It was a deeply secret story, but Chun-bong secretly enjoyed reading romance novels.

It was a secret she had managed to keep hidden from everyone so far.

Romance novels, in essence, have a predictable structure. They revolve around the love story of a male protagonist and a female protagonist. Regardless of any side plots, the core narrative doesn’t change.

Chun-bong liked that about them.

Because, no matter what happened, the story would end with the two of them finding happiness.
(Granted, there were some authors who would write strange endings, but in those cases, sending them a 57,000-character-long letter would usually ease her frustration somewhat.)

Thanks to this, Chun-bong could claim that, at least theoretically, she had reached the pinnacle of understanding romance.

Naturally, she was well-versed in the fundamental steps of a romance.

Skipping over the early stages like meetings, she focused on the parts that applied to her current situation—specifically, the moment when the male and female protagonists confirm their love for each other.

In six out of ten novels, this moment follows a similar pattern:

A quiet night, under the soft glow of moonlight, a shy kiss…

“Yes, I’m an expert.”

Even though it wasn’t nighttime but daytime right now, the major components weren’t all that different.

Chun-bong steeled herself.

Of course, she was afraid. Life wasn’t like a novel. Unlike a novel, which you could close halfway through and pick up another, life didn’t allow you to shut it midway.

But her burning desire outweighed her fear. The victory at the Yongbong Gathering, the steadily improving circumstances, and the growing abundance in her heart had only fanned the flames of that desire.

As the once-lacking elements gradually fell into place, her yearning for a romantic entanglement between a man and a woman began to stir.

Moreover, Chun-bong’s self-esteem had recently soared to its peak.

Seo-jun’s constant barrage of compliments, which rained down on her like a monsoon, had made Chun-bong deeply aware of her own cuteness.

“We’ve got the conditions to rebuild the House of Golden Sword… my cultivation has advanced enough that I don’t have to worry about being beaten up anywhere….”
“Right?”
“But there’s something essential for a family, isn’t there…?”

Still, timid as always, Chun-bong couldn’t bring herself to voice her ultimate goal.

The essential element for a family—creating a household.

Saying something like, “Should we have a baby?”

“So, uh….”
“Hm?”
“You know, that thing….”
“What thing?”
“Oh, for crying out loud…!”

This was exactly what she’d expected.

“Yeah, that’s just who I am.”

Even as she berated her cowardly self, Chun-bong took a step forward.

“Close your eyes!”

At her sudden shout, Seo-jun obediently closed his eyes.

“He really listens well.”

That’s just how he was. He’d do anything she asked.

Looking at him like this, Chun-bong made up her mind.

—I’ll make sure he never has to lift a finger for the rest of his life. The only thing that will ever touch his hands will be the melted sugar water of Bing Tanghulu.

Smooch.

The touch of lips on lips. A small sound as the air was drawn in. The strangely soft sensation, and the warmth exchanged through the thin mucous membrane.

When she broke it down, it wasn’t much stimulation at all, yet Chun-bong’s face flushed bright red.

She felt as if she were floating. Smiling foolishly, she then met Seo-jun’s wide-open eyes.

“Ah.”
“Huh?”
“W-What the heck…!”

Overwhelmed by embarrassment and fear of the unknown, Chun-bong let out a scream and bolted.

“W-We kissed, so does that mean we’re a couple now?”

Even if not, maybe the way he looked at her would change just a little…. With hopeful thoughts of a bright future, Chun-bong imagined the possibilities.

Seo-jun, left alone, scratched his head as he watched her retreating figure.

 

In the spot where Chun-bong had fled, Seo-jun stood alone, fiddling with his lips.

“Chun-bong’s kiss….”

Though she’d told him to close his eyes, once you reach a certain level, you can still visualize the scene vividly even with your eyes shut.

Chun-bong, squeezing her eyes shut, trembling as she approached, hesitating right in front of him, then finally—her warm breath brushing against his lips, and the moment when her tightly pursed lips lightly touched his with a soft smooch.

“Crazy little perfection machine Chun-bong….”

With his dopamine levels skyrocketing, Seo-jun happily hummed as he retreated to his room.

He had a feeling—this was the perfect moment.

Following his intuition, he opened a small wooden box, retrieved a Great Elixir Pill, and immediately swallowed it.

Contrary to its grand name, the pill’s size was similar to other ordinary ones.

As soon as it melted on his tongue and he swallowed it, a refreshing sensation spread through his body as a massive surge of Qi coursed through him.

‘Hmph.’

But of course, to Seo-jun, this was just Qi. When he focused his will, the unruly energy of the Great Elixir Pill obediently settled, circulating within his body and resting in his dantian.

Yet the Great Elixir Pill wasn’t merely a bundle of energy. Its Qi held a neutral nature, but the mysterious truths embedded within it followed profound Buddhist teachings.

Seo-jun closed his eyes and calmly observed the Great Elixir Pill within him.

Like a ripple in a tranquil pond, its subtle waves began to spread.

When he focused on them, the internal energy in his body mirrored the essence of the pill’s profound truths.

The free flow of his energy stilled, bringing a quiet peace that extended to his mind.

For a moment, a sharp headache flared before subsiding, leaving a refreshing clarity that enveloped his thoughts.

“Ah….”

Seo-jun opened his eyes.

The world seemed clear. The impulsive thoughts that had clouded his mind all day were gone, and the chaotic noise in his heart had stilled, leaving him in a serene state.

Golden light shimmered in Seo-jun’s eyes as he gazed into the void.

The Buddhist teachings within the Great Elixir Pill spoke of clarity and detachment. At the end of that path lay a transcendence of all human desires and emotions, leading to divine enlightenment.

“Why the hell would I want that?”

With a sharp clang, the clarity shattered in an instant.

Seo-jun shuddered at the lingering discomfort and blew air through his lips as if to rid himself of the pill’s taste.

‘Ugh, that’s disgusting.’

Now he understood why he had always felt uneasy about Buddhist inner energy.

Their path was fundamentally incompatible with his own.

Transcend human desires and emotions? What kind of madness was that?

Why would anyone give up something so enjoyable?

Even within Buddhism, there might be various interpretations, but Seo-jun had no intention of associating with those who walked that path.

After all, they were like monks who wouldn’t even feel anything if they touched Chun-bong’s cheeks or received a kiss from her. A bunch of emotionally detached lunatics.

And one more thing.

‘Is this what they call inner demon syndrome?**’

The clarity of his thoughts brought another realization: his current state wasn’t entirely normal.

Well, it was normal, but…. It was hard to explain.

When he reflected on his actions with a clear mind, he wondered why he lived like that—though, given his original personality, maybe that was normal.

In short, it was as if his mind was only half-functional most of the time.

‘I’m definitely not ordinary.’

After a brief contemplation, Seo-jun dismissed the thought.

As long as it didn’t cause any real problems, who cared? Even if someone lived like a lunatic, if it worked, everything was fine.

“Hehe, time to go see my Chun-bong.”

His mood lifted suddenly.

Would she give him another kiss?

 

Shihyeol Mancheon settled in a remote mountain near Hanam with a few subordinates.

Their objective: Divine Blood (Shinhyeol).

Ideally, all witnesses should be eliminated, but even if that proved impossible, the Divine Blood itself had to be erased from the world.

As an experienced veteran of the martial arts world, Shihyeol Mancheon understood the importance of information.

Rather than relying solely on intelligence from his comrades, he personally sought out news circulating in Jianghu.

The current bearer of the Divine Blood was Huiryong Peak’s Geum Hee, the successor of the House of the Golden Sword (Shingeom Geum-ga), who was at the Pinnacle Stage (Jeoljeong-gyeong).

In terms of martial power, she was not a threat. Someone at the Pinnacle Stage could not influence him in any way.

Next, the most concerning figure was Pae Jin-gwang, the Fist King.

Shihyeol Mancheon had never seen him in person, but he had heard the name mentioned multiple times during his time in Jianghu, proving that he was someone to be wary of.

The years one has lived reflect the depth of their accumulated strength. Though specifics were unclear, Pae Jin-gwang’s capabilities were undoubtedly formidable.

The next figure was Namgung Hyeok of the Azure Sky (Changcheon-daehae).

A master of the previous generation from the Namgung clan, though detailed information about his martial strength was scarce.

It was presumed he had not yet reached the Transformation Stage (Hwagyeong). While caution was warranted, his rank was below that of the Fist King.

Following that was Jang Geuk, the former leader of the Green Forest Alliance (Noklim Chongchaeju).

A mere small fry. Despite being at the Extreme Pinnacle Stage (Chojeoljeong), there was nothing extraordinary about him, so Shihyeol Mancheon dismissed him entirely.

Lastly, there was Lee Seo-jun, known as Heaven-Piercing Mastermind (Jingi Jaechun).

A rising master at the Extreme Pinnacle Stage who frequently utilized Qi techniques and had even overwhelmed an Imperial general.

While he merited some level of caution, this time was different.

In Jianghu, mastery levels are defined by one’s ability to manipulate Qi. As such, while other martial artists might pose challenges, the martial power and cultivation level of Qi masters were generally proportional.

Furthermore, a Qi master who had reached the Transformation Stage could completely neutralize an opponent’s Qi techniques, absorbing them as their own.

In essence, they were natural predators.

“Even if Heaven-Piercing Mastermind and the former Alliance Leader attacked simultaneously, I wouldn’t feel burdened. However, if Azure Sky and the Fist King were to join the fray, things might get a bit tricky.”

Out of all of them, the Fist King was the most problematic.

The best approach would be to use subordinates to hold off the Fist King, quickly deal with Heaven-Piercing Mastermind and the Alliance Leader, and then eliminate the rest in one decisive sweep.

“So, they’re about to leave Hanam, are they?”
“That’s what I heard. Now just hand over the money already. If anyone finds out I—ugh…!”

The man from the Hao Clan, who had delivered the information about Hanam, collapsed, spewing blood from his mouth. There were no visible injuries, yet his internal organs had hemorrhaged, leading to instant death.

“Impertinent fool.”

Clicking his tongue, Shihyeol Mancheon tossed a pouch of money onto the man’s corpse. Then, returning to their temporary base, he gave orders to his subordinates.

“Let’s go. The pigs will soon poke their heads out of their pen.”

The Divine Blood must never be revealed to the world.