New World
Baekri-wan's flying craft was sleek and fast — nothing like the one Un Song-byeok had ridden with them from the Baekun Sect. Hers was clearly a far higher grade of vessel.
"The ride quality is totally different. Or should I say flight quality?"
"What are you even talking about."
"Nothing."
No matter how much nonsense Han Yuhyeon spouted, Baekri-wan never once looked back. Then again, when you were piloting, keeping your eyes forward was the most important thing.
"Ah. We're almost there."
After crossing several mountains and banks of cloud, dense clusters of houses and towers came into view. Real mortal homes, utterly separate from the world of cultivators. This was Seong-do, capital of Sichuan.
"Do you really not need the mask? We're still in So-ui-ju territory."
"It's fine. It was stifling. And honestly, stares full of contempt are almost as hard to endure as the lustful ones."
Unlike at Wonhumun, Baekri-wan wasn't wearing her mask. Whether it was simply because it felt stuffy, or because she had some other intention, he couldn't tell.
"Fair enough."
"You've never had anyone look at you with lust, have you?"
"I have, actually."
"Don't bother with the wounded pride. The lie is so absurd it's almost pitiful."
"Believe what you want."
Technically speaking, it hadn't been a cultivator — it was Biyong, currently stuck to his calf, who'd given him those lecherous looks. But he had his pride, and he had no intention of admitting that much. Baekri-wan wouldn't have believed him anyway.
"Shall we part ways around here?"
"What?"
Baekri-wan dropped the words like a bolt from a clear sky. She looked at the startled Han Yuhyeon as if she couldn't understand what the fuss was about.
"I told you. I have business near here as well."
"Oh. You were serious?"
"Of course?"
"I thought you just made that up as an excuse to tag along with me."
"Have you lost your mind?"
Baekri-wan's expression hardened. She was usually so impassive that reading her was difficult, but after knowing her this long, he could at least tell when she was genuinely offended.
"My apologies. I just didn't realize you actually had something to do."
"I do. And this place is safe enough that going alone is fine."
She wasn't wrong. The capital of the Yu Kingdom was managed by Songin-mun, the greatest sect in all of So-ui-ju. You could fairly call it the most secure place in the entire region — which was exactly why the cultivator market was held here.
"How long will you be staying, then?"
"About ten days. How long do you need?"
"I'm not sure how many days it'll take me."
Handing over a single Longevity Lock would take only a few minutes, but tracking down that Dragonian NPC was going to be a real chore. It would have been nice to know some cultivators in So-ui-ju, but he didn't have any such contacts.
"If you finish first, feel free to head back without me. I'll just buy a flying craft of my own while I'm at it."
"I'm still an Elder in name. How would it look if I left my personal disciple behind and went home alone?"
"You don't have to worry about me."
Even as he said it, Han Yuhyeon privately hoped she would look after him. Flying from So-ui-ju all the way back to Yeongil-ju was a long trip. There was no telling when or where something like Cheongrimdo might show up on the return journey.
Fortunately, Baekri-wan understood exactly what he wanted.
"Enough. Meet me at the northern gate of the cultivator market at the Mao hour, fifteen days from now. I can't give you any more time than that."
"Understood."
When he asked to be dropped near the Sichuan Dang Clan on the way down, Baekri-wan asked whether such a family even existed, so he just told her to set him down anywhere. Cultivators, as a rule, paid that little attention to the mortal world.
"Hongyou chaoshou! Three for one silver tael!"
"Cargo coming through! Clear the road!"
"Here! Longevity elixirs crafted by the medicine masters of the Murim Alliance! Eat one of these and they say you'll live another ten years!"
Han Yuhyeon had landed in the middle of a marketplace. He had appeared out of nowhere, yet the streets were so crowded and chaotic that not a single person paid him any mind.
It was the complete opposite of the quiet, sparse atmosphere of the cultivation world. Even the largest cultivator market in So-ui-ju wasn't this loud or frantic.
"Kyaaang……."
At the unfamiliar racket, even Biyong — who normally slept through anything — woke up and scrambled onto his shoulder.
If Yeonhwa Seonrok had been a murim game instead, would he have been living in a world like this?
Since Yeonhwa Seonrok was fundamentally a xianxia game, the mortal realm was never depicted. It existed only as setting, mentioned in passing and nothing more. A place the game never showed. From Han Yuhyeon's perspective, it was a whole new world.
"Hongyou chaoshou? Now that I'm curious about."
He headed toward the dumpling vendor shouting himself hoarse. On a wooden board, dumplings drenched in chili oil were giving off a rich, savory aroma.
"Welcome! How many can I get you?"
The moment Han Yuhyeon showed interest, the vendor lit up and asked right away. He almost said "three" out of habit before realizing he didn't have a single silver tael of the currency used in the Central Plains. In the cultivation world, silver was worthless, so there had never been any reason to carry it.
"Ah. I don't have any money. They just looked good, that's all."
"What? No money and you still came over? Get out of here. Shoo. Shoo!"
The instant the vendor learned he was broke, his entire expression flipped.
For a split second, Han Yuhyeon considered simply turning the man into chili oil — then startled himself. Had he really started thinking like a cultivator without even noticing?
But if he kept staring at the dumpling seller any longer, he might actually do it, so he turned his back and decided to find the Sichuan Dang Clan instead.
Being in Seong-do of Sichuan made the clan easy to locate. He simply grabbed a random person on the street and asked where the Sichuan Dang Clan was, and they pointed him in the right direction without hesitation.
He'd thought it was rather half-hearted of them to give only a rough direction — until he realized there was a good reason. Once he got close enough, a manor so massive it would have been stranger not to notice it filled his vision.
At the enormous main gate, guards in green martial robes stood with their arms crossed on either side. The plaque above was carved in a sharp, elegant hand with the characters for the Sichuan Dang Clan.
This was the edge of the marketplace, so throngs of people came and went — yet interestingly, not a single soul walked within ten zhang of the Dang Clan's main gate. That empty space itself was the measure of the clan's prestige.
Of course, murim prestige meant nothing to Han Yuhyeon. The moment he strode confidently toward the main gate of the Sichuan Dang Clan, every nearby gaze locked onto him. Even the gate guards rolled their eyes toward him with open interest, still keeping their arms crossed.
"What business do you have? Something with the Sichuan Dang Clan?"
"That's right."
"Looks like you're from out of town. There's a side gate if you go around that way. The main gate only opens for the Dang Clan's direct bloodline or honored guests."
The martial artist in green looked him over with the contempt reserved for country bumpkins. But Han Yuhyeon saw no particular reason to follow their rules.
"Not interested. I only came to deliver something."
"I said go to the side gate."
"I don't like wasting time. I'm already at the main gate — just open it."
He was becoming a cultivator in earnest now.
Cultivators were a breed obsessively sensitive about time. Every moment saved was a moment that could go toward breaking through a realm and extending one's lifespan. Han Yuhyeon had no desire to waste any of his walking all the way around to a side gate just to humor their regulations.
"Haha. You've got spirit. Though that spirit is starting to look a lot like arrogance."
"All right, then let me ask you something first. Is there someone here named Dang Ga-hye?"
"……What?"
The faces of the Dang Clan guards, who had been laughing heartily a second ago, went rigid.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"About what?"
"You dare address our Clan Head like that? If that isn't madness, what is it?"
"Ah. So she's the Clan Head."
Old Man Dang had been scraping by in Yeongil-ju, so Han Yuhyeon had figured he might be from some side branch. Apparently he was a rather prestigious member of the main bloodline. Someone could have mentioned that earlier.
Then again, from Old Man Dang's perspective, a cultivator probably wouldn't have understood the difference between main and side branches even if he'd explained it.
That aside, the guards were clearly furious that he had spoken so casually of their Clan Head.
"Even allowing for your ignorance, as martial artists of the Dang Clan, we cannot tolerate such words. Kneel before the Dang Clan plaque and smash your forehead against the ground until you bleed."
The guards advanced on him, murder in their eyes. Passersby who had been walking past stopped in their tracks, sensing a fight about to break out, and turned to watch.
"If you refuse, we'll cut off your wrists and ankles and leave you to crawl for the rest of your life."
"Choose."
The two guards pressed in. At some point, a short blade and a leather pouch had appeared in their hands. The pouch almost certainly held poison. It felt strangely novel, like playing a game set in an entirely different world. Of course, none of it was the slightest bit threatening.
"I really don't like wasting time."
Han Yuhyeon spoke — and released the faintest trickle of spiritual energy toward them alone. The faces of the guards, whose killing intent had been piercing the heavens a moment before, went deathly pale in an instant.
He had always known the lore — that even a first-star Qi Condensation cultivator was someone no murim martial artist could dare touch — but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Murim people were truly fragile creatures. He had only pressed them with the absolute minimum spiritual energy he could output, and already they could barely breathe. Feeling a twinge of pity, he reeled the energy back in.
"Khhk— khhk!"
"Ueeeegh!"
The moment he withdrew his power, the guards dropped to their knees and retched.
Naturally, the onlookers erupted into noise. In some novels, cultivators simply wiped the commoners' memories clean — but Han Yuhyeon had no such technique, so he had no choice but to deal with the attention.
"I don't want any more of a spectacle, so go get your Clan Head. Now."
He dangled the Longevity Lock inscribed with Dang Ga-hye's name in front of their eyes.
"I'm here to deliver something from her father."
The two martial artists on the ground stared at the Longevity Lock bearing Dang Ga-hye's name, their pupils shaking.
"……What is this."
"Y-you mean you've come to deliver something from the Grand Elder?"
They had already felt Han Yuhyeon's pressure for themselves. Now he was casually mentioning the current Clan Head's father — of course they were beside themselves.
"P-please wait just a moment!"
Even though his pressure must have left their insides thoroughly scrambled, they flung the main gate open and shot off with lightfoot technique. From their perspective it was a full-power sprint; from Han Yuhyeon's, it looked so agonizingly slow he might as well have been watching them crawl.
Before long they came racing back and threw the gate wide.
"P-p-please, come in, great hero."
The guards guided him in, trembling violently. All that talk of cutting off wrists and ankles from a moment ago had evaporated without a trace.
An ordinary cultivator might have started by cracking their skulls open, but Han Yuhyeon liked to think of himself as a more cultured sort of cultivator than the rest, so he saw no need.
He looked around as he walked, taking in the halls and pavilions of the Sichuan Dang Clan. They were certainly far grander and more lavish than the thatched hovels of ordinary folk — yet even they looked shabby next to the buildings of the cultivation world. Here you could see the vast gulf between the lifestyle of murim people, who walked the earth, and cultivators, who soared through the sky.
"The Clan Head is waiting for you."
The thoroughly etiquette-trained guards took positions on either side of the stone steps. Han Yuhyeon climbed the smoothly cut stairs and entered the Clan Head's hall.
As if everyone else had been deliberately dismissed, only a single presence could be sensed inside. There was no way a Clan Head's hall would normally be without attendants.
Since he was entering a woman's quarters, he observed the minimum of courtesy — knocking twice before opening the door.
Inside sat a beauty with sharp eyes befitting the head of the Dang Clan, her hair bound up high.
"Younger than I expected…… Dang Ga-hye, right?"
Han Yuhyeon said. He was genuinely surprised. Old Man Dang looked at least eighty, so he'd expected a middle-aged woman — but the one before him seemed barely past her prime. Was it really all right for someone this young to be Clan Head?
"They said you had no manners. It seems they were right."
Dang Ga-hye's voice, heard for the first time, was youthful yet clear and pure. Han Yuhyeon shrugged.
"We're not in a relationship that requires manners. I just came to deliver something. Once that's done, I'm gone. We'll never meet again."
"Show me the item, please."
Han Yuhyeon took the Longevity Lock from his pocket and sent it floating toward her — not thrown, but drifting through the air of its own accord.
"……Void Object Control."
In the cultivation world, any first-star Qi Condensation cultivator could do it without effort, but Dang Ga-hye's eyes trembled violently.
She caught the Longevity Lock hovering at eye level and examined it carefully. Before long, she nodded.
"It's real. It's truly real. Father really did send this."
Her voice was thick with emotion. Han Yuhyeon was about to turn and leave when Old Man Dang's request suddenly came back to him.
"Ah. Your father wanted me to tell you this. He's living in peace and happiness in a paradise of wealth and honor, so don't worry about him."
"……."
Dang Ga-hye's head dropped. Whether she was crying or not, her small shoulders shook without restraint.
He had only been asked to deliver the message — not to offer comfort afterward — so he turned to leave.
That was when it happened.
Boom.
With a tremendous crash, the floor gave way, and Dang Ga-hye sank straight down along with the chair she was sitting on. Han Yuhyeon blinked.
Before he could even ask what was going on, her voice rang through the entire building.
"Don't move."
"Hm?"
The sudden shift to a threatening tone made him glance around.
"If you take so much as a single step, I'll show you exactly what the Dang Clan's pride — the Dang Absolute Courtyard — is capable of."
Her cold voice continued to reverberate around the hall. The Dang Clan really did seem to live up to its murim reputation for mechanical traps and hidden mechanisms.
"For reference, in the Dang Clan's seven hundred years of history, not a single person has ever survived the activation of this mechanism. No matter how great a master you may be, you will not be the exception to that history."
"Out of nowhere?"
Han Yuhyeon asked, half in disbelief. Dang Ga-hye's voice rang out, thick with fury.
"Where is my father?"
"Why are you asking me? I just came to deliver a package."
"Answer me! Did you think I wouldn't know you people kidnapped him?!"
"I already told you he's living happily."
Apparently Dang Ga-hye, like ordinary mortals, knew nothing of the cultivators' world. That was why she was thrashing around like this.
If he'd told her about Old Man Dang's actual life as a blind warehouse keeper, would her eyes have rolled even further back into her head?
The thought made him a little wistful — but that was a separate matter from Dang Ga-hye threatening him. He had only come to fulfill Old Man Dang's request. His own voice turned cold in response.
"Go ahead. Activate that Dang Absolute Courtyard, or whatever it's called."
He spoke as if it were nothing at all, and began to release his spiritual energy.
"If you want seven hundred years of history turned to ash overnight, be my guest."
In answer to his power, every piece of furniture and every fixture rose into the air at once, and the timber of the walls and floor began to tear free.