In the Palm of His Hand
“So...” Woon-hyeon pointed toward the tiger sprawled motionless behind Gwi-young. “What do you intend to do with that?”
Gwi-young turned to look at the beast. Rather, he looked upon a massive spiritual creature.
A spiritual creature was an entity that had lived for centuries, gathering the world’s natural spiritual energy through some fortuitous turn of fate. Imbued with such essence, a crystallization of spiritual energy formed within its flesh—a spirit core. Depending on the years the creature had survived and the depth of power it had accumulated, the internal energy contained within varied drastically. Yet the tiger spirit Gwi-young had felled moments ago was a humble beast possessing little significant essence.
“If you have no intention of taking it, would you mind yielding it to this child?”
Gwi-young gazed intently at Yeon-woo. Utterly oblivious to the situation, Yeon-woo merely tilted her head in confusion, her face practically reading: Who is that?
Gwi-young gave a brief nod.
“Thank you.”
Before Woon-hyeon could even finish his polite thanks, Gwi-young’s figure vanished without a trace. Having fulfilled his immediate purpose, he had melted back into the shadows.
“We have obtained a fine reagent for cultivating mental techniques,” Woon-hyeon murmured with a gentle chuckle. He drew a blade, slit open the tiger’s chest, and carefully extracted the spirit core.
Yeon-woo watched him with round, curious eyes.
“Grandpa.”
“Hmm?”
“...”
“What is the matter, child?” Stowing the spirit core, Woon-hyeon rose to his feet and looked down at her.
Yeon-woo blinked slowly.
“Yeon-woo wants to go home.”
“Oh?” Woon-hyeon tilted his head back toward the sky. The sun had not yet begun its descent, and daylight bathed the mountain slopes. It was far too early to conclude the day’s training, but after a moment’s thought, he relented.
“...Very well. You endured much today, so let us return. Once we are back, I will use this to guide your qi. It shall be of immense help to you.” Woon-hyeon offered a warm, crinkled smile and lightly jingled the pouch carrying the spirit core.
Ssssshh—
The faint azure luminescence enveloping the young girl gradually subsided, and Woon-hyeon opened his eyes. Resting his palm lightly against her lower abdomen, over her dantian, he sensed a minute yet distinct trace of cultivation that asserted its presence with stubborn clarity—a tiny, precious seed of internal power.
Is this the best that can be achieved for now?
The power Woon-hyeon had channeled into Yeon-woo was drawn from the spirit core acquired that afternoon, paired with the residual medicinal efficacy of the Azure Cloud Grass she had given him some time ago.
In truth, Woon-hyeon had never consumed the legendary herb. Rather, the need to do so had vanished entirely. Following their clash, the miraculous pill that the Dark Shadow Demon Lord had forced down his throat rendered the Azure Cloud Grass redundant. Though consuming it might have accelerated his recovery by a fraction, Woon-hyeon had preserved the priceless spirit grass for Yeon-woo’s future.
And so, on this night, he had administered both the herb and the core, pressed her slumber acupoints to grant her peaceful rest, and diligently guided her circulation until the volatile energies completely settled.
With this, the moment her dantian takes full form will arrive much sooner. Provided, of course, that Yeon-woo could tenderly water this small seed and coax it into sprout before it withered away.
“Still, you are truly admirable.” Woon-hyeon stroked Yeon-woo’s hair as she slept with soft, even breaths. His gaze overflowed with poignant tenderness, looking upon her just as any grandfather would look upon his beloved granddaughter. “To think you would try your absolute best like this, when you hated martial arts so.”
To be honest, it was remarkably unexpected. Though she had declared her desire to learn martial arts of her own accord, he had fully anticipated that she would give up after a few bouts of grueling, exhausting drills. He had even spent hours worrying about what sweet treats he might bribe her with when she inevitably balked. All of those worries had been utterly unnecessary.
“Thank you, Yeon-woo.” For moving forward so bravely. For enduring and living on with such earnest effort. “Thank you.”
Tak.
When Woon-hyeon stepped out into the night, the moon already hung high in the midnight sky. He did not turn back toward his quarters. Instead, he stepped down from the wooden porch and slipped into his traveling shoes.
Stepping out into the yard, he paused and cast a long look over the humble cottage. The room where Yeon-woo slept; the room where he had stayed; the rear yard where they had stacked firewood side by side; the storehouse where tools rested; the dead embers of their cooking fire; and the wooden deck where they had shared quiet meals and simple laughter. So many fond memories clung to every corner of this secluded home that tearing his gaze away proved painfully difficult.
Yet Woon-hyeon turned away. His resolve set, he moved toward the courtyard gate with steady, unhesitating strides.
Then he froze.
“...”
Just past the gate, submerged in the deep shadows beneath the eaves, a figure stood silently. It was Gwi-young—the dark sentinel left behind by the Dark Shadow Demon Lord.
“Will you not detain me?” Woon-hyeon asked in a low murmur, his eyes fixed on the encroaching gloom of the forest where his path lay.
Even as Woon-hyeon approached the threshold, Gwi-young remained leaning casually against the earthen wall, as though the old master’s departure was entirely someone else’s concern.
“I am asking if it is truly permissible for you to let me walk away like this.”
Gwi-young regarded him from the darkness for a quiet moment before pushing off the wall to stand upright. His distinctive, rasping, low baritone cut cleanly through the night air.
“My assignment is not to keep watch over you.”
“Meaning I am free to abandon this place as I please?”
“If you depart, the one who will find himself in a difficult position is not me either.”
Woon-hyeon’s brow furrowed. The one in a difficult position... Does he speak of the Dark Shadow Demon Lord?
Knowing full well that his superior would be troubled, he still made no move to block the way. Is this man... truly a subordinate of the Dark Shadow Demon Lord?
Regardless of the oddity, Woon-hyeon let out a quiet breath. “How fortunate.”
“...?”
“I had prepared myself for a clash in the worst-case scenario.” After all, Woon-hyeon understood his standing: he was merely an instrument kept alive by the Dark Shadow Demon Lord to teach Yeon-woo orthodox martial arts. He had assumed that an instrument attempting to flee without fulfilling its purpose would never be permitted to leave. “Frankly, it feels almost anticlimactic.”
“I do not overestimate my capabilities,” Gwi-young replied evenly. “I will not waste my strength on tasks that cannot be accomplished.”
“You are an exceptionally pragmatic fellow.”
It was a thoroughly cold and rational judgment. Gwi-young was formidable, yet he was no match for Woon-hyeon. Even if he drew his spear to intervene, he would only expend his energy in vain; he could never hope to stop him.
And that reality... The Dark Shadow Demon Lord must have known this from the start.
There was no possibility that someone of the Demon Lord’s caliber could fail to measure Woon-hyeon’s martial realm against Gwi-young’s. In other words, he had assigned Gwi-young here knowing full well the man was powerless to hold Woon-hyeon back. That very realization was why being granted unhindered passage brought no true relief.
Could letting me go so freely be part of a trap...?
“There is one thing I wish to confirm,” Gwi-young spoke up.
Woon-hyeon turned back to him. “What would that be?”
“What took place this afternoon... was it truly...” Gwi-young took a single step closer. Perhaps because night had fallen, the thin black veil draping over his eyes concealed even the faintest glint of his gaze. “...a test?”
Allowing the ferocious beast to bear down on the girl until the very last second. Forcing Gwi-young to step into the light and reveal his blade to shield her.
Ssssshh...
A faint, ink-like aura began to waft from Gwi-young’s frame. It was a terrifying presence steeped in unfathomable abyss.
“...” Woon-hyeon closed his eyes. He had no intention of offering hollow excuses.
“I, too, simply required certainty.” The Dark Shadow Demon Lord had vanished, and should Woon-hyeon also depart, only Gwi-young would remain at Yeon-woo’s side. Yet Woon-hyeon could not abandon the meeting with the son he had finally managed to contact after so many years. Fortunately, the martial artist left behind possessed superb prowess; all that had remained was certainty. Certainty that this shadow would genuinely defend Yeon-woo with his life. “If it caused you offense, you have my regrets.”
“...”
“I apologize.” Woon-hyeon brought his hands together and offered a solemn, formal martial salute. His posture carried sincere contrition.
Sssss...
The oppressive aura coiling around Gwi-young gradually settled back into his skin. With his eyes veiled in black silk and his lips pressed into a flat, unyielding line, nothing of his thoughts showed through. Without a word, Gwi-young stepped backward into the shadows.
Woon-hyeon turned to take his stride once more. But after two steps, he halted again.
“Tell me...”
“...?”
“What if I return to the Central Plains, gather the righteous sects, and march an army back to raze the Demonic Cult? What will you do then?”
“...I was told to deliver a reply, should you ask such a thing.”
Woon-hyeon glanced back over his shoulder. The words that tumbled smoothly from Gwi-young’s mouth caused Woon-hyeon’s face to turn completely rigid with a chill.
Ta-dat, tat!
A black silhouette streaked across the darkened mountain ridges. His destination was Haneum Valley. To keep the sworn promise made to his son, Woon-hyeon was venturing forth from the valley for the very first time since the disaster at Mount Seolhon.
The Dark Shadow Demon Lord.
Thinking of that masked demon, Woon-hyeon’s expression turned fathomlessly somber. Though their acquaintance had been brief, the man he had witnessed possessed a terrifying, almost omniscient grasp of human nature and political tides. As though practicing mind reading, he effortlessly pierced through the thoughts and hidden intentions of others, dissecting every circumstance to bend the flow of events to his whim.
This departure was no different.
The message the Dark Shadow Demon Lord had left through Gwi-young was absolute certainty and casual nonchalance incarnate. The unshakable conviction that even if Woon-hyeon departed, he would never dare muster forces to invade the Demonic Cult again. The effortless composure born of knowing that confidence would never be betrayed.
And what granted him the privilege to hold such absolute confidence was one thing alone.
Overwhelming, insurmountable martial might.
Woon-hyeon swallowed a dry lump in his throat. The martial realm of the Dark Shadow Demon Lord was, without a shadow of a doubt, superior to his own. And that comparison stood even when measuring him against Woon-hyeon in his golden prime, long before the poison had crippled his meridians.
Why in heaven’s name has the Demonic Cult kept its gates sealed until now? Possessing martial power of such monstrous magnitude, why remain dormant in the shadows?
Having witnessed that absolute strength with his own eyes, Woon-hyeon could no longer treat the Demonic Cult as a simple, blind enemy to be crushed. Facing the Dark Shadow Demon Lord alone would spell certain, undeniable annihilation for any righteous expedition.
He left that message because he already knew that I held his martial prowess in such profound dread.
In the end, had he not been dancing entirely atop the palm of the Dark Shadow Demon Lord’s hand from the very beginning?
Woon-hyeon’s jaw clenched tightly against the bitter wind.
A truly terrifying man.
The freezing night air whipped mercilessly against his hardened, unreadable face as he vanished into the desolate expanse.