There is a path for Namgung Bi-ah.
The path of the sword, a road toward the goal she sought to reach. She kept walking along this distant path, gazing at the faint line of her destination.
It was far—so far that the end wasn’t visible. This narrow, rough road might have intimidated her, but Namgung Bi-ah didn’t falter.
Perhaps it was because she had seen the result.
“Come slowly.”
She remembered the voice from a duel held in Hanan.
“If you rush, you’ll fall. Take your time and go at a steady pace.”
“Then, I’ll give you a gift.”
The words spoken back then were etched into Namgung Bi-ah’s memory as if carved in stone. Whose words were they?
The only indication she had of his identity was the blue robes that suggested he was from the Namgung family. Beyond that, she knew nothing—neither his identity nor why he had beckoned her down this path.
But Namgung Bi-ah walked.
Just as the old man had instructed, she walked slowly and steadily, making sure not to stray from her path.
Swish!
The sword in Namgung Bi-ah’s hand sliced through the air.
There was no sword energy, no infusion of qi. She simply swung.
Without qi, the sword felt heavy, and the speed she wanted wasn’t there. But it didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was staying true to her path.
She focused solely on that.
Her foot pressed against the ground to maintain her balance.
Her hand, light as it was, required firm grounding from her lower body.
Drip.
A bead of sweat traced down her pale skin. Though the movement seemed simple, the pressure on her body was substantial.
Then came the second strike.
Swish!
As she swung her sword, Namgung Bi-ah didn’t watch the tip of her blade. Instead, she closed her eyes.
She needed to sense the changes within her body as she moved the sword.
Without using qi, she had to rely on the feedback from her muscles.
Her foot hit the ground, and she twisted her waist, allowing her silver hair to sway. Using the momentum from the turn, she brought the sword down.
The third strike.
Swish! A sharp sound cut through the air.
At that moment—
Buzz!
The sword resonated.
A faint hum, a sword cry.
Namgung Bi-ah’s ears perked up at the sound.
This was just the beginning.
Even with her eyes closed, she could see the path more clearly. Ahead, she glimpsed it.
It felt as if flowers were blooming on the dry path, as if leaves were sprouting on withered branches.
Her movements grew more fluid as she focused her strength into each swing. With each strike, she felt herself drawing closer to the sword.
Buzz! Buzz!
Even without qi, her sword cried out. Namgung Bi-ah continued swinging.
The fourth strike, then the fifth.
She was executing the Namgung family’s long-taught sword technique. From afar, it might have looked as if she was performing it perfectly, but Namgung Bi-ah was creating subtle differences.
The buzzing of her sword soon grew louder than the sound of it slicing through the air.
This amplification of the sword cry held meaning.
The Namgung family’s sword technique was built upon the foundation of qi.
In other words, without qi, it was considered incomplete.
Why?
Namgung Bi-ah had always wondered.
Why was it that the Namgung sword could only be completed with qi?
Could such a thing truly be called complete?
The signature energy of the Namgung family was Lightning Qi—a force that, combined with the sword technique, unleashed a roar of thunder. This was the iconic image of the Namgung family.
But Namgung Bi-ah still questioned it.
Why?
How could a family that aspired to be the pinnacle of swords ignore the concept of a complete sword?
A sword that couldn’t be used without qi was an incomplete sword. That couldn’t be called perfection.
Did the Namgung family not realize this?
These were questions she often pondered, though she never voiced them.
The first reason was that she didn’t have the kind of environment where such questions could be asked.
The second reason was that Namgung Bi-ah herself hadn’t thought it mattered enough to bring up.
She channeled power into her stance.
Her muscles tightened, and her legs steadied her movements, providing the stability needed for the sword path.
She had to eliminate any discomfort.
The unpleasant, metallic smell lingering between each swing had to disappear.
Namgung Bi-ah focused all her energy on her movements, aiming to perfect each one.
Then, after exactly twenty swings—
“Haa… haa…”
Namgung Bi-ah’s movements stopped.
She had no choice. She was drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
Thud.
The sword fell from her hand to the ground.
At the same time, Namgung Bi-ah dropped to one knee, supporting herself with one hand on the ground.
Drip, drip. Beads of sweat trickled down her elegant jawline. She tried to steady herself, but it wasn’t easy.
It wasn’t just the lack of qi; she had devoted her full attention to the sword path, exhausting her mind.
Even as she looked down at the sweat pooling on the ground, her thoughts were elsewhere.
…One step further.
Just one more step. Should she try to take one more step, maintaining this sense of balance?
Desire clawed at her.
If she set her mind to it, she could push forward.
Just a little further, even if it was only a small step toward that distant destination.
If she took that step…
She would be able to protect him.
Yes, she would gain the strength to protect him.
Thinking of this, Namgung Bi-ah rose and reached for her fallen sword.
But—
Slide… click.
The sword slid smoothly back into its sheath without further action.
In the end, she didn’t take that step.
Slowly…
To move forward now wouldn’t bring completeness.
Though she could take that step, it would be unsteady, costing her more than she’d gain.
If she were to lose balance in her quest to reach the end, it would all be for nothing.
Reminding herself of this, Namgung Bi-ah bit her lip.
She realized just how far she still had to go. The destination on that distant horizon felt even further away.
Would she ever be able to reach it at this pace?
For a brief moment, a sense of doubt crept in, but she quickly suppressed it.
She was no stranger to patience.
Hadn’t she been holding back in many ways until now?
Most of the restraint was for Gu Yangcheon’s sake, but she knew she had to endure.
Namgung Bi-ah understood that if she were to act on her desires toward Gu Yangcheon, he would only end up despising her.
She endured.
And so her sword had to endure as well.
Composing herself, she slowly opened her eyes.
Time to wash up and change.
…Where should I go?
She had a place she needed to visit today. According to information from her father, the Sword King, her great-grandfather, the Heavenly Master, was said to be in Sichuan.
Namgung Bi-ah had arranged for a letter to be sent to him, and now she was preparing to seek him out.
The problem was…
…Where?
Where exactly would she find him?
Maybe she’d start searching in the mountains.
If she didn’t know, she’d just have to find him on foot. That’s how she’d always found her way.
Surely, she would come across him eventually.
With that thought, she prepared to head up the mountain.
“Well, well.”
A voice sounded from behind.
At the sound, Namgung Bi-ah instinctively drew her sword and swung.
Swish!
Clang!
…!
The blade, aimed in the direction of the voice, was blocked before it could gain momentum.
The owner of the voice had blocked her blade with the hilt of his own sword.
Namgung Bi-ah could see him now—his silvery-white hair, shaking slightly from the impact.
It was the same color as her own hair.
“Perhaps the other monster was too overwhelming, so I hadn’t noticed… hm…”
Despite the sudden attack, the man remained unfazed, inspecting her sword as if to gauge her strength.
Then, looking at her, he smiled.
“Quite the powerful monster, aren’t you, my niece?”
It was only then that Namgung Bi-ah recognized the man.
She’d seen him before.
He was the one she’d met with Gu Yangcheon, the master of the Hidden Dragon.
Moreover, he was a fellow Namgung family member.
“…The Hermit…”
The Hermit of Wudang, Namgung Hyeong. Her father’s younger brother, as she understood.
And now he spoke to her.
“Tell me, my niece.”
Namgung Hyeong looked at her and said,
“Have you ever considered becoming the head of the family?”
“…?”
It was such an unexpected question.
******************
"Do you need another mother?"
It was an abrupt question from Baekryeongeom, and I frowned as soon as she said it. She must have realized how strange her words sounded, as she quickly covered her mouth and fled the scene.
What was that supposed to mean? Though this wasn’t the first time she’d acted strangely, today was certainly more bizarre than usual.
Or perhaps it just felt that way because I hadn’t seen her in a while. Perhaps she’d always been this odd, and I simply hadn’t noticed.
"Do you need another mother?"
What in the world? It was the strangest thing I’d ever heard.
I already have enough people; why would I need more?
Was she offering to be that mother if I needed one?
Baekryeongeom as my mother?
Imagining that scenario sent a chill down my spine. Just as I shivered at the unsettling thought—
"Stay still; you’re distracting me."
"Ah, sorry."
The Divine Doctor, who had been taking my pulse, scolded me. I composed myself, trying to refocus.
Shortly after Baekryeongeom left, I dismissed Tang Deok and headed to the Divine Doctor.
Although I’d planned to have Tang Deok watch over Dang So-yeol due to a slight fever she’d had, Baekryeongeom’s disruption had reminded me of how limited my time was.
Today, there were too many things to attend to, so I ordered Tang Deok to resume guarding Dang So-yeol, then turned to meet with the Divine Doctor.
Since I had informed him of my visit, he wasn’t particularly surprised by my arrival.
As his thin fingers pressed against my wrist, I could feel a faint energy probing through my body.
It was the Divine Doctor’s energy. In the past, I hadn’t been able to sense it, but after my recent transformation, I could perceive it more distinctly.
How fascinating.
The Divine Doctor wasn’t a martial artist, yet he possessed a hint of qi—enough to diagnose a martial artist’s pulse accurately.
Is he able to examine my entire body with just this small amount of qi?
It was such a faint energy, yet it was resilient and unwavering as it moved throughout my body, inspecting me from head to toe without faltering.
The energy made a complete circuit through my body before returning to the Divine Doctor. He finally opened his eyes, lifting his hand from my wrist.
"…Hah."
He exhaled a long sigh.
"It really has been restructured—your vessel."
He noted that the vessel, which he had once described as on the verge of breaking, had been fully restored.
"The framework is solid, and the density of your muscles is remarkable. You didn’t have a bad physique to begin with, but what on earth happened?"
"Is there anything I should be cautious about?"
"None. This is one of the most flawless physiques I’ve ever encountered."
Oh…
I couldn’t help but be astonished by that statement.
Being known as the greatest doctor in Zhongyuan, he must have examined countless martial artists. Yet, for him to say that my body was one of the finest he’d ever seen—how could I not be surprised?
So, does that mean I can push myself a bit harder?
If this body was so perfect, it should be able to endure more intense training than before. It seemed I could increase the difficulty of my regimen significantly.
[You fool, do you think you’re handling a tool? Have you forgotten that this is your body?]
Well, doesn’t that make it more convenient? It’s not like I’m dealing with someone else’s body.
[Fine, do as you wish.]
After the pulse check, I twisted and flexed my body. Fortunately, it seemed there were no major issues. Just as I thought we were finished—
"However…"
The Divine Doctor voiced something curious.
"There is something unusual, though faint."
"What might that be?"
"Although it seems perfect, there’s a slightly alien quality. The bone structure and muscle tissue… it’s not enough to be concerning, but it’s a bit unsettling."
I was startled at his observation. That "alien quality" he mentioned—
…It’s likely a residual effect from the Forced Transformation Technique.
Perhaps it was the result of forcibly altering my bones and muscles. The Divine Doctor had detected the lingering traces of the technique, as I was still actively using it.
In other words…
Even the Divine Doctor can only detect a slight peculiarity.
It meant that the changes brought on by the Forced Transformation Technique were subtle enough to elude even the Divine Doctor’s expertise.
Then, how was it that…
My father could recognize it at a glance?
It was a curious thought. Reflecting on this, I reached into my sleeve and retrieved an item I’d prepared for the Divine Doctor.
The White Demon Stone.
As soon as the luminous stone landed on the table, the Divine Doctor’s eyes widened.
"As promised, here is the White Demon Stone."
"…So this is it…"
The Divine Doctor extended a hand toward the stone, but just before he touched it, I swiftly pulled it away. Seeing the White Demon Stone vanish right before him, the Divine Doctor’s expression hardened.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
He seemed to think I was playing some sort of prank. Technically, he wasn’t wrong.
"I was going to give it to you outright, but I think I’ll need to add one more condition."
"…What?"
My tone remained cheerful, but the Divine Doctor’s expression grew increasingly displeased. It was understandable.
I had promised him the stone on certain terms, but now I was adding another condition.
But what could he do?
Right now, I held the upper hand, and he knew it. Though he didn’t like it, he couldn’t say anything in response.
It must be very important to him if he’s willing to go this far.
I narrowed my eyes as I watched him silently.
Just how valuable was this stone that he wanted it so desperately?
Hadn’t he promised to kill Jegal Hyuk? That was what he’d said.
I don’t need to know that yet.
It didn’t matter at the moment.
"The purpose you had for this stone, Divine Doctor."
My reason was simple.
"I want to see it with my own eyes."
Because I could find out everything I wanted to know from here on.
The Divine Doctor’s eyes widened at my words.
He intended to do something with the White Demon Stone, and I wanted to witness it firsthand.
Moreover, this desire wasn’t only mine.
This was, surprisingly, also the wish of Shin Noya.