I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 40: The Naked Face of the Great Desert

Pushing aside the beaded curtain, strung with faded wooden beads, Commanding Officer Eom Gyeonghan and Jincheon stepped into Tianshan Daeru.

“Ahahaha!”

“Excellent! And then? What happened next?”

The scent of food and alcohol, and the familiar din of conversation, welcomed Jincheon.

This rare three-story pavilion in Jucheon was crowded even in broad daylight.

‘Nothing’s changed here.’

On second thought, it was natural that nothing had changed.

After all, it had only been two days since Jincheon last visited this place.

A short-statured server came trotting up.

“How many in your party?”

Even at the sight of a man in military uniform and Jincheon in a flamboyant crimson coat, the server’s reaction remained unchanged.

“I am Eom Gyeonghan. I sent word ahead...”

The Commanding Officer’s response was unexpected.

In truth, a Commanding Officer ranked among the highest provincial officials.

In this region, he wielded authority second only to the King—though that was only a figure of speech—and was someone no one dared cross.

Yet, such a man was giving his name to a mere tavern server.

Most people of rank would say, “It’s me,” or even flare up with, “Don’t you know who I am?”

‘He’s a decent man.’

Jincheon felt a quiet sense of favor.

Especially in a world like this, where so many brandish their petty power with arrogant excess.

By then, the server nodded and said,

“Yes, we received your message. But how many are in your party?”

The one who answered was Lady Ilyo.

“Thirteen and sixty-nine.”

“Then the thirteen will be guided to the top floor, and the others to the middle floor. This way, please.”

As Jincheon wondered about the oddly specific number, the server began ascending the staircase nearby.

‘Was there always a staircase here?’

There was a staircase immediately beside the entrance.

It seemed to lead to the upper floors, but Jincheon had no memory of seeing it before.

‘Well, it was my first time here... and I was too nervous to notice.’

There was no way he could’ve taken in his surroundings properly back then.

Jincheon climbed the stairs alongside the Commanding Officer.

“Sixty-nine of you, please go this way and that,”

the server said on the second floor.

And upon reaching the third floor, he opened the door.

Click.

“The thirteen of you, this way.”

The third floor of Tianshan Daeru was a single open space, with windows flung wide on all sides.

Though there wasn’t much of a view to speak of, the openness alone was enough to lift one’s spirits.

“Your food will be out shortly.”

At the server’s words, Lady Ilyo turned to the others.

“Wolyo, Hwayo, and Suyo, Mokyo.”

“Yes.”

The four bowed slightly, then descended with the server.

Geumyo and Toyo remained at the third-floor entrance like sentries.

‘Ah, so that’s why it’s thirteen.’

Jincheon’s small curiosity was resolved.

Present on the third floor were the Commanding Officer, Jincheon, the two Commanders of the Winds, Gi Seoran, Po Eunryeong, and three of the Seven Luminaries, including Ilyo.

When you added the four who had gone downstairs, it made exactly thirteen.

“This way.”

At the sound of Ilyo’s voice, Jincheon turned his head.

Where she stood was clearly the most prestigious seat in the room.

She was asking Jincheon to take the highest seat, bypassing even the Commanding Officer who had arranged the entire gathering.

‘Uh...’

Jincheon glanced at the Commanding Officer.

But the man remained calm, as though waiting for Jincheon to sit.

‘Is this really okay?’

No matter that Jincheon was called the Red Dragon and the Palace Master, he was, in the end, merely the head of a local sect.

For a general to yield the highest seat—that was something Jincheon simply couldn’t understand.

‘I don’t get it.’

Still, with everything else going on, he didn’t have the bandwidth to worry about seating hierarchies.

‘In any case, the Commanding Officer seems to have accepted it.’

So there wouldn’t be a problem.

Jincheon walked to the spot where Ilyo stood and sat down.

As though waiting for this moment, North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon gracefully took the seat to Jincheon’s left.

Her movements were so elegant and natural, she seemed the very embodiment of palace etiquette.

Next to her sat East Wind Commander Ak Mujin.

Which left Jincheon’s other side empty.

And that’s when—

Swish.

Gi Seoran quietly approached Jincheon and spoke in a low voice.

“Would you like to have a conversation with the Commanding Officer?”

Considering he had accepted the invitation, wasn’t it only natural to speak with him?

Jincheon found it strange, but nodded nonetheless.

“Let’s do that.”

“I’ll select the place, then.”

Only then did Jincheon realize Gi Seoran’s intent.

Even the Commanding Officer’s seat had to be designated by Jincheon.

Guided by Gi Seoran, the Commanding Officer took the seat next to Jincheon as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jincheon cast a sidelong glance at the two Commanders of the Winds.

Neung Gayeon’s expression was as serene as ever, but Ak Mujin’s face was clearly displeased.

His thoughts were all too easy to read.

‘How dare a dog of the imperial court sit beside the Red Dragon?’

—Something along those lines, no doubt.

But unlike Ak Mujin, Jincheon had no intention of slighting the Commanding Officer.

Click.

The door opened and the server entered, carrying a tray full of teapots and teacups.

Suyo and Mokyo followed behind with trays stacked with small pastries—mooncakes.

Then Wolyo and Hwayo returned, bringing the dishes.

Geumyo and Toyo placed the food at each person’s table.

In no time, the tables in front of everyone were filled to the brim.

Jincheon turned to the Commanding Officer.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

With a composed expression, the Commanding Officer replied,

“Thank you for accepting.”

His large, penetrating eyes looked straight at Jincheon.

And in Commanding Officer Eom Gyeonghan’s gaze, a deep emotion flickered past.

****

Eom Gyeonghan was a soldier.

A man far more accustomed to fighting enemies than navigating politics or factions—so he had always been assigned to harsh places like the border or disputed territories.

Though the days had been hard, they had not been in vain. Eom Gyeonghan rose to the rank of Commanding Officer, one of the highest military posts a soldier could attain.

Even if that post was at the border garrison of Gahyeok Pass—a position considered practically a dead-end—he didn’t mind.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

A soldier simply carried out his duties, wherever he was stationed. That was how Eom Gyeonghan thought as he arrived to assume command at Gahyeok Pass.

The command at Gahyeok Pass was... unusual.

Though it was unmistakably a border zone with a stationed military force, the duties there were somewhat different.

The Great Desert.

Thanks to the immense natural wall that was the desert itself, the real problem wasn’t foreign invasion—but rather bandits.

They were a necessary target, yet an ambiguous one when it came to official military achievements. The suppression of desert bandits was the task at hand.

‘Still doesn’t matter.’

That was still Eom Gyeonghan’s stance.

As a soldier, his job was to remain loyal to the tasks given at the post he was assigned. Achievements were not something for him to judge.

And so he did what had to be done.

He initiated an operation to eliminate the bandits entrenched deep within the Great Desert—the root of the problem.

“Aw hell, that’s not gonna work.”

His local deputy, Yang Cheonman’s loose and casual manner, didn’t sit well with Eom Gyeonghan.

But Deputy Yang Cheonman was a native of the region, and despite his unreliable demeanor, he had earned deep trust among his comrades.

“Forget doin’ the impossible—shouldn’t we just deal with whoever pops their head out?”

That sloppy dialect, muttered like some half-hearted monologue, grated on Eom Gyeonghan’s nerves.

Still, Eom Gyeonghan never allowed personal feelings to interfere with professional judgment.

“This is an order. Go and draw up the formation plan for the suppression.”

He assigned Yang Cheonman a leading role in the crucial operation.

As a local, the deputy’s network and familiarity with the terrain were assets that couldn’t be replaced.

That said, the entire operation wasn’t entrusted to him alone.

“One hundred cavalry?”

Deputy Yang Cheonman’s proposed formation was far smaller than Eom Gyeonghan had anticipated.

Even if this was more of a scouting operation than a full campaign.

“Will that be enough?”

At Eom Gyeonghan’s question, Yang Cheonman shrugged.

“You drag along kids with no field time, they’ll just get killed for nothin’, won’t they?”

Eom Gyeonghan agreed with that, but it was also important to maintain proper scale.

The garrison at Gahyeok Pass had close to ten thousand troops. Even selecting only the elite among the cavalry, they had more than enough.

“We’ll raise it to three hundred.”

Yang Cheonman only shrugged again, without protest.

The suppression unit was expanded to three hundred elite cavalry. As supply needs increased accordingly, the operation grew to five times its original scale.

And so, the first suppression force set out into the Great Desert.

The campaign proceeded smoothly.

Faced with the advance of five hundred cavalry, the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» bandits abandoned their bases and fled. When clashes did occur, the unit achieved victory without significant casualties.

Commanding Officer Eom Gyeonghan, newly appointed, gained confidence.

But that confidence didn’t last long.

One day, when the unit had ventured deep into the desert—

A fierce sandstorm whipped up, making it nearly impossible to distinguish even the man directly ahead. And just then, the usually laid-back deputy suddenly shouted:

“Enemy ahead! Medium-class magical beast!”

Eom Gyeonghan didn’t even have time to process what those words meant.

—

―KWA-GWA-GWAK.

—

Bursting through the sandstorm came massive monsters.

They were creatures straight out of Shanhaijing—the kind of absurd beasts he’d always thought were nonsense from old tales.

—

―KWAHHHH.

—

Beasts that looked like a grotesque cross between centipede and serpent—these magical beasts were the very embodiment of terror.

Every time one opened its jaws, three or four elite cavalrymen vanished in an instant. Every time their bodies twisted, a dozen more were killed or wounded.

And the worst part was—there wasn’t just one or two of them.

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

‘What... what the hell is this...’

Even a seasoned warrior like Eom Gyeonghan couldn’t help but be shocked.

And in those fleeting moments of stunned silence, the suppression force was—quite literally—being melted away.

As lives vanished second by second, helplessly—

“Everyone!”

The deputy’s voice rang out.

It pierced through the chaos and the sandstorm, clear and thunderous.

“Draw blades!”

And the result of that cry was astonishing.

—

―WUUNG, WUUUUUNG.

—

Beams of light began to bloom amidst the sands of the Great Desert.

From the blades of about thirty men, including the deputy, flared a strange, chilling glow.

It was Sword Qi.

And Eom Gyeonghan saw it.

Wherever those eerie streaks of light sliced through the sandstorm, the magical beasts shrieked in agony and spilled blood.

The monsters that had just moments ago crushed the suppression force like prey were now recoiling, afraid, wailing in torment, retreating.

—

―KWA-GWA-GWAK.

—

The sandstorm subsided quickly.

The storm that seemed as though it would devour the world—the magical beasts out of Shanhaijing—those “medium-class magical beasts,” had vanished without a trace.

All that remained were wounded cavalrymen groaning in pain, the battered survivors.

“Are you all right?”

The deputy asked.

His face was a mess of cuts and caked sand, but Eom Gyeonghan was in even worse shape.

“...What now?”

Eom Gyeonghan asked.

“We go back,”

the deputy answered, bitterly.

Turning his gaze toward the remaining survivors, Yang Cheonman did not bother to hide his sorrow.

“A damn shame. So many good lives lost...”

Even words that might have sounded like criticism of the Commanding Officer’s miscalculation didn’t register with him.

His eyes were fixed on the sword in the deputy’s hand.

It looked plain.

Neither a famed blade nor a sacred weapon. That ominous energy it had emitted just moments ago—gone without a trace.

As if everything Eom Gyeonghan had seen had been a dream. A hallucination.

But hallucinations didn’t kill.

They didn’t drive back creatures so terrifying that even a seasoned general froze in place.

Everything he had seen was real.

The merciless, hidden face of the Great Desert—a truth unknown to the rest of the world.

That day, Commanding Officer Eom Gyeonghan returned to the garrison at Gahyeok Pass with the two hundred surviving soldiers.

The planned suppression campaign was never resumed.

And for the first time, Eom Gyeonghan heard the name:

“Heavenly Flame Palace.”