I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 51: Four Pillars Hidden in the Heavens

A secluded palace within the Inner Court of the Forbidden City.

The Emperor sat leaning back on a long chair, his gaze cold as he looked down upon Grand Academician Gipyeong of the Inner Cabinet.

“What am I supposed to grant them?” It was not an easy question to answer.

One could easily provoke the temper of an absolute monarch.

Yet Gipyeong replied with perfect calm, as if it were nothing.

“A princely residence should be sufficient.”

“A princely residence?”

The Emperor scowled instantly.

A princely residence referred to the estate of someone granted the title of prince, located outside the Forbidden City.

It meant they were allowed to be called “king” and, near or far, were recognized as part of the imperial family.

“I cannot permit a princely residence to be established in Beijing.”

The Emperor’s refusal was firm.

Gipyeong had expected no less.

“Why would we allow such a residence here? If we’re speaking of Nanzhou, that would be reasonable.”

“That’s not the issue here, is it?”

The Emperor’s brow furrowed again.

“If we allow them a princely residence, who knows what will erupt in its wake? And do you truly think they’ll be content with just that?”

They already wield king-like authority in Gamsuk.

They’ve never cared for positions or honors bestowed by the Emperor in the first place.

“Whether they’re satisfied or not is irrelevant. Human greed knows no bounds—what in this world could ever truly satisfy them?”

Gipyeong didn’t miss a beat, continuing smoothly.

“But with this, we will learn at least one thing: what truly resides in their hearts.”

The Emperor fell silent.

He understood what Gipyeong meant.

But still, he did not speak a word of consent.

Tap, tap.

He drummed his fingers against the armrest, then muttered with a scowl,

“Must it really come to this?”

A princely residence carried immense symbolic weight.

Depending on the context, it could pose a serious threat to the dynasty’s stability.

And now he was expected to issue an edict granting such a residence—not for any favor or alliance, but merely to gauge their intent.

“They are one of the four great pillars hidden within the clouds of the Northwest—a colossal wall sworn to our ancient dynasty, one of the Celestial Pillars.”

Gipyeong bowed his head as he spoke.

“All things age, and all bonds grow distant. We must see for ourselves whether they still honor the covenant of old. If the Western Pillar is quieted by this, then the others will also come to recognize Your Majesty’s enduring authority.”

“And if they ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) don’t?”

A faint smile touched Gipyeong’s wrinkled lips.

“Then what use are titles or princely estates anyway?”

The Emperor said nothing.

A long silence followed.

Eventually, the aged monarch let out a dry laugh.

“Hah.”

He looked at Gipyeong with a heavy gaze.

“I always think the same thing—your words always seem to have their way with me.”

Gipyeong smiled faintly.

“Then please, grant me permission to retire to the countryside.”

“That I cannot allow.”

The Emperor’s refusal was immediate.

“We’ll do as you say regarding this matter. You may go now.”

He turned his head and lifted a book.

Gipyeong bowed deeply in salute to the Emperor.

“Your servant takes his leave.”

The Emperor waved him off with a gesture, visibly uninterested.

Gipyeong retreated cautiously out of the Emperor’s presence.

“Hmph.”

The Emperor opened the book again and leaned back lazily—but his eyes did not follow the words on the page.

Slip.

Fingering his collar as if to hide something at his neck, the Emperor let out a faint groan.

But it vanished into the air, and the royal chamber once again sank into silence.

Chirp, chirp.

A carefree bird chirped on a nearby branch.

From the Emperor’s quarters in the Inner Court of the Forbidden City, the world looked perfectly at peace.

****

Jincheon and his party remained in Nanzhou for several more days.

It was to allow the escorts some time to rest.

“They all said they were fine, but of course they weren’t.”

From Jucheon, where the Heavenly Flame Palace had once stood, all the way to Nanzhou, the distance was roughly eighteen hundred li.

They’d covered that ground in just over ten days—there was no way they weren’t exhausted.

Even Jincheon, who had done nothing but sit in a carriage, felt worn out.

“Rest. No exceptions. Understood?”

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With that firm order, Jincheon spent his time idly—stroking the white Hanblood steed Jeolyeong’s mane, or lazily admiring the sky over Nanzhou.

There were plenty of famous spots worth visiting in the city, but if he moved even slightly, all the escorts would follow. So he didn’t dare set foot beyond the gates.

For the same reason, he had declined the invitation of Lady Jang, the zither-playing hostess of Tianshan Pavilion.

However, he couldn’t ignore the letter of greeting sent by the Provincial Commissioner, so he was forced to read through an elegant barrage of pleasantries written in the man’s refined style.

“There’s no substance, but the writing’s excellent.”

Jincheon thought to himself as he read.

It wasn’t surprising—the highest-ranked provincial official was unlikely to lack learning. There were many graceful turns of phrase and elegant expressions in his letter.

The mental image of the portly, jovial Commissioner made him chuckle despite himself.

Rustle.

As soon as Jincheon handed the letter over, his attendant Ilyo received it immediately.

He lifted his teacup in a leisurely motion.

His decision to rest had been the right one.

But there was one problem.

“I’m bored.”

The truth was, Jincheon himself was growing restless.

The fatigue from the journey had vanished after just a day of rest. He’d gotten up early that morning, groomed Jeolyeong, read the entire letter—and yet it was still only morning.

Sip.

He savored the warm tea, lost in thought.

“...Is this really okay?”

The idea that he was simply letting time pass filled him with a strange sense of guilt.

He hadn’t exactly lived life with burning ambition—but he hadn’t drifted like a lazy fool, either. Study and trade had both been hard, and he had done his best in each.

Even so, could he really justify letting the hours slip away like this?

“Stop wasting time and do something,” that man had said...

But the thought of reading made him feel foolish. He didn’t care for amusements, either—he didn’t know much about them, and wasn’t used to them.

Most of all, it would inconvenience everyone around him.

If he moved even slightly, over seventy guards would have to mobilize along with him.

Yet to simply sit here gazing at the sky of Nanzhou again, as he had yesterday, made time feel unbearably still.

It was during one such restless moment of fidgeting in boredom...

That a sudden, completely out-of-nowhere thought occurred to him.

“Should I try learning the sword?”

Perhaps it was something the Oracle had once said that planted the idea in his mind.

She had shown Jincheon the sword art of the Three Divine Joys, and even encouraged him to try learning it.

“Of course, properly studying it would be difficult.”

Learning martial arts was no simple matter.

Even though Jincheon knew little about the martial world, he was well aware that techniques were passed down only through strict bonds between master and disciple.

Even among Confucian scholars, the teacher-disciple relationship was sacred—strong enough to form entire factions, and sometimes even accepted as shared destiny.

Of course, Jincheon didn’t want to go that far.

“Just knowing how to grip a sword, and some basics on how to swing it safely, would be enough. It’ll help later anyway...”

The merchant roads were dangerous, riddled with all sorts of threats.

If he could at least pick up a few self-defense techniques, he might be able to protect himself in an emergency.

Even holding a club—there was a world of difference between someone who’d trained and someone who hadn’t.

Suddenly, Jincheon felt a sense of clarity.

“No—this might actually be the most meaningful thing I can take away from the Heavenly Flame Palace. As the old sages say, ‘What lies outside the body is not truly yours.’”

Lavish treatment, fine objects—none of that truly belonged to him.

Even if he didn’t quote the sages, it was clear those luxuries were fleeting, easily lost, and not his to keep forever.

But knowledge and skill—those were different.

No one could take them from him, and he could use them at any time. They were a true asset for life.

And come to think of it, this was the perfect opportunity to start learning.

He was surrounded by people who clearly knew martial arts—and he had time.

A surge of motivation rose within him.

“Yes, the Yongcheon Sword Art. The Oracle mentioned it, didn’t she? Said I should try learning it?”

That sword art had certainly looked impressive. She’d also said it would be easy to pick up.

And if it was the Oracle who recommended it, there probably weren’t any rigid restrictions on learning or teaching it.

Slide.

Jincheon raised his gaze.

The seven palace maidens stood quietly, awaiting his command.

Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong were also present—as were the North Wind Commander, Neung Gayeon, and the East Wind Commander, Ak Mujin.

Jincheon gathered his thoughts. He needed to phrase this well from the start.

“North Wind Commander.”

“Yes.”

“Are the others resting well?”

To this, Neung Gayeon replied gracefully.

“Thanks to the Palace Master’s benevolent care, everyone has rested sufficiently. If you command it, we are ready to depart at any time.”

Exactly the kind of response he expected.

But they'd only rested for one day, and the morning had barely begun. In Jincheon’s experience, at least three full days were needed to truly recover.

“I’ll give the departure order later. For now, let everyone continue resting. Rest is, after all, a part of military strategy—isn’t that so?”

Neung Gayeon responded with an elegant smile to Jincheon’s borrowed phrase.

“I shall carry out your will.”

“And one more thing,” Jincheon added casually, as if tossing a pebble into a pond.

“Would you be able to teach me the sword?”

Neung Gayeon’s expression froze.

Jincheon flinched—she was always so composed and gentle that her reaction startled him.

“Ah—I mean, I’m not asking to be taught anything grand or complex...”

Soft rustle.

Neung Gayeon dropped to one knee and bowed her head deeply.

Her hair flowed down over her neck.

“By the order of the Red Dragon, I, Neung Gayeon, submit.”

The solemnity in her voice sent a chill down Jincheon’s spine.

Something was wrong.

Just then—

“I humbly petition the Red Dragon.”

The voice was Gi Seoran’s.

Jincheon turned his head toward her.

Gi Seoran had also dropped to her knees. She was about to speak—

“Silence.”

That quiet, sharp command came from Neung Gayeon.

Her raised head now held an icy glare, aimed squarely at Gi Seoran.

“Who gave you permission to speak in this place?”

It wasn’t just her words.

Gi Seoran’s elegant face went rigid—then flushed violently red.

Step.

A single step forward.

It was the palace maiden, Ilyo.

“Commander Neung.”

She looked down at Neung Gayeon, her tone icy and cold.

“If you do not stop immediately, I will charge you with the capital offense of false loyalty.”

Neung Gayeon’s eyes wavered—but only for an instant.

Bow.

The North Wind Commander bowed her head once more.

A soft gasp of breath followed from Gi Seoran.

“Khuh... Khk...”

“Lady Gi!”

Jincheon called out in alarm.

Gi Seoran bowed low.

Even while struggling to breathe, her voice came forth.

“I... I humbly petition... the Red Dragon...”

“Speak,” Jincheon said quickly.

He didn’t know what was going on, but it felt like things would only settle if he gave express permission.

“The Red Dragon is the very embodiment of the Heavenly Way. No one in this world can become your teacher. Nothing can presume to instruct the Red Dragon.”

Jincheon frowned.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It didn’t even seem like a proper explanation for what had just happened.

“So?”

He asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Gi Seoran answered.

“Therefore, if anyone is seen as having taught the Red Dragon—if there is even the possibility they might be perceived as doing so—then that person must be executed.”

“...What?”

Jincheon’s jaw dropped open without thinking.

But Gi Seoran’s face remained deathly solemn.