“Mm…”

Seo-jun opened his eyes. It was a familiar ceiling. He stared blankly at it for a moment before suddenly noticing a familiar weight.

‘This is…’

A warm, comforting pressure against his chest and the ticklish sensation of soft breaths seeping through layers of clothes.

Seo-jun tilted his head slightly and looked down at his stomach. Chun-bong was sprawled across his abdomen, drooling in her sleep.

“Chun-bong.”
“Mm…”

Chun-bong murmured in her sleep, nuzzling her face deeper into Seo-jun’s stomach. Her eyes, however, were puffy and red.

Startled, Seo-jun slipped his hands under her armpits and lifted her up.

“Why is my Chun-bong crying?”

Blinking slowly, Chun-bong rubbed her sleepy eyes. She stared at Seo-jun with a dazed expression before—bam!—her big, round eyes shot wide open.

“O-Oppa…?”

Her expression crumpled in an instant. Chun-bong squeezed her eyes shut, and tears rolled down her cheeks like beads.

“O-Oppa…!”

Her chin trembled as she let out a whimper and clung to him.

It was such a rare sight that Seo-jun, though flustered, patted her back gently as she buried herself in his arms.

“What’s wrong? Hm? Did someone bully you?”
“I… sniff…”
“Yes, my Chun-bong?”
“I thought you… I thought you were really gone…”

Chun-bong’s voice cracked as she pressed her head against his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. She hiccupped and wriggled closer, practically fusing herself to him.

“My poor Chun-bong.”

Seo-jun swayed her gently and spoke in a soft voice.

“Why would I be gone? Even if my head gets chopped off, I won’t die.”

“But… sniff… I saw you explode… and then… when I came to, you were passed out again… I thought… I thought I’d lost you… again…”

Hearing her muffled words, Seo-jun pieced things together. It seemed Chun-bong had no memory of being possessed by the Sword Saint.

In her eyes, Seo-jun’s body had gone boom—! Then, when she regained consciousness, he was lying unconscious, looking half-dead.

‘Yeah…’

That would be pretty traumatic.

Especially for Chun-bong, who had already lost her family when her clan was destroyed. It wasn’t surprising if this incident dredged up memories of that tragedy.

Seo-jun sighed. Chun-bong’s mental state clearly needed some care.

Click—

Just then, the door opened, and Namgung Su-a appeared. She was holding a bowl of porridge and a damp towel.

“Seo-jun…!”

Relief washed over her face as she hurried toward him, letting out a soft sigh before sitting down beside him.

“Thank goodness…”
“What? Was I out for a month or something?”
“No… just a full day?”
“Oh, that’s not so bad.”

From her reaction, he thought he’d been bedridden for months.

“Well, given your injuries, you should’ve been out longer.”

Namgung Su-a pouted, then blew gently on a spoonful of porridge and brought it to his lips.

“Here, eat this.”

Seo-jun obediently took a bite. It wasn’t bad at all.

Namgung Su-a asked, “How’s the seasoning?”
“It’s good. Did you make this?”
“It’s not hard to cook porridge.”

She brushed his cheek lightly before getting up.

“I’ll go let the others know you’re awake. They’ve been worried sick.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s nothing. Goldie can feed you the rest.”
“I can eat by myself, you know.”
“Yeah, right.”

Namgung Su-a gave him a playful glare before leaving the room.

Seo-jun picked up the spoon, ready to dig in—

Clack!

Chun-bong snatched the spoon out of his hand.

Muttering something under her breath, she scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and held it out to him.

“…Don’t move.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

Seo-jun meekly accepted the food.

***

As time passed, several people came to visit Seo-jun.

Though it was hard to call it a hospital visit given his perfectly healthy state, Namgung Su-a had strictly ordered him to rest for a few days. So, Seo-jun quietly received his visitors.

“Oh, Young Master…!”

Namgung Yeong-bo, the head of Cheon-ak Hall, showed up carrying bundles of rare medicinal pills. Surprisingly, it wasn’t an abuse of his authority—he’d apparently gotten proper approval.

Seo-jun munched on a Healing Pill (요상단, used to treat internal injuries) like it was a snack, waving his hand dismissively.

“No, seriously, I’m fine.”
“Still, you really should take it easy for a few days.”

Jin Ga-wi, the steward, also dropped by.

He reminded Seo-jun multiple times to rest and then, with a faint smile, added:

“I managed to secure some spiritual artifacts while you were away.”
“Wait, what?”
“They’re not exactly extraordinary items, but… please stop by Geumju Hall once you’ve recovered.”

Seo-jun nodded for now.

Spiritual artifacts, huh? He’d heard of them before but had never seen one himself. He was a bit curious.

After the round of visits ended, Seo-jun stretched out his stiff body and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

Chun-bong, who had been snuggled up against him, naturally slid to the floor and clung to his arm.

“To wash up.”
“Okay.”

Seo-jun started walking. Chun-bong followed.

“I said I’m going to wash up.”
“Okay.”
“You need to let go first…”

The moment Seo-jun tried to pull his arm free, Chun-bong’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Don’t go…”
“…Fine.”

He gave up on washing. Honestly, given his level of cultivation, he didn’t even need to wash. His body hardly produced any impurities, and any dirt on the surface could easily be removed with Qi.

The room gradually darkened as evening fell.

Namgung Su-a, after repeatedly warning Seo-jun to rest, had returned to her own quarters. Left alone with Chun-bong, Seo-jun felt her cling to him even more tightly.

“…Oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll stay by my side, right?”

Looking into her fearful eyes, Seo-jun could only nod.

“Of course.”

Not that he’d intended to leave her anyway—not until she said it was okay.

Maybe one day Chun-bong would find having him around annoying, but unless that happened, he had no plans to leave her side.

“Forever.”
“Sure.”
“For eternity.”
“Just wait until you start whining about wanting me to go away.”

Chun-bong silently stared at him. Her eyes were so dark and sunken it sent a chill down his spine. Seo-jun nervously rolled his eyes.

“…Guess my Chun-bong won’t do that.”
“Mm. Never.”

Chun-bong hugged him tightly.

“You’re mine.”

Seo-jun, sensing the mood, wisely kept his mouth shut.

*****

The next day, Seo-jun left his room with Chun-bong hanging onto him like a koala. Their destination was the patriarch’s hall.

But Seo-jun didn’t make it all the way there.

Namgung Jincheon must have sensed him coming, as he came out (from quite far away) to greet him and escorted him back to his room.

“Oh, Father-in-law! You really saved my life.”
“Don’t mention it… I should’ve come sooner.”
“Oh, come on. Even the Sword Saint only showed up after it was over.”

Chun-bong already knew everything about what had happened, thanks to their endless conversation the night before.

After exchanging pleasantries, Seo-jun suddenly asked:

“By the way, do you know anything about that Shihyeol Mancheon guy?”
“I’m not sure… It was all over by the time I arrived.”
“Ah.”

Seo-jun scratched his head. Come to think of it, the guy had turned to dust. There was no way Jincheon could’ve known.

“But my great-uncle did have something to say.”
“That old man?”
“Yes. He suspects the man may have been affiliated with the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

Sichuan Tang Clan? Seo-jun frowned.

“Are they nuts? Should I drop a Mixed Origin Sun and Moon Art right on them?”
“I doubt he’s actually one of them. More likely, he was associated with them in the past. My guess is he was part of another group entirely…”

“I see.”

“I’ll look into it personally. It might even be tied to Geumju Hall’s affairs.”

Namgung Jincheon stroked his chin thoughtfully. It was a complicated situation, but not something that could be resolved immediately.

He sighed and then asked,

“By the way, Son-in-law…”
“Yes?”
“What was he like?”
“You mean Shihyeol Mancheon?”
“Yes.”

Seo-jun paused to think, but not for long.

“He was strong… but honestly, I don’t think he was as tough as that Gilyeon Hall Master I fought before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. No offense, but he’s definitely not on your level.”

It wasn’t just flattery.

Seo-jun had brushed up against something close to the Transformation Stage during his last battle, and his perspective had shifted drastically as a result.

If he fought Namgung Jincheon now?

Seo-jun figured lasting even three moves would be an achievement.

“I see… That’s not unusual. Most leaders of the Seven Demonic Gates are exceptional even within the Transformation Stage.”
“True. And thinking about it, anyone strong enough to succeed somewhere decent wouldn’t need to join some shady organization in the first place.”

Seo-jun nodded but then furrowed his brow.

‘Wait… no.’

Someone close to the Transformation Stage could absolutely thrive anywhere.

Even if Shihyeol Mancheon seemed weaker than Gilyeon Hall’s leader, it didn’t make him weak.

With his level of skill, he could’ve been a big shot in any righteous sect—practically a king. So why?

Seo-jun mulled it over but quickly gave up. He hadn’t been thinking much lately, and pondering things for more than ten seconds made his head hurt.

“Anyway, this whole thing taught me something.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I’ve been too relaxed lately. I need to get stronger, and fast.”
“Son-in-law… you’re already the fastest-growing martial artist in history.”
“Doesn’t matter. There are still plenty of old-timers stronger than me. This isn’t enough—I need to at least reach the Transformation Stage.”
“Hmm… Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Actually, I’m planning to head to the Demonic Cult soon, so if you—urk!”

Seo-jun was cut off as Chun-bong grabbed him by the collar.

He glanced down and saw her eyes brimming with tears.

“…You said you wouldn’t leave.”
“…I—I was about to say I wouldn’t leave right away!”