Chapter 18
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18
Lee Hyun had not spent all three hundred and thirty years wide awake.
Roughly once every fortnight, he made the rounds through his spirit fields. The rest of the time, he simply practiced the Primordial Unity One-Qi Art while lying down, drifting in a half-asleep haze.
To his own perception, barely a few decades had slipped by. Even so, it was an immense stretch of time, and Lee Hyun was growing thoroughly sick of living like a mole.
On top of that, now that his cultivation realm had hit a wall, there was no reason to stay cooped up inside Tunnel No. 1.
Maybe it’s time I head to the Cloud Capital. It’s been a while—perhaps I can find a way to break through to the Middle Stage of Qi Refining.
Before venturing out into the world, Lee Hyun decided to inspect his spirit fields one last time.
Lying completely flat on his back, his body glided effortlessly across the stone floor.
Swish, swish, swish—
He shot out of the cultivation chamber and darted straight down the corridor.
Whenever the passageway bent, Lee Hyun simply banked sideways without breaking his horizontal posture, skimming up the wall, sweeping across the ceiling, and leveling out back onto the floor on the other side.
By now, he had mastered the absurd trick of executing the Earth-Shrinking Step while maintaining the Reclining Escape Technique.
Burrowing through solid bedrock on his back was strange enough, but inside the cleared tunnels, he hovered an inch above the ground, gliding along like a wandering ghost.
First was spirit field No. 1-1.
A dense, hazy cloud of toxic pollen drifted around layers of overlapping ivory petals. Still lying flat, Lee Hyun drifted closer to inspect the interior of the Bone-Corroding Flowers.
Around a hundred and sixty years.
“Not bad at all.”
Channeling the Yang Metal Formula into his finger, Lee Hyun etched their current status onto a wooden plaque.
“Bone-Corroding Flowers: 117 stalks. Yin Soul Grass: 293 clumps. Purple Poison Orchids: 78 bulbs. Earth Vein Flowers: 54 clumps… The count has thinned out slightly, but the overall condition is prime. Average medicinal age: 164 years.”
From there, he drifted through fields No. 1-2 through No. 1-5 in succession.
“The spirit plants across the other four fields… Bone-Corroding Flowers: 465 stalks. Yin Soul Grass: 1,183 clumps. Purple Poison Orchids: 309 bulbs. Earth Vein Flowers: 225 clumps. Average medicinal age: 131 years…”
Next was spirit field No. 1-6.
The broad surface of the reservoir was blanketed in lush green lotus leaves.
Flowers bloomed here and there among the foliage, and where petals had already withered and fallen, seed pods dotted with honeycomb patterns hung heavy under their own weight.
Lee Hyun reached out and plucked the nearest pod.
Hard, round seeds were nestled inside every hollow.
He had harvested and eaten them before. The tender seeds had a cool, faintly sweet flavor; swallowing them cleared the mind and flushed the heat from his meridians.
They made remarkably good snacks. Over the centuries, Lee Hyun had munched on so many of them that he had felt even less inclined to venture out into the mortal realm.
“I don’t know what kind of growth rate professional spirit plant farmers get, but let’s call the medicinal age roughly 110 years.”
Finally, he arrived at spirit field No. 1-7, where three Rock Honey Peach trees stood like a miniature grove.
Because the cavern ceiling was so low, the trees could not grow tall. Instead, they had spread outward. Gnarled boughs and thick trunks snaked along the stone walls, their heavy leaves pulsing with faint, amber-colored veins.
Fist-sized peaches hung among the branches.
When the trees first began bearing fruit, all three combined yielded barely three or four a year. But as the roots deepened and matured over the centuries, the harvest had steadily grown. Now, more than twenty ripened every year.
Lee Hyun plucked a ripe peach and stripped the skin back.
Taking a bite of the translucent, honey-colored flesh, he felt it crunch crisply between his teeth. A rich sweetness burst over his tongue, followed by a surge of pure, refreshing water-attribute spiritual qi.
“Ahh…”
Eating it didn’t trigger any miraculous breakthrough, but it was delicious nonetheless. He jotted down the Rock Honey Peaches’ medicinal age as 110 years alongside the rest.
Having recorded the state of all seven spirit fields, Lee Hyun returned to his cultivation chamber and sank into thought.
Between the century-old Bone-Corroding Flowers, Yin Soul Grass, Purple Poison Orchids, and Earth Vein Flowers, he possessed more than 2,700 spiritual herbs. On top of that, he had a steady supply of Yin Water Lotus seed pods and Rock Honey Peaches.
The problem is, who can I sell these to, and for how much…?
Selling one or two century-old spiritual herbs wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. He could easily fabricate an excuse—claiming he had stumbled upon a forgotten spirit field deep in the mountains or the cave dwelling of an ancient cultivator. But if he repeatedly sold the exact same varieties, or tried to offload dozens at a time, anyone with a brain would get suspicious.
“Well, there’s no rush. It’s not like I’m hurting for spirit stones right now… and the longer I let them grow, the more valuable they’ll become anyway.”
Leaving the thought aside, Lee Hyun headed to the storehouse and retrieved the storage pouch he had kept ever since his days in Cheongha Valley.
The few Vitality-Nourishing Pills he once had were long gone, eaten out of sheer boredom centuries ago. Only a handful of rations from that era remained.
He uncorked a small porcelain vial, tipping out four Fasting Pills. After snacking on them sporadically across the centuries, these were the only ones left.
Examining them with the Qi-Observation Technique, he saw that more than half of their internal spiritual qi had already dissipated into thin air.
Lee Hyun tossed one into his mouth anyway.
They had never tasted particularly good to begin with, but with most of the qi bled dry, it felt like chewing on chalky medicinal powder without water.
Still, a faint warmth settled into his stomach once swallowed.
Reaching deeper into the storage pouch, he pulled out a small cloth sack.
Inside sat roughly one catty of Cheongha Rice.
The once-pristine, translucent grains hadn’t rotted, but a substantial amount of their spiritual qi had vanished over the passage of time.
He tied the sack shut and slipped it back inside.
Over the next few days, Lee Hyun busied himself tidying up Tunnel No. 1.
He filled the reservoirs across all seven spirit fields to the brim using Spiritual Rain Water, thoroughly checking every bronze pipe and bucket axle along the irrigation lines. He swapped out worn fittings for fresh spares and cleared out every scrap of silt and stone dust that had collected in the channels.
Four days later.
Lee Hyun walked down the western official highway leading toward the Cloud Capital.
Over the centuries, he had made occasional trips to nearby county seats to buy dried nuts, iron tools, paper, and books, but it had been ages since he had set foot near the imperial seat itself.
Even from a distance, the capital was almost unrecognizable.
The first thing that caught his eye was the outer wall.
A massive new rampart had been erected far to the west of the former West Gate, towering higher and thicker than the original fortifications ever had. Heavy watchtowers equipped with giant ballistas were stationed at regular intervals along the battlements.
Yet, despite the passage of several centuries, the Untaek Kingdom was still standing.
A long line of carts, merchants, and travelers stretched before the grand city gates. The armor worn by the inspecting guards looked entirely different from what Lee Hyun remembered, and mounted right above the archway was a massive bronze mirror that had never existed in the past.
Every time someone passed beneath the gate, a faint ripple of light washed over the surface of the mirror before fading away.
What’s that? Don’t tell me… a magical artifact? A mere mortal kingdom shouldn’t have access to high-tier treasures…
Quietly circulating both the Spirit-Concealment Technique and the Qi-Concealment Technique, Lee Hyun joined the line and walked through the archway. The bronze mirror’s light swept across him, but nothing happened. No alarm sounded, and none of the armored guards batted an eye.
Hmm. Nothing to worry about after all.
Stepping past the outer wall, he found the avenue lined shoulder-to-shoulder with bustling warehouses, crowded inns, and busy smithies.
The city had clearly swallowed up vast expanses of land that used to be simple rice paddies and commoners’ hovels. The roads were twice as wide as before, and sturdy stone bridges now spanned the waterways where rickety wooden planks once lay.
Lee Hyun flagged down a passerby, asked for directions, and headed toward the site of the old West Gate.
It took a long walk before the ancient wall finally came into view. Large sections of the historic stone had crumbled away, repurposed as boundary walls for a sprawling market, while the pavilion atop the old gate tower had been converted into a teahouse.
What had once been the quiet outskirts of the city had transformed into a bustling commercial district known simply as the “Old West Gate.”
Stalls selling wild herbs and mundane sundries were everywhere.
Lee Hyun strolled through the crowds, taking in the sights, when his steps suddenly froze.
Spread out over a frayed reed mat were several bundles of Water Root Grass.
Sitting behind the mat was a gaunt man who looked to be in his late fifties.
He bore an uncanny resemblance to Jang Pyeong, the rogue cultivator Lee Hyun had met over three hundred years ago.
As Lee Hyun stood there staring, the man glanced up.
“Can I help you, friend?”
“Might I ask your name…?”
“I am Jang Yu-san.”
“Ah. Forgive me.”
Lee Hyun lowered his head slightly, trying to mask his embarrassment.
“You looked so much like an old acquaintance that I mistook you for him.”
“Haha, is there any shortage of look-alikes under heaven?”
What are the odds…?
Lee Hyun hesitated for a second, then reached down and picked up a bundle of Water Root Grass from the mat.
“How much?”
“Four copper coins.”
“It’s gotten pricier than it used to be.”
“In times like these, what hasn’t gotten more expensive?”
“Fair point.”
Lee Hyun handed over the coppers and tucked the Water Root Grass into his storage pouch.
Seeing that he didn’t leave immediately after paying, Jang Yu-san looked him up and down with an appraising eye.
“First time visiting the Cloud Capital?”
“It has been a very long time.”
“Ah, then you must be a Fellow Daoist who’s been secluded in the deep mountains to cultivate.”
“That is indeed the case.”
“Judging by your aura, you seem to be at the 3rd layer of Qi Refining. Did you come to the capital to enlist with the Bureau of Heavenly Service?”
“The Bureau of Heavenly Service… still exists?”
Jang Yu-san gave him a look as though he had just spoken pure gibberish.
“‘Still exists’? If the Bureau of Heavenly Service vanished, who would keep the demonic beasts and the martial artists of the Heavenly Yang Kingdom at bay?”
Hearing that both the Untaek Kingdom and the Bureau of Heavenly Service were alive and well, Lee Hyun felt a quiet sense of relief wash over him.
“To tell the truth, I came to the Cloud Capital hoping to find a method to break through from the 3rd to the 4th layer of Qi Refining.”
“How long have you been stuck at the bottleneck?”
“About ten years.”
Jang Yu-san let out a dry, knowing chuckle.
“Still green behind the ears, then.”
“How long has it been for you, Fellow Daoist?”
“Forty-five years. I reached the 3rd layer when I was thirty-four, and I turned seventy-nine this winter. No need to do the math—it’s been exactly forty-five years.”
A strange sensation prickled at Lee Hyun’s mind. Not only did this man look identical to Jang Pyeong, but his exact predicament was a carbon copy of the man from three centuries ago.
“Is advancing from the 3rd to the 4th layer of Qi Refining truly that difficult?”
“Without a decent spirit vein or pills? Downright impossible.”
“Is a spirit vein truly a necessity?”
Jang Yu-san studied Lee Hyun’s face in silence for a moment, then patted a low wooden crate beside his mat.
“You really did spend your days hidden away from the world, didn’t you? Well, I don’t have any customers anyway, so have a seat.”
Lee Hyun sat down on the crate. Jang Yu-san took a bundle of Water Root Grass and casually brushed the dry dirt off its roots as he began to speak.
“Up to the 3rd layer of Qi Refining, even if Heaven-and-Earth spiritual qi is thin, anyone can crawl their way up so long as they pour enough years into it. However…”
Jang Yu-san cupped his left hand into an open circle, then used his right palm to mime pushing forcefully inward.
“To cross from the Early Stage to the Middle Stage of Qi Refining, the external qi pressure has to surpass a specific threshold to compress and refine your spiritual power into a higher grade. People like to say a Qi Refining cultivator’s spiritual power is like gas, while a Foundation Establishment master’s power is like water… but that’s just a rough metaphor. The truth is, even among Qi Refining cultivators, the purity and density of spiritual power vary considerably across stages.”
“So external qi pressure is the key. That’s why a spirit vein is necessary…”
“Exactly. Under normal circumstances, you’d want to attempt a breakthrough in an area backed by at least a Tier 1 high-grade Spirit Vein. In a place like that, the rich environmental spiritual qi naturally pushes its way into your meridians. But to be frank, pills are the true shortcut. The explosive pressure generated when a concentrated pill detonates within your dantian is vastly more violent than anything you can draw from an environmental vein. When pushing for the 4th layer of Qi Refining, most people consume a Barrier-Breaking Pill.”
“Can you guarantee a breakthrough with just a Barrier-Breaking Pill?”
Jang Yu-san snorted softly.
“If it were that easy, would I be sitting here in the dirt selling Water Root Grass? Success depends on your spiritual roots, your cultivation method, your age, and the state of your dantian. Plenty of people choke on pills right on top of a top-grade spirit vein and still fail. Even so, it’s a thousand times better than trying to punch through with bare hands.”
Lee Hyun paused in thought before asking, “Where can one acquire a Barrier-Breaking Pill?”
“You either buy the recipe and brew it yourself, or shell out a fortune at a cultivators’ market.”
“Isn’t alchemy strictly monopolized by great sects and prestigious clans?”
“Just what century did you crawl out of?”
Jang Yu-san shook his head, holding up a stalk of grass.
“Ever since primordial times, the world’s spiritual qi has been drying up. As the cultivation of artificial spirit fields flourished, the number of alchemists naturally surged alongside it. Nowadays, every single cultivation faction managing its own fields keeps resident alchemists on retainer. Hell, even the Bureau of Heavenly Service over there has its own recipes and pill masters.”
“The Bureau of Heavenly Service does? Could someone like me join and learn the recipe for the Barrier-Breaking Pill and the basics of alchemy?”
“Learning it isn’t the hard part. These days, two out of every three rogue cultivators try their hand at alchemy, and half of them end up quitting once they’ve burned through every spirit stone they own.”
“Could it be that you were once part of the Bureau as well, Fellow Daoist?”
“I was.”
“Then couldn’t you have concocted a Barrier-Breaking Pill yourself?”
“I thought the exact same thing when I was young.”
Jang Yu-san gave a bitter smile, his hand unconsciously drifting to rub his lower flank.
“I served as an External Retainer for the Bureau of Heavenly Service for seventeen years. I hunted demonic beasts, guarded spirit herb convoys, and hunted martial artists from the Heavenly Yang Kingdom.”
“An External Retainer? Are they not called Guest Retainers?”
This time, Jang Yu-san looked genuinely bewildered.
“Where on earth did you dig up that term?”
“I read it in an old record.”
“That term is ancient history. The Guest Retainer system was scrapped more than sixty years ago.”
“Why was it abolished?”
“A massive war broke out against the Heavenly Yang Kingdom. The Bureau issued an emergency draft for all its Guest Retainers, but the vast majority vanished overnight. They gladly took the prestige and perks of the Bureau during peaceful times, only to run like cowards the second blood spilled. And because Guest Retainers originally had the freedom to accept or reject missions as they pleased, the imperial court had no legal standing to hunt them down.”
After that disaster, the royal court of Untaek overhauled the entire structure. Every Qi Refining rogue cultivator who accepted backing or resources from the Bureau was formally bound to an official registry.
Currently, retainers were divided into four distinct classes: Resident Retainers, External Retainers, Battlefield Retainers, and Artisan Retainers.
Resident Retainers lived within official compounds and drew regular stipends, but they were bound to absolute obedience. External Retainers enjoyed daily freedom and took missions at their leisure, but they were legally required to clear a strict quota of assignments within a given year.
Battlefield Retainers were deployed straight to the southern front to clash against Heavenly Yang martial artists, while Artisan Retainers supported the Bureau through logistical crafts like alchemy, talisman forging, array construction, and medicine.
“Did you earn merit points as an External Retainer to study alchemy, then?”
“I did. But knowing how to make pills and actually succeeding are two completely different beasts.”
Jang Yu-san held up his right hand. The tips of two fingers were shriveled and blackened, bearing the ugly scars of an alchemical fire backfire.
“I studied under the Artisan Retainers, only to realize I didn’t possess an ounce of talent for the craft. In the end, rather than throwing my remaining merits into a cauldron and a recipe, I pooled everything together to purchase a finished Barrier-Breaking Pill. I swallowed it… and failed anyway.”
He sighed, his voice heavy with resignation.
“After that, I didn’t have the spirit stones to gather another batch of herbs, nor did I have the stomach to keep risking my life on high-risk missions. Once a Heavenly Yang blade took a chunk out of my side, I quietly handed in my Retainer Token.”
“If you were an External Retainer, couldn’t you have simply chosen safer missions?”
“Safe missions pay dog shit for merit points—barely enough to buy scrap, let alone breakthrough pills. Besides, I don’t have much of a mortal lifespan left anyway. Why throw away my last years gambling on an impossible dream?”
Listening to Jang Yu-san’s story, Lee Hyun sank into silent calculation.
The man sitting before him lacked herbs, lacked spirit stones, and lacked time. But Lee Hyun had all three in abundance.
Still, simply buying a few Barrier-Breaking Pills wouldn’t solve his core problem.
An ordinary cultivator at the 3rd layer of Qi Refining condensed their spiritual power solely within their dantian. But Lee Hyun’s Primordial Unity True Qi thoroughly saturated every muscle, bone, and meridian in his body.
If an ordinary cultivator needs one Barrier-Breaking Pill to force open the bottleneck, how many would I need?
Buying dozens of times more pills than an average rogue cultivator would be no different from shouting to the world that he was sitting on an endless mountain of wealth. In the brutal realm of cultivation, drawing that kind of attention was an invitation to be slaughtered.
And even if he managed to buy enough pills to breach the 4th layer, what about the bottleneck to the 7th layer? What about the terrifying barrier to Foundation Establishment?
Would he have to buy dozens of Foundation Establishment Pills? And once he reached the 3rd layer of Foundation Establishment, would he have to scour the realm for terrifying quantities of Tier 2 pills just to reach the 4th?
It seems… I truly have no choice but to learn alchemy myself. Even if it takes decades or centuries to master, I can provide all the ingredients from my own tunnels…
Steeling his thoughts, Lee Hyun changed the subject.
“Is the war with the Heavenly Yang Kingdom still ongoing?”
Jang Yu-san’s face darkened.
“The feud between Untaek and Heavenly Yang has burned for centuries, but over the last thirty years, their momentum has been terrifying. Untaek managed to hold them off for generations using our vast rivers, wetlands, and the sheer grit of the Bureau’s retainers, but that balance has completely unraveled lately.”
“Have they breached deep into our territory?”
“Twenty years ago, Azure Conch Pass fell. Seven years ago, Baeksu City was sacked. Just last year, even the Heukam Mine fell into their hands. The nation isn’t on the brink of total collapse just yet, but unlike before, we can’t seem to reclaim an inch of what we lose. That’s why the Bureau is so desperate to recruit any stray Qi Refining cultivator they can find.”
“I understand. Thank you for your guidance, Fellow Daoist.”
Lee Hyun prepared to stand, but his gaze fell upon Jang Yu-san’s weathered face once more.
No matter how I look at him, the resemblance is uncanny…
“By the way, Fellow Daoist Jang… would there happen to be someone named Jang Pyeong among your ancestors?”
Jang Yu-san’s eyes went wide with shock.
“How could you possibly know that?”
He stared at Lee Hyun, stunned.
“My eighth-generation ancestor was named Jang Pyeong. Family lore says that he, too, spent his entire life trapped at the 3rd layer of Qi Refining.”
Lee Hyun stood frozen, momentarily struck completely speechless.
Seeing his bizarre reaction, Jang Yu-san tilted his head. “What is it? Why do you look so shocked?”
“I… happened to see the name Jang Pyeong recorded in an old journal left behind by my ancestor.”
“Your ancestor?”
“A very long time ago, an ancestor of my clan received a small favor from a rogue cultivator named Jang Pyeong to the west of Cloud Capital,” Lee Hyun said smoothly. “According to the records, the man kindly took the time to explain the state of the surrounding cultivation world. My ancestor was deeply grateful, noting down that if their paths ever crossed again, he would gift him some Cheongha Rice.”
“What is Cheongha Rice?”
“It is a variety of spirit rice. Please, accept this as the belated fulfillment of my ancestor’s wish.”
Lee Hyun reached into his storage pouch, withdrew a small cloth pouch, and handed it to Jang Yu-san.
“The spiritual qi inside has dissipated somewhat over the years, but…”
Jang Yu-san took the pouch and untied the drawstring. Drawing in a light breath of the grain’s subtle aroma, an uncontainable grin broke across his weathered face.
“Thank you! Thank you so much! To think such a stroke of fortune could happen in one’s lifetime… It is rare indeed for a rogue cultivator in the Qi Refining realm to cultivate spirit rice.” Jang Yu-san poured a few slender grains of Cheongha Rice onto his palm, gazing at them in quiet wonder.
“I did not grow it myself,” Lee Hyun replied with a faint smile. “In any case, could you tell me where the Bureau of Heavenly Service is located?”
“Head east from here for about a hundred li. Keep your eyes peeled for tall compound walls capped with blue-glazed tiles. You cannot miss it.”
“Thank you for your guidance.”
After bidding Jang Yu-san farewell, Lee Hyun set off toward the Bureau of Heavenly Service.
As he left the Old West Gate behind and made his way deeper east, the surrounding cityscape transformed rapidly. The chaotic sprawl of roadside stalls, bustling taverns, and narrow dirt tracks gradually thinned out, replaced by orderly administrative compounds and sprawling, high-walled estates.
Cloud Capital was divided into three distinct zones: the outer city, the middle city, and the inner city. The expansive outer perimeter embraced vast swaths of land that, centuries ago, had been outlying villages and rustic manors. The ancient wall that had once guarded the original boundary now served as an internal rampart separating the middle sectors from the outer city, while the inner city itself—centered around the majestic royal palace—lay far deeper within.
Before long, a towering gate leading into the inner city loomed before him. Heavily armored soldiers stood in rigid formation, their halberds gleaming beneath the sky. To the left and right of the archway crouched massive stone beasts several times the height of an ordinary man, while a massive drum and an ancient bronze bell stood watch from the pavilion atop the wall, overlooking the heart of the capital.
The guards diligently scrutinized the transit tokens of every traveler in line. When Lee Hyun’s turn arrived, a spear-wielding soldier measured him with a sharp, sweeping glance.
“Present your transit token.”
“I am a cultivator bound for the Bureau of Heavenly Service,” Lee Hyun replied evenly.
The soldier’s expression shifted, his rigid posture slackening slightly. He exchanged a quick glance with a junior military officer standing nearby. After taking in Lee Hyun’s plain attire and empty belt, the officer stepped forward.
“Manifest a wisp of your spiritual power.”
Lee Hyun willed a faint trace of spiritual light to blossom at the tip of his finger. The officer immediately drew a small bronze token from his waist and held it close to the faint luminescence. As the spiritual light touched the metal, intricate azure patterns rippled across the bronze surface.
The officer gave an approving nod. “Your identity as a cultivator is confirmed. However, as you have not yet been issued a Retainer Token from the Bureau of Heavenly Service, you are strictly forbidden from deviating from the central avenue.”
“Understood.”
Once through the massive gate, the clamor and grit of the outer districts vanished completely, as if severed by an invisible barrier.
Though the central boulevard was several times wider than any road in the outer city, pedestrian traffic was remarkably sparse. Broad enough for six carriages to gallop abreast, the avenue was paved with thick blue flagstones, bordered on both sides by deep stone drainage channels.
There were no peddlers hawking trinkets, nor did tavern hands holler from open doors. Instead, boundary walls rising over twenty feet high stretched on in an unbroken procession, interspersed with heavy, imposing gates. Elegant plaques bearing gilded calligraphy against black lacquer hung beneath the eaves of several manor entrances, while spear-wielding private guards and silk-robed doorkeepers stood sentinel before the nobility’s residences.
Everything here—from the number of bronze studs hammered into the gates and the sculpted beasts guarding roof corners to the color of the silk tassels swaying from passing carriages—was strictly dictated by the rank and noble standing of the estate’s master.
A crimson carriage drawn by six snow-white stallions rolled past, prompting the low-ranking officials walking along the street to bow in haste. A long retinue trailed in the carriage’s wake: attendants wearing jade waist tokens and elite escorts clad in gleaming scale armor. In a side lane, officials robed in deep azure dismounted from ornate palanquins and disappeared behind the crimson walls of government ministries.
Their black official caps and the silver-threaded wave insignias embroidered across their chests drew Lee Hyun’s gaze. The number of cresting waves sewn into the fabric appeared to denote their specific bureaucratic rank.
So this is the true inner city.
It was, in essence, merely a settlement for the mortals of the secular realm.
Yet, despite that fact, a subtle pressure weighed upon the air. The absolute authority and rigid laws of a dynasty that had stood unbroken for centuries saturated every paved stone, every fortress wall, and every fluttering standard.
Naturally, had Lee Hyun wished it, butchering the dozens of mortal soldiers standing before him and vaulting the city walls would be trivial. But within the heart of this capital resided thousands of martial artists, seasoned imperial officers, and hidden masters—and backing them were the formidable Cultivator Retainers of the Bureau of Heavenly Service, as well as the colossal might of the Untaek Kingdom itself.
Possessing a bit of personal strength was hardly an excuse to cast aside caution in such a place.
Lee Hyun kept walking eastward, occasionally asking for directions along the way.
Before long, an expansive avenue flanked by endless red walls opened up before him. This was the district where members of the royal family and high nobility kept their residences. Beginning from their front gates, the compounds were far grander than those of ordinary ministers. Vibrant glazed tiles shimmered upon the sloping rooftops, and rows of mythical guardian figurines sat perched upon every ridge.
Suddenly, a piercing shout tore through the tranquil street.
“Clear the path! The procession of the Hoereung Royal House approaches!”
At the herald’s command, the people traversing the avenue immediately parted, retreating to both sides of the thoroughfare. Servants and visiting commoners dropped to their knees upon the flagstones, while civil officials tucked their hands into their long sleeves and bent deeply at the waist.
Following the crowd’s movement, Lee Hyun quietly stepped to the edge of the stone road.
In the distance, an enormous carriage drawn by four coal-black steeds rolled forward. The carriage was adorned in deep crimson lacquer and traced with silver motifs of billowing clouds and waves. Small bells fashioned from pale jade hung from the four corners of its roof, clinking softly with every step of the horses. Sixteen mounted spearmen in polished breastplates flanked the carriage in disciplined formation, their eyes scanning the surroundings.
An official from the Hoereung Royal House overseeing the vanguard suddenly caught sight of something and raised a hand.
“Halt!”
The warhorses snorted and stamped their hooves, bringing the entire retinue to a measured stop.
The middle-aged official dismounted from his saddle, straightened his robes, and walked directly toward Lee Hyun.