Nearly a month had passed since they began staying at Shaolin.

In that time, Seol Yehwa fully recovered her original internal power.

And together with her brother, she began training to control it.

They decided to remain at Shaolin.

It was thanks to Abbot Gwanggyeong’s consideration for the two of them.

If they were cast out now, the same thing as before would happen again.

Abbot Gwanggyeong said they could stay until they built up enough strength.

Cheonjeong recovered cleanly.

Monk Gong-eop’s Prajna Great Ability was outstanding.

Because it completely erased the killing aura that had seeped down into his bones.

Even so, a thin scar remained near his solar plexus.

It was a wound whose length matched the width of the blade that had pierced him, precisely.

Soyak didn’t know what to do when she saw it…

But Cheonjeong, instead, told Soyak he was proud of it.

Wasn’t it the scar he earned as Head Senior, protecting his junior sister?

And now—

It was their last night at Shaolin.

Almost everything that could be resolved had been resolved.

Seol Yegang and Seol Yehwa’s matter was now in their own hands.

And the matter of Night-Heaven Hall as well…

Namgung would do something similar again.

But still—everything that could be done, had been done.

There was only one thing left.

“…All right.”

In a small room, Soyak quietly sat in meditation posture.

Following the mnemonic verses of the Harmonization Scripture, she wove her mindscape.

Following the meridian-path routes she had memorized and engraved into her body, she drew her energy upward.

It was breath control and internal circulation.

In the very middle of that dizzying scent of blood, she had definitely absorbed something.

And her internal power had swelled beyond what she could control.

Of course, she had reined it back in not long after.

Even so, she needed to examine herself.

When she closed her eyes, her awareness sank once more into the world of her mindscape.

Down below, she saw a familiar surface of water.

In the sky, still, only a single star floated.

The Army-Breaking Star.

The last star of the Big Dipper.

Beneath it, the black qilin slept with its body curled.

The moment Soyak’s toes touched the water’s surface, it snapped its eyes open.

Then it charged straight at her, knocked her over, and began licking her face wildly.

“…Please.”

She didn’t hate it.

The drool would vanish the moment she woke up anyway.

Even so, having her whole head drenched in slobber was… a bit.

Soyak scooped up some water from the surface and washed her face.

Then she buried her face in the black qilin’s fur and wiped the moisture away.

At some point, it had already curled around her small body, holding her close.

“…You got huge.”

Now she couldn’t even wrap her arms around its neck.

A truly massive body.

It was starting to look like a physique worthy of the name divine beast.

“…You ate the killing aura and stray thoughts that seeped into me.”

The black qilin nodded its head.

Soyak gently scratched beneath its jaw and stroked its head.

Maybe it felt good—because it placed its head on Soyak’s thigh.

It was asking for more.

Soyak silently stroked it more.

And then, as if newly aware of it, she looked back at her own situation.

Heavenly Killing Star.

A person born with the destiny of a blood calamity that would raise a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

Soyak had looked up what she could about herself.

Even before Flower-Halo Sect fell.

What you were born with: a drive for slaughter.

A cruel disposition.

Emotionlessness and mercilessness.

And…

A heaven-granted talent for every martial art that involved taking up a blade.

The conclusion the martial world had reached about the Heavenly Killing Star was simple:

The more blood it saw, the stronger it became—and the stronger it became, the more blood it saw.

But Soyak had never felt a drive for slaughter.

She hadn’t been born cruel.

She didn’t show much expression, but she wasn’t emotionless.

That had been true.

“…Why was it?”

In that horrific slaughter scene,

she had definitely absorbed the lingering killing aura and stray thoughts—resentment, hatred, things like that.

She had felt some monster sleeping deep in her mindscape awaken.

A monster called instinct.

Things she had never once felt until now.

A drive for slaughter, and cruelty.

“Was it because… it was the first time I’d seen that much blood and killing?”

Thankfully, the black qilin suppressed it quickly.

It devoured the stray thoughts of the dead that had seeped deep—into bone, into the center of her mindscape.

A martial art meant only for the Heavenly Killing Star.

A scripture that returned her ego and reason to her…

That let her hold her center inside the horrific yoke of fate pointed to by the slaughter-star.

The arranged black qilin embraced all that killing aura and all those stray thoughts.

So she would not be swept away by the star’s guidance and lose herself.

And so, becoming one with the essence of the Heavenly Killing Star that called forth “death”…

It became the natural enemy of all undying permanence and immortality.

Cheon Soyak, too, would grow stronger the more blood she saw.

But she would not become a madwoman who saw more blood the stronger she became.

Because the Harmonization Scripture was prepared precisely to prevent that.

“…Please take care of me from here on out, too.”

Soyak quietly stroked the black qilin’s horn.

A horn shaped like a dragon’s.

Was breath control and internal circulation nearing its end?

The black qilin poked Soyak’s cheek with that horn—poke, poke.

It was telling her to get up.

*****

The morning of departure.

Shaolin’s Guest-Receiving Hall.

Cheonjeong, Cheongak, and Cheon Soyak were packing.

When they came, they hadn’t really had luggage worth mentioning.

But leaving was different.

Shaolin had given them quite a few things.

And if you asked what was the most precious and useful among them…

It was, without question, the tent.

If there was an inn, a tavern, or even a small village, it was fine.

But on a long journey, there were many times when none of those existed.

And then you had no choice but to sleep outdoors.

Shaolin had given them a tough, durable tent.

They said it was made from the sail of a ship that had crossed beyond the Yangtze, all the way to the sea.

As expensive as it was, it really did look sturdy.

“So, Soyak. You really should’ve seen Cheongak dressed as a woman.”

“Please, Head Senior!”

“Senior Brother Cheongak has a pretty face. It probably suited him well.”

“Soyak, you too…?”

Cheongak collapsed to the floor after all.

What made it even more humiliating was that Soyak was right.

When he’d looked in the mirror, for a moment, he’d even thought—

‘This isn’t bad…?’

That was an extremely confusing emotional state.

Thinking your own cross-dressed self was weirdly to your taste.

Cheongak wanted to smash his head into a pillar until the memory disappeared.

Still, at least Soyak hadn’t seen him.

The instant word spread that Soyak was coming back, he’d thrown the wig away first.

Then he scrubbed his face hard and washed the powder off.

“You should’ve seen Cheongak panicking about washing the powder off too.”

“You even put powder on your face?”

Soyak asked back with a small smile.

Unable to endure it anymore, Cheongak shouted in indignation.

“Yes! The monks kept saying I was too dark!”

Another burst of laughter spilled out.

Then someone knocked on the door of the room they were staying in.

Cheonjeong rose briefly and opened it.

“Are you packing well?”

It was Flame-Saber Lord Ak Jupae.

Cheonjeong nodded.

“Yes. It should be finished before long.”

“You need to depart within half an hour.”

Otherwise, they’d end up using the tent they’d received as a gift.

Flame-Saber Lord Ak Jupae didn’t bother adding the rest out loud.

“We will.”

“Good. Let’s meet under the signboard in half an hour.”

Before he left, Ak Jupae glanced at Cheon Soyak.

Something about her presence had changed.

A famed sword didn’t need to spill sharpness to be noticed.

That was how it felt, looking at Cheon Soyak.

‘…No way.’

Ak Jupae clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Cheonjeong tilted his head slightly.

But Ak Jupae left without explanation.

Because…

It made no sense.

At the entrance to Transcendent Apex already?

Impossible.

*****

Under Shaolin’s signboard.

The people of Shaolin were seeing off Soyak’s group and the Flame-Saber Lord.

“You’re leaving already.”

It was Seon-geung’s reluctant complaint.

By now, he’d built a thick friendship with Cheongak.

The other Shaolin warrior-monks were the same.

“I’ll miss your fists a bit. We’ll meet again later.”

“Next time I’ll be stronger.”

“You keep that up and your master will hit you with a wooden gong again.”

“Ugh.”

After the Night-Heaven Hall incident was wrapped up,

for some reason, Gong-eop permitted Seon-geung and Cheongak to spar.

And the two of them fought like their heads would crack open.

It had been fun.

Their fists and wooden swords hunted each other’s weak points.

They were geniuses at nearly the same level.

Flame-Saber Lord Ak Jupae had been right.

A battle of wits between evenly matched geniuses accelerated growth.

As a result, the two who had been wandering at the very edge of First-Rate rose into the entrance of Apex.

They had crossed the wall.

Cheonjeong, too, gained something that could be called a fortuitous encounter.

It wasn’t Hair-Cutting and Marrow-Washing, but…

For a full month, the internal power of Gong-eop’s Prajna Great Ability governed the meridians throughout his entire body.

How could a mysterious energy so profound and so compassionately vast have no effect at all?

It wasn’t only expelling killing aura.

Every meridian path became sturdier, and more flexible.

Most of all, it was the internal power operation of the Small Divine Monk Gong-eop, a master who stood in Transcendent Apex.

Just watching his own meridians and studying was fortuitous in itself.

As a result, Cheonjeong grew to the very edge of First-Rate.

He stood before the threshold of Apex—just as Cheongak had right before they came to Shaolin.

And Cheon Soyak…

Everyone could feel that Soyak’s presence had changed.

It was so clear there was no need to say it aloud.

“…Soyak.”

The one who stopped Soyak as she was about to leave was Seol Yegang.

Then he drew out a small dagger from his robe.

A tiny blade you could use to peel fruit.

“This is my token of oath. Take it.”

“This is…”

It looked like something from the North Sea Ice Palace to anyone’s eyes.

Even if he was collateral blood and cast out, he would still have some heirloom proving that bloodline.

It seemed to be that kind of object.

“It’s a dagger made from ten-thousand-year cold iron.”

The crowd stirred in an instant.

Ten-thousand-year cold iron.

A metal comparable to meteoric iron, said to be forged from melted meteor.

That meant it was precious beyond measure—its price per weight surpassing gold.

“When you need a friend, call me anytime.”

“…Understood.”

Soyak accepted the dagger, tucked it into her robes, and bowed again.

Shaolin’s monks pressed their palms together, and Seol Yegang and Seol Yehwa bowed as well.

It was their farewell.

Chapter 68

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