Birthday Dumplings and Luck's Awakening
Seol Gwan-hui, the master of Rejing Pavilion, had always thought that scattering king-sized dumplings on the streets every year for Danmok Ryeon's birthday was a pointless waste of money with no real meaning.
Handing out free dumplings to the poor wouldn't make some supreme immortal or Buddha heal his daughter in return. If that worked, no rich family in the world would ever have a sick child.
Besides, if his daughter truly recovered and they stopped the annual dumpling giveaway, they'd probably just get cursed out instead of praised for any good deed.
Still, even now, he figured it wasn't entirely bad—the Danmok family had long held power in Zhejiang Province, so acts of charity toward the needy weren't a terrible look.
That's why he was a bit surprised when the girl herself insisted on continuing the dumpling distribution with the budget that could have funded her own birthday feast.
At that age, kids usually crave flashy spectacles and all the attention, he thought.
The tale of an immortal returning her after seven years might be nonsense, but...
"Even so, it would've been nice to have at least a small celebration inside the estate..."
Cho-il, reeking of dumpling wrappers and meat after helping with the giveaway all day, grumbled with a sullen expression.
Seol Gwan-hui clicked his tongue.
"The young miss has come to her senses, but I never imagined her first real birthday would slip by so quietly."
"The estate doesn't have the money for a party."
"Even so... it's not like we're completely broke."
Seol Gwan-hui inwardly agreed—that was the surprising part. Despite having some funds now, they weren't throwing a party for the eldest grandchild—but he didn't show it.
"Even the Supreme Elder dotes on her so much. Why wouldn't he host one?"
Seol Gwan-hui recalled the recent atmosphere at Wolyeongjae and nodded.
As far as he remembered, Danmok Cheon-gi hadn't clung so tightly even when raising Danmok Hyeon-seong.
"If the young miss doesn't want a party, what can we do?"
"Exactly! Why doesn't she want one?"
This was essentially her first birthday since waking—last year's had been brushed off during recovery—and letting it pass so tamely felt like a raw deal, or so Cho-il kept muttering indignantly.
"No party means those Geum Clan bastards look down on us."
"Only fools judge by appearances."
Seol Gwan-hui shut him down coldly, but deep down, he admitted there was truth to it.
Humans were foolish creatures, quick to gauge inner strength by outward shows.
With the family declining since Danmok Hyeon-seong's death, and no grand gathering even after the daughter's recovery, it gave critics plenty of ammunition.
"Did the dumplings go out smoothly at least? Everyone take them well?"
"Yes. They were all thrilled she was up and about. The young miss seemed happy too."
Seol Gwan-hui mulled over the money saved by skipping the party for dumplings instead, and smiled contentedly.
Danmok Cheon-gi seemed to have freaked out internally after Ryeon convulsed during their first lesson.
Detailed practice of the Falling Star Twelve Swords ended that very day. Afterward, it was mostly basic stamina building and flexibility training.
Evenings were just dinner together, discussing one form at a time.
"Didn't you see the shooting star? It falls from the farthest sky in the blink of an eye, right to your nose, then vanishes, little duckling."
"But shooting stars aren't like that..."
Ryeon started to argue, then bit her lip.
At the same moment, sparkling dust-like particles shimmered clearly over her pupils.
She had activated Divine Eye and Harmony.
Gripping her chopsticks like a sword, she lightly traced a line.
She refined the final form of the Falling Star Twelve Swords, bit by bit.
Divine Eye at 5-star was powerful. Spotting flaws was one thing; now she saw how to turn them into strengths.
"It's not that light, right? So the Falling Star Twelve Swords should be a bit more..."
A faint light flickered in Danmok Cheon-gi's eyes at first, then slowly turned to astonishment—as he watched her move the chopsticks.
"...weighty?"
"Yes. And you said the Falling Star Twelve Swords isn't imitating a shooting star's path—it's a sword that creates shooting stars."
"That's right."
"So it needs more... power, I think. And shooting stars turn to meteoric iron when they fall. Like the feel of meteoric iron—those associations?"
"Ever seen meteoric iron?"
Ryeon nodded.
"Grandfather's sword."
"Ah, right... ahem."
Danmok Cheon-gi cleared his throat awkwardly.
"So you're saying it can be slower?"
He'd known that.
But this young granddaughter was already grasping thoughts he'd only recently begun pondering.
"Not slower exactly—shooting stars are fast... but with a heavy feel. Like how a tiny heavy stone hits the ground before a thousand feathers clumped together. Um, like... this... or this feel..."
One chopstick in her grip traced a strange, slow curve.
With Divine Eye and Harmony active, she replayed his final form in her mind, but infused it with a touch more slowness, weight, power, and subtlety.
"Yes, preserve that feel... Ah."
Thrilled as she straightened the chopstick to complete the motion herself, Ryeon's eyes suddenly widened.
Luck category unlocked!
Current Luck Value: 10/120
Good deeds are always rewarded.
Light scattered softly, words sliding into view before her eyes.
Stunned, she just blinked—while across from her, Danmok Cheon-gi had already closed his eyes.
The air swirled slowly and gently toward him.
A strange, taut tension spread through the hall.
The floating words soon vanished.
Ryeon sat there dumbfounded until she snapped out of it.
She tiptoed out, quietly shut the door, and waved off approaching servants.
Spotting chief steward Gang-rip with a puzzled look from afar, she called him over alone.
"Mm, Grandfather's had an enlightenment... so quiet tonight would be best."
"Pardon?"
The steward bent low, ear cocked, not grasping it.
"Young miss, just now..."
"Grandfather got some insight. Like a flash—something hit him."
Gang-rip blanked out briefly, then startled her with a leap.
Apologizing profusely to the surprised Ryeon, he mouthed silent orders to the servants.
Ryeon clutched the browned chopstick and gazed at the now-silent Wolyeongjae.
While the estate's remaining warriors bustled to stand guard, Ryeon slipped quietly back to her room and stared at the blank white paper before her.
To others, it was empty—but her eyes saw neat text floating there.
The exact phrase from when Danmok Cheon-gi achieved enlightenment.
Luck category unlocked!
Current Luck Value: 10/120
Good deeds are always rewarded.
Ryeon focused on the last line.
Does doing good deeds raise the luck value?
But she'd done plenty of kind acts so far—why open now, with nothing reflected before?
Pondering it, she realized.
It wasn't just good deeds; she'd poured out her spiritual energy to help her grandfather.
Using Purification on the sly, plus Harmony and Divine Eye to grant him enlightenment—not a small thing.
Guiding the former world's greatest to enlightenment for just 10...'
'10' looked tiny, and even unlocked, she felt no difference.
'But!'
Still, Ryeon clenched her fist, undeterred.
Such attributes weren't built overnight, nor should they be expected to.
Stuff it away, forget it, then boom in the mid-to-late game.
Life would bring moments when luck was truly needed.
Standing alone at thirty (irip), unmoved by the world at forty (bulhyeok), knowing heaven's will at fifty (jicheonmyeong)...
Rushing it was daunting, but surely sunshine would come someday.
Ryeon pictured her twenties, thirties, forties, fifties.
She hadn't reached thirty before.
This time would be different.
Having decided on a longer, farther life journey meant more preparations.
'Huh? It has a cap. 120...? What happens when it's full?'
What came with maxed luck...?
Ryeon tilted her head, but no answer appeared on the paper.