“Keep silent about what happened today. I will personally report to the Patriarch.”

At Namgoong Sang’s command, the members of the Changcheon Sword Corps clenched their fists and shouted in unison.

“Yes!”

Yet even their voices were cautious, as if afraid of being overheard.

Namgoong Sang firmly rallied his team and left the mountain range without a moment’s hesitation.

“Changcheon Leader? Why the rush? Already missing your three-year-old daughter? No matter how I think about it, this isn’t a place you can cover in a day or two—”

The steward greeted him with his usual jest.

But the moment he saw Namgoong Sang’s face, his expression hardened.

Namgoong Sang’s eyes were colder than a blade, his steps heavy with an inexplicable tension.

“I have something urgent to report to the Patriarch.”

A short, resolute statement.

The steward, barely swallowing his breath, turned and ran.

It didn’t take long for Namgoong Sang to be summoned to the Patriarch’s hall. He stepped onto the plush carpet and crossed the threshold.

Then, he knelt before a man whose presence seemed to pierce the heavens.

Seated there was Namgoong Sein, one of the Five Greats of the Martial World, the Sword Sovereign.

Namgoong Sein’s aura filled the room. Merely meeting his gaze felt like it could crush one’s heart.

Yet Namgoong Sang’s expression remained unchanged.

Once, he had thought the Patriarch’s aura was unmatched in the world, but now his perspective had shifted.

Namgoong Sein’s voice resounded.

“I hear it’s an urgent matter. Report.”

His words were colder than the wind, slicing through the air like swordlight.

Namgoong Sang bowed deeply and recounted the events without embellishment.

In the heart of the mountain range, amidst a sea of spiritual energy, a being appeared as if a celestial maiden had descended.

He reported every detail plainly, without addition or exaggeration.

How many unknown masters and eccentrics roamed the martial world? Even the Great Monk Bodhidharma and Zhang Sanfeng had transcended worldly bounds, had they not?

“I didn’t know you were interested in the Dao.”

It sounded like a light jest, but it carried a sharp edge of suspicion.

As Namgoong Sang opened his mouth to elaborate, Namgoong Sein raised a hand to stop him.

“Enough. I trust the Changcheon Leader. Which makes this all the more troubling.”

The corner of Namgoong Sein’s mouth twisted slightly.

A celestial maiden, they say. A fanciful tale. One he couldn’t believe without seeing for himself.

But this came from none other than Namgoong Sang. He was no mere swordmaster. His position as Changcheon Leader was earned through his exceptional insight.

Namgoong Sang had saved countless lives by breaking the Blood Cult’s bizarre formations and trained dozens of elite warriors.

Could he have made a mistake? Been deceived by a formation?

Hardly believable.

That left one possibility.

A being whose realm even Namgoong Sang’s keen eyes couldn’t fathom. A supreme master, appearing out of thin air.

And near Anhui, where the Namgoong Clan, one of the Eight Great Families, resided.

Namgoong Sein’s gaze slowly sharpened, like a honed blade.

‘She asked for three days.’

The words relayed by Namgoong Sang echoed in his mind.

Did she truly mean to leave? Unlikely.

She was giving him three days to come find her.

A challenge directed at him, the man once called the Overlord, whose might shook the martial world.

Namgoong Sein took a slow breath. His energy surged like a storm, yet he suppressed even that.

“Tell me more.”

Seoyeon packed her belongings with a heavy heart. She had never planned to live hidden in the mountains forever, but she hadn’t expected to leave her home so suddenly.

To be clear, she wasn’t being driven out. If they had been demonic sect ruffians instead of the Namgoong Clan, she wouldn’t even have the luxury of grumbling—her head would already be rolling.

Still, leaving the home where she had rooted herself for over a decade stirred unavoidable sorrow.

How many places in the world offered such seclusion, safety, and access to necessities?

“Will you stay here?”

Seoyeon murmured, stroking the soft fur of the white tiger. She had been terrified when they first met, but years of living together had forged a deep bond. Now she understood why people in her past life grew so attached to cats.

Growl—

Its behavior was more dog-like than cat-like, but still.

Seoyeon smiled as she thought.

If a tiger this large followed her around, it would draw every eye in the martial world. Especially a white tiger, already considered a sacred beast.

“If only you could carry my luggage.”

She had to abandon most of the carvings she had painstakingly crafted. Even packing simple clothes and cooking tools was a struggle.

It was regrettable, but she could always make new carvings.

She had considered asking the Namgoong Clan for help, but treating their esteemed swordsmen like porters felt too disrespectful.

‘They might cut my head off for the insult.’

Unaware of her complex thoughts, the white tiger purred contentedly under her touch.

‘How can a tiger be so docile?’

How could a beast driven by predatory instincts be so innocent? Was this why they called it a spiritual creature?

‘Maybe it spared me because I’m not even a mouthful.’

She chuckled at the playful thought, watching the tiger roll over and expose its belly.

It was clever enough to serve as a loyal companion, like a mythical guardian.

Seoyeon finished packing lightly and lay on her wooden bed. Her crafting skills ensured the bed, draped with fabric, was as comfortable as any modern furniture.

She had used quite a bit of the tiger’s fur, though.

‘Where should I move to?’

Sichuan was daunting. The Tang Clan, known for their poisons, came to mind first. The journey would already be perilous; she couldn’t go somewhere that terrifying. Sure, the Qingcheng, Emei, and Diancang sects were also in Sichuan, but fear was fear.

Yunnan and Guangxi were too far. Encountering bandits there would be disastrous.

Zhejiang and Jiangxi lacked notable factions. A place with at least one righteous sect to maintain order seemed preferable.

Seoyeon narrowed her options to two.

Shandong or Henan.

Shandong had the Huangbo and Zhuge Clans, with Hebei just above, home to major factions like the Hebei Peng Clan and the Beggars’ Sect.

With many righteous factions, conflicts would be rife, but demonic sects wouldn’t dare act recklessly.

More importantly, the authorities were nearby, less likely to disregard civilian lives.

Henan was home to the Shaolin Temple, a prestigious righteous sect rarely depicted as corrupt in martial arts tales.

Its rugged terrain made it hard for civilians to settle, perfect for hiding.

Ideal for living alone, unnoticed.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely devoid of a desire to enjoy life’s pleasures like others. But Seoyeon preferred a long, quiet life over the risks of dying on the road.

Living apart from the world, carving in peace, suited her heart.

She had no worries about survival.

Seoyeon knew her carving skills were exceptional.

Merchants, shrewd as they were, came to this remote mountain monthly to buy her work.

‘A skilled trade is the best.’

Seoyeon smiled inwardly. With this talent, she’d never go hungry.

At dawn the next day, with silvery mist enveloping the mountainside, Seoyeon swept her front yard as usual.

In the deep mountains, visitors were rare, and a gust of wind would scatter leaves and dirt again.

Yet she never skipped this routine.

Each sweep of the broom brought a strange peace that settled deep in her chest.

Unbeknownst to her, Seoyeon’s body had naturally opened the Ren and Du meridians at birth, with the eight extraordinary meridians constantly circulating, refining her body.

But she was unaware of this.

She only felt, while sweeping, as if she were breathing with the earth itself.

‘Am I turning into a druid?’

The energy of nature flowed through her broom, stirring a gentle breeze that gathered leaves and thoughts alike.

Then it happened.

Her gaze met another’s.

Not far away, a refined middle-aged man was watching her quietly.

The traditions of a prestigious martial clan are inherently strict, and the Namgoong Clan was no exception. Yet Namgoong Sein was different from past patriarchs.

His strictness held warmth, his authority never lost fairness.

He knew how to separate his role as patriarch from his role as a father.

And now, Namgoong Sein was walking not as a patriarch but as a father, accompanied by his children.

“Father, may I ask where we’re going?”

A young man, still boyish, asked cautiously.

“If he meant to tell us, he would have before we left, you dimwit. Try thinking for once.”

A woman walking beside him clicked her tongue.

“Brother? What kind of brother? Born at the same time, we’re equals.”

“Children always say that. But this generous sister will overlook your fault.”

“Generous? With that flat chest, you call yourself a sister?”

“Hey!”

Sparks flew in an instant.

“I pity Hyun for falling for you. He’s from the Zhuge Clan, yet somehow charmed by a brute like you.”

“Keep talking, and I’ll end you. No, I’ll tell the Little Sword Empress all about your lecherous ways. How you obsess over chests daily. She’ll love hearing what a creep you are, won’t she?”

A scoff rang out.

Even while moving swiftly with qinggong, their banter flowed as naturally as ever.

Though the conversation’s quality was low, they were undeniably the Namgoong Clan’s direct heirs.

“The energy here is unusual. Enough with the petty talk.”

“Yes, Father.”

The twins replied in unison.

Namgoong Seolhwa, the second daughter of the Namgoong Clan and twin sister of Namgoong Cheonghae, scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes.

‘Spiritual energy? Why did he bring us here? Did they find a miraculous elixir?’

Some elixirs lost potency the moment they were harvested. If Father intended to use it immediately, it made sense.

He, at the pinnacle of mastery, wouldn’t need it, so it was likely meant for them.

‘The energy is extraordinary.’

Even visits to Shaolin or Wudang hadn’t revealed such pure energy. What kind of elixir could emit this?

Then.

Namgoong Seolhwa’s gaze landed on something.

A white tiger, cloaked in a chilling aura, stood like a guardian of the region, staring at them with regal poise.

“…A white tiger?”

She muttered, her voice trembling slightly, overwhelmed.

Namgoong Sein spoke softly.

“Indeed, a spiritual beast, as reported. The Changcheon Leader’s words were no exaggeration.”

In his many years, he had seen numerous spiritual creatures, but none like this.

Its eyes held a wisdom far beyond a beast’s, its aura pure and serene.

It could be revered as a mountain deity or guardian spirit anywhere.

Namgoong Sein smiled gently and gestured to his children.

“From here, we walk.”

His smile carried a subtle ease and undeniable anticipation.

Coming here was the right choice.

The mysterious master must be real.

The Five Greats.

The Sword Sovereign.

The Namgoong Patriarch.

These titles elevated Namgoong Sein to the ranks of supreme masters but also burdened him heavily.

As the head of a clan and a pillar of the righteous factions, he couldn’t spar freely. Even duels became instructional bouts, and it had been over five years since he’d faced a true fight.

But now, Namgoong Sein’s heart raced for the first time in ages.