Namgung Jeong lowered his head in silence.
The sword forms of the Sky-Soaring Sword were inherently complex, composed of intricate and subtle techniques.
Thus, someone with a free-spirited nature like Namgung Un could not easily master them.
After much deliberation, Namgung Jeong had transformed the Sky-Soaring Sword forms, passed down through generations in the Southern Palace, into a style that was upright and resolute.
And Bu Eunseol, adapting these modified sword forms, incorporated Namgung Un’s habits and quirks into his execution. The sword intent within that swordsmanship was upright yet tinged with sorrow, honest yet filled with anguish.
And those emotions… they were resentment toward the father who had taught him the sword.
“He has no ambition for the position of Palace Master,” Bu Eunseol said. “Yet he risked his life infiltrating the Beggars’ Sect to gain recognition from his stern father.”
Realizing the meaning behind Bu Eunseol’s words, Namgung Jeong shook his head.
“You don’t need to say such things. This is merely a family matter of the Palace Master.”
“I have no intention of meddling in your family affairs,” Bu Eunseol replied with a serious expression. “But I must say what needs to be said. If you leave things as they are, his life will be ruined.”
“Ruined?” Namgung Jeong asked.
“How long do you intend to let him play the wastrel?” Bu Eunseol’s gaze sharpened like a dagger. “Will you regret it only when it’s too late to undo the damage?”
“I told you not to interfere!” Namgung Jeong snapped.
“I said I’m not interfering in your life but that I cannot stand by and watch his life be destroyed!” Bu Eunseol’s voice, usually calm, grew louder.
“If you had spoken just one sincere word from your heart, things wouldn’t have come to this.”
Namgung Jeong fell silent.
Never once had anyone raised their voice at him to his face. He could not even imagine someone chastising him for his temperament.
“Even between parent and child, you cannot see into each other’s hearts. Don’t you, as Palace Master, know this better than anyone?”
Namgung Jeong shook his head.
“So, you’re saying I should spell out every thought in my heart to gain my son’s approval?”
“Not for your approval, but to guide your son on the right path through dialogue,” Bu Eunseol said.
He knew that, contrary to Namgung Un’s belief, Namgung Jeong cherished him deeply. Otherwise, he would not have personally confronted Bu Eunseol.
“Look closely,” Bu Eunseol said, drawing his sword as Namgung Jeong’s expression remained unchanged.
Swish!
He swung his dark sword forcefully toward the ground.
A sharp, piercing sword energy carved into the solid bluestone floor.
“You must think the sorrow and anguish Namgung Un imbued in the Sky-Soaring Sword are resentment toward you,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Are you saying they’re not?” Namgung Jeong asked.
“Correct. He does not resent you—he hates himself,” Bu Eunseol said, his eyes filled with deep compassion.
“To the point of calling himself a disloyal son.”
“A disloyal son? What do you mean?” Namgung Jeong’s eyes widened.
Bu Eunseol replied coldly, “He believes he was born killing his mother and destroying his father’s life. What else could he think?”
Namgung Jeong’s hands trembled.
“Did that boy… tell you such things?” he asked.
“Yes. He believes you hate him for it,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Good heavens,” Namgung Jeong sighed, his face filled with despair.
Namgung Un was the fruit of love left by his beloved wife, a piece of her traded for her life.
Moreover, Namgung Un’s talent surpassed his own.
Thus, he had been strict, punishing him harshly for mistakes, hoping to awaken his talent swiftly and mold him into a splendid person. He wanted to make him a prudent and dignified Palace Master, someone he could proudly present to his wife in the heavens.
But to think that such discipline had sickened his son’s heart.
“The more precious the child, the stricter one must be. I only wanted to raise him well,” Namgung Jeong said.
“I understand. But such methods suit a child who is calculating and perceptive of others’ emotions,” Bu Eunseol explained.
“Namgung Un may seem bold, but he is actually very sensitive, with great emotional fluctuations. Expecting such a child to understand his father’s heart is unreasonable, isn’t it?”
“I have five sons. Should I treat only him with such care?” Namgung Jeong asked.
“Children don’t choose to be born. Parents choose to have them. Shouldn’t you raise each according to their nature, doing your best?” Bu Eunseol explained calmly.
“Just as people’s appearances differ, so too must the way they are raised.”
Understanding Bu Eunseol’s meaning, Namgung Jeong sighed.
In truth, he loved Namgung Un, his youngest son left by his beloved wife, the most.
He knew well that Namgung Un was the most sensitive and tender-hearted.
But such a temperament was unfit for a Palace Master. So he had been harsher, only to find that such discipline was rotting his son’s heart.
“What should I do?” Namgung Jeong asked.
“Treat him with warmth. And don’t say things you don’t mean,” Bu Eunseol said.
“That’s an impossible request,” Namgung Jeong replied.
“If that’s too hard, at least start by calling him by his name,” Bu Eunseol said in a low voice. “Begin there. If you gradually express yourself more, he will understand your heart and grow into a finer person.”
Namgung Jeong wore a bitter expression.
Bu Eunseol had grasped Namgung Un’s heart, which even he could not, and even discerned the sword intent in the Sky-Soaring Sword.
Moreover, his inner energy and swordsmanship mastery were not a step behind Namgung Jeong’s.
Truly a dragon among men. The young Majeon heir before him was the most remarkable talent Namgung Jeong had ever seen.
‘To think such a person exists in the demonic path,’ he thought.
Understanding another’s heart is possible for anyone with keen insight.
But empathizing and helping heal it is something only someone who truly understands and cares can do.
‘And he never flaunts his status,’ Namgung Jeong noted.
Bu Eunseol consistently referred to himself as “I” rather than “Lord,” lowering himself to the status of a mere martial artist before Namgung Un’s father, without asserting his position.
‘To think he genuinely cares for Un,’ Namgung Jeong thought, feeling strange.
That the heir of the demonic path, destined to lead it, cared so deeply for his son?
‘Indeed…’
Namgung Un cared not for the divide between righteous and demonic paths, seeing people for who they were.
That’s why he could form a bond with such a remarkable figure.
‘It’s something to be proud of,’ Namgung Jeong thought.
It meant Namgung Un was also a great person.
“Very well,” Namgung Jeong said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll start with calling him by his name.”
He had to acknowledge it—Bu Eunseol’s character, martial prowess, and care for his son.
“While you’re at the palace, remain as Seolso,” Namgung Jeong said calmly. “I won’t expose your identity.”
Bu Eunseol gave a faint smile.
Namgung Un. He wondered why that cheerful man could so quickly identify and correct his martial flaws.
It seemed he had inherited Namgung Jeong’s forthright nature, readily admitting mistakes.
“Once Un wakes, take the Boeun Coin. And if you wish… you may stay at the palace a bit longer,” Namgung Jeong said, his final words so soft they were barely audible.
Bu Eunseol smiled again.
Namgung Un.
He wondered why that cheerful man sometimes seemed uncharacteristically shy.
It seemed he had also inherited Namgung Jeong’s bashful nature.
***
“What exactly happened?” Namgung Un asked again.
Having finished his recollection, Bu Eunseol shook his head.
“We crossed swords and had a brief conversation.”
“You crossed swords? With Father?” Namgung Un’s jaw dropped.
He knew Bu Eunseol’s skill was extraordinary.
But Namgung Jeong, known as the Righteous Sword, was a grandmaster of righteous swordsmanship. To face such a Palace Master at full strength and remain unscathed—did that mean Bu Eunseol’s skill surpassed his?
“It was just a formal exchange, not a real fight,” Bu Eunseol explained vaguely.
He clarified that it wasn’t a true duel but an expression of sword intent, and fortunately, Namgung Jeong understood and stopped the fight.
“And he promised to call you by your name properly,” Bu Eunseol added.
“The Palace Master?” Namgung Un couldn’t comprehend.
He couldn’t even imagine what conversation had passed between Bu Eunseol and his father.
“It’s remarkable. The Palace Master never listens to anyone,” Namgung Un muttered softly.
Walking to the table, he opened a drawer and pulled out an old coin—the Boeun Coin from the Divine Sage.
“Take it, Brother Bu,” he said.
Bu Eunseol slowly grasped the coin Namgung Un offered. At last, he had obtained the Divine Sage’s artifact he had sought so desperately.
‘…!’ As he held the Boeun Coin, a glint flashed in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.
The texture of the coin suggested it was recently made.
This meant the Divine Sage had crafted a new Boeun Coin specifically for the Southern Palace.
‘He doesn’t make artifacts in advance but creates them as needed…’ Bu Eunseol thought.
This implied the Divine Sage was still actively involved in the martial world, crafting and distributing Coins of Repayment to those he chose.
‘This isn’t a good sign,’ he thought.
The Boeun Coin wasn’t merely a token of gratitude from the Divine Sage.
Perhaps it was bait to manipulate people?
“Thank you,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Thank me? It was always meant for you, Brother Bu,” Namgung Un said with a hint of indignation. “Since you’re here, why not stay at the palace for a bit? Though I suppose that’s difficult.”
After all, Bu Eunseol was the heir of the demonic path. If his identity were exposed while staying at the Southern Palace, it would cause a major incident.
As Bu Eunseol opened his mouth to respond, the door burst open.
Bang.
A tall, sturdy man strode in, his presence like a well-forged longsword.
“Little brother, are you alright?” he asked.
“Third Brother,” Namgung Un replied.
It was Namgung Pung, the third son of the Southern Palace, known as the Seven-Colored Sword.
His footwork was swift, and his swordsmanship was flamboyant, with seven colors said to bloom with each swing, earning him his nickname.
“What, you’re perfectly fine?” Namgung Pung said, inspecting Namgung Un and playfully stretching his cheek. “You made us worry for nothing!”
Noticing Bu Eunseol, he blinked. “Oh, this must be the mercenary you swore brotherhood with.”
Word of Bu Eunseol had already spread quickly within the Southern Palace.
This was likely Namgung Jeong’s consideration to ensure Bu Eunseol faced no issues during his stay. Namgung Pung offered a friendly smile, clasping his hands.
“I’m Namgung Pung.”
“Seolso,” Bu Eunseol replied.
Seeing Namgung Pung’s lean frame and long legs, Bu Eunseol was reminded of Wi Cheongyeong.
But his straightforward manner resembled Won Semun or Jo Namcheon more.
“What brings you here?” Namgung Un asked.
“What else? I heard you got badly hurt defying Lord Mok,” Namgung Pung said with a laugh. “And I couldn’t miss meeting the brother you made in the martial world and brought to the clan.”
Namgung Un was infamous, both in the clan and the martial world, as a wastrel.
Thus, no disciples of martial sects or heirs of great families sought his friendship. Yet he had not only sworn brotherhood with someone in the martial world but brought him to the clan?
Everyone in the Southern Palace was curious about this person.
“Master Seol, you seem around my age. How about becoming friends with me too?” Namgung Pung asked.
“How could I dare?” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Hahaha, as my brother’s sworn brother, we’re all friends, aren’t we?” Namgung Pung said.
Unlike the arrogant heirs of other great families, he treated Bu Eunseol, a mercenary, with great courtesy.
“Come, come. Since you’re here, join us. There’s a tea gathering happening, and I’ll introduce you to our brothers.”
“A tea gathering?” Bu Eunseol blinked.
Namgung Pung explained, “The clan holds a monthly tea gathering at Cloud-Wind Pavilion for the brothers to bond.”
Namgung Un, explaining calmly to Bu Eunseol, turned to Namgung Pung.
“Third Brother, Brother Seol needs to leave soon.” Namgung Un was cautious, fearing Bu Eunseol’s identity might be exposed.
Introducing him to the clan’s brothers suddenly? Anxious, he tried to send Bu Eunseol away.
“Leaving already? Why?” Namgung Pung asked.
“Well… Brother Seol is a mercenary and has commissions to take,” Namgung Un stammered.
Namgung Pung laughed, waving his hand.
“Commissions can wait, can’t they? How can we let you leave without hospitality? Right, Master Seol?”
Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Bu Eunseol’s hand.
“Come, come. The view at Cloud-Wind Pavilion is quite something. Let’s chat there.”
‘He’s giving me an opportunity,’ Bu Eunseol thought.
If given the chance, he planned to investigate each of Namgung Un’s brothers to identify the masked assailant who targeted Dan So-ok. Now, they were inviting him to where the brothers were gathered. There was no reason to refuse.
“Let’s do it,” Bu Eunseol said.
But something was odd.
Even as Bu Eunseol stood, Namgung Un hesitated, smiling awkwardly.
“I don’t join the brothers’ tea gatherings,” he said with a laugh, sensing Bu Eunseol’s gaze. “It’s just awkward drinking tea with brothers so much older.”
“Hahaha, Un-ah, aren’t you now a proud candidate for Palace Master?” Namgung Pung said. “And with your recent achievements, you should join the tea gathering.”
Bu Eunseol’s eyebrow twitched.
The tea gathering was meant to foster brotherly bonds.
Yet Namgung Pung suggested Namgung Un could attend because he was a Palace Master candidate and had achieved something?
‘They’ve been excluding him all this time,’ Bu Eunseol realized.
“Let’s go together,” he said.
With no choice, Namgung Un nodded.
“Alright.”
Cloud-Wind Pavilion boasted the clan’s finest scenery.
It offered a panoramic view of the vast Namgung estate, with cool breezes blowing constantly. Turning one’s head, one could admire the sunset over Mount Huang’s towering peaks.
In the pavilion sat three distinguished men—Namgung Un’s brothers.
They sipped tea leisurely, gazing at the sunset.
Unlike other clans, the Namgung brothers shared strong bonds.
This was because the Southern Palace, absorbing retainers and external forces over generations, functioned more like an alliance than a traditional clan.
Thus, people called the Southern Palace the Martial Alliance of Jiangnan.
Serving closely under the Palace Master elevated one’s status and authority.
“Brothers, Un-ah’s here!” Namgung Pung called, waving as he led Bu Eunseol toward them.
They were Namgung Su, the eldest; Namgung Heon, the second; and Namgung Hwan, the fourth.
All the Namgung brothers were in their thirties, two years apart, except for Namgung Un, the youngest, who was about ten years younger.
“You’re late,” Namgung Su said softly, looking at Namgung Pung. “Your brothers were waiting for you.”
“Hahaha, sorry. I was checking on Un’s condition,” Namgung Pung said, scratching his head with a laugh.
Namgung Su’s gaze shifted to Namgung Un, then fixed on Bu Eunseol beside him.
“So, you’re the mercenary who swore brotherhood with Un,” he said.
“Hahaha, that’s right,” Namgung Pung confirmed, gesturing toward Bu Eunseol.
“Master Seol, meet our eldest brother, Namgung Su.”
Cold Sage Thread Sword, Namgung Su.
As the eldest, he primarily used the Cloud Sage Swordsmanship, not the palace’s heavy sword techniques. He was a man of few words with an icy demeanor but a kind heart, earning him his nickname.
“Seolso,” Bu Eunseol said, clasping his hands calmly.
Watching this, the fourth brother, Namgung Hwan, twitched his eyebrow.
Even as a top-tier mercenary of the Red Sky Veil, a mercenary was just above an assassin in the martial world’s hierarchy.
Yet Bu Eunseol greeted the eldest son of the Southern Palace with a curt clasp of hands.
“Seems a bit tactless,” Namgung Hwan said, setting down his teacup with a haughty expression. “Since you’ve stepped into the Southern Palace, wouldn’t it be wise to show a bit more respect?”
Namgung Hwan, naturally arrogant and proud of his clan, took Bu Eunseol’s casual greeting as an insult.
‘He’s a mercenary, but he’s Un’s sworn brother and a guest of the clan. Do not treat him rudely.’ If not for Namgung Jeong’s stern command, Namgung Hwan would have acted immediately.
“Forgive him. The fourth is quite prickly,” Namgung Pung said, sensing the tense atmosphere and quickly pointing to a refined man nearby.
“This is our second brother, Namgung Heon.”
Autumn Moon Radiant Glow, Namgung Heon.
He was renowned more for his striking appearance than his swordsmanship.
His nickname, “Radiant Glow of the Autumn Moon,” reflected his beauty rather than his martial prowess.
Meeting Bu Eunseol’s gaze, Namgung Heon narrowed his elegant eyes and clasped his hands.
“I’m Namgung Heon.”
“Seolso,” Bu Eunseol replied, returning the gesture politely.
“And this is the fourth, Namgung Hwan,” Namgung Pung said, pointing to him.
Namgung Hwan looked down at Bu Eunseol with haughty eyes.
“Master Seol, I heard you’re a top-tier mercenary of the Red Sky Veil, is that right?” Bu Eunseol nodded, and Namgung Hwan gave a subtle smile. “For a mercenary of the Red Sky Veil, you’d expect a rugged air, but your appearance and demeanor are quite ordinary. I sense no depth in your inner energy.”
His words were deeply insulting and arrogant.
Namgung Un’s expression darkened.
“Brother,” he said.
“Just saying,” Namgung Hwan replied, smirking. “Mercenaries are said to learn all sorts of tricks and special techniques.”
He believed Bu Eunseol had mastered a technique to conceal his aura.
As the atmosphere grew cold, Namgung Pung smiled and turned to Namgung Su.
“Eldest Brother, since Un is here, why not let Master Seol join our tea time?”
“Join us?” Namgung Su asked.
“He’s come this far; if we don’t even offer him tea, Master Seol might call the Southern Palace stingy,” Namgung Pung said.
His eloquence eased the tension.
“Very well,” Namgung Su agreed.
Namgung Pung gestured. “Come, Master Seol, sit. Un, you too.”
As they sat, waiting maids poured tea.
The tea, with a golden amber hue, was refreshing, as if cleansing the soul.
“This is Tieguanyin, the finest among green teas, from Anxi, the best quality,” Namgung Heon explained.
Bu Eunseol sipped the tea, savoring its sweet, smooth taste and subtle orchid-like fragrance.
“How’s the taste?” Namgung Heon asked earnestly. “I prepared the tea for this gathering.”
Bu Eunseol gave a faint smile.
Why did tea enthusiasts always ask others how the tea tasted?
“The aroma is pleasant,” he said blandly.
Namgung Heon looked slightly disappointed. “Is that so?”
Bu Eunseol turned to Namgung Un, who sat awkwardly.
“What do you think of the tea?” he asked.
“Me?” Namgung Un said, gulping down the tea and nodding. “It’s Tieguanyin from Songam Village. Made from spring-picked leaves, it has a strong roasted flavor and a deep taste.”
“Not bad,” Namgung Heon said, smiling.
Namgung Hwan sneered. “After all the scolding from Father for not knowing tea, you’ve been secretly studying, huh?”
While the Namgung brothers were generally refined and cheerful, Namgung Hwan was sharp-edged and seemed to dislike Namgung Un.
“By the way, Un-ah, how did you uncover the Beggars’ Sect’s internal information?” Namgung Pung asked curiously after sipping his tea.
“The Beggars’ Sect runs a vast intelligence network, making it hard for outsiders to investigate.”
“It was—” Namgung Un began, but Namgung Hwan interrupted.
“He must have had a spy. How else could Un infiltrate the Beggars’ Sect?”
“Exactly,” Bu Eunseol’s voice rang through Cloud-Wind Pavilion. “I gave all the orders.”
Smirking, Bu Eunseol looked down at Namgung Hwan.
“He was merely a subordinate faithfully following my instructions.”
“What did you say?” Namgung Hwan’s eyes widened. “A subordinate?”
He could tolerate Bu Eunseol agreeing with his jab at Namgung Un. But calling a direct descendant of the Southern Palace a “subordinate” was unforgivable.
“Is something wrong with my ears?” Namgung Hwan said, setting down his teacup, his body radiating thick killing intent.
“Did you just call a Southern Palace member a subordinate?”
“Correct,” Bu Eunseol said calmly.
“The youngest of the Southern Palace, Namgung Un, served as my subordinate.”
