Seol Unwi didn’t care.

No—he wasn’t even interested.

The Martial Alliance?

They were nothing.

Snow rapidly accumulated on his Snow-White Fur Cloak, covering him entirely.

Yet he didn’t move a muscle.

What was Seol Unwi’s greatest strength?

There were many—but if one had to choose, it was adaptability.

Fighting Bing Seolgeom, he had realized something important.

It wasn’t about some sudden, miraculous growth.

Seol Unwi’s knowledge and experience were unparalleled.

Even when his level had plummeted overnight, he adapted.

And so he survived.

Back then, Bing Seolgeom was at the Samhwa Meditation Hall stage, and Unwi was at Yang Radiance Appears.

Unwi had to burn his blood to fight, leaving his body in tatters.

But from that bitter experience, he had found ways to fight more aggressively, more efficiently.

His experience was his deadliest weapon.

Maximizing it.

Never hesitating.

Executing instantly.

When all these factors aligned, the results were unimaginable.

And tonight, it would happen again.

Before long, the lights inside the Cheongun Sword Gate began to extinguish one by one.

Only two buildings remained lit.

According to the intelligence he’d received, one was the Sect Master’s Hall, and the other was the Medicine Hall.

That was all he needed.

Unwi’s gaze shifted slightly.

Further away stood a larger manor—the Jang Sword Gate.

Among the Four Great Sects, the Juryung Sword Sect was preeminent, but their master was away and Bing Seolgeom had vanished.

If Juryung Sword Sect fell, the Jang Sword Gate would rise to replace it.

They had even begun directly managing nearby mines—clear proof of ambition.

Unwi rose silently to his feet.

Snow slid off his fur cloak in heavy clumps.

He turned his back to the scene.

Further beyond lay a palace.

Compared to the Everlasting Snow Palace, it was a child’s toy.

Still, its structure was undeniably that of a palace, not a simple manor.

It was the Hyeoncheon Palace.

Many lights were still on, but it was acceptable.

Seol Unwi mapped the optimal route in his mind.

Without a sound, he launched himself downward.

The rooftop was high, but he landed as softly as a bird alighting on snow.

Facing forward—

Eyes locked onto the Cheongun Sword Gate—

He moved.

Once, he had exchanged brief words with Seol Horyeong about stealth.

True stealth, they said, required both erasure (忘) and emptiness (虛).

One must vanish and become hollow.

Before even a snowflake could settle onto his footprints, there was only a faint, white mark indistinguishable from the surrounding snow.

The footwork technique he now used was a refined version of the Ghost Gate Step from the Wandering Soul Sect:

Trace-Free Shadow Returning Step.

Amid the blizzard, it was even more powerful.

No sound.

No traces.

Not even the faintest ripple of presence.

Only one flaw remained—

Speed.

His speed was not particularly fast—no more than a casual jog by ordinary standards.

But that was simply a matter of level, not effort.

Without pausing, Seol Unwi leapt over the wall of the Cheongun Sword Gate, silently crossing past four buildings before slipping deep into the heart of the compound.

The blizzard worsened by the moment, but Seol Unwi pushed forward through the raging snow, until he finally arrived at Do Cheonhaeng’s residence.

Two guards stood at the entrance.

Unwi calmly released his Trace-Free Shadow Returning Step and came to a stop.

It was only then that the two guards noticed the figure standing silently in the blizzard.

And the moment they did, their faces filled with shock.

They hadn’t sensed his approach.

They hadn’t even realized he was there until they happened /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ to glance around.

“Wh-who are you?!”

“Is the Sect Master inside?”

“Y-yes…”

That was all he needed to know.

Without hesitation, Seol Unwi drew the Cold Ice Dagger from his waist and hurled it in a swift, fluid motion.

Thwack!

Like a bolt of light, the dagger buried itself into the head of one guard, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The second guard, momentarily frozen in horror, snapped back to his senses.

He tried to draw his sword to defend himself, but the cold touch of a blade pressed against his throat before he could even move.

In that instant, recognition dawned in the man’s terrified eyes.

“S-Seol Unwi…?”

Unwi’s lips curled faintly into a cold smile.

Thwack!

The guard’s throat was pierced without mercy.

Seol Unwi shook the blood from his sword with a flick of his wrist, then retrieved the dagger lodged in the first guard’s skull.

Without a word, he pushed open the door to the Sect Master’s Hall.

Inside, the hall was silent.

With calm, deliberate steps, Unwi moved deeper into the building, heading toward the private quarters of the Sect Master.

The Cheongun Sword Gate had a particular arrangement:

the Sect Master’s residence lay directly behind the main hall.

He advanced steadily, until finally a single door appeared before him.

He paused.

He could feel it.

The murderous intent leaking from beyond that door.

Soon enough, with a creaking sound, the door opened from within.

Standing there with a frosty expression was Do Cheonhaeng, Master of the Cheongun Sword Gate.

“…You dare come here to assassinate me?” he said.

“Rather than an assassination, I would prefer you think of it as a part of a greater plan,” Seol Unwi replied.

“A plan?”

“In the plan I have laid out,” Unwi said, extending his sword toward him, “your role is simple.”

He spoke without the slightest hesitation.

“Today, you die.”

“…You truly are mad,” Do Cheonhaeng growled. “The bloodline of the Everlasting Snow Palace, crawling around like some lowly assassin in the night… Who put you up to this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You couldn’t have planned this alone. Who helped you?”

Seol Unwi said nothing.

“Was it the Hanbing Sect?”

“The Hanbing Sect, you say?”

It was an interesting guess.

The Hanbing Sect—his mother’s clan, and the background of Seol Unhae—was well-known.

“So they decided to aid a bastard son in murder after all,” Do Cheonhaeng sneered. “Scheming snakes, the lot of you…”

Unwi let out a soft laugh.

Why had he acted today?

To be precise, he had no choice but to act today.

The masters of the Four Great Sects were known to be extremely close.

The moment they received his letters, they would start devising countermeasures—plans that would be troublesome and exhaustive to deal with.

Therefore, the solution was clear.

Widening the battlefield would only be the act of a fool.

It was far simpler to eliminate their leadership altogether—before their plans could even take shape.

That was why he was here.

To cut off their heads before dawn.

“Is that all you have for your final words?” Unwi asked coldly.

“…Final words?” Do Cheonhaeng roared. “Did you just speak to me of final words? You damned fool! A mangy pup thinking he can challenge a tiger! Fine then. I will beat you within an inch of your life—”

Before he could finish, Do Cheonhaeng jerked his head to the side.

A dagger whizzed past, grazing his cheek and embedding itself deep in the opposite wall.

It had been fast—almost impossibly so.

Only by watching the dagger’s twisting trajectory until the very last instant had he managed to dodge it.

Even so, the close call made it clear:

the technique Seol Unwi had used was no ordinary martial art.

Certainly not something born of the Everlasting Snow Palace.

No—

It was filled with a murderous aura, unmistakably resembling the techniques of the demonic sects.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep