“...Young Miss...?”

The laundry basket in Yeoyul’s arms slipped from her grasp with a dull thud, and tears swiftly welled in her eyes.

When Seolhwa opened her arms, Yeoyul rushed toward her without hesitation and embraced her tightly. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

“Young Miss...!”

“Have you been well?”

“Young Miss! I missed you... I missed you so much... truly...!”

Yeoyul burst into sobs with a wail.

Considering Seolhwa had left without even a proper farewell, she could only imagine how shocked Yeoyul must have been.

Seolhwa gently patted Yeoyul’s trembling shoulders.

“You kept my quarters in order while I was away, did you not?”

“Of course! I cleaned every day, replaced the bedding, and I even heated water daily, thinking you might suddenly return...!”

To such an extent...?

As expected of the maid once in charge of the Heavenly Guest Pavilion.

“You worked hard.”

Seolhwa patted Yeoyul’s head as she cried, her sobs growing louder.

“It has been four years, yet you have not changed. Do not soil the Young Miss’s clothing—step back.”

Yeoyul startled, lifting her head.

At some point, Ryeong had appeared behind Seolhwa.

“Lady Bodyguard...!”

Only now that Ryeong mentioned it did Seolhwa realize Yeoyul’s height remained the same as four years ago.

They had once stood eye to eye, but now Seolhwa looked down on her.

“You have come too, Lady Bodyguard! Lady Bodyguaaard—!”

Ryeong grabbed Yeoyul’s head, stopping her from lunging forward.

Though Yeoyul flailed about, determined to embrace Ryeong, tears of joy poured down her face.

Despite holding Yeoyul off, Ryeong did not seem entirely displeased by the reunion.

As Seolhwa greeted the maids of the residence, Namgoong Cheongun returned shortly after.

Judging by his rough breathing, he must have come running the moment his meeting ended. He pulled Seolhwa into a firm embrace.

“You have returned. At last, you are home.”

Seolhwa embraced him just as tightly.

“I am back, Father.”

“Yes... you returned safely. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Cheongun grasped Seolhwa’s shoulders, hastily examining her body.

“I am not. Not in the slightest. Look, Father— I have grown taller too.”

Cheongun’s brows curved low.

His gaze, once busy searching for injuries, now quietly took in how his daughter had grown.

“You truly have grown... to the point I almost did not recognize you. If only your mother had lived to see how tall you have become, she would have been overjoyed.”

Seolhwa thought of the image of her mother shown to her by the Imoogi.

She had no clear memory of her mother’s face, yet she remembered the warmth—the love that had enveloped her.

When the Imoogi explained that its illusion had drawn from Seolhwa’s own memories, her throat had tightened unbearably.

That was sorrow.

Undoubtedly, it was sorrow.

Yet through that pain, she had learned to long for her mother—and came to understand the meaning of family, if only slightly.

Now, she could begin to envision the life her father so desperately wished to reclaim.

“Indeed... Mother would have been delighted.”

Cheongun’s eyes widened at the words Seolhwa uttered so calmly.

“Tell me... do I resemble her?”

Cheongun’s expression wavered between tears and awe as he slowly nodded.

“Of course... You are the very image of your mother. She was just as graceful, just as beautiful as you.”

“I suppose I am curious... to know what she looked like.”

“She was pale as snow, her smile radiant—a woman like a lotus blossom. Though, she was much smaller than you are now.”

Cheongun gestured, measuring a span of about two hand widths with his fingers.

“When we stood side by side, she always had to look up at me—she disliked that. Instead, she preferred to sit by the tea table, sharing conversation and treats.”

“Was she... warmhearted?”

“She was warmer than anyone, yet full of valor too. Sometimes, I wondered how such a small body could carry such a spirit.”

Cheongun let out a soft laugh.

“You inherited that part of her, I think.”

The gentle laughter soon carried a faint bitterness.

He stroked Seolhwa’s head gently.

“To share such memories with you... brings me joy.”

To have a child old enough to wonder about her mother—such a thing was both joyful and unbearably sorrowful.

He had believed there would never be a day when he could smile while remembering his wife, yet now, here they were, speaking of her as though she were a cherished memory.

It was both joyful—and endlessly bitter.

“Come inside. We have much to speak of, after so long apart.”

“Yes, Father.”

****

Kang—! Ka-kang! Ka-ang!

In the early dawn, the sound of clashing swords rang sharply through the training ground of the Namgoong Clan’s main residence.

Before the sun had even risen, Seolhwa and Namgoong Mucheon had already begun their training.

The previous evening—

During dinner with Cheongun, the chief steward had approached with a message.

‘The Clan Head wishes to know if you would join him for dawn training tomorrow.’

To face Namgoong Mucheon in training immediately upon her return.

Though somewhat startled, Seolhwa had readily agreed.

And now—

Kang—! Ka-kang! Kang!

Seolhwa’s sharp gaze pierced through, seeking the slightest opening in Namgoong Mucheon’s defense.

But the moment her sword advanced, the opening vanished without a trace, and his heavy blade intercepted her strike.

Namgoong Mucheon’s movements were minimal, yet carried the weight of a mountain. He was not fast, yet each time, his sword preempted hers by the narrowest margin.

With every exchanged blow, Seolhwa felt, for the first time, the immense wall she could not yet overcome.

Despite exchanging only pure swordplay, absent of internal energy, the disparity grew increasingly evident.

Seolhwa was the sole aggressor, yet the sensation of gradually being pushed back clung to her.

When she returned to life and took up the sword again, she had believed herself destined to surpass all others. But in this moment, she questioned whether that was truly possible.

“You are impatient.”

Swiik! Ka-ang—!

Seolhwa’s sword surged toward Namgoong Mucheon’s wrist, aiming for the hand holding his sword.

But once more, his sword remained immovable.

The instant he deflected her blade, Seolhwa’s sword flew from her grasp.

As she watched it arc through the air and land some distance away, Seolhwa assumed a formal fist-and-palm salute.

Namgoong Mucheon, wearing a satisfied smile, nodded.

“You have improved greatly.”

“I still have far to go.”

“At your age, to possess such skill is already exceptional. Do you seek to become the greatest in the world?”

“If possible, yes.”

Namgoong Mucheon’s eyes widened slightly.

Then, he laughed aloud—Ha ha ha ha!

“Well, if it is you, it may not be impossible. However, I [N O V E L I G H T] sensed impatience in your sword. Are you struggling with something?”

“I am... obstructed by something, but I do not know how to break through. Nor can I even name the problem itself.”

“Would you show me?”

Seolhwa nodded.

As she retrieved her fallen sword, Namgoong Mucheon descended from the platform of the training ground.

Seolhwa raised her blade and assumed her stance.

Under his observant gaze, Seolhwa’s internal energy slowly unfurled.

A crimson energy radiated, imbued with the boundless clarity of the heavens.

No— compared to before, her energy exuded even greater vastness and overwhelming force. Namgoong Mucheon’s smile deepened.

‘She has not neglected her training.’

He had sensed it during their exchange of blows, but such refinement of internal energy was astounding.

Considering her age, it was truly remarkable.

And beyond that—within her heavenly energy, a white, lightning-like aura began to intermingle.

A flicker of surprise appeared in Namgoong Mucheon’s eyes.

‘This energy...?!’

It was none other than the lightning energy—the foundation of Seop Mugwang’s exclusive martial arts.

‘I knew she trained briefly under Mugwang, but to wield it this naturally after such a short time?’

It was as though she had donned clothing tailored perfectly to her.

Though the heavenly energy and lightning seemed alike, they carried entirely different natures.

Even the ordinary children of the main household struggled to master Namgoong’s energy alone.

Yet Seolhwa had assimilated both the heavenly and lightning energies—and further, she had made them her own.

“Hahaha...”

Laughter escaped him before he realized.

It was hardly the first time her martial prowess had astonished him—yet the child’s potential remained limitless.

‘How many in the world could answer with such certainty that they would become the greatest?’

Only Seolhwa.

Huuuu—

Crimson energy, tinged with white lightning, rippled around her.

Her gaze sharpened in an instant.

Hwoosh— Shwiiek!

Seolhwa began her sword form.

It was a vast, razor-edged technique befitting her energy.

Namgoong Mucheon narrowed his eyes.

Her footwork, breathing, sword trajectory—he missed nothing.

In order to discern the obstacle impeding his granddaughter, he watched without so much as blinking, observing every motion of her swordplay.

A seven-form sequence—flawless, without a single flaw.

A fusion of Namgoong Clan’s core heavy sword technique with the rapid, explosive characteristics of Seop Mugwang’s style.

When the seventh form concluded, Seolhwa steadied her breathing and faced Namgoong Mucheon.

It was the first time she had demonstrated her current sword to anyone—there was some nervousness in her eyes.

“Impressive.”

Namgoong Mucheon nodded repeatedly.

“Truly impressive. You exceeded my expectations. No... you have astonished me. Your sword technique lacks nothing compared to our family’s.”

“Thank you.”

“And I now understand what troubles you.”

“?”

“It is the Jingak — the Tremor Step.”