[No Title Provided]

Han Bin narrowed his eyes at the writing on the table.

"So, the public script I knew had that kind of meaning?"

Han Bin furrowed his brow.

In that case, Gong Son-su's explanation that it was a scholarly faction of the Confucian school was correct.

"Hm, as expected, you look skeptical."

Gong Son-su nodded with an expression that said he'd anticipated this.

After that, Gong Son-su continued with a few more explanations about the public script and the Gong Son family.

Once he'd finished, Han Bin spoke up.

"Yes, thank you for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠explanation."

"That's all the stories I can share. The rest is up to your own abilities."

"My abilities, huh…"

"The ability to unravel the riddle of that mural. In truth, my grandson and I have spent nearly a decade obsessing over solving it."

"A decade, you say?"

Han Bin glanced back and forth between Gong Son-su and Gong Son Myeonghu.

Meeting his gaze, they quietly nodded.

His suspicions had been spot on.

These men were scholars at heart.

The moment they'd laid eyes on that mural, they wouldn't have been able to contain their curiosity.

Could he really solve a riddle that even a great scholar like Gong Son-su hadn't cracked after nearly ten years?

Moreover, he'd touched the mural, but there were no traces left of the Yongrin Sword Art.

Noticing Han Bin's grave expression, Gong Son-su waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't misunderstand. It was just that if the owner appeared, we'd hand it over without fuss. It wasn't out of greed for the mural itself."

"I didn't misunderstand. I was just wondering if I could uncover the mural's secret or not. Do you really think I can solve a mystery that even a great scholar like you couldn't crack in nearly ten years?"

"I believe in you. And don't we still have plenty of time ahead?"

"Well, that's true enough."

Han Bin gave an awkward smile.

It was a lie.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time left for him and them was less than a month.

The plague attacks that would soon follow.

And Jangun-hyeon would become a lawless zone.

Yet they expected him to leisurely study the mural?

Han Bin crossed his arms and alternated his gaze between the mural and Gong Son-su.

After a long moment of contemplation, Han Bin spoke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as if he'd made up his mind.

"You want me to uncover the secret of that mural, right, sir?"

"Less that I want it, and more that the mural itself belongs to you."

"So, it's mine by right of ownership?"

"I've said it several times already—yes, it's yours."

"Then, could you step aside for a bit?"

At Han Bin's sudden request, Gong Son-su eyed him up and down and asked in a whispery tone.

"Ahem, mind if I ask why?"

"Well, if you don't trust me, you can watch. But it'd be better if you stayed a bit farther back."

Han Bin looked at Gong Son-su with the most amiable expression he'd ever worn.

Gong Son-su felt a chill run down his spine at that overly friendly face, a deep unease settling into his bones.

"Hm."

Gong Son-su cleared his throat and stroked his beard, then tugged at his grandson Gong Son Myeonghu's sleeve and quietly moved toward the study door.

At that, Han Bin stood, faced the mural, and recalled one stance of the Yongrin Sword Art.

'Jinyong Pahon Geom.'

The mind attribute on the floating manual rapidly decreased.

At the same time, a clear energy coursed through his meridians and flowed into his arms and hands.

Simultaneously, Han Bin slowly drew Wol-a.

Then he grinned brightly at the mural.

With a smiling face, Han Bin etched what might be the mural's final moments into his mind.

His plan was simple.

If I can't have the rice cake, no one else should either.

It was a resolution he'd made upon entering Jangun-hyeon.

But meeting Gong Son-su had shaken him a little.

It stemmed from greed over the great opportunity hidden in the mural and the fact that it was his.

Greed always led to mistakes.

As those thoughts crossed his mind, Wol-a hummed and trembled.

Wooong.

Wooong.

As the sword's cry grew louder, a sword aura like a full moon formed at Wol-a's tip.

From behind, Gong Son-su's mouth slowly fell open as he watched Han Bin.

"Myeonghu, look over there. Am I seeing this wrong?"

"N-no, Grandfather. I can't believe the Fourth Young Master's martial prowess is at that level. It's beyond what I can even aspire to at my Peak realm."

"Myeonghu."

"Yes, Grandfather."

"Do you happen to know why that young man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is gathering his energy like that?"

"Of course…"

Gong Son Myeonghu trailed off.

Han Bin was aiming Wol-a at the mural they'd cherished and guarded for nearly a decade.

Realizing this, Gong Son Myeonghu instinctively rushed toward Han Bin's back.

He had no intent to attack.

He just wanted to stop him.

It was a mural given to Han Bin, but how could it be just any painting?

After Grandfather Gong Son-su retired to the countryside, he'd devoted everything to protecting it.

Gong Son Myeonghu had poured his soul into guarding Wabul and the mural alongside him, unable to even play outside like other children.

Yet now, the fourth young master of Hebei Paeng Family, whom he'd just met today, was about to destroy their precious mural.

Gong Son Myeonghu couldn't stand by and watch.

Stepping with Muyeongbo, he appeared behind Han Bin in an instant.

At that moment, Grandfather Gong Son-su's voice came from behind.

"Myeonghu, stop."

But it didn't reach Gong Son Myeonghu's ears.

Gong Son Myeonghu reached out to grab Han Bin's shoulder.

That was when it happened.

A massive wave of energy erupted from in front of Han Bin.

The energy engulfed the wall, producing a tremendous explosion.

Bang!

Rumble-rumble!

With the sound, a colossal force slammed into Gong Son Myeonghu.

It was the aftermath of Jinyong Pahon Geom.

It was far too much for a Peak realm expert like Gong Son Myeonghu to withstand.

Colliding with the immense power, Gong Son Myeonghu was hurled backward.

Bam!

Gong Son Myeonghu flew through the air like a leaf in the wind.

Startled by the sight, Gong Son-su swiftly dashed over.

His Muyeongbo was even more refined than his grandson's.

Gong Son-su caught Gong Son Myeonghu just before he hit the ground.

Thud!

Gong Son-su carefully laid his grandson on the floor.

Han Bin ignored the commotion behind him and stared at the mural.

As the thick dust slowly settled, he narrowed his eyes.

If the wall had been destroyed, the outside should have been visible through the empty space, but instead, a strange void appeared.

Han Bin swiftly slipped into the secret space using Gugeol Ship-pal-bo.

There was a fist-sized wooden box and a single scroll.

Han Bin quickly tucked the wooden box into his bosom.

Even if Gong Son-su acknowledged it as his, he couldn't share everything.

Opportunities and treasures were all the better the fewer people knew about them.

As Han Bin pocketed the box and picked up the scroll…

A coughing sound came from behind.

"Cough, cough."

Han Bin quietly turned his head.

Gong Son-su stood there, hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Han Bin approached him with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, sir. To be honest, I figured you'd try to stop me, so I just went ahead with it."

"No need to apologize. If you'd been upfront, I would've stopped you a hundred times over."

Han Bin nodded quietly at his frank response and handed the scroll to Gong Son-su.

Gong Son-su reflexively took it and urgently protested.

"No, this all belongs to you."

"Even if it's mine, aren't you curious about what this scroll says? Please check it, sir."

"Hm, in that case, I'll take a look."

Gong Son-su unrolled the scroll.

His eyes widened enormously as he read it.

From the side, Gong Son Myeonghu—who'd apparently come to—asked frantically.

"Grandfather, what is it? What's written there to shock you like this? Is it some heavenly secret?"

"See for yourself."

Gong Son-su unfurled the scroll with a dazed expression.

Shhrrk.

Gong Son Myeonghu's mouth fell open at the scroll, spread out like unbound hair.

Of course, Han Bin had to gape at its contents too.

It was an incredibly concise sentence.

This was undoubtedly a message for Gong Son-su, not him.

Han Bin quietly turned his head.

He understood Gong Son-su's feelings now.

After waiting a decade for this moment, the message left behind was just this?

Han Bin couldn't comprehend it.

What kind of person was this master of his?

He was genuinely curious now.

At that moment, Gong Son-su patted Han Bin's shoulder.

Han Bin turned, and Gong Son-su weakly offered the scroll.

"Here."

"No, this seems to be yours, sir."

"No, it's rightfully yours. Master said to pass everything in the mural to the successor."

"In that case, I'll take it."

"Thank you. Now, thanks to you, I can finally rest. It seems it's time to leave this place."

"You're leaving Jangun-hyeon?"

"Yes. I'll spend my remaining years raising the next generation somewhere farther from Beijing."

"By 'next generation,' do you mean Confucian scholars? Or heirs to the public script?"

"Myeonghu will carry on the public script, so I'll spread the words of the alliance. Haha."

Gong Son-su laughed heartily, like a sage who had attained enlightenment.

Han Bin nodded in agreement.

Who could be more suited to Confucius and Mencius's teachings than Gong Son-su?

If he set his mind to it, his disciples might even dominate the imperial court someday.

Han Bin devours the martial world, while Gong Son-su conquers the scholarly one?

Imagining the distant future, Han Bin tilted his head.

"Sir, may I ask one thing?"

"Go ahead. The only secrets I wouldn't share with you are those of the imperial house."

"It's nothing major. Why didn't you use Muyeongsu?"

It was a natural question.

Gong Son Myeonghu and Gong Son-su had clearly demonstrated the public script's secret art, Muyeongbo.

But the technique they'd used to retrieve the item from Han Bin's bosom wasn't Muyeongsu.

According to the legends, the public script's Muyeongsu consisted of a golden claw for snatching objects and a palm technique for subduing foes.

The move Gong Son-su had shown bore more resemblance to Wudang techniques than the public script's.

Gong Son-su nodded at Han Bin's question.

"Your eyes are sharp. Muyeongsu vanished in my generation."

"Hm, that's a shame."

Han Bin looked at him with regret before shifting his gaze to the scroll.

Ten years of guarding it, only to be dismissed with a single "well done"?

This wasn't the way of the jianghu.

Han Bin hurriedly unrolled the scroll on the floor, closed his eyes, touched it, and heightened his senses.

How long did he examine it?

The Yongrin Sword Art manual reacted.

Han Bin quietly opened his eyes and nodded.

This phrasing differed from previous ones.

"Transmission" was a new term too.

It surely wasn't just about passing on a stance.

At the same time, a sheet of paper unfolded beside the Yongrin Sword Art manual.

It was clearly the transmission of the Yongrin Sword Art.

Han Bin's eyes widened as he read on.