The Return of the Namgoong Clan's Granddaughter-Chapter 40
He’s gone.
Only after Eunwol had left did Seolhwa finally release the tension in her body.
If he had wanted to, Eunwol could have killed her right then and there. Knocking her out and dragging her back to the Huaoru Pavilion would’ve been nothing for him.
But Eunwol had left.
Even when she raised her senses to the utmost, she couldn’t detect a trace of his presence. That meant he was truly gone.
The fact that he neither killed her nor took her had two meanings.
It was either to say “Go on, run wild if you’d like”, or “I can take you whenever I want.”
Still... it’s a relief.
Whatever the intention, what she needed right now was a reprieve.
No matter how short or long, she needed time to prepare if she was going to face him. And tonight, she confirmed two things for certain:
That the Blood Demon would not give up on her.
And that—for now—she was safe.
Relieved by that realization, her vision suddenly blurred.
“...?”
Losing balance, Seolhwa reached out to brace herself against a nearby tree.
It seemed the sleeping agent was finally taking effect.
On top of that, the wounds inflicted by Pawol were still bleeding.
Now that the battle was over and the tension in her body had loosened, the sleeping agent and the Blood Energy seeping into her system had started to take hold.
Not yet...
Perhaps by now, the clan had already noticed her absence and was searching for her.
She had to get back before they grew more worried.
Before the sun comes up...
She looked up at the night sky. It was still a time when darkness covered the world.
Seolhwa dragged her heavy steps forward.
****
How long had it been?
Her trudging steps gradually slowed.
She had strayed too far in her attempt to avoid Namgoong Mucheon’s senses.
The body of a child was more fragile than expected, and taking such a long way back in this body was no easy task.
I need to get back...
Just a little farther now.
Seolhwa turned her head and looked down at the city spread out below the ridgeline.
The lights of the city blurred and overlapped in her vision.
Her eyelids had grown unbearably heavy—they kept drooping no matter how she fought it.
...Sleepy.
So sleepy.
“Huh?”
A youthful voice came from ahead of her, just as she was dragging herself forward.
Seolhwa lifted her head to look at him.
But her vision was too blurry to see his face.
All she could make out was...
Plum blossoms...
...
...
Mount Hua...?
Seolhwa collapsed with a soft thud.
“Whoa—whoa?!”
Hurried footsteps pounded against the ground, rushing toward her.
That was the last voice she heard.
****
People.
Innocent people.
People robbed of their children, staring into the face of death.
“Kill them.”
A voice like a death sentence crushed her.
Her hand holding the sword trembled violently, and her breathing grew short and ragged.
The people’s eyes were full of fear.
Fear—and a flicker of hope.
Maybe... maybe we’ll survive? That desperate sliver of hope.
But that hope was crushed in an instant.
Shhhk—
A spray of crimson blood burst into the air.
The stench of blood hit her nose, and she nearly vomited.
The people who just moments ago had been pleading for their lives were now sprawled across the cold floor.
A voice, colder than ice, seeped into her ear like a blade.
“Don’t hesitate. Don’t give them hope. That is your role.”
“Leave no loose ends. If you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you.”
Her trembling hand still held the sword.
Her master, the one who had ordered her to kill them—and made her carry it out with her own hands—walked away.
Not a shred of guilt in those fading footsteps.
All that remained was the blood-soaked path behind her.
****
She opened her eyes.
The pale sky of early dawn filled her vision.
Seolhwa slowly chewed over the memories surfacing in her mind.
Why was she outside?
Why had she collapsed?
I met the Twelve Moon and the Second Moon.
The Twelve Moon died. The Second Moon left.
And she survived.
Recalling the events of the night, Seolhwa sat up. But—
“...!”
Her arms and legs were tightly bound by something, preventing her from rising fully.
As she lifted her upper body, something draped over her slid off with a soft rustle.
A martial robe?
It bore a plum blossom insignia.
“You’re awake?”
The voice came from beside her.
Twisting her body, she saw a boy sitting on a wooden platform, swinging his legs.
He looked to be about fifteen.
His black hair, tinged with blue, was tied up high, and his black eyes sparkled brightly.
His skin was still youthful, his features clean and neat—one glance was enough to tell what kind of person he was.
The type with a strong sense of justice despite being weak, who would charge headlong into danger and die early.
“You slept well. Weren’t too cold?”
“...I’m fine.”
“Good thing the weather’s warm. Any colder and your face might’ve frozen. Don’t go falling asleep just anywhere next time.”
The boy grinned.
His smile was bright and innocent—completely devoid of malice.
Anyone would’ve thought they were long-time friends.
“What are you trying to pull?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did your master send you?”
The boy tilted his head.
“Hmm...”
He seemed to seriously ponder it, then replied with the same bright, carefree face—
“Nope. My master doesn’t even know I’m here. Ah, well... maybe he does now...”
The boy scratched his head with a sheepish look.
“He specifically told me not to go out last night, but I snuck out anyway.”
“....”
“I was just going to play for one hour. If it weren’t for you.”
Seolhwa frowned.
The conversation was going nowhere.
“Untie this.”
“Nope.”
The boy pointed at her with his finger.
“You look super dangerous right now.”
“....”
“It’s written all over your face. K-I-L-L-E-R. If I untie you, who knows who you’ll kill next?”
“I’m not going to, so untie me.”
“Oh, I see. So assassins collapse in the woods covered in blood and reeking of killing intent all the time?”
“So what if they do?”
“Then it’s still a no.”
That bright, smiling face was infuriating.
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For the first time, Seolhwa felt the urge to kill someone who didn’t even mean her harm.
She hadn’t even thought like that while fighting Pawol. It was a strange feeling.
The boy pointed at the blood on her clothes and asked,
“Whose blood is that?”
“Pawol.”
“Who’s Pawol?”
“An assassin.”
The boy’s expression immediately turned serious.
He rubbed his chin and muttered,
“A ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) power struggle between assassin groups? I think I just stepped into something bad...”
Seolhwa let out a quiet sigh.
Dawn was already breaking—she didn’t have time to waste on this childish back-and-forth.
“If you think I’m an assassin, why did you let me live? Like you said, I could kill someone else.”
“I’m a Daoist. I don’t kill people for no reason.”
“You could’ve taken me to the authorities at least.”
“I was going to. At first. But...”
The boy turned his head and looked toward the city.
“There were people out searching for someone. Looked like martial artists from the Namgoong Clan, but they didn’t seem to be chasing anyone.”
“So?”
“So I thought about it a bit. Are you the young lady they’re looking for, or the assassin who killed her?”
“...And did you reach a conclusion?”
“Yup.”
The boy turned to her again and grinned.
“You’re the young lady of the Namgoong Clan, right?”
Her answer was unexpected.
She thought for sure he would assume she was the assassin.
“So you were playing dumb even though you knew?”
“Well, uh... would you mind calming down that killing aura a little...?”
“Untie me. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The boy quickly hopped down from the platform and untied the cloth binding Seolhwa’s hands and feet.
The moment her legs were free—
Whoosh—
A sharp gust of wind surged toward the boy.
It was Heavenly Wind Palm Force, a technique of the Namgoong Clan.
“...!”
Even though he’d been focused on untying the knots, the boy didn’t miss the incoming strike.
He instantly responded with a technique from the Mount Hua Sect.
Papak! Pak! Papapak!
Dozens of blows were exchanged in an instant.
The boy grit his teeth, barely able to keep up with Seolhwa’s speed.
Papak! Papapak!
Seolhwa kept pressing forward relentlessly.
Pahk—!
With a strike infused with a bit of inner strength, the boy was sent skidding backward.
“Urgh...!”
A thin trickle of blood spilled from his lips—he might have taken internal damage.
He couldn’t lift his head easily.
Clutching his chest, he steadied his breathing for a long moment, then—
“Wow...”
He finally looked up.
“You’re really strong...!”
His eyes sparkled with excitement.
Despite the internal injury, his expression was pure and bright.
Seolhwa shook off her hands indifferently as she looked at him.
“How did you know I was from the Namgoong Clan?”
“Well, I could tell from your inner energy! At first, I thought you were poisoned.”
He must’ve checked her blood pathways to confirm.
“It was a little strange, but the energy was pure. In this area, there’s only one family with that kind of qi—the Namgoong Clan, with their Azure Heaven Sword.”
The boy brushed off his clothes and straightened his posture.
He turned to Seolhwa and offered her a neat martial salute.
“Apologies for the late introduction. I’m Yu Gang, first-generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect. It’s an honor to meet the young lady of the Namgoong Clan.”
Gone was the playful tone from earlier—his refined stance gave off the genuine air of a proper Daoist.
