The approaching figure halted roughly ten jang (about 30 meters) away upon spotting Seolhwa.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

And Seolhwa recognized him instantly.

‘Yu Pyo Dojang?’

Unlike four years ago, his hair was loose, and the aura he gave off now was far more formidable.

Even stronger than Yu Baek, whom she had sparred with at dawn.

Yu Pyo resumed his approach, closing the distance between them.

“You two know each other, don’t you? Go ahead and greet one another,” No Un urged, lightly tapping Yu Pyo on the shoulder.

Yu Pyo offered a polite cupped-fist salute.

“It has been a long time, Namgoong Ssi.”

“It has,” Seolhwa replied.

Four years was hardly a short time, and Yu Pyo had changed from how she remembered him.

He seemed... more mature somehow. Calmer?

She suddenly recalled what Zhuge Hwi had once told her—that Yu Pyo always spoke well of her.

At the time, she had doubted it. The Yu Pyo she knew didn’t seem the type.

But now, seeing him in person, she could tell—something had changed.

The sharp, curt expression was still there, but the man himself... had grown.

No Un, who’d been watching them exchange greetings, patted Yu Pyo’s shoulder again and said,

“Yu Pyo is now leading the Plum Blossom Swordsmen of Mount Hua. Even Shaolin won’t treat him lightly.”

That startled Seolhwa.

The Plum Blossom Swordsmen had originally been led by Elder No Mun.

And now Yu Pyo had inherited that role?

‘Isn’t Yu Pyo the youngest among the first-generation disciples?’

Yu Gang had been younger once, but he’d left Mount Hua long ago.

Age might not mean much in the martial world, but for Yu Pyo—barely past thirty—to be appointed the leader of one of Mount Hua’s elite forces... it was no small feat.

‘It just means he’s that talented.’

Even four years ago, Yu Pyo had already made it onto the Top 100 Martial Artists list.

“Yu Pyo.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

No Un pulled something from his robe and handed it to Yu Pyo.

A letter.

“This is a letter to the Shaolin Abbot. Make sure you deliver it to him in person.”

“Understood.”

Yu Pyo tucked the letter inside his robes.

It was an unofficial letter from the Sect Leader of Mount Hua to the Abbot of Shaolin.

But Seolhwa understood the truth.

The letter was merely an excuse—a way for No Un to ensure she would meet the Abbot.

“I’ll be off then, Sect Leader.”

Yu Pyo bowed his head to No Un.

“Good. The both of you—return safely, without injury.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

After giving a final bow, Seolhwa and Yu Pyo mounted the prepared horses.

Their two horses took the lead, with five Red Dragon Unit warriors from the Namgoong Clan following behind.

No Un remained standing beneath the Mount Hua signboard for a long time after their figures disappeared into the distance.

****

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

The only sound on the quiet mountain path was that of hooves.

Seolhwa and Yu Pyo rode side by side without exchanging a single word.

The five warriors trailing them didn’t dare disturb the heavy silence, only watching warily.

Eventually, Namgoong Baekwi couldn’t hold his curiosity anymore and nudged Namgoong Jipyeong, the Red Dragon Unit leader.

— “Leader, Leader.”

— “What?”

— “Are the young miss and that Taoist not on good terms? Why is the air so tense?”

— “...”

— “I mean, they clearly knew each other before. But doesn’t the atmosphere seem bad? You’d think they were mortal enemies.”

Couldn’t they at least say hello properly after four years?

Seriously, this coldness... don’t they just hate each other?

— “Quit making stuff up and just focus on the road.”

Namgoong Jipyeong shut Baekwi down with a single sentence, irritated by his childish probing.

Truthfully, though, Jipyeong was just as uneasy as Baekwi.

Though trailing slightly behind, he had a clear view of both Seolhwa and Yu Pyo’s stiff expressions.

‘Something definitely happened four years ago.’

Otherwise, why would they be this cold toward one another?

There’s no way the young miss would’ve done anything wrong, so clearly it was that damn Taoist bastard—

Unaware of the murmurs among the Namgoong warriors, Seolhwa rode on, lost in thought.

Yu Pyo was the same.

Their silence wasn’t due to bad blood—it was simply because they had nothing to say.

As she looked around the surrounding landscape, Seolhwa finally broke the silence for the first time since leaving Mount Hua.

“If we don’t rest, can we arrive within a day?”

“If we press the pace, yes.”

“Then let’s pick up the speed.”

“Very well.”

Their horses pulled ahead, widening the gap between them and the others.

Namgoong Jipyeong, who’d been glaring at Yu Pyo’s back, clicked his tongue and sped up to follow. The other four warriors quickly followed suit.

The only sound echoing through the quiet forest trail was that {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} of seven horses galloping.

****

In her previous life, Shaolin had stood proudly at the pinnacle of the Central Plains—a sect overflowing with pride.

It was home to two of the Top Ten Martial Artists in the World.

One of those ten, the Green Forest King, had originally been a Shaolin monk himself, only to be expelled as a renegade monk for violating the precepts—thus elevating Shaolin’s prestige even further.

‘Though that wasn’t widely known yet at this point.’

Still, the fact that two Hwagyeong-level masters belonged to Shaolin meant its status was unshakable.

It was why Namgoong Mucheon had once said that not even all the noble clans combined could match Shaolin.

The difference made by a single Hwagyeong master was as vast as heaven and earth. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

‘How did such a great sect fall in my previous life?’

Truthfully, even Seolhwa didn’t know the full details.

She only knew that Blood Demon had personally confronted Shaolin.

No—more than that. Alongside Blood Demon were the Five Blood Lords—Ilwol (First Moon), Iwol (Second Moon), Samwol (Third Moon), and the fallen disciples of Mount Hua.

The battle was just as fierce as the one she had fought against the Namgoong Clan.

And in that battle, Shaolin was defeated.

But—

‘The crucial point is that Shaolin’s strength had already been weakened before the battle even began.’

Even before the Blood Cult rose in full force, they had clashed several times with Shaolin.

Each time, Shaolin had sent elite strike teams—only for them to be picked off, one by one.

Over time, the sect’s core strength had been eroded.

‘The real question is, why did Shaolin keep sending small groups of elites over and over?’

Despite losing disciples each time—why did they continue walking into danger?

How had the Blood Cult lured them into so many traps?

And what danger had Shaolin felt so compelled to respond to that they couldn’t ignore it?

‘It must be connected to why Shaolin gave Mount Hua the Great Rejuvenation Pill.’

And Seolhwa believed the key was the Jade Green Staff (Nokok Buljang).

The Jade Green Staff (녹옥불장).

A sacred object passed down to the Abbot of Shaolin.

Both a staff and a symbol of leadership—Shaolin’s most defining relic.

In her previous life, Seolhwa had seen that staff in the hands of the Blood Demon.

‘I saw the staff after Shaolin had lost the war—but what if Blood Demon already had it before the war began?’

What if he’d used it as bait to lure Shaolin into traps?

From Shaolin’s perspective, retrieving the sacred object would have been a matter of utmost importance—they would’ve had no choice but to send their disciples.

“We’re here.”

Yu Pyo’s voice pulled Seolhwa out of her thoughts.

She looked up ahead.

There, at the end of the road, stood the massive mountain gate of Shaolin.

A grand entrance worthy of the sect’s legendary status.

“Once we’re inside Shaolin...” Yu Pyo trailed off—uncharacteristically hesitant.

Seolhwa turned to look at him.

“You’d best not expect a warm welcome.”

“I figured as much.”

“It may be even colder than you’re expecting. They might treat you like you don’t even exist.”

Seolhwa went quiet for a moment.

She knew well the kind of contempt sects could hold for noble clans.

Even Mount Hua hadn’t welcomed the Namgoong Clan warmly at first.

But to be treated as invisible?

“Is that how Shaolin receives guests?”

Shouldn’t they at least show basic courtesy?

“It’s a kind of power play. When Mount Hua first exchanged martial arts with Shaolin, it was the same.”

“Shaolin looked down on Mount Hua?”

Yu Pyo let out a dry laugh.

“‘Looked down on’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. We had eight sparring matches a day.”

Young martial artists overflowing with pride—of course they fought constantly.

Mount Hua with their swords, Shaolin with their fists.

Under the pretense of formal duels.

“It was a war. A war for sectal pride, disguised as peaceful exchange.”

A desperate struggle not to be devoured.

The two sects were close in proximity—so retreating wasn’t an option.

To retreat would be to hand over regional dominance.

“If you start a fight with them, there’s no turning back.”

“So you’re saying I should just sit there and take it?”

Put up with their disrespect?

“Of course not.”

“?”

“Just a few days ago, I was still in Sichuan. Do you know why I crossed over three hundred li to get here?”

Seolhwa raised an eyebrow.

What’s he trying to say?

A mischievous smile spread across Yu Pyo’s lips.

“To watch you break those damned bald heads’ pride.”

“...”

“I’ve never looked forward to visiting Shaolin this much. Please—go wild. Just like you did at Mount Hua, four years ago.”

His voice and expression were visibly excited.

He was genuinely looking forward to it.

To Seolhwa trampling over Shaolin’s monks.

“...Weren’t you coming to protect me?”

Wasn’t he supposed to be her shield under Mount Hua’s name?

“Me? Protect you?”

Yu Pyo scoffed.

“Even a passing dog would laugh at that.”

He turned his horse and rode on ahead toward Shaolin.

Watching his back as he grew distant, Seolhwa thought—

‘As I thought—people don’t change so easily.’