The Sunflower Manual

"You seem very busy."

Inside the Flower Moon Pavilion, the Hangzhou branch of the Haomen. On its topmost floor, Namgung Sua was currently performing her escort duty.

Though it was called escort duty, her charge, Hwayeolluju, rarely left her office. Sua ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kept her eyes on the mistress while quietly polishing her beloved blade.

"Fufu. Did it appear so?"

"Yes. You haven't rested for a single moment."

"This humble one is quite used to it, so please do not worry."

The mistress replied without even lifting her head, her face practically buried in a mountain of paperwork. Watching her, Namgung Sua could not help but feel a quiet sense of admiration.

Ever since Yoo Jeong's clash with the Haomen, the twin sisters who originally served as the mistress's bodyguards had been forced to recuperate from their internal injuries. Thus, Namgung Sua had stepped in to fill the vacancy. It was a favor Yoo Jeong had personally requested. Of course, she knew he had asked not out of a sense of responsibility for the trouble, but for the sake of his master. Still, she had readily accepted, as the arrangement brought her no harm.

For that reason, Namgung Sua had been by Hwayeolluju's side from the moment before the mistress fell asleep the previous night until now.

Just watching her is exhausting.

The moment the mistress woke, she washed her face and adorned herself. Using an array of cosmetics that Sua could not even begin to identify, Hwayeolluju enhanced her already breathtaking features. Skipping breakfast entirely, she had headed straight to her office to begin her work. Yet, the towering piles of documents showed no signs of shrinking. If anything, they only seemed to grow.

As soon as she processed a document and categorized the information, someone would carry it away and immediately replace it with a fresh stack. This relentless cycle of work continued uninterrupted as the sun climbed toward its zenith. Despite it all, Hwayeolluju did not betray even a hint of fatigue. In a different sense, she was a superhuman.

"Is your workload always this heavy?"

"I must fulfill my duties as both the mistress of the pavilion and the branch leader of the Haomen. But truly, it is not difficult. It is what this humble one has done since childhood."

A courtesan's day starts late. Their work primarily consists of pouring drinks, showcasing their artistic talents, or sharing their beds with patrons—activities that naturally take place at night. Once the sun sets, they light the lanterns, adorn themselves in splendid attire to draw crowds, and bid them farewell when morning comes. Thus, their mornings are inevitably pushed back much later than those of ordinary people.

However, Hwayeolluju was different. Though she was a flower more beautiful than any other, she did not sell herself; rather, she managed the other flowers. To maintain the reputation of Hangzhou's finest pavilion, she began preparing and inspecting long before the lanterns were lit, and reviewed any unusual occurrences after business hours ended. Having observed her for just a single day, Sua could tell: the mistress's day began before the red lanterns were extinguished and ended only after they were lit once more.

Therefore, Namgung Sua kept quiet to avoid disrupting her work. That was, until the mistress playfully complained about wanting a conversation partner, prompting Sua to toss out various topics to keep her company.

"Then, when did you join the sect...?"

"Did you not know? This humble one's father is... Oh, she is awake."

Though Hwayeolluju had been answering Namgung Sua's questions diligently while keeping her eyes glued to her documents, she suddenly stood up.

It was because of a young girl who had just opened the door to the adjoining bedroom. She was an adorable sight, with messy silver ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hair and cheeks slightly swollen from sleep. Rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stumbled out, this girl was once the peerless master known as the Sword Empress—and Namgung Sua's aunt-master. Though absolutely no one would believe it looking at her now.

The young aunt-master, still half-asleep, looked around with a dazed expression.

"Where is Jeong-ah?"

"Young Master Yoo has not returned yet."

"Ugh, I'm hungry."

The aunt-master gently placed both hands over her belly. Even so, her jewel-like eyes busily scanned the room. But no matter how hard she looked, a missing person would not suddenly materialize out of thin air. As her eyes began to droop with disappointment, the mistress quickly scooped the girl into her arms.

"The master said he would return soon. He said if you eat well and wait patiently until then, he will buy you a present."

"Really?"

Perhaps sulking because Yoo Jeong was not there, the aunt-master looked away, avoiding their gaze even while cradled in the mistress's arms. Yet, her ears visibly perked up at the mention of a present. Namgung Sua had witnessed this exact behavior just yesterday. She was amazed once again by how easily the mistress managed to capture the girl's attention.

"Of course. Has the master ever lied to you?"

"No. Jeong-ah is good, so he doesn't lie."

"Indeed. So let us wait for him while having a meal. I have instructed the chef to prepare plenty of dishes that the young lady likes."

"Is there meat too?"

The pout on the aunt-master's face softened slightly.

"But Jeong-ah needs to eat too..."

"I have also told the chef to prepare a separate portion for the master. You need not worry."

"Okay. I want to eat me—... food."

"Fufu. Then I shall have it prepared right away."

The mistress rang a small bell on her desk, and a maid promptly entered. After ordering the meal, the mistress gently smoothed down the girl's messy hair. They looked so much like an affectionate pair of sisters that Namgung Sua could not help but ask.

"You seem very accustomed to taking care of children."

"When you live in a courtesan house, you encounter children more often than you might think. From those born to the courtesans to those abandoned at our doorstep. And, of course, the apprentice courtesans."

"I'm not a child."

"Oh? My mistake. You are a young lady, of course."

"That's right!"

Hardly a young lady...

The girl burst into bright giggles as the mistress gently bounced her in her arms, looking for all the world like a toddler. However, Namgung Sua kept her mouth shut, not wanting to risk drawing her aunt-master's ire.

A short while later, a feast of delicacies was laid out in the office. The aunt-master's eyes sparkled at the sight, and the mistress, cradling her close, busied herself feeding her this and that, just as she had the day before. The aunt-master obediently accepted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each bite while pointing out which side dish she wanted next. Her gestures and expressions were so cat-like that Namgung Sua was reminded of a certain fastidious friend far away.

"By the way, you haven't been able to eat yourself, Mistress. Let me take over for a moment."

Sua made the offer out of concern, seeing how the mistress was neglecting her own meal to tend to the aunt-master. However...

"No, Heroine Namgung. I appreciate your concern, but this humble one naturally eats very little."

The mistress hesitated for a fraction of a second before declining with a practiced, natural smile. Yet, the way she pulled the aunt-master even closer to her chest felt strangely grating to Sua's eyes. Still, Hwayeollu was her domain, and Sua knew the gesture stemmed from genuine goodwill. Unable to say anything, Sua felt a lingering tightness in her chest.

Sua watched the mistress with a subtle squint, and the mistress met her gaze without backing down. A quiet, unspoken war of nerves unfolded between them. It was an early lunch where only the silver-haired girl was happily enjoying the array of food. But this peaceful interlude did not last long.

"...What is it?"

"Mistress. That person has appeared."

The atmosphere in the office shifted instantly as a martial artist burst through the door. That person. Having overheard their previous conversation, Namgung Sua could easily guess who they were referring to.

The Divine Physician, so suddenly? Did Young Master Yoo do something?

Sua's expression grew serious. Only the young girl, who was currently gnawing on a piece of meat still on the bone, blinked her large eyes in utter confusion.

His throat was parched. When consciousness finally returned, the first thing Yoo Jeong felt was a burning, agonizing thirst. But when he tried to push himself up, his body refused to budge, trapping him in a suffocating paralysis.

What on earth...?

With immense effort, he managed to pry his eyelids open, but nothing met his gaze except a dense, impenetrable darkness. Slowly, Yoo Jeong began to retrace his memories.

The guest who had visited Muo Valley. His departure into the Murim to find the Divine Physician. Hangzhou. The Haomen. Hyeoljeonmun and the Demonic Cult. And...

The Sword Demon.

In their duel, Yoo Jeong had been defeated.

It was a battle he was highly likely to lose from the very beginning. He was outnumbered, and he lagged far behind his opponent in both skill and experience. Yet, Yoo Jeong had managed to push him into a corner. No, perhaps he could have even won.

I should have doubted him until the very end.

The promise of ten moves. He had not believed it at first. But as the exchanges repeated and unfolded exactly as he had planned, he had naturally focused only on surviving those ten moves. It was a fatal miscalculation—a glaring proof of his lack of experience.

The final move. The first form of the Three Swords of Cleaving Heaven. Before it could even unfold, the old man's sword had struck first. A blade infused with sword qi slashed through Yoo Jeong. As a result, the technique—which he was already forced to execute using his fingers as a makeshift sword—lacked the necessary power.

What if he hadn't let his guard down? What if he hadn't tried to end it so hastily and had gripped his sword properly instead? During their close-quarters clash, he had sensed that the opponent's body was not that of a well-conditioned martial artist. What if he had dragged the fight into a war of attrition? Yoo Jeong reviewed the battle, analyzing the paths he had not chosen. But it was a fleeting exercise.

What is the use now?

The battle was over, and he had lost. In the final moment, the sword qi had ruthlessly torn and shattered his dantian and meridians. With his internal energy backflowing and rampaging, Yoo Jeong, as a martial artist, was dead. Given the severity of his injuries, perhaps...

Maybe I am already in the afterlife.

Considering how pitch-black everything was, that seemed highly probable. Was this the end? Sensing his demise, Yoo Jeong thought that if this was indeed the underworld, it was a terribly suffocating place.

No.

He could not die like this. A single face flashed through his mind. He pictured the silver-haired girl who would be waiting for him at this very moment. If he died here, who would look after his master? He remembered his past self, full of ambition, promising never to leave any regrets. He remembered his master's radiant smile in response.

A fierce desire to live ignited like a spark in Yoo Jeong's eyes, fueling his resolve.

And then...

"Hehehe. Yes, boy. That's it."

A voice echoed through the absolute darkness. It was the voice of an old woman. Ominous and strange, her tone carried a distinctly sinister, unorthodox quality.

"Do you want to live?"

It was an obvious question, but Yoo Jeong could neither nod nor speak. Yet, as if she already knew his answer, the old woman continued.

"Of course you do. But as you well know, it wouldn't be strange for your body to give out at any moment. Your dantian is shattered, and your meridians are torn. The rampaging internal energy has run wild, turning your insides into an absolute mess."

For a brat, you certainly have a ridiculous amount of internal energy. Clicking her tongue, the old woman went on.

"At this rate, death is certain. Even if you miraculously survive, you will be bedridden for the rest of your days."

Though the old woman spoke with a grating, teasing tone, her next words made Yoo Jeong's eyes snap wide open.

"And yet, if there were a secret technique that could heal your body and restore your martial arts—no, make you even stronger... would you accept it?"

Faced with a proposal that sounded like a deal with a devil, Yoo Jeong squeezed out every ounce of his remaining strength.

"...I... will..."

"Of course, I would have done it even without your permission. That cheeky junior sister of mine threatened me, demanding that I save you no matter what."

Junior sister? Who could have made such a request? Before he could ponder the thought, it was violently swept away.

"Aaaagh...!"

As if a dam holding back a massive reservoir had burst, an overwhelming wave of agony flooded his entire body, which had previously felt completely numb. The sheer intensity of the pain made him shudder violently, splitting his lips and drawing blood.

"Ah, I forgot to mention. This secret ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠technique is going to hurt terribly. Indeed, it must."

Like a sudden flash of lightning, the pitch-black world flickered, and the surroundings slowly began to register in Yoo Jeong's vision. A wrinkled old woman was looking down at him, a broad, toothy grin spreading across her face.

"This is a technique that defies heaven to force a marrow-cleansing rebirth. Keep your wits about you, no matter how painful it gets. For you have become the very first subject of the legendary secret manual, the Sunflower Manual."