Chapter 8
“Didn’t you say she was just a servant?”
At dusk, Ju Oh‑yun asked Samaryun.
Samaryun didn’t even look at him.
His eyes stayed on the little girl, Yeon‑hwa, as he answered casually:
“She was a servant… before.”
“Then what is she now? You said you’d never keep children close, so we’ve always been careful with the servant quarters.”
Samaryun had never taught anyone before.
If someone got in his way, he simply cut them down.
But now… Ju Oh‑yun was seeing something unbelievable.
It would have been easier to believe if Samaryun said he had a secret daughter.
Because Ju Oh‑yun had never seen his lord look at anyone so warmly.
After thinking for a while, Samaryun finally spoke:
“…A disciple?”
The same man who had sworn he would never take a disciple or heir… was now calling Yeon‑hwa his disciple.
Ju Oh‑yun thought Samaryun had turned into a cold-hearted man after “that incident.”
Yet here he was, teaching the girl and looking at her with eyes that were both serious and gentle.
And that girl? She wasn’t ordinary.
She was said to have a Heavenly Martial Body—a body that perfectly holds all energies: yin, yang, the five elements, the trinity.
Such a person might be born once in a hundred years.
For someone like that, teaching her martial arts was worth it.
Ju Oh‑yun gave a small laugh.
For years, Samaryun had walked the path of blood and revenge.
He fought endless wars to destroy the demon cult that had taken his daughter’s life.
He killed so many people that the number couldn’t even be guessed.
Even after achieving victory, Samaryun couldn’t let go of the past.
Guilt over losing his wife and daughter kept him awake night after night.
He grew darker, his mind hurt by the trauma of war.
But now… he was sparring with a child, wooden swords clashing, and life was slowly returning to his eyes.
Ju Oh‑yun smiled softly.
“Lord, a disciple? You’ve never had one.”
“What if I say I have one now—are you going to get mad?”
“…No. I won’t get mad.”
Inside, Ju Oh‑yun wanted to say:
Why would I be mad? I’m glad you’re teaching someone. It eases my heart.
But he swallowed those words.
“When will you announce it?”
“Announce it? I might not bother.”
“…What?”
Ju Oh‑yun’s heart sank.
“You are the leader of the dark path. You have enemies everywhere. Shouldn’t you announce it even more?”
“Come on, don’t make that face, like you’re about to lose your mind over one kid.”
“Do you even hear yourself, my lord?!”
“‘My lord’? Ever heard of ‘don’t mess with martial artists’?”
“Enough with the wordplay…”
“Haha.”
The two men watched until the sun went down, as Yeon‑hwa kept swinging her sword.
Samaryun thought:
She’s ready for inner energy training now.
He rubbed his smooth chin, thinking about what to teach next.
The inner technique he had learned as a child was nothing fancy—just scraps from wandering swordsmen.
…I’ll need advice from my teacher.
His teacher, the Great Elder of Sa‑pae‑ryeon, was known as the Grandmother of the Dark Path.
But then Samaryun paused.
Would it be safe to let Yeon‑hwa learn from her?
His teacher was merciless, even among dark sects.
If Yeon‑hwa spent too much time with her, she might be tainted.
But… if Yeon‑hwa planned to live in the martial world, she would learn such things eventually.
Learning to kill and to survive was part of it.
I don’t like the thought of her losing her innocent heart… but…
That was the reality of this world.
Still, Samaryun wondered:
What beliefs will she choose? What kind of eyes will she use to see the world? Will she sharpen her blade against it… or try to protect it?
The sound of Yeon‑hwa’s wooden sword cutting through the air cleared his thoughts.
Back then, Samaryun thought this peace would last a while.
But he would later realize how wrong he was.
A small incident…
“Older sister Aso, have you seen my necklace?”
“Necklace? What necklace?”
“It’s small, with a red stone on it.”
Yeon‑hwa had lost something.
If it were a normal necklace, she wouldn’t be searching so desperately.
But this one wasn’t ordinary.
Aso raised her eyebrows.
“No, I haven’t seen it. Did you lose it?”
“Mm… okay. Thanks anyway, sister.”
Yeon‑hwa went around asking others, but everyone gave the same confused answer.
She even tried using her strange ability to see things, but all she saw was herself searching—no clue about the necklace.
In the end, she only got a headache.
She hung her head, looking pitiful.
It felt wrong to suspect people, even those who had been cruel to her.
Still, that necklace was important.
It was her mother’s keepsake.
“This necklace suits you, Yeon‑hwa. See?”
Her mother’s warm voice still rang in her ears.
And now I’ve lost it…
Even the bright blue sky felt gray that day.
She walked aimlessly, feeling like it was raining in her heart.
She wanted to see her mother so badly.
As she walked, she suddenly heard familiar, nasty voices.
“That girl’s been running around outside for days, not even realizing she lost her stuff!”
Laughter, footsteps, mocking voices.
Through tall grass, Yeon‑hwa peeked—
and saw Hye‑jin’s group.
Her chest burned with anger.
Then she noticed something under Hye‑jin’s foot… and her anger exploded.
“Where should we throw this? Anyone want it?”
“You can’t even wear it now. Just toss it in the pond!”
It was her necklace.
Her mother’s necklace.
Dirty and scratched, lying on the ground.
Yeon‑hwa froze.
Her head spun, her vision swayed.
Her hands clenched into tight fists.
They stole it?
Did they know it was her mother’s keepsake?
Even if they didn’t, they knew it was precious—she wore it every day.
Seeing them treat it like trash made something boil inside her.
She stepped forward without thinking.
Snap!
A twig broke under her foot.
“Who’s there!”
Hye‑jin’s sharp voice cut through the air.
If looks could kill, Yeon‑hwa would’ve been dead already.
But she didn’t back down.
She glared at them and shouted:
“What are you doing with my necklace?”
