I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace

The four swordsmen who had leapt out from the thicket onto the road were brought down in an instant.

It was the result of a single flick of Neung Gayeon’s hand.

The woman who had emerged onto the road in a rush stared wide-eyed in shock.

She wasn’t ignorant of martial arts, but she had never seen a technique so refined and lofty.

She looked at Neung Gayeon, her face awash in surprise and confusion.

But Neung Gayeon simply turned her head back toward the carriage.

“Young Master,” she called to Jincheon.

“I took action without awaiting your permission. That offense...”

“No, it’s fine. Are they... dead?”

“They are not. They’ll regain consciousness before long.”

It was a result of the strict orders Jincheon had given Sunday and Neung Gayeon beforehand.

Relieved, Jincheon gave a small nod. Neung Gayeon bowed her head in acknowledgment.

Shing.

Just then, the woman sheathed her sword.

She rose to her feet, brought her hands together in front of her, and bowed politely to Jincheon.

“Thank you for your aid in such a dire moment. I am Ji Yeongryeong of the Soaring Willow Sword Sect.”

Jincheon hadn’t done anything in particular to help, of course. Most likely, she had assumed Neung Gayeon was acting under his authority and extended her thanks accordingly.

“If it was of help, I’m glad. You may call me Jin... Young Master.”

Revealing his real name was still inconvenient.

While Sunday and Neung Gayeon might believe his former identity no longer held meaning, they were in the Central Plains now. He had to be cautious.

Jincheon glanced toward the men collapsed in the underbrush.

“And who are they?”

“They’re from the Iron Gate Sect,” Ji Yeongryeong said, biting her lip.

“They’ve never hesitated to abuse their strength. I didn’t expect them to go so far as this.”

Iron Gate Sect?

He had never heard of it.

“I see. Well then...”

He was about to wrap up the conversation and move on when Ji Yeongryeong added,

“If you happen to be headed toward Luoyang, please be careful. The Iron Gate Sect’s influence is quite strong there.”

Jincheon paused.

He had, in fact, planned to lodge in Luoyang that very night.

He glanced again at the men lying in the brush.

Neung Gayeon had said they’d regain consciousness soon.

What were the odds they would remember his carriage?

“Is there an inn nearby where one might stay for the night?”

Jincheon asked Ji Yeongryeong.

She thought for a moment, then nodded as if reaching a decision.

“If you don’t mind, you’re welcome at our sect. It’s humble, but we’d be honored to host the one who helped me.”

It was better than risking a confrontation in Luoyang.

Before Sunday or Neung Gayeon could say anything strange, Jincheon answered quickly.

“Thank you. I’ll accept your hospitality, though I regret imposing on you in this situation.”

“Please, it’s no imposition at all,” Ji Yeongryeong replied with a respectful bow.

And so, Jincheon’s lodgings for the evening were decided.

****

The Soaring Willow Sword Sect was a small sect located near Luoyang.

Its aged buildings spoke of a long history and former glory, but there were few people around.

There, Jincheon met the sect master, Ji Riik.

“Thank you for saving my granddaughter,” the white-haired Ji Riik said, bowing his head.

Jincheon quickly bowed in return, unable to accept such deference from an elder.

“Please, don’t thank me. I simply happened to be there at the right time. There’s no need for ceremony.”

Ji Riik didn’t raise his head, but the old Taoist sitting beside him spoke instead.

“Come now, isn’t Young Master Jin looking a bit troubled? Let’s not overdo it.”

The elder Taoist, with his long, well-groomed white beard, stroked it gently as he spoke.

Only then did Sect Master Ji Riik lift his head.

Jincheon did as well, forcing a slightly awkward smile—just as the old Taoist’s eyes lit up.

“You said your name was Jin? Where is your family from?”

A sudden interrogation.

It was just the sort of thing elderly people did, and Jincheon answered with an awkward smile.

“My family runs a small merchant guild... nothing worth mentioning.”

To the Taoist and Sect Master Ji Riik, it sounded like modesty.

After all, even Jincheon’s clothing wasn’t something ordinary people could afford.

And the maid and bodyguard waiting outside certainly weren’t ordinary either.

“Haha, I see. My name is Cheongyang. I’m a Taoist affiliated with Wudang. I stop by the Soaring Willow Sword Sect from time to time—old ties, you see.”

Even Jincheon had heard of Wudang.

They were a state-recognized temple, gifted land and stipends by the imperial family.

In other words, trustworthy.

“Ah, is that so? It’s an honor to meet you,” Jincheon said, bowing politely.

There was a subtle glint in Cheongyang’s eyes, but he soon smiled again.

If Jincheon truly had no ties to the martial world, it was no surprise he didn’t react to Wudang’s name.

“Pleased to meet you. But tell me, do you happen to have any Taoist or Buddhist companions around you?”

The question came out of nowhere.

For a moment, the image of the Oracle flashed through Jincheon’s mind. But he kept his expression composed.

“No, I have no acquaintances from Taoist or Buddhist circles.”

“Is that so? Hmmm...”

Taoist Cheongyang looked at him quietly for a moment.

The gaze was oddly intense, and Jincheon had to ask,

“May I ask why?”

“I sense a heavenly connection in you.”

“A heavenly connection...?”

In other words, a karmic link to the Tao or the Dharma.

Jincheon gave a crooked smile.

He had studied Confucian teachings in preparation for the state exams, and he was still technically a licentiate. If anything, he was the farthest thing from such a connection.

“I don’t think that’s—”

But Jincheon couldn’t finish.

Wait. That’s not true, is it?

He had forgotten—himself.

He knew the Incantation. It rose within him whenever he trained in the Yongcheon Sword Art.

He hadn’t even considered that.

Seeing the shift in Jincheon’s expression, Taoist Cheongyang smiled knowingly.

“Seems like something came to mind.”

Jincheon now looked at Cheongyang with new eyes.

If he truly was a Taoist of Wudang, then he might know something about incantations.

But even if Jincheon was thinking of leaving the Heavenly Flame Palace, it still felt wrong to reveal its secrets to an outsider.

“Yes, well...”

When Jincheon didn’t elaborate, Cheongyang nodded.

“Whatever it may be, a heavenly connection is no trivial thing. I hope you’ll treasure it.”

It sounded almost like a subtle reprimand for wanting to leave the Heavenly Flame Palace.

Of course, there was no way Cheongyang could know Jincheon’s inner thoughts, so maybe he was just reading too much into it.

But still—this Taoist did feel different from most people.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Satisfied with the answer, Cheongyang stroked his long beard.

“And human bonds are no different. I’ve known these people a long time and watched them grow—they are righteous and steady folk, rare in these times. I hope you’ll cherish this bond as well.”

Coming from a Wudang Taoist, that statement carried real weight.

Still, Jincheon chalked it up to the usual habits of the elderly.

They might have known each other for a long time, but what could they possibly see in Jincheon, someone they’d just met?

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

Taoist Cheongyang gave a contented smile.

Sect Master Ji Riik turned toward the door and called out,

“Yeongryeong.”

“Yes.”

Rustle.

The door opened, and Ji Yeongryeong stepped inside.

“Please escort our guest,” said the Sect Master.

Ji Yeongryeong bowed deeply in acknowledgment of the order.

Jincheon rose to his feet, bowed respectfully to Sect Master Ji Riik and Taoist Cheongyang, and followed Ji Yeongryeong out.

He hadn’t even tasted the tea placed before him.

Clack.

As the door closed behind them, Sect Master Ji Riik gave a bitter smile.

“You’ve said more than usual.”

“If I don’t say it, who else will?” Cheongyang replied. “You and Yeongryeong both are too soft-hearted... tsk.”

Taoist Cheongyang lifted his teacup.

“He seems like a fine young man. Don’t °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° be so overprotective just because she’s your precious granddaughter—give it some thought.”

He had taken a liking to Jincheon.

He liked his humility, his quiet demeanor, and even his air of wealth.

He would have no objections if Jincheon ended up tied to Yeongryeong in the future.

Jincheon hadn’t given his real name, but who in the martial world didn’t carry a few secrets?

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

With character like his, there likely wouldn’t be any trouble.

“But... did you actually sense a heavenly connection from that young man?” Ji Riik asked.

Cheongyang let out a vague laugh.

“I just said it because of his face. Even if it’s just a feeling, maybe it’ll nudge him toward Daoism.”

Ji Riik looked momentarily dumbfounded, then chuckled under his breath.

That unbound, rankless freedom—that was part of why he liked Cheongyang so much.

Jincheon followed Ji Yeongryeong through the compound.

Sunday and Neung Gayeon quietly trailed behind him.

So this is the Soaring Willow Sword Sect, huh? Strange place...

In truth, Jincheon had been somewhat hopeful.

As someone newly learning the sword, he’d been curious what kind of place this sect was, and what sort of swordsmanship they practiced.

But in the end, the sect felt nearly deserted, and all he’d gotten were cryptic conversations with a Wudang Taoist instead of the sect master.

It was disappointing.

Crunch, crunch.

After confirming that Sunday and Neung Gayeon were still following, Jincheon asked Ji Yeongryeong,

“Young Lady.”

“Yes?”

“Is there perhaps a training ground here I could use?”

Crunch.

Ji Yeongryeong stopped walking.

She turned to face Jincheon.

“You’ve studied the sword?”

“Ah, I’ve just recently begun.”

“Do you have a sect?”

Technically, it was the Heavenly Flame Palace—but calling it a proper sect felt questionable.

“I suppose you haven’t formally joined one, then.”

Jincheon nodded. He had no clear memory of being officially inducted.

“In that case, it shouldn’t be an issue. I’ll show you a nearby training hall.”

“Would it matter if I had formally joined one?”

“It can, depending on the sect. Martial arts are traditionally not to be revealed outside the school—they’re very strict about it.”

That was something Jincheon hadn’t known.

He had been about to ask what kind of martial arts this sect practiced, but her answer stopped him just in time. He silently thanked Ji Yeongryeong for saving him from a misstep.

“I see. Thank you for the explanation.”

“It’s nothing.”

She bowed lightly and continued walking.

Crunch, crunch.

The Soaring Willow Sword Sect was larger than he’d expected. And much quieter.

As they walked together in silence, Ji Yeongryeong spoke again.

“I don’t know if I should say this, but...”

She continued.

“Since you’ve just started learning the sword, this thought may be helpful to you.”

“What thought is that?”

“Every sword has meaning.”

Tap.

Ji Yeongryeong stopped walking again.

She turned to Jincheon and said,

“There’s no such thing as a meaningless strike. No movement exists without intent. Every sword has meaning.”

There was a gleam in her eyes.

“This is one of the core teachings of the Soaring Willow Sword Sect.”

Jincheon blinked, then asked,

“Is it okay to share something like that with me?”

Hadn’t she just said that martial arts were closely guarded secrets?

Ji Yeongryeong answered calmly.

“Yes. It’s something we say to everyone who visits our sect. And really, if you think about it, it’s something anyone could understand. Though for someone like you, Young Master, perhaps it’s unnecessary.”

Her gaze shifted past him—toward Neung Gayeon.

“No, not at all. Thank you,” Jincheon replied.

“It’s the least I can offer in return, even if it’s not much,” she said.

Jincheon realized she meant it as a gesture of gratitude.

Even if it came out of nowhere.

Rustle.

Ji Yeongryeong turned back around and resumed walking.

Jincheon followed.

Every sword has meaning...

Her words stirred something in him.

He had been practicing swordsmanship, but had only seen it as a matter of growing familiar with the form—he hadn’t really thought about meaning.

It had been enough just to move and swing the blade. It was still new and enjoyable to him.

But thinking about it now—it made sense.

Every sentence has an intent behind it. People even talk about reading between the lines.

Then what was the meaning behind the Yongcheon Sword Art?

Step, step.

As he walked, Jincheon sank deeper into thought.

Sunday and Neung Gayeon followed behind him without making a sound, while Jincheon turned over Ji Yeongryeong’s words again and again in his mind.