The faint scent of incense tickled my nose—not the usual kind, but something pure and cleansing, as if it could clear one’s soul.

In the reverent atmosphere, I saw a corpse leaning against the ice. A middle-aged woman with skin as pale and flawless as white jade.

Her face bore deep lines, though not excessively so. It was as if time itself had frozen her, leaving everything in a serene, suspended state.

“...Ma’am?”

I called out, half expecting her to respond. But there was nothing—no presence, no hint of life that one would normally sense from a living person.

I cautiously extended my hand. As my fingers brushed her, the woman shattered instantly. Her remains dissolved into a flurry of white snow, drifting past me.

“...Ah!”

I quickly pulled back my hand, but even what little remained of her disintegrated into snow, carried away in a swirling wind. When I opened my eyes again, everything was gone.

Nothing remained. It felt like waking from a dream, though the proof of someone’s existence lingered—a few items in the corner.

An old, peculiar sword in a weathered scabbard.

A booklet and an ornate wooden box.

“...?”

The white ice fragment within the box was unlike any ice I had ever seen. I couldn’t even touch it. A mere graze had caused necrosis at the tip of my finger. Though I withdrew my hand immediately, the chill had already seeped up to my wrist.

This was no ordinary object. The intricacy of the wooden box itself suggested something extraordinary, as if it had been crafted from a rare, metallic material.

I turned my attention to the booklet.

The writing was mostly illegible, the text eroded over time, with pages torn or missing. Yet, one name shone clearly amid the damage, written in radiant white ink.

“Bing Baekseol...”

Bing Baekseol?

Could it be that Bing Baekseol?

The name of a martial artist once counted among the Ten Masters of the World—renowned as the Ice Sovereign of the North Sea, infamous for her exploits within the Five Outer Palaces.

I hurriedly examined the booklet again, piecing together fragmented sentences, deciphering what little remained.

It was a martial arts manual. That much was clear. The preface provided a brief account of her circumstances.

Bing Baekseol had fallen here after being ambushed. Though the identity of her attackers was unclear, the text carried scathing insults toward them, suggesting they were notorious figures three centuries ago.

"Vile, wretched, disgusting foes unworthy of mention..."

The injuries she sustained were severe, and the medicinal elixirs she carried were ineffective without proper alchemical refinement, rendering them poisonous.

As she languished, she scavenged a book and brush from the corpse of someone who had fallen into the cave. By sheer coincidence, she managed to record her legacy here.

In the final pages, Bing Baekseol made a heartfelt plea:

"I have recorded everything I know, except one thing. To whoever finds this, take all that I have left and deliver just one thing to the Ice Palace."

The manual detailed techniques and principles, described with precision and in a tone both instructive and imploring.

This was the ultimate legacy of the North Sea Ice Palace, left behind by its greatest master.

At last, I reached for the sword.

“...Ah!”

The icy white blade radiated a chill so intense it seemed alive. This was no ordinary sword—it was undoubtedly a peerless weapon.

To think I would stumble upon the pinnacle of ice martial arts in such a place. I gathered everything—the booklet, the sword, and the box.

The first question was what to do with these items.

Fortunately, the box sealed its icy aura when closed. The sword, hidden in its tattered scabbard, would appear unremarkable to the untrained eye.

Though its outward appearance was plain, the martial arts manual posed another issue.

"Remember, this is a martial art that men cannot practice."

Bing Baekseol’s legacy was exclusively for women. There was no reason to doubt the authenticity of her claim—why would she lie about her own techniques?

What should I do with it, then?

...I should bring it to Ilma.

She had given me so much. If I brought her this, perhaps it would please her.

Though her body was gone, I offered a silent bow out of respect. Having received such a gift, it was only right to show gratitude where her remains once lay.

Perhaps someday, if fate allowed, I would deliver this to the Ice Palace. But that time was not now.

The Five Outer Palaces were far removed from the Demon Sect.

To reach them, one would have to pass through the Central Plains, making it a journey fraught with complications.

It was an absurdly distant place, too far to exploit for political gain.

As I pondered, the necrotic damage to my hand began to heal. The lingering energy in the pill I had taken must have temporarily suppressed the curse of heavenly tribulation.

Now I understood why the manual repeatedly warned of its dangers.

Turning back, I searched through the bodies near the frozen waterfall but found nothing particularly significant. One man’s corpse, sprawled alongside a scattered book, seemed to confirm the peril of this place.

It was evident that falling into this cavern was a death sentence for most. The sheer height alone ensured that even masters would perish upon impact.

Now, it was time to leave.

I snapped a branch and reignited a flame using the fire starter. Though my clothes were in tatters, my pockets had remained intact enough to carry what I needed.

It was time to make my way out. I had the light, and I had already broken through once before—there shouldn’t be any unexpected dangers.

“Number 30! Number 30! Where are you?! Are you dead?!”

A voice echoed in the distance. I peeked out from the crevice I had emerged from.

A masked woman was shouting, torch in hand. I recognized her voice instantly.

“Number 30! Number 30! Are you really dead?! If you’re alive, answer me—Aaaah!!!”

A scream erupted. I acted immediately, dashing out to find her being torn apart by vampire bats.

I dragged her back to the area near the frozen waterfall. Bloodied and panting, Number 29 clung to me.

“Th-those bats... There were so many...”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“To repay my debt! A whole day passed, and you didn’t come out!”

A whole day?

I glanced back at the ice cave. Now that I thought about it, the moment I entered, I had felt something strange. The bizarre stillness of the air, as if time itself had frozen...

Was it the mystic aura of Bing Baekseol’s remains?

Turning back to Number 29, I said, “I nearly died, Number 29.”

“And you think you’re any better? Look at you—your clothes are torn to shreds!”

“Why did you come here?”

“I told you, to repay my debt. I hate leaving debts unpaid.”

“For just that one thing?”

“Do I need another reason?”

Number 29 growled.

“Let me be clear—you’re not allowed to die until I’ve repaid everything I owe you. I hate being in anyone’s debt!”

“...Pfft.”

“What are you laughing at?!”

“Nothing. Just... you.”

This woman was, in her own way, just as strange.

Gripping my sword, I steadied myself. With an extra torch and a second fighter at my side, the way forward seemed more manageable.

For now, we would wait for the vampire bats to calm down.

“Let’s wait here until the bats settle down,” I suggested.

“...Fine. I heard about them being here, but I didn’t expect so many...”

Number 29 glanced around at our surroundings.

“What is this place anyway? And what’s with the frozen waterfall? Is it always this weird near bloodstone?”

“Something like that,” I replied.

I decided not to mention Bing Baekseol for now. As Number 29 leaned against a wall, her injuries became apparent—minor wounds scattered across her body, though thankfully none from bites.

One large gash on her wrist stood out, slightly swollen. With no medicine to treat it, I decided to wrap it with a makeshift bandage.

I tore a strip from my already ruined sleeve.

“Give me your hand,” I said.

“...That’s not necessary.”

“It’ll help. You’re still bleeding, aren’t you?”

Reluctantly, she extended her hand. Gently, I wrapped the cloth around her wrist.

She sat beside me, looking upward with a sigh.

“Think we could climb out that way?”

“If I’d mastered Ghostly Spirit Steps to perfection, maybe.”

“Could you, though?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t have been torn apart like this.”

“What a letdown.”

From beneath her mask, I could feel her glare as she fiddled with the bandage.

“You look like you’ve been through hell, but not a scratch on you.”

“Special constitution.”

“What kind?”

“I heal quickly. Painfully, but quickly.”

“That’s a thing?”

To prove it, I drew my sword and made a shallow cut on my wrist, showing her how it healed almost instantly. Her eyes widened in horror.

“You’re a monster!”

“If I were, I wouldn’t be so weak.”

“You’re still stronger than me.”

“It’s something I gained through hardship and near-death experiences.”

She fell silent, her expression clouded with disbelief. Reaching out, she pointed at the scar on my cheek.

“Then why do you still have that?”

I touched the scar

, momentarily forgetting it was there. It had been so long since I’d seen my reflection that I’d almost forgotten.

“That scar’s from before my constitution awakened.”

“How did it happen?”

“My father threw a bottle at me when I was a child.”

“...So you didn’t have a good upbringing either.”

“And you? Did you?”

“I wouldn’t call it good or bad. My first memory is of a brothel.”

Number 29 hugged her knees.

“I didn’t have parents. They sold me when I was too young to remember them. Whether they were good or bad doesn’t matter—they weren’t there. Have you ever been to a brothel?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed.

I thought about it. There was only one reason.

“I didn’t have the money.”

“Not going to claim you weren’t interested?”

“I was curious. I wondered what it would be like.”

“What if you’d had the money?”

“I still wouldn’t have gone.”

“Why?”

“I had a sick younger sister. All the money I earned went to her. Even if I’d had enough to visit a brothel, I would’ve sent it home.”

“...You had a sister? So you joined the Blood Demon Division to support her?”

“I did. But she died. She’s not here anymore.”

“...”

Number 29 fidgeted with her fingers before speaking hesitantly.

“I had someone too. Not a sister, but an older friend.”

“What happened to her?”

“It’s similar to your story. She’s not dead, but she might as well be. She doesn’t recognize me anymore.”

“...”

“She wasn’t really my sister, just someone I got along with. She was always there for me, even though she was only three years older. She guided me, looked out for me.”

Number 29’s gaze dropped to the ground.

“In brothels, there’s a lot of work to do. Young girls are sold and learn basic tasks first. Then, as they grow, they start selling drinks, then eventually their bodies. Most of the money goes to the brothel, but they can save a little.”

“...”

“My ‘sister’ was the same. She was a courtesan—charming, beautiful, and popular. She earned a lot of money.”

“I see.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She stretched and continued.

“She was only five years older but seemed so mature. She was my role model, always smiling. Do you know what she did for me?”

“...”

“She bought my freedom before I had to start working as a courtesan. She knew I liked to move around, so she handed me a sword and sent me to the martial academy. I owe her everything. Too much, really. When I grew up, I realized just how much she sacrificed for me—my worth wasn’t cheap. I wanted to repay her. I vowed to take care of her once she left the brothel. I swung my sword for that dream.”

“...”

“Do you know how a courtesan leaves a brothel? They either pay their worth or leave as a corpse. My sister chose the first option. She saved every coin she earned, despite her exorbitant value, and managed to gather enough. But the brothel owner wouldn’t let her go. She was still too beautiful, too valuable.”

“...”

“They found another way to keep her. The owner demanded she take one final client. They offered her a fortune, saying it would secure her future. She accepted, thinking it was for me.”

Number 29’s voice trembled as she let out a bitter laugh.

“Do you know who that client was? Shim Saheun, the Soul-Stealing Madman.”

“The Soul-Stealing Madman...”

“Yes. A notorious lunatic, even within the Cult. A martial artist of terrifying skill, but so cruel no sects would accept him. He bought my sister. When I saw her again, she was a shell of herself, a mindless husk. The money went to the brothel owner, and the scandal was quietly buried as an ‘accident.’”

“...”

“My sister is still alive. But she doesn’t recognize me anymore. I tried to bring her back, but the brothel refused, claiming to protect her. No one believed me when I said she had been handed over to Shim Saheun.”

“...”

“I was banned from the brothel. They threatened to kill me if I returned. The owner gave me a single silver coin as ‘compensation.’ That was the price of my sister’s life. I visited her room a few more times after that.”

She bit her lip hard, and blood dripped from beneath her mask.

“All I could hear in her room were the sounds of men.”

“...”

“It’s just a story.”

It was dirty.

It was ugly.

It reeked of rot.

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

“What happened to your sister?” I asked.

“This was six months ago. She’s still there. I joined the Blood Demon Division to earn the strength and money to take her out of Hongbongru. If I make it to the Blood Shadow Squad, I’ll have enough power to pull her out without trouble.”

“...”

“But honestly...”

Her voice grew louder, trying to mask the emotion behind it.

“Forget it. I’ve said too much. Don’t tell anyone. If my plans are discovered, it’ll all fall apart. I only told you because you seem trustworthy. Got it?”

“...Of course.”

I stood up.

“Let’s go, Number 29. It’s time to leave this place. The sun is setting. If we move now, we can avoid the vampire bats and make it out safely.”