The Return of the Namgoong Clan's Granddaughter-Chapter 14
Was he talking about the Medicine Hall?
“The Red Dragon soldier pointed his sword at you, I heard.”
Her expectations missed the mark. She’d assumed he would mention the incident at the Medicine Hall—but instead, Namgoong Mucheon brought up something entirely different.
“I wasn’t hurt. It was just a wooden sword.”
“A wooden sword is still a sword. A swordsman must always exercise caution before swinging, no matter what’s in their hand. Be it a blade, a wooden replica, or even a pitiful tree branch.”
“That warrior didn’t have the skill for that. More than anything... I wasn’t afraid of what he held.”
“Because you’re stronger than him?”
“In terms of internal energy, I wouldn’t say so. But as you know... the difference between strength and weakness isn’t defined by power alone.”
Namgoong Mucheon’s lips curled slightly.
His gaze on Ilhwa brimmed with approval.
But before long, his expression grew cold.
“I had hoped you weren’t my granddaughter.”
Ilhwa looked up at him.
A cool breeze stirred the hem of Namgoong Mucheon’s long robes as he stood with his hands behind his back.
Willow leaves fluttered on the wind, rustling softly.
“You’re not like a child. No child could emit killing intent like yours. To accumulate that kind of murderous aura... taking one or two lives wouldn’t even come close.”
Namgoong Mucheon could see it.
Everything surrounding her.
The blood staining «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» her hands, the pain she had endured... even the memories of a past life hidden within her small frame.
Ilhwa was aware of it too.
She knew the killing aura she emitted was steeped in the accumulated deaths from her previous life.
And that the blood woven deepest into that aura... was Namgoong blood.
Time had been reversed, but she had not.
The hatred, the tears, the resentments of all those she had killed could never be erased. Nor should they be. They were the karmic burden she must carry to the end.
Namgoong Mucheon could see that weight in this child.
“Who would ever wish for their blood kin to live such a life—one where life and death are always so close?”
To kill another is to risk death oneself. If she had killed many, it meant she had survived countless brushes with death.
“I had hoped my granddaughter would grow up well. Maybe not in luxury, but at least in peace. That would have been enough.”
“...”
“Who raised you to become this way?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does.”
In that instant, a surge of unimaginable energy erupted from Namgoong Mucheon.
A piercing blue aura swirled around him, intense enough to suffocate.
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The air itself seemed to freeze in place from the sheer pressure—but Ilhwa felt none of it.
He had consciously restrained his energy to avoid affecting her.
“I must know who they are... so I can hold them accountable.”
His voice was low—so cold it carried a chill—but the fury within it was unmistakable.
Every word rang with weight. None were spoken lightly.
“I will not let the one who did this to my granddaughter die easily. Ripping them limb from limb and slaughtering them would still be too kind.”
“...And if I’m not your granddaughter?”
The suffocating energy vanished in an instant.
Namgoong Mucheon stared at her in silence.
Then, without a word, he unsheathed the sword at his waist and planted it beside Ilhwa with a resounding thud.
“You’re not ready yet.”
“...What are you doing?”
“I wanted to see how much you’ve grown. How long until you surpass Cheonmyeong?”
“...This sword is called Cheonmyeong?”
“Yes.”
He reattached the sword to his waist as he spoke.
“You used to cling to my hand and run around my quarters. Back then, you weren’t even half the height you are now.”
He rested his large hand on top of her head.
“You’ve grown so much.”
His hand wasn’t gentle. It felt more like rubbing against stone than stroking hair.
But... it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Let’s have dinner together tomorrow evening. I hear you like good food. I’ll have it all prepared.”
“...Yes.”
“Good. Get some rest. I’ll send someone for you.”
With that, Namgoong Mucheon turned and left the Celestial Guest Courtyard.
He never once mentioned the incident at the Medicine Hall.
Whether Seop Mugwang had kept it to himself, or Namgoong Mucheon simply chose not to bring it up—she couldn’t know.
After he left, Ilhwa made her way to the Celestial Guest Courtyard’s training ground.
She still hadn’t completed her external martial arts training.
She didn’t want to be seen training alone... but she could no longer afford to draw attention today.
By the time she had finished her exercises, bathed, and eaten, the sun had long since vanished beyond the horizon.
The Celestial Guest Courtyard had grown quiet.
The only sounds were the soft, rustling footsteps of the attendants and guards patrolling nearby.
Ilhwa sat atop a soft blanket, gazing up at the night sky where gray clouds drifted aimlessly.
The moon slipped behind the clouds, then returned, its pale face reemerging again and again.
Before long, Ilhwa drifted off to sleep.
It was the first night she had spent in Namgoong.
****
Clang— clang—
A clear bell rang through the Celestial Guest Courtyard.
At the same time, a chilling aura swept across the entire compound.
Like a dense fog, a thin mist began to rapidly creep in from all directions.
Yet neither the guards nor the attendants noticed anything at all.
As if they had all been struck by the same trance.
Clang— clang—
The sound of the bell spread, carried by the mist.
Within it, a sharp and deadly energy surged forward, cutting through the air toward a single destination.
It passed by patrolling guards.
It weaved between the stationed attendants, as if inspecting each one.
At last, its path turned toward the guest quarters of the courtyard.
Shhhk—
The razor-sharp presence slid into the hallway outside the guest rooms.
Just as it had outside, it swirled past the servants standing in the corridor, moving swiftly.
It drifted down the hall... then came to a stop in front of one particular door.
For a moment, it hovered there, as if measuring something.
Clatter—!
The energy passed through the door without hesitation.
The door rattled faintly as the presence brushed through it, echoing in the quiet corridor.
“...?”
One of the servants stationed in the hall furrowed their brow and looked toward the room.
Clang— clang—
A room filled with a chilling presence.
Within the flickering darkness, Ilhwa opened her eyes.
Her black pupils, fixed on the empty air, looked blank—still caught between sleep and waking.
After a moment of staring at the ceiling, she rose.
Ilhwa turned her head, gaze shifting toward a single point.
The nightstand where her sword rested.
She stepped off the bedding and picked it up.
Shing—
The silver blade flashed through the lingering mist as it was drawn.
A white haze wavered over her sword.
It was pure internal energy—not yet tinged by any element or attribute.
“Miss, do you need anything?”
Ilhwa’s head turned toward the voice beyond the door.
The shadow of a maid wavered faintly past the paper screen, having heard the sound just moments ago.
Her sword began to tremble—hum, hum—with a low vibration.
****
“You could’ve tried being a little gentler, couldn’t you?”
In the Clan Head’s study.
For two whole hours, Seop Mugwang had been grumbling at Namgoong Mucheon.
“No matter how mature that kid seems, she’s not an adult on the inside. She came all this way to meet her family—couldn’t you have said something warmer?”
“Hmm.”
Namgoong Mucheon sat with arms crossed, eyes closed in silent contemplation.
“Wind Thunder Sword. That’s enough.”
Chief Steward Namgoong Mun tried to calm Seop Mugwang.
“Just look at the Clan Head. Doesn’t he look like he thought he was being warm?”
Namgoong Mucheon opened his eyes and gave the steward a cold glare.
Namgoong Mun sighed deeply and shook his head.
“No point glaring like that—you can’t take back the words you’ve already said. That’s why you should listen when we try to advise you beforehand.”
Namgoong Mucheon’s brow twitched.
When he’d gone to the Celestial Guest Courtyard to speak with his granddaughter, these two had been eavesdropping from the roof the entire time.
Offering unsolicited commentary on every word he spoke.
Eventually, he’d gotten so irritated that he placed a sound barrier around the entire pond.
“And what was the point of drawing that sword? Trying to show her how strong Grandpa is?”
“Ahem. Ahem.”
Namgoong Mucheon cleared his throat unnecessarily, caught off guard.
“She looked uneasy. I was just trying to reassure her.”
“There are other ways to do that, aren’t there? That probably scared her more than anything.”
“And you, of all people, don’t get to talk about tattling.”
“Tch...”
Seop Mugwang looked away, feeling guilty.
He had only intended to watch over the child until she arrived at the clan—but had ended up reporting both the incident at the Outer Hall training ground and what happened at the Medicine Hall to the Clan Head.
“What was I supposed to do?! That tiny thing was in danger! Should I have stayed silent until your granddaughter died?!”
In his panic, Seop Mugwang fell back into calling Namgoong Mucheon “hyungnim.”
“You should’ve seen her at the Medicine Hall! That kid’s eyes were like—!”
It was at that moment—
...!
Seop Mugwang cut off mid-sentence. Namgoong Mucheon suddenly looked up, his eyes sharp.
Namgoong Mun, who had just been nodding along in confusion, sensed something was off and glanced between the two.
But by the time he turned to Namgoong Mucheon—
He was already gone.
Namgoong Mun looked at Seop Mugwang, now standing.
“What is it?”
“Blood. I smell blood.”
“...!”
“Come to the Celestial Guest Courtyard. Bring a sword unit.”
“The Celestial Guest—!”
Namgoong Mun shot to his feet.
In the very next moment, Seop Mugwang vanished before his eyes.
Only the curtain by the wide-open window flapped in the night wind.
