Camellia 83

Just before Seolyeong clashed with Peng Rang’s sword, an overwhelming wave struck him, and his body surrendered to it without thought.

At first, he thought he’d been stabbed in the gut and left on death’s door. But when he opened his eyes, his body, worn down by that bastard Sect Leader, was perfectly fine.

Only after he looked around in a daze , exclaiming ‘What’s happening’ did he realize that he was hovering in the air, having pierced straight through the ceiling.

Seolyeong almost burst into tears when he felt the Qi packed tightly into his danjeon.

‘Wonsi Cheonjon…!’

It seemed the merciful Primordial God hadn’t abandoned him after all.

Seolyeong lifted his gaze to the deep blue sky with tear-filled eyes, offering a heartfelt thanks to the imagined space beyond the soft, clustered clouds.

Why now, of all times, would you give it back like this? Were you trying to temper my mind and body on purpose by putting me through all that suffering? Whatever your intentions were, I won’t resent you. I know now my duty is to follow quietly, without complaint. Haha, maybe it’s time I actually become a Daoist hermit!

He had no idea what exactly had happened, but one thing was certain, since he’d been gifted a new danjeon, he was going to use it for righteous deeds, not evil ones. It was a debt no amount of gold could repay. Even if he couldn’t settle it in full, he could at least try his best to make sure his benefactor never regretted restoring him.

He retrieved the spiritual stone sword lodged near the path back to the dueling arena, and rushed straight here to meet the sect members.

And it was upon seeing that bride that Bing Biyu fell into despair.

“…Utterly absurd.”

The Heavenly Heart Ice Pill had always been an elixir that chose heroes.

Three appeared per generation. But if there were no warrior of exceptional caliber during that time, they’d rot away as ordinary pills. Even in the North Sea, none had awakened yet. And now, the first to be chosen was a martial artist from within the sect’s territory?

And a man, no less.

Biyu thought grimly to herself.

“…I can’t bring myself to report this to the Princess. The pill’s already fused with that man’s body. I have to retrieve it somehow. But to extract power that’s already been absorbed… isn’t forcing a direct clash the only way?”

After mulling it over, she clenched the leather necklace, now nothing but a loose strap, and leapt down from the stands. Her movement was flawless.

She reached Peng Rang, slung the hot-headed warrior over her shoulder, and muttered,

“I thought you’d learned to stay calm in the Ice Palace…”

Peng Rang, who had joined the Ice Palace through Sahyeol Amje’s recommendation, was unlike the other members who strove for rational thinking. She constantly got into trouble, unable to control her fiery nature. And Biyu, who cared for her, had to clean up after her every time.

Shouldering the much larger Peng Rang with ease, Biyu shouted,

“N sky of the Cheonma Singyo Sect! I, Bing Biyu of the North Sea, accept the Gyo-mo’s victory on the loser’s behalf!”

Sahyeol Amje turned his gaze from the bride and gave a small nod.

“…A satisfying match. Rang’s sword aura was sharper and clearer than ever, like freshly honed steel. Likely thanks to your guidance, Princess.”

At the same time, his voice cut through the air with a transmission straight to Biyu’s ear.

–Let’s speak in private about the Heavenly Heart Ice Pill, Biyu.

Biyu responded in kind.

–Yes, Sect Leader. I’ll also offer a proper apology for the offense my subordinate caused.

With that, the Hanhoe leader respectfully withdrew from the arena, followed swiftly by the Ice Palace warriors.

Each one disappeared, their exit trailed by a faint, snow-like mist. Perhaps because of this, the Geukmunggak Lord wore a thoroughly disgusted expression.

Cold air? From these people? Not his thing. He much preferred the warmth of a brothel and the company of pleasure girls.

But fine. He’d paid the price of admission and seen a rare spectacle, he’d live.

Stretching out his interlocked hands above his head, he released Yeoso’s shadow and began rolling his stiff shoulders. Using spiritual arts after such a long time had left his neck and shoulders aching.

And it was time to leave, and give the newlyweds space to bask in their post-duel glow. As he flicked one of his dangling earrings and began to rise, he suddenly stopped.

“Loyal people of the sect. Did you, too, witness the Gyo-mo’s victory?”

It was Sahyeol Amje’s voice.

The Sect Leader was still smiling, spinning like always. His face gleamed like it had been slathered in oil. Watching it made Seolyeong’s mood plummet. Why is he grinning like that? Did I just make a fool of myself? No I looked really amazing.

Before he could dwell on it, the Sect Leader yanked him in with Huingong.

“Urk!”

One flick of the hand, and Seolyeong was dragged to the high seat like a rag doll, spiritual sword clattering to the floor.

He landed with a thud on Sahyeol Amje’s thigh, his expression twisted like he’d just swallowed poison.

But Tang Yujae, whether his bride liked it or not, was in a great mood. The laughter he had been holding in crept up to the corners of his mouth.

His usual icy face, now wearing a gentle smile was charming. But Seolyeong just got goosebumps crawling up his arms.

Yujae leaned his chin onto his bride’s stiff shoulder.

“For keeping our sect’s face clean, I’d like to grant you not only sacred relics, but other rewards too.”

He borrowed a line the Geukmunggak Lord had tossed out earlier.

As Seolyeong wriggled to escape, the Sect Leader wrapped an arm around his waist.

Those lively, sparkling eyes were far too much. Seolyeong turned his head nervously, barely holding it together.

He felt an uncomfortable feeling climbing up his spine, one he didn’t want to acknowledge.

You know that saying, If you ever think, “He better not like me,” it’s already too late. He does.

Seolyeong struggled, twisting and squirming, trying to break free of the arm around his waist.

“Ahyeong. Your husband wants to give you a reward.”

“I-I don’t nee…”

“Don’t make a fuss. I’m trying to act like a proper husband. The more you whine, the more it just looks like you’re flirting.”

He said it sweetly, not caring who heard, then glanced down at the Eight Pavilion Lords.

That divine gaze pierced through mortal intent. The pressure alone made it feel like their skin was being flayed open. No one dared react. Show weakness now, and they’d be marked, and challenged.

Tang Yujae hadn’t planned on picking a fight with them over his righteous bride. But now he was reconsidering.

This bride had made his dull life interesting. He deserved more.

Rather than waste time debating doctrine with madmen who worshipped the Cheonma and dreamed of destroying Jungwon…

Maybe I’ll just kill them all.

After all, Tang Yujae hadn’t revived the Cheonma Singyo Sect out of faith. He’d done it to fulfill a promise to an imugi. He held no loyalty to the old sect, unlike its zealots remnants.

And when his final task was complete, decoding the last chapter of Saseogyeong, the sect would no longer matter.

It would perish with him. Or, if luck had it, be carried on by someone with sense, like the Geukmunggak or Jipilgak Lord.

The heart of a demigod who had been withering slowly now tipped entirely toward his bride, like a scale finding its weight.

Just as the Geukmunggak Lord had predicted. The heavens leaned where their affection lay, and their power followed.

“I’ll grant your wish.”

He said it for all to hear. Seolyeong’s eyes shot open. He immediately wanted to ask, What if I wished for you to kill yourself? Would you do it? If only you vanished, the martial world could finally breathe easy.

But as if reading his thoughts, Yujae sent him a quiet voice transmission.

–Anything but a request for me to die. I’ll be gone soon anyway. You should enjoy the power while you can, and leave once it’s over.

The Sect Leader of the Cheonma Singyo Sect had fallen for the so-called most beautiful man in the world. Not because of looks. Because he was unpredictable.

Seolyeong had been rejected the moment he arrived. Beaten by his husband. Mocked by his subordinates. Deceived in every shameless way imaginable. Even stripped of his martial arts.

And yet, this was his first true victory. He didn’t know it yet, but it meant everything. It meant he now held the power to shake the world.