I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 43: There’s No Need to Know

A heavy tension hung over the banquet hall of Tianshan Daeru.

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All it took was a single, seemingly ordinary question from Jincheon.

Even the Seven Luminaries, who had been moving about the room with busy hands, froze in place alongside the others.

“If you command it, then it shall be so,” said Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander, bowing politely.

Jincheon found the answer strange.

He had asked, “Is this place secure?”

Shouldn’t the response have been either “yes” or “no”?

“Please give the order,” said Ilyo, his maid.

And just like that, Jincheon understood what he had to do.

“Ilyo.”

“Yes.”

“I wish to speak privately. Could you make it so others cannot hear—no, so they don’t even listen?”

He changed his wording just in case they got the wrong idea.

Like emptying out the tavern, or worse—shutting the whole building down.

Of course, Ilyo had never done anything that drastic before. But knowing the personalities here, it wouldn’t be surprising if she did.

“As you command.”

Ilyo bowed her head.

Straightening her back, she made a small motion with her hand.

Huh?

Suddenly, everything went silent.

The noise of the street outside—the chatter, the clatter, even the wind—vanished completely.

As though the entire world had held its breath. It was a strange, alien stillness.

“...It’s done?”

“Yes.”

“Ah... thank you.”

He had no idea what she’d done, but if Ilyo said it was taken care of, then it was.

She had once broadcast his voice to a massive crowd. This should be nothing in comparison.

“Ahem.”

Feeling the weight of everyone's gaze, Jincheon cleared his throat.

The two Commanders, Gi Seoran, Po Eunryeong, and all seven palace maids were staring at him.

“Before we head... to the Central Plains, there are a few matters I’d like to confirm.”

Truthfully, Jincheon didn’t like using the term Central Plains.

Historically, it referred to a specific region along the Yellow River, but over time, it had taken on meanings tied to ethnicity and political dominance.

Knowing all the ethnic and political baggage that word carried, Jincheon preferred to avoid it—but right now, he had no better alternative.

“First, has there been any message or word from the former Palace Master? Or any escort who returned during the journey?”

“There has not,” came the reply.

Just as he expected.

If there had been contact, there wouldn’t have been such chaos in the Heavenly Valley when he showed up—and someone would’ve surely informed him by now.

Jincheon nodded.

“I see. Then from here, we will head to a region near Hapbi.”

That was where Jincheon had met “that man” at a roadside inn.

It was where everything began—so naturally, he had to return there.

Even if three months had already passed.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“None at all,” Neung Gayeon answered immediately.

Jincheon let out a soft chuckle.

That, too, was exactly what he expected.

Perhaps it was the only answer she could give. From her point of view, there really wouldn’t be any problem.

But from Jincheon’s?

Didn’t she say this morning that a palanquin or carriage would be fine—that there was no difference?

It hadn’t been fine. And there had been plenty of difference.

He’d nearly ridden in a cart pulled by people, for heaven’s sake. Ridiculous.

Still, it would be awkward to pester her with “Are you really sure there won’t be problems?”

As long as Jincheon stayed alert, he could manage. It could wait.

“Understood. Thank you, Commander Neung.”

At his words, Neung Gayeon gave him a soft smile.

“Gi Cheonhwa.”

“Yes.”

Gi Seoran answered as though she’d been waiting.

“Which route would be best for traveling to Hapbi from here?”

“Since the waterways are unsuitable for that destination, it would be most appropriate to follow the main road by land.”

Her answer came without hesitation.

“I recommend passing through Nanzhou, then westward to Xi’an in Shaanxi, then east through Kaifeng in Henan, and finally to Hapbi...”

It wasn’t the same route Jincheon had taken to get here.

It was a shorter path, through major cities.

“That could change greatly, depending on what the Palace Master intends,” she added.

“What I intend?”

“Yes. For instance...”

Gi Seoran hesitated for a moment.

“...Though it may be presumptuous of me to say—if the Palace Master intends to issue a warning to them, then visiting more major cities would be appropriate.”

Jincheon didn’t understand.

“By them, who do you mean?”

Gi Seoran now looked confused herself.

“The people of the Central Plains. And their rulers—the Imperial Court.”

Jincheon was at a loss for words.

Wow.

He’d always found their way of thinking odd, but this... this was on a whole other level.

Sure, the Heavenly Flame Palace was impressive.

After all, the Commanding Officer at Gahyeok Pass had come out to greet them personally—how could that not be impressive?

But that was because they were a powerful local faction in Jucheon, not some nationwide force.

And now they were talking about the Imperial Court?

“Ah, well, that’s...”

Jincheon opened his mouth to respond, then gave up.

Closed-off groups always assumed the entire world operated the same way they did.

But Jincheon had studied the teachings of ancient sages. He had once aimed to manage the realm as an official—he’d even taken the civil service exam, though he failed.

From his perspective, it was a clear fallacy to treat what happened in Jucheon as a reflection of the entire Central Plains.

“I have no intention of issuing any warning. Not at this time.”

He didn’t want to get into a debate about common sense with her here.

Leaving some room for interpretation, Jincheon continued.

“This journey to the Central Plains is to uncover the former Palace Master’s intent and settle what he left behind. Everything else... please set aside for now.”

At his solemn words, the two Commanders, the Seven Luminaries, and the two Cheonhwa bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

“Palace Master,” said Neung Gayeon.

“Then may I ask—what is your purpose in traveling near Hapbi?”

“Ah, that...”

Only now did he realize he’d kept it to himself.

“It’s where I met the former Palace Master. And where we parted ways.”

He answered with feigned indifference.

In an instant, all eleven of their expressions hardened.

And that wasn’t all.

Thud.

Both Commanders and both Cheonhwa dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

The seven maids did the same.

“We...”

Neung Gayeon bit her lip as she spoke.

“We dared speak of matters beyond our right to bear.”

The atmosphere turned grave in an instant.

He’d expected something like this, but he wasn’t any more used to it.

“...Raise your heads.”

Jincheon finally spoke after a long silence.

They were all convinced the former Palace Master was dead. That’s why they reacted so gravely.

But Jincheon’s position was different—he didn’t know for sure.

There was no conclusive evidence, and more importantly, he didn’t believe that man would die so easily.

Still, it wasn’t something he could bring up lightly to these people.

“That’s enough. All of you, rise and take your seats.”

He put a touch of force into his voice—not intentionally, but because the mood had genuinely started to irritate him.

Rustle.

Perhaps sensing his displeasure, the two Commanders and the two Cheonhwa rose first and returned to their seats, followed by the Seven Luminaries.

But the heavy atmosphere in the room lingered.

“Ugh. Even if I explain, I doubt they’ll believe me anyway...”

Even if Jincheon said, “I don’t think that man is dead—not yet, at least,” it wouldn’t change anything.

To them, the proof was already in front of them: Jincheon, the new master of the divine orb Wrath, and the one who had succeeded the position of Palace Master.

“And is there even a reason to correct this misunderstanding?”

On second thought—no, there wasn’t.

In fact, it might be dangerous to do so.

If his identity shifted from “Palace Master” to “some outsider who might be the Palace Master,” their attitudes could change in unpredictable ways.

That’s also why Jincheon hadn’t asked them directly about the previous Palace Master.

He hadn’t questioned why the man only brought a handful of guards to Hapbi, what kind of situation led to him being ambushed, or how he ended up wounded by one of his own.

Of course, he was curious.

But did Jincheon really need to know?

“I already have a rough idea of where to start looking anyway...”

Sure, knowing more would be better than knowing nothing.

It might help the search. He might even be able to infer who was behind the whole affair.

But there was no urgent reason he had to know.

“There’s still nothing certain... and besides, it’s not really my problem.”

At his core, Jincheon was an outsider.

He was more than /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ willing to ruin the plans of whoever orchestrated this mess—but he had no interest in digging deep into the affairs of the Heavenly Valley.

It was like helping a neighbor catch a thief—did that mean he had to get involved in their household budget too?

“And let’s not forget, I’m the victim here.”

He’d already completed the task he was given, but never received the promised reward.

So what mattered most now was tracking down that man—getting compensated, and hearing his true intentions face-to-face.

Then all these misunderstandings would be resolved.

All this talk about him being the new Palace Master of the Heavenly Flame Palace—by that point, maybe it would all just sound like a weird joke.

“...Right?”

Jincheon forcibly pushed down a creeping unease and convinced himself.

Around him, the silence was still so deep he couldn’t even hear a breath.

Ahem.

He cleared his throat to cut through the awkwardness, then asked,

“How long will it take to reach Hapbi?”

It had taken him three months to get here from Hapbi.

“By carriage, about two months. On horseback alone, it could be shortened slightly,” Gi Seoran answered, reasonably.

Horses are fast, but they can’t run all day.

Carriages can switch between multiple horses, but they must stick to the main roads.

And people need rest, too.

So the timeline didn’t change dramatically either way.

“If you wish, I can escort you personally,” offered Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander.

“By yourself?”

“Yes. If that is your will, then to Hapbi, I—”

Thud.

Ak Mujin, the East Wind Commander, shot to his feet.

“I shall escort you!”

He beat his chest proudly as he declared,

“How could I hold back my life in service of the Red Dragon’s will? I will burn my very lifeblood to ensure—!”

“You,”

came Neung Gayeon’s soft voice, cutting him off.

“...are slower than me, aren’t you?”

The sharp jab made Ak Mujin grit his teeth.

Jincheon watched the exchange with interest.

“So Commander Neung outranks Commander Ak?”

All four Wind Commanders technically held the same title, but clearly there was a hierarchy.

The scholarly-looking South Wind Commander had shown respect to Ak Mujin, who looked like a rugged elder brother type. And now, Ak Mujin was frozen in place by Neung Gayeon’s words.

“So Commander Neung is probably the most senior... something like that.”

There was something new and striking about Neung Gayeon’s refined, graceful demeanor—she was more than she appeared.

“I’ll go by carriage. That’s all I have to say.”

Jincheon concluded the matter decisively.

Everyone bowed their heads in acknowledgment of his decision.

With that issue settled, Jincheon finally let his shoulders relax—and Ilyo stepped forward.

“Shall I bring in the tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Ilyo bowed in response, then gave a subtle nod toward the entrance.

Clack.

“Waugh!”

Bursting through the door, trays in both hands, the server yelped.

“The door wouldn’t open just now—ah! This is the tea for after your meal.”

She began setting down the cups, and the soft scent of tea began to fill the room.

As she busied herself clearing the empty dishes, Jincheon leisurely took his time savoring the tea.

Somehow, the aroma felt gentler than before.