Seo-jun pondered over the Namgung bloodline while observing the peacefully sleeping Namgung Sua.
Her upper body moved slightly with each breath. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, tiny tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly—so subtle that one would have to look closely to notice.
Because she had a habit of talking in her sleep, her limbs occasionally flailed, causing the blanket to flutter with small noises.
His thoughts about the Namgung bloodline faded as a more immediate answer presented itself—Namgung Sua’s current state.
‘She must be having a good dream.’
It was a relief that it wasn’t a nightmare. Seo-jun watched her for a while as she slept.
“…Ah.”
Then, Namgung Sua’s eyes suddenly snapped open. For once, her usually concealed blue irises were fully visible, shimmering with emotion.
Drowsily, she pushed herself upright and mumbled absentmindedly,
“I had a dream…”
Tears trickled down from Namgung Sua’s eyes.
“No, it wasn’t a dream…!”
Then, as she suddenly beamed radiantly, Seo-jun couldn’t help but smile along with her.
“What happened?”
The words that followed were nothing short of astonishing.
Her father had beaten Yama, the ruler of the underworld, and ascended to the celestial realm with her mother?
It should have sounded absurd. Yet, strangely, it didn’t.
Honestly, if it was her father they were talking about, it didn’t seem far-fetched that he could utterly obliterate Yama or anyone else in his way.
But her mother? What had Yama done to her? Tossed her to the ground?
‘Was he just suicidal?’
That Yama guy must’ve had a tough life. Doing something like that to his mother right in front of his father… Even the Heavenly Demon would have hesitated before attempting such a thing.
Of course, Seo-jun was aware that Namgung Jincheon had managed to defeat Yama so easily because the Yama he fought had only been an avatar.
How much power that avatar retained from the original was unclear, but it was likely a far cry from the true Yama’s strength.
The underworld wasn’t a place where one could exercise their full power freely, so splitting too much of his strength into an avatar would have been inefficient.
As Seo-jun quietly accepted this explanation, Namgung Sua leaned in close, her face mere inches from his.
“You already guessed, didn’t you?”
“Huh? Ah, well, I wouldn’t say I guessed, but… I thought something similar might happen.”
When people died, their souls went to the underworld.
And a soul was essentially the essence of a person—their godhood.
If the state of Hyeongyeong was indeed what Seo-jun suspected—where one's emotions and energy merged entirely into a perfected divine form—then…
Was it possible that Namgung Jincheon, instead of remaining at the Hwagyeong stage, had ascended to a semi-divine level in the underworld?
“The underworld is full of… well, not exactly people, but souls, right?”
If Namgung Jincheon had entered such a place while already reaching the Hyeongyeong stage…
The power structure of the underworld could very well have been upended in an instant.
“Well, I didn’t expect him to beat Yama to a pulp and ascend to the celestial realm, though.”
According to Namgung Sua, her father had practically skipped over the Hyeongyeong stage entirely and achieved transcendence.
How exactly a martial artist at the Hyeongyeong stage ascended, whether it was as difficult in the underworld as it was in the mortal realm—these were still open questions.
But no one could deny that what he had done was an unprecedented feat.
“Still…”
Namgung Sua fidgeted anxiously, twisting her fingers together. Her excitement was palpable.
“If Hyeongyeong martial artists can still use their full strength even in the underworld, isn’t that a bit strange?”
“I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Huh?”
“I told you before. The Hyeongyeong stage is when one's essence—both emotion and energy—completely fuses into divinity.”
And a god could essentially be equated to a perfected soul.
Which meant…
“Hyeongyeong practitioners likely transcend their physical limitations. Getting their heads cut off wouldn’t kill them anymore.”
“Then…?”
“You’d have to destroy their godhood.”
The complete obliteration of their divine essence—that was likely the true death of a Hyeongyeong master.
“If the godhood itself is erased, there’s no reason for them to go to the underworld. They’d simply cease to exist.”
“T-then… this really wasn’t a dream, was it?”
Namgung Sua exhaled sharply, gripping the hem of Seo-jun’s clothes tightly. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of awe and exhilaration.
Seo-jun chuckled softly and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“You’re the one who said it wasn’t a dream, so why are you doubting it now?”
“B-but… it’s just so unbelievable.”
Though Namgung Sua instinctively knew that what she had seen wasn’t a dream, the more she verbalized it, the more that certainty wavered.
To anyone else, she would sound like a grieving daughter, delusional from the loss of her father.
“I believe you. Because you said it.”
“Ugh…”
“And besides… it’s not unbelievable at all.”
If Namgung Jincheon had truly become a god… then perhaps—
“You carry divine blood too, don’t you?”
If divine blood wasn’t something passed down physically but rather an essence that embedded itself into a god’s lineage…
Then even if Namgung Sua had been born before her father’s ascension, she might have still inherited that divine essence.
“Divine blood…? Ah…!”
Namgung Sua’s eyes widened as realization struck. Seo-jun nodded.
“That’s why I was planning to ask Chun-bong about it later.”
Whether it was possible or not, if things lined up just right, Chun-bong might even be able to communicate with the Sword God in the celestial realm.
“He might know what’s happening in the underworld too.”
“…Ah.”
Namgung Sua’s round, sparkling eyes gleamed like stars. Then, letting out a strange little giggle, she suddenly wrapped her arms around Seo-jun’s neck and flung herself onto the bed with him.
Thud—!
Now lying on the same pillow, they gazed into each other’s eyes.
Namgung Sua pouted slightly before pulling Seo-jun’s head tightly against her chest.
“Hehe… I love you.”
I Have No Idea What’s Happening
For some reason, Namgung Sua’s mood had just skyrocketed past its limits.
She hugged Seo-jun’s head tightly, then pressed her forehead against his, locking eyes with him. And then, with a strange little laugh, she leaned in, sealing their lips together.
‘Well, as long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.’
After spending some time shifting around, touching and exploring Seo-jun with curiosity, Namgung Sua naturally drifted off to sleep. All the while, she held onto him tightly.
Seo-jun watched her small breaths escape, the soft sound filling the space between them. Even with his eyes closed, he could still picture Namgung Sua’s childlike joy.
‘I’m relieved, Father-in-law.’
Namgung Jincheon hadn’t simply died. Instead, he had reunited with his beloved and ascended to the heavens.
Something that had long weighed heavy on Seo-jun’s heart seemed to dissipate.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
For the first time in a long while, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
****
“Strong and Mighty Morning!”
After waking up, Seo-jun spent some time teasing Namgung Sua. Then, he got pummeled by Chun-bong.
Stretching lazily, he greeted the morning.
“Hueeek…”
Next to him, Chun-bong dangled limply from his side. She had exhausted herself after flailing around in protest while Seo-jun planted countless kisses on her soft, squishy cheeks.
It wasn’t as if Seo-jun had drained her vitality with some kind of absurd Kiss of Life Absorption technique.
Chun-bong had simply worn herself out pretending to resist.
“It’s a perfect day.”
Seo-jun gazed up at the sky, smiling contentedly.
“…Perfect? It’s cloudy.”
Chun-bong grumbled, still wedged under his arm.
Without missing a beat, Seo-jun lifted his free hand and casually waved it at the sky.
Whoosh—!
In an instant, the clouds scattered, leaving behind a clear, open sky.
“Now it’s perfect.”
“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Chun-bongie, kiss attack—smack!”
“Uggyaaaah! W-wait a second—!”
Chun-bong’s soft cheeks carried a faint scent of milk. Did people truly understand the sheer joy of planting kisses on those fluffy, cushion-like cheeks?
Seo-jun, still holding the now completely limp Chun-bong under his arm, launched himself off the ground.
From a rooftop, he looked down at the bustling Namgung Clan estate.
There was something indescribably beautiful about the view.
“Namgung Bloodline.”
“Hmm?”
Namgung Sua had followed him onto the rooftop, glancing enviously at Chun-bong.
Seo-jun’s eyes drifted downward—toward those.
A thought crossed his mind. If he buried his face in them the same way he did with Chun-bong’s cheeks… and just smooched away… wouldn’t that feel incredible?
‘Yeah… not something I should do out in public.’
Quickly abandoning the idea, he extended his hand, pointing toward the Namgung estate.
“This is a new martial art. Or rather, a new path.”
It wasn’t anything overly grand. Just a more refined version of his previous thoughts.
A structured progression from Lightning Spear Heart Arts and Thirteen Lightning Sword Strikes, forming a seamless martial curriculum.
For warriors, it was a lifelong path. For the Namgung Clan, it was a united martial lineage to be shared.
“So, you’re saying you’re compiling all the techniques you’ve created?”
“Something like that. But everyone has different affinities for martial arts, right?”
“That’s true.”
“So it’s a tree.”
“…A tree?”
Every person had their own path in life, branching in different directions like roots spreading underground.
The Namgung Clan was like the sturdy trunk holding those roots together.
No matter what individual journey one walked, they all traced back to the Namgung legacy.
“But people can’t all follow the exact same path.”
“Exactly. Every person has their own way.”
From a single trunk, countless branches stretched outward, growing leaves, blooming flowers, and bearing fruit.
“But no one would look at those branches and call them separate trees, right?”
Though they might grow differently, they all belonged to the same tree.
That tree was Namgung.
And Namgung Ilmaek was the embodiment of that philosophy.
“All I can do is pave the way for these roots to extend into branches.”
He could craft techniques tailored to each person’s path, but that was something to be built upon gradually over time.
“For now, this will do.”
From his elevated vantage point, Seo-jun took in the sight of the Namgung estate, where countless individuals moved about with purpose.
In his eyes, he could still see them—not just as people, but as branches extending from a great tree, forming a vast, thriving martial lineage.
“Shall we visit the Green Forest first?”
Seo-jun grinned brightly.