“Among all the times I’ve seen you, this is the coolest you’ve looked.”

Chwima smiled as he took the teasing in stride.

“We still haven’t met enough. Considering the rest of my handsome self, this is just the first time. Pleasure to meet you, Little Pill Master.”

He liked joking around, openly showing his feelings. Sometimes, it made him seem a little weak.

But he wasn’t. Chwima was stronger than anyone else precisely because he was someone who wavered. His wavering was the trembling of a soul trying to find its place.

And he was lonelier than anyone. Whenever I saw him, I thought of him sitting alone in a small boat, quietly drinking.

I looked down at Ian standing beside the carriage and said,

“He says he’ll handle everything. This time, let’s just relax and enjoy the snow. Find a good restaurant—let’s try them all while we’re here.”

Ian smiled warmly.

“Let’s start with this bowl of noodles first.”

She flew up lightly holding the noodles.

We sat side by side on the carriage roof and ate.

“Hey? This is really good. Why is it so tasty?”

Chwima added with delight to her exclamation.

“Right? I was surprised too. I thought the Heavenly Demon Hall’s cook had been sneaking around here.”

Ian laughed happily.

“Next time, I’ll make something even better.”

Together, we finished every drop of broth atop the carriage roof.

“Well, full now. Shall we go?”

“I’ll drive the carriage.”

Ian leapt down lightly and took the driver’s seat.

“We’re off.”

I stayed on the carriage roof with Chwima. Going inside wasn’t appealing—those unpleasant fellows were sleeping anyway. It was cooler and nicer out here.

As the carriage sped over the snowy plains toward the North Sea Binggung, Chwima spoke.

“Maybe the North Blood Sect incident and the original lord’s death are connected.”

I nodded. It might be a coincidence or not. One thing was certain: the Blood King was behind this—a notoriously dangerous and tricky opponent.

“In the end, we’ll uncover the whole truth. Between the North Blood Sect and the North Sea Binggung, we’ll settle both matters before returning.”

Seeing Chwima nod, I joked,

“Oh, wait, I mean you will solve it and come back.”

The carriage rushed swiftly across the endless snowy field toward Binggung.

Geom Mugeuk, Ian, and Chwima ascended to the palace hall under Hanseol’s guidance.

With Binggung having accepted the deal, they intended to formally greet the Binggung Lord.

Ian, nervous about meeting the Binggung Lord for the first time, admired the circular staircase that shifted colors with the light.

“It’s truly beautiful.”

Unlike her, Geom Mugeuk sensed a faint murderous intent from the stairs—not the intent of a person.

Though translucent and seemingly hollow, he could not imagine where the mechanism could be hidden. How could this beautiful ice wall, stairs, and pillars fend off intruders?

This was not a mechanism but art.

He had a premonition that this was more dangerous than any trap he had encountered. Even Ian, a skilled master of the Flying Sky Sword Technique, had no inkling of its presence.

The three followed Hanseol up the palace steps.

“Greetings, Palace Lord.”

Geom Mugeuk bowed respectfully first.

The Binggung Lord returned the courtesy, treating the Little Pill Master with due respect.

Geom Mugeuk had met her before his reincarnation—though much later than now.

Back then, the cold woman was shedding hot tears.

Over the death of her daughter.

But today, Binggung Lord met Geom Mugeuk for the first time, finally encountering the protagonist who endlessly surprised her through the reports of spies.

She studied Geom Mugeuk’s gaze and aura carefully. Had he really accomplished all that? This young man?

Geom Mugeuk neither fully concealed himself nor revealed too much, attaining the perfect balance of the Refuted Noble Spirit.

The daughter expressed distrust of Geom Mugeuk, saying she wanted to observe longer. That seemed natural—even he himself was not easy to read.

“How is the Sect Master?”

When Binggung Lord asked about his father, Geom Mugeuk smiled and asked in return,

“Have you met him before?”

“A long time ago.”

He had met him once, unforgettable—likely due to his intense gaze.

“He is doing well.”

“You’ve handled a big matter recently, yes? I heard you led it.”

The formal Marma meeting was held openly at Maga Village, so Binggung Lord would naturally know.

“Since I’ve met you today, Palace Lord, will you attend the next meeting? I intend to invite the Master of the Wind Heaven Sect as well.”

Whether a joke or earnest, Binggung nodded calmly.

“I’ll be sure to attend.”

Geom Mugeuk checked again.

“Will you really attend when the meeting is held?”

Would the Marma leaders reunite? Would the Wind Heaven Master come too? Could it truly happen?

“Inform me.”

“I look forward to that day.”

After greetings, they turned to Chwima.

“A long journey, Demon Lord.”

“It has been a while.”

“You remember me.”

“Of course.”

Chwima had met Binggung Lord long ago—before he was a Demon Lord, and before she was a palace lord.

Back then, she was not this icy statue; she was a pure woman clad in white.

What had frozen her so thoroughly? The cold northern wind? The hardships of protecting Binggung as a woman?

“How swiftly time flows. Life is truly fleeting.”

Chwima’s words made Binggung nod.

Finally, Geom Mugeuk introduced Ian.

“This is my subordinate.”

Binggung Lord had been informed of Ian’s involvement. At first, she could not understand. Why reveal so openly when secrecy was better?

“Greetings, Palace Lord.”

Ian’s greeting drew a careful scrutiny from Binggung Lord.

Perhaps because of her exceptional beauty, Ian attracted more attention than necessary.

“Why would such a beautiful person cause such trouble?”

“I’m sorry. I lack experience and have been clumsy in handling martial affairs.”

Ian had much to say but humbly apologized. After all, it was not her fault before Binggung Lord.

Geom Mugeuk spoke for her.

“My caution matched my inexperience. We brought the kidnapped safely back.”

He stared intently at Binggung Lord and added,

“Conversely, the North Blood Sect’s handling is different. They treat human lives with disdain.”

He watched Binggung Lord’s expression carefully, wondering if she knew what the North Blood Sect was up to. He spoke deliberately to find out.

“I don’t understand your meaning.”

She looked genuinely unaware.

“It happened. I’ll explain in detail later.”

Geom Mugeuk did not press further; now was not the time to provoke Binggung Lord but to investigate the original lord’s death.

Handling the Blood King was secondary—resolving Chwima’s heart was more important.

While dealing with Chwima’s matter, the Blood King was a side issue. Even if the North Sea were soaked in blood, Geom Mugeuk vowed to treat this matter with such a mindset. Evil was trivial; life was precious.

Binggung Lord asked Hanseol,

“Is Young Master Yang safe?”

“Yes.”

“Bring Young Master Yang here, and guide the three to their quarters.”

“Understood.”

Binggung Lord finally spoke to Chwima.

“You want to investigate the death of the Original Lord of the White Snow Plain?”

“Yes.”

“His death is regrettable, but we cannot afford much time for investigation.”

Implying that a summons to evacuate could come at any moment.

“We’ll hurry as much as possible.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Thus ended the silent probing that spanned past and present in their first meeting.

Yangjung, the second son of the North Blood Sect leader, awoke feeling a chill.

He found himself sitting in a chair. Looking around, the walls and pillars were all made of ice.

“Awake, are you?”

A woman stood ahead, back turned.

“Who are you?”

She turned and approached. She was the Binggung Lord of the North Sea.

“Palace Lord?”

Yangjung was startled recognizing her. Surprisingly, this was the Binggung Palace.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine. But why am I here?”

Glad news came to him.

“We made a deal with the Demon Sect and brought Young Master Yang out.”

His expression brightened, realizing he was alive.

“Thank you, Palace Lord! I thought I was going to die by those Demon Sect bastards.”

Though he spoke recklessly, the Binggung Lord’s face showed no change.

“Glad you’re safe.”

Yangjung could not understand why Binggung saved ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) him.

At that moment, a middle-aged man entered—sharp eyes like a beast, angular jaw, broad frame—a clearly strong martial artist.

Yangjung’s face hardened when he saw who it was: his father, Yang Shin, leader of the North Blood Sect.

Yang Shin’s success in raising the sect to one of the three major North Sea forces was not only due to his mastery of the Northern Fist’s Twelve Moves but also his intelligence and ambition despite his bear-like appearance.

“Father!”

Though he knew he had been abandoned, Yangjung still felt glad to see his father. Could Binggung have acted on his father’s request? Was there some grand plan behind it? Such hope was fleeting as Yang Shin spoke brusquely,

“I’m leaving soon. Stay behind.”

Yangjung’s chest tightened. No word asking if he was well after being kidnapped and returned? The faint hope that his father saved him vanished instantly.

‘Yes, Father abandoned me. When he refused the hostage exchange, that woman could have killed me right there.’

A mix of resentment and hatred filled Yangjung’s heart. Both the North Blood Sect leader and Binggung Lord felt his emotions but ignored them.

Yangjung descended the icy stairs, glancing up at the two standing and talking side by side. Their conversation was faint; he couldn’t hear what they said.

‘Why abandon your own son? What deal did you make that Binggung saved me from the Demon Sect?’

As Yangjung reached the palace entrance, a man stood with his back turned. Thinking him a subordinate, he asked,

“Where is the carriage?”

The man didn’t answer, only stared at the sky.

“Where’s the carriage, I said!”

Yangjung’s anger, fueled by his father, vented on this stranger.

“Even if you return alive, you’re not the same.”

Upon hearing the voice, Yangjung flinched. The man with his back turned was Geom Mugeuk.

“I promised you’d wake up in your room, but I couldn’t keep that. Still, you saw your father, so that’s something.”

His mind said: you were barely freed; no need to provoke the interest of the loan sharks.

But his heart was what ruled him. Mentioning his father only made him angrier.

“I won’t forget the humiliation I endured!”

Behind his loud words was the belief that since a deal was made with Binggung, he wouldn’t be detained again.

“If you’re a martial artist, that’s only natural. Come back for revenge next time.”

If invited, he’d go for sure!

Unable to shout this, Yangjung was irritated. The only thing he could say was,

“They’ll never release the people they captured.”

Those whom his subordinate tried to rescue, the ones who were kidnapped.

“Have you not heard? You killed them all. Only one barely survived.”

At that moment, the air around Yangjung grew as cold as Geom Mugeuk’s gaze.

“Would you be satisfied if only one survived?”

Would that one be you? Your father?

Though unspoken, Geom Mugeuk’s eyes asked this.

Yangjung had always been the one threatening, never the threatened. Now he was receiving his first serious threat.

At that moment, the North Blood Sect leader, who had finished talking with Binggung Lord, descended.

He recognized Geom Mugeuk and greeted respectfully.

“Pleased to meet you.”

The politeness surprised Yangjung. No matter that he was the Demon Sect’s Little Pill Master, his father was one of the top three in the North Sea.

Geom Mugeuk returned the bow.

“I’ve long heard of your reputation, Sect Leader.”

“You can’t compare to the Little Pill Master.”

He treated Geom Mugeuk specially but with calm like talking to anyone else. Geom Mugeuk knew well how difficult this was.

Unlike his son, he was not swayed by emotions. Geom Mugeuk immediately understood he would never give his position to this second son.

“We will formally welcome the Little Pill Master to our sect soon.”

“I look forward to it.”

The North Blood Sect leader left first, with Yangjung following.

Geom Mugeuk sent a mental message.

—If only one is to survive, it will likely be your father.

That added fuel to Yangjung’s hatred. This would linger and cause discomfort and division between them. Geom Mugeuk had no intention to ease their tensions.

Yangjung glared angrily at Geom Mugeuk, then strode off.

Watching his retreat coldly, Geom Mugeuk suddenly asked,

“Why aren’t you curious?”

From behind a building, Hanseol appeared. She had been there for some time, just waiting for a chance to speak.

“What do you mean?”

“What they are scheming.”

“Why do you assume I’m not curious?”

Geom Mugeuk turned and asked her.

“Are you curious?”

“Of course I am.”

She lied. She wasn’t curious at all. She thought their scheme was obvious: growing stronger, maintaining and expanding dominance over the North Sea.

She figured her mother would handle it. Her mother knew everything. No one could plot in secret in the North Sea without her knowing.

But Geom Mugeuk thought differently.

“This time, I think your mother will need her daughter’s help.”