I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace

The pitch-black blade came crashing down toward Jincheon.

Instinctively, he raised Wind and Cloud in both hands to block it.

Woom...

His chest reverberated again.

And in that moment, he felt it—a certainty—that he could not block this strike.

His judgment was swift.

Jincheon abandoned the attempt to block and hurled himself aside.

BOOM!

The spot where he had been standing exploded in a burst of impact.

He tumbled across the ground, ignoring the pain, and sprang back to his feet without hesitation.

“Ha! So this is the proud Palace Master of the Heavenly Flame—rolling around like a dog! Hahahaha!”

“No time for jokes. We’ve already hit our limit holding off the others.”

The woman furrowed one brow as she spoke, her voice tight with urgency.

The hulking man looked at Jincheon and smirked.

His pitch-dark face was thick with contempt.

“You hear that? It’s already over.”

Grit.

Jincheon clenched his jaw.

Fury surged.

He was furious that this was happening to him, furious at the man mocking his life like it was some cheap stage play.

But more than anything, he was furious at her—the woman who had bewitched him.

Woom...

His chest pulsed again.

The red orb, Wrath, buried against his chest, was crying out.

Shut up.

Jincheon bit down hard.

And it wasn’t just Wrath—he could hear it now, even louder.

A voice.

Like a chorus of countless people, echoing in unison. Like the crashing of waterfalls that never ceased.

It was the incantation.

It wailed and surged like a child endlessly sobbing, pouring into the world, overflowing with rage.

But Jincheon didn’t let it take hold.

Too loud. Just shut up.

There was no greater foolishness than surrendering to rage.

Letting his purpose be swallowed by anything else—even his own emotions—was the worst mistake he could make.

No matter how overwhelming the impulse, no matter how inevitable it seemed, he had to make the call himself.

He had to choose.

Because in the end, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ only he would bear the weight of the consequences.

WUUUUUUUUM...

Even as Wrath sobbed and the incantation screamed like the sky itself was splitting open, Jincheon stood firm.

He had to choose.

And with that resolve, Jincheon roared:

“Shut up!”

Whoosh—

The world listened.

In that instant, everything fell silent.

Wrath’s crying stopped.

The deafening incantation vanished.

Even the jeering of the man was gone.

In that absolute, suffocating silence—something stirred.

Hoooo...

Light began to ripple.

Jincheon didn’t understand what was happening before his eyes.

But the light didn’t fade. It didn’t dim.

It simply... was.

And it was blooming from the surface of Jincheon’s sword—Wind and Cloud.

“...What is that...?”

The man muttered without meaning to.

His eyes, once full of mockery, now brimmed with caution.

The woman with the stringed instrument suddenly shouted,

“Kill him! Now!”

The man flinched—but didn’t hesitate.

Whoom—

The massive sword in his hand surged with blue energy, and in the same moment, it came crashing down on Jincheon.

The light rising from Jincheon’s blade had clearly shaken him.

Buuuk—

The enormous blade, wrapped in deadly blue energy, sliced downward with a horrifying screech.

Death raced toward him—but Jincheon didn’t dodge.

He didn’t even blink.

With a confidence he couldn’t explain—an absolute, inexplicable conviction—Jincheon moved his sword.

A familiar technique from the Yongcheon Sword Art flowed naturally from his body.

Swish.

The blade drew a clean, simple line through the air.

There was no dramatic force behind it. No overwhelming power.

And yet, the light glowing from Jincheon’s sword quietly cut through the sky—and through the massive weapon crashing down on him.

Slice.

There wasn’t even a proper sound.

The massive sword, once so heavy and fearsome, split cleanly in two like it was made of paper.

And the light that bloomed from Jincheon’s sword continued, carving a shallow line across the man’s chest.

“Gugh...”

CLANG, CLANG—

The massive blade fell to the ground in two useless chunks.

The hulking man staggered back, face twisted in shock.

He clutched his chest with one hand.

Blood was seeping through his fingers.

The wound wasn’t deep, but the reality of it shook him to the core.

And that wasn’t the end of it.

“Ugh—cough!”

Suddenly, the man doubled over and coughed up blood.

The woman rushed to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re leaving.”

In that instant, their bodies shimmered.

A halo of light swallowed them whole.

BOOOOOM—

A thunderous explosion burst around them.

Jincheon threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

But he still saw it—clearly.

As the building shattered and clouds of dust swirled around them, he saw the woman glance back.

Her eyes lingered on the light flickering atop Wind and Cloud.

Her red lips curled into a faint smile, and he saw them form the words:

—“We’ll meet again.”

Whsssh. Crackle—

A dozen figures dropped around Jincheon all at once.

“Palace Master!”

“Palace Master!”

North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon’s voice came first, then Sunday’s, and more followed.

“Are you unharmed?!”

“Young Master Jin!”

Then came the voices of Taoist Cheongyang of Wudang, Sect Master Ji Riik, and Ji Yeongryeong.

“Young Master—are you—”

Ji Yeongryeong stopped mid-sentence.

She wasn’t the only one.

Cheongyang, Ji Riik, Sunday, even Neung Gayeon—all fell silent.

Wooooo...

From the blade of Jincheon’s sword, Wind and Cloud, light was still shimmering softly.

Before that strange, unknowable light, none of them could speak.

Ji Yeongryeong whispered, barely audible.

“...Could it be... sword qi?”

“No.”

Taoist Cheongyang answered firmly.

“That’s not sword qi.”

Cheongyang of Wudang—who knew sword qi—would not mistake it.

There was none of the forceful pressure, none of the lethal edge that sword qi carried.

More than anything, it didn’t register to his senses at all.

This wasn’t sword qi.

But if not—then what was it?

Cheongyang felt disoriented.

That was when it happened.

Tap.

At the small sound, Cheongyang turned his head.

And saw Neung Gayeon on her knees.

As though drained of all strength, she collapsed forward in front of Jincheon.

In her wide eyes shimmered unspoken shock.

“Ah... aah...”

Always composed. Always elegant.

Now, a broken gasp fell from Neung Gayeon’s lips.

And tears followed.

Even Jincheon was startled—he had never seen her like this.

The North Wind Commander brought both hands to her chest, folded them reverently, and bowed her head deeply to him.

Tap.

Her forehead touched the ground.

With a trembling voice, she spoke.

“Unworthy eyes bear witness to the Red Dragon.”

Sunday followed suit.

Rustle.

Like the North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon, Sunday dropped to her knees, placing both hands over her chest.

She bowed her head so low that it nearly touched the floor.

“Unworthy eyes bear witness to the Red Dragon.”

To Ji Yeongryeong, it was a surreal sight.

She knew these women to be Jincheon’s maid and bodyguard—but even so, such extreme reverence, and at a time like this, made no sense.

Yet their solemn expressions left no room for questions.

Ji Yeongryeong turned her gaze away.

Hoooo...

Light still rippled faintly over Jincheon’s sword.

The one most bewildered by the situation was Jincheon himself.

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“What the hell is going on...?”

He couldn’t make sense of any of it.

The enemy’s sudden attack still felt unreal. He had no idea what he had done or how it had happened. And now, this... this reverent devotion from Neung Gayeon and Sunday—what was it supposed to mean?

He stared at them, stunned.

Even now, the light clinging to Wind and Cloud had not faded, and the two women remained motionless, heads bowed low.

Only Cheongyang the Taoist and Ji Yeongryeong continued to gaze at the sword, unable to tear their eyes away from the mysterious glow.

****

Though the hour was late, the reception hall of the Soaring Willow Sword Sect blazed with light.

The scent of hot tea filled the room, but none of the gathered guests spoke.

Taoist Cheongyang glanced around.

Sect Master Ji Riik sat quietly, eyes closed in contemplation. Ji Yeongryeong clutched her teacup with both hands, biting her lip.

Behind Jincheon, his maid stood with her usual calm, but the expression on Neung Gayeon’s face had lost its usual composure.

Sip.

A soft sound drew Cheongyang’s attention.

Jincheon—the center of this entire commotion—was drinking tea with perfect ease.

He looked perfectly ordinary. And yet Cheongyang couldn’t relax.

He couldn’t forget that light, the glow that had bloomed from Jincheon’s sword.

A glow as clear as one born from a master at the very pinnacle—a light unlike anything he had seen.

“Neither yin nor yang.”

Cheongyang recalled the light that had surrounded the blade.

“It neither rises nor falls, neither manifests nor disappears. It cannot be called substance, but neither is it void. It doesn’t flow, nor is it still.”

It belonged to no element among the Five Phases he knew.

Only one thing in the world fit that description:

A pure manifestation of energy—the essence called sword qi.

Sword qi was the refined, ultimate expression of a martial artist’s inner energy—something considered the very root of all things.

“And yet...”

There had been nothing.

No grand surge of power. No fierce presence. Nothing that Cheongyang could feel.

His senses had told him the sword was empty, and yet his eyes had seen light shining unmistakably from its edge.

How was he supposed to reconcile such a contradiction?

Cheongyang’s expression hardened without him realizing it.

“Young Master.”

Sect Master Ji Riik broke the silence with a weighty voice.

“To which palace do you belong?”

Jincheon looked up.

Meeting Ji Riik’s intense gaze, he let out a dry smile.

It was likely because of the title both Sunday and Neung Gayeon had used.

“I call it a palace because I live there. Nothing more.”

It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

“Is it... perhaps a religious institution of some kind?”

Taoist Cheongyang asked carefully.

After all, even Wudang itself had many halls with names like Purple Dawn Hall or Jade Void Palace.

It was common for Daoist or Buddhist temples to be called palaces or sanctums.

“Yes, in a way.”

The Heavenly Flame Palace clearly had religious elements. The only issue was that it wasn’t exactly “ordinary.”

At Jincheon’s reply, Cheongyang nodded in apparent understanding.

“I see. And... may I ask...”

His eyes drifted toward Neung Gayeon.

“Is the lady a retainer of your house?”

His tone was respectful, cautious.

He had seen her unleash sword energy—clear and undeniable.

It was a technique far beyond anything Cheongyang had ever mastered. Possibly beyond what anyone in Wudang could manage.

It wasn’t surprising he hadn’t noticed her level before.

She was above him.

Whoosh...

A subtle but cold pressure filled the air.

Neung Gayeon made no attempt to hide her irritation.

“That is none of your concern.”

“North Wind.”

Sunday’s voice came quietly.

In an instant, the pressure vanished as if it had never been.

Rustle.

Neung Gayeon lowered one knee and bowed to Jincheon.

Even her act of kneeling was graceful—but her usual poise was gone.

“I have committed a grave offense.”

“It’s fine. No—it isn’t, but it is. Rise.”

Neung Gayeon stood slowly.

She did not glance at Cheongyang even once.

“Ahem.”

Cheongyang cleared his throat.

“My curiosity got the better of me. I apologize.”

He murmured a Taoist invocation under his breath and bowed his head slightly to Jincheon.

Jincheon waved a hand.

“Think nothing of it. It’s... difficult for us to explain our circumstances. Thank you for your understanding.”

And it was difficult. Even if he told them the truth, they wouldn’t believe him.

As Jincheon gave a half-smile, Cheongyang gave a slight nod to Neung Gayeon as well.

Swish.

Neung Gayeon acknowledged the apology with a nod—dignified and silent.

Only then did Cheongyang feel some relief.

Even if it made him look like the old man backing down, he didn’t mind.

Neung Gayeon was a master.

A master so far beyond Cheongyang’s reach that he couldn’t even gauge her level.

In the face of such a vast disparity, age and pride meant little.

It was enough that he hadn’t angered her.

“...So, who were those people?”

Ji Yeongryeong asked softly, still holding her teacup.

“Why go to such lengths?”

To her, it had been a nightmare out of nowhere.

The full extent of the damage wouldn’t be clear until morning, but the building had been heavily damaged and lives had nearly been lost.

“I truly don’t know. Who they were or what they wanted...”

Jincheon muttered, as if to himself.

Naturally, Ji Yeongryeong gave him a skeptical look.

The attackers had clearly come for Jincheon, and yet he claimed not to know them?

But his expression was guileless—completely sincere.

Ji Yeongryeong could only sigh.

The dawn hadn’t yet come, but already, she dreaded what it might reveal.