The Dream Illusion Flower's Piercing Doubts
The senses of the Dream Illusion Flower flashed like lightning, and the situation veered into unknown territory.
“How dare you play word games with me?”
Nangong Bi-yeon's voice turned icy cold. It was only natural. What Jegal Cheongha had just said rang like a blatant provocation, tantamount to picking a fight. Considering the hierarchies of the murim world, it was utterly absurd. Was there any young expert who could hurl such words at the Nangong family's Galaxy Sword?
Yet here she was. And she went even further.
“I'm not playing games. I'm simply stating the facts.”
Her retort came sharp and unyielding, refusing to yield an inch even against the world's renowned Galaxy Sword. It felt dignified, to be sure—but at the same time, insufferably arrogant. That was why Gok Wi-gang, who had slyly retreated, turned pale as a ghost.
“L-L-Lady Jegal, w-w-why are you d-d-doing this? P-P-Please, just stop.”
Gok Wi-gang stammered frantically in his panic, desperately trying to rein her in. He even grabbed at the hem of the highborn lady's sleeve—something he'd never dare in normal times.
He wasn't the only one flustered. Nangong Ji was rattled too. An unseemly commotion at his stern father's funeral? It was inevitable.
“G-Great-aunt, please calm down.”
Nangong Ji tried to soothe Nangong Bi-yeon. But she had no intention of backing down. She meant to deliver a stern lesson to this insolent junior daring to act out in such an inauspicious place.
Hmph, as if... Huh?
But in that instant, Nangong Bi-yeon's mind flooded with the conviction that Nangong Ji was right and she had to heed him. Naturally, it was the hypnosis implanting the suggestion.
Young master's words are so very true. For an elder like me to lose my temper with a mere youth... it would be shameful.
The terrifying power of Jang Il's ability lay in how, unlike crude soul-seizing sorcery, it conjured plausible reasons on its own, making the victim accept it as natural. Just like now.
Having convinced herself with her own fabricated logic, Nangong Bi-yeon quelled her anger and stepped back.
“Very well.”
Gok Wi-gang's face lit up with relief. But then—
Jegal Cheongha's strange eyes flickered briefly, as if sensing some subtle incongruity.
The Galaxy Sword backs down at a single word from Young Master Nangong Ji?
It was odd. Utterly at odds with Nangong Ji's known position in the family—both in the world's eyes and her own. The successor was effectively the second son, Nangong Hyeon. Everyone knew that. And that the eldest, Nangong Ji, had been thoroughly sidelined and ignored.
Yet...
Young Master Nangong Ji wields that much influence with one word?
This couldn't be coincidence. Jegal Cheongha didn't believe in such things. Every phenomenon had a cause.
And that cause was...
Young Master Nangong Ji hasn't been completely pushed aside, contrary to public knowledge.
She was certain. He clearly held some firm position within the family still. Fresh, valuable intelligence—hard to come by—updated in her mind.
“It seems I've shown a lapse in judgment.”
Jegal Cheongha stepped back as well. But only to shift the mood; she had no intention of leaving just yet.
Pulling info from the Nangong people directly would be futile anyway.
No one but a fool would leak such matters to an outsider. It didn't matter. She'd planned another approach from the start.
“May I make a small request?”
“Speak.”
Nangong Ji replied despite his sour expression. The other party was the second daughter of the Jegal family, who had come to pay respects. He couldn't coldly rebuff the beloved child of the Heaven Machine, leader of the righteous sects' intelligence.
“I'd like to offer a few more bows for the departed's peace.”
Thankfully, it wasn't a demanding ask. Hard to refuse someone openly praying for the soul. Nangong Ji nodded.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Jegal Cheongha returned to the spirit tablet and began bowing again. But this time, it was markedly different. She kept her forehead pressed deep to the floor, refusing to rise for a long while.
What the hell is she doing?
Nangong Ji tilted his head in bewilderment. He'd never heard of such a bow.
Nangong Bi-yeon watched with incredulity too. Yet neither spoke up. Interrupting a mourner's bows was blatant rudeness.
Meanwhile, Jegal Cheongha focused every sense on one: smell. Inhaling the faint odors wafting from the coffin.
No matter how thoroughly the body was washed with scented bathwater before enshrouding, not every trace could be masked.
But she wasn't seeking the usual corpse stench. Something else. That something would reveal the truth of the family head's death.
She breathed deeply through her nose, drawing in the scents.
This is...
A faint, alien fragrance at last. One impossible in a natural death.
But so subtle—even she couldn't be certain.
Still...
She'd found the clue. Definitely.
Poison?
Not certain. But undeniable either. The possibility of murder.
And if murder, then...
Poisoning someone of the Nangong family head's caliber is exceedingly difficult.
Status, martial prowess, guards—they formed an impenetrable wall for any assassin.
Who could breach it?
Which meant...
From within?
Jegal Cheongha's eyes gleamed with an eerie light. If the killer was inside, it explained everything. Phenomena always had reasons.
In this case, who gained most from the family head's death?
The family head hadn't named a successor yet. But he'd soon choose the second son, Young Master Nangong Hyeon.
Who would never want that?
One person, clearly.
Young Master Nangong Ji.
Her eyes narrowed. Once a successor was named, it was over. Regardless of his current foothold, he'd never dream of the next patriarch's seat again.
If he'd taken desperate measures to prevent it...
The possibility... is definitely there.
Jegal Cheongha finally rose. Of course, it was just a possibility for now. But she'd discuss it with her father. The world's wisest man might find answers.
“Was there some issue?”
Nangong Ji voiced his doubt at the prolonged bow.
“No, just silent prayer.”
“Hm. I see.”
Not fully convinced, but Nangong Ji let it slide. No need to pry.
“Then I'll take my leave.”
Jegal Cheongha offered her farewell. Nothing more to learn here.
“The modest funeral wine is all we can offer amid the chaos—please have a cup before you go.”
“I will.”
Jegal Cheongha exited with Gok Wi-gang. Other mourners waited outside the hall.
That was when her eyes flickered with subtle light again, spotting something.
“This way, please.”
“Yes.”
A veiled mourner brushed past. Jegal Cheongha stood motionless even after.
“What are you doing, Lady Jegal?”
“Hero Gok.”
“Yes?”
“Wait over there.”
“For whom...?”
Gok Wi-gang's eyes bulged in confusion.
“Someone on the list—and their associate.”
“Might we have a brief word?”
The veiled woman turned at the voice. There stood Jegal Cheongha and Gok Wi-gang.
“I'm Jegal Cheongha of the Jegal family. And this is Hero Gok Wi-gang of the Murim Alliance.”
“Ah, I've heard your esteemed names. It's an honor.”
The woman's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“You're Lady Hwang Bo of the Golden Dragon Battlefield, aren't you?”
“Yes, that's me—Hwang Bo-seol.”
The veiled woman—no, Hwang Bo-seol—nodded. She'd come in place of her husband, the fortress lord Bang So-un. Coincidentally, right after Jegal Cheongha.
“My eyes didn't deceive me, then.”
Jegal Cheongha stared piercingly at the face hidden by the veil. Not even that could fool her keen sight. Though Hwang Bo-seol's innate aura of absolute beauty helped too.
“But where is the fortress lord?”
A wife should have her husband by her side, like thread and needle. Yet she was alone.
“My lord is bedridden...”
Hwang Bo-seol's voice sank. Hardly the truth. Bang So-un was hale and hearty in some Anhui corner, indulging in wine and women. Just the excuse he'd fed her for public eyes.
“Bedridden. I see.”
Jegal Cheongha's eyes glinted faintly. Far from acceptance. The expression passed too lightly and swiftly for others to catch.
“And what of a man named Jang Il?”
Jang Il. Also on the list. Bang So-un's bodyguard.
“Martial Brother Jang guards my lord constantly, never leaving his side.”
“So he's there now too.”
“Of course.”
Impertinent prying, by all appearances. But this time, Gok Wi-gang didn't intervene. The exchange was over.
Nothing suspicious at all— what is Lady Jegal even checking for?
He inwardly clicked his tongue. Baffling behavior.
“Understood.”
To his surprise, Jegal Cheongha nodded readily and withdrew.
“Thank you for your time. Until next time.”
“Ah... yes. See you then.”
After Hwang Bo-seol departed with her farewell, Gok Wi-gang immediately asked.
“What exactly did you confirm?”
“Do you think that was the truth?”
Her counterquestion.
“Pardon? You think she lied on purpose?”
Gok Wi-gang gawked incredulously.
“Too natural.”
“Huh?”
“No agitation from a stranger's questions—as there should be.”
“Well, people vary...”
“She was perfectly prepared. Why go to such lengths?”
“What?”
Gok Wi-gang remained baffled.
“Let's move. We need to verify directly.”
“Where to?”
“Hangzhou. Golden Dragon Battlefield.”
“Pardon?”
His eyes widened.
“So you're checking if that story holds—bedridden or not?”
“Exactly.”
“But how do you verify someone who's supposedly ill?”
“There's always a way.”
Jegal Cheongha strode off without pause.
“W-Wait, Lady Jegal! I'm coming too!”
“Sister Su-rin.”
“Yes, Deputy Leader.”
“Urgent. Relay my words to the fortress lord at once.”
“What message?”
“That the Dream Illusion Flower at the Nangong family asked about him and Martial Brother Jang.”
“Understood.”
“And that something feels off.”
“Yes, then.”
Yeon Su-rin vanished in a blur of motion.