Chief Steward Seong moved silently, stepping forward before carefully brushing aside the snow gathered near the base of the cliff.

Footprints.

He examined how deeply the prints were pressed into the snow, which direction the weight had shifted, and whether the wielder had channeled their inner power through the entire sole, only the toes, or just the heel.

Everything revealed itself to his eyes.

And he was certain.

It began here.

This was where inner force had been drawn forth. The traces made it clear—it happened in the moment of shifting into a defensive stance upon encountering someone.

His fingers brushed over the gouge in the tree nearby.

The depth and angle of the wound told a story.

It was shallow, but unmistakably a sword mark.

“From high to low, then twisted rightward as the blade was withdrawn.”

Someone had clashed swords here.

And yet, there were no other footprints—only two sets.

Chief Steward Seong inhaled slowly, then rose and scanned the surroundings.

This time, he saw traces of footwork.

Though buried in snow, they could not deceive his eyes.

“Jin Sohyeop’s Military Advancement Step… and…”

He brushed aside more snow.

“…Baek Myeonggaek’s Flowing Step Method.”

Back in the Seolap days, Seong had observed both men closely.

Even if Jin Sohyeop and Baek Myeonggaek had received martial arts and internal techniques from Unwi, Chief Steward Seong still knew their footwork patterns.

Jin had served in the cavalry. But cavalrymen didn’t only fight from horseback.

The footwork they used after dismounting was called the Military Advancement Step.

Baek Myeonggaek, on the other hand, used Flowing Step Method—a technique once belonging to the Cheongseong sect, refined with the disciplined formation of Wolguk’s infantry.

There was no doubt—these were their movements.

And in Seong’s mind, the scene began to form.

The two had encountered someone—and drawn their swords.

They had fought.

Based on the intervals where movement paused, there had even been an exchange of words.

Chief Steward Seong silently followed the footprints.

At times, he noted which way the branches had been disturbed.

At others, he read the faint nicks left on stones.

Eventually, he stopped before the edge of a cliff.

His eyes flashed.

“…As I thought.”

He bent down, brushing snow from the cliff’s edge.

A red stain.

Old blood.

He had to look below.

Without hesitation, he pushed off the ground, bracing against the rock face as he began to descend.

He soon spotted scattered blood traces.

This wasn’t blood drawn from a sword in midair or some such dramatic display.

Someone had been flung from the cliff and, struggling to survive, had swung their arm—not to strike, but to find a handhold.

Their goal had been simple: to catch the wall.

But it hadn’t gone well.

The trail of blood cut off abruptly. That confirmed it.

Chief Steward Seong loosened the strength in the arm he’d been using to brace against the wall, and his body dropped.

Roughly a hundred jang down—yet he landed light as a feather.

He scanned the base again, more closely this time, and spotted a gouged-out portion of the cliff.

There he found the corpse, mangled beyond recognition.

Wild dogs had clearly gotten to it—but the cause of death was unmistakable.

A sword wound.

One deep, clean strike.

The body belonged to Baek Myeonggaek.

Chief Steward Seong stared down at the corpse with cold eyes.

Every person lives by their choices.

If one has no regrets about those choices, that’s enough.

Baek Myeonggaek had made his choice—to leave.

To hold onto his convictions.

But to believe those convictions would always lead to good outcomes… was a delusion best abandoned.

This is the martial world.

The romanticism of the martial world has long since died.

Seong quietly reflected.

“Baek Myeonggaek’s corpse is here… but the blood trail nearby clearly belongs to Jin Sohyeop. So why is there no body?”

With that much blood loss, the injuries would have to be critical.

Odd.

He needed more than certainty—he needed confirmation.

He stepped back, looking out over the area as a whole.

Footprints. Broken branches.

The scene came together.

Baek Myeonggaek had been wounded and thrown from the cliff.

In response, Jin Sohyeop had thrown himself after him, breaking branches as he landed.

Then, someone followed Jin Sohyeop down and fought him there.

The enemy toyed with Jin.

Parts of the cliff were gouged, blood was splattered, branches broken.

Jin had been thrown into the wall—eight times at least.

It was clear now.

Jin Sohyeop had suffered grievous wounds.

So severe that without treatment, survival was unlikely—but at some point, the bleeding had stopped.

His opponent had stemmed the bleeding.

That meant they needed him alive. They had a reason to take him.

More certainty.

Only one culprit.

Chief Steward Seong’s eyes narrowed.

Taking both men would’ve been difficult.

So the enemy made a choice—to dispose of one.

All the clues now fit together.

Their attacker was a master.

At least Three Flowers Converge—possibly even Five Banners Form.

That level of power was necessary to dispatch them so cleanly.

More than that—the enemy had revealed neither footwork nor martial techniques.

They had subdued and killed with plain swordplay alone.

Even though Jin Sohyeop and Baek Myeonggaek had unleashed everything they had, it wasn’t enough.

They hadn’t even managed a scratch.

It was enough.

Baek Myeonggaek was dead.

Jin Sohyeop had been taken.

Chief Steward Seong recovered the corpse, then left the gorge.

He had a report to make.

To Unwi.

****

Shortly after reaching the realm of Five Dragon Blooming Star, Seol Unwi began examining the changes in his body, one by one.

Inside him, his inner force now flowed with far greater strength along the Chong and Dai Meridians.

Compared to the Dual Light Manifestation stage, the power coursing through him was incomparably stronger.

Like a quiet stream that had suddenly become a surging river.

Thanks to his abnormally thick blood channels, his capacity to store inner force far exceeded that of other martial artists—but even so, the barriers between realms could not be ignored.

Even with the use of False Innate Energy, that much remained true.

He raised his palm and gathered inner force.

A pale white glow began to shimmer above his hand.

Before, this process would’ve taken time.

Now, a mere thought summoned it instantly.

That was what it meant to unlock the Middle Dantian.

To be honest, he still didn’t quite like it—but he chose to see it as a positive.

He quietly steadied his breath.

His inner force swirled violently, circulating through every part of his body.

A subtle vibration began beneath his skin, followed by a faint mist rising from his pores.

The impurities within his body were being expelled.

After continuing his meditation for about one more shijin, Unwi slowly rose to his feet.

At most, it had been three shijin.

When he advanced further in cultivation, the Conception and Governor Meridians would open. Beyond that, the complete awakening of the Eight Extraordinary Meridians awaited him.

It was fine.

He wasn’t in a rush.

To be impatient would be to walk the path of those other carriers of wide meridians—whose bodies had ruptured under the pressure.

He wasn’t stupid enough to make that kind of mistake.

Because Seol Unwi was not that kind of man.

After changing into clean clothes, Unwi stepped outside—and froze.

“…Found him on the Nine Dragon Trade Route.”

It was the corpse of Baek Myeonggaek, mutilated beyond recognition.

Unwi stood in silence for a long time, staring at the body.

So his worst suspicion had [N O V E L I G H T] come true.

But as with most things in life, one’s intuitions don’t always come to pass. Unwi was no exception.

He had made countless predictions in his life. And many of them were wrong.

He had hoped the unease he felt over Jin Sohyeop and Baek Myeonggaek’s disappearance was just that—unfounded worry.

He ran a hand down his face.

This was reality.

Unwi spoke.

“Any thoughts on who it was?”

“…I’m not sure.”

He raised his eyes to Han Murin.

“Do you have something to say?”

“I say this only because it might cross your mind… but it wasn’t me.”

Unwi studied Han Murin for a moment before replying in a calm voice.

“There’s one thing I can make absolutely clear. I don’t suspect any of you.”

“…”

“Given the timing alone, it’s impossible for it to have been you. So put that worry aside.”

Then Unwi turned to Chief Steward Seong.

“You said it was someone above Five Banners Form?”

“Yes. From what I could tell, at the very least Five Banners Form…”

Seong’s words trailed off. He’d spoken so naturally, caught up in the moment—but officially, both inside and outside the palace, Seong was nothing more than a civilian.

Unwi watched his pale expression and said quietly,

“Chief Steward Seong is a member of the White Snow Phantom Corps. His current realm is Spirit Ascension Stage.”

Namgung Wonyang and Cheonpung both gasped, as did Seong himself. Only Han Murin remained unsurprised.

“…Young Master, you shouldn’t reveal that so casually…”

“They were bound to find out sooner or later. Better to answer the questions I ask than waste time playing pretend.”

Seong scratched his head and sighed.

“…Fine. I understand. I’m sure you have your reasons. Then to answer your question—yes, it was at least a master of Five Banners Form. If the attacker had been merely Three Flowers Converge, there’s no way Jin Sohyeop and Baek Myeonggaek would’ve been taken down so easily.”

“Your reasoning?”

“You already know. You’ve watched them train. Those two, even as they were, could’ve at least left a small wound on a master at that level—maybe scrawled a name across their back in blood. If they’d gone in ready to die, they could’ve carved out a solid gash, hand-span wide. But there was nothing there. No blood but theirs.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. Not a single extra bloodstain, not even a scrap of torn cloth, not a single strand of hair. It was a game to the attacker.”

“They played with them… then abducted one.”

“Yes. One person came. Killed one, took the other.”

“You believe he’s still alive?”

“…It’s possible. But I’m doubtful.”

Time to return to the root of the matter.

Why had Unwi suspected something might happen to those two in the first place?

It wasn’t intuition born of ignorance.

It was a matter of how you used the information you had.

In this case, a single name had to be considered.

“What’s the martial level of Hanbing Sect’s Cho Sehui?”

“…He’s at Five Banners Form.”

“Four days ago, the day I arrived in Yangnyeong and burned down the four major sects and killed the magistrate—I heard Cho Sehui left for Hanbing Sect that same day. Is there any definitive proof that he actually left?”

“…No proof. Just a few resident eyewitnesses, and that’s it. But he did leave the government office, that much is certain.”

“What if he left the office and simply observed from afar?”

“…”

“The Hanbing Sect is part of my maternal lineage. Even before this, I’ve always kept them in check. No… not just ‘in check.’”

His voice dropped, colder now.

“They played a major role in turning me into a dog.”

“…Young Master…”

“Before he died, Han Janggwang said something. If Juryung Sword Gate managed to kill me, Hanbing Sect would clean up the mess. They’d struck a deal.”

“…You… you never mentioned that. That needs to be reported to the Palace Lord immediately—”

Chief Steward Seong hadn’t been there when that happened.

Which meant this was his first time hearing it.

And for once, he was visibly furious.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep