I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 54: To Learn and Practice Again

Jincheon was completely immersed in his sword training.

Ever since the first day he had personally swung a sword — the first time in his life — Jincheon had been thinking constantly about the Yongcheon Sword Art. Whenever he had free time, he reached for the sword.

Even he was surprised by himself.

Clack, clack.

Listening to the familiar sound of hooves, Jincheon leaned back in his carriage and looked back on the past few days.

He couldn’t help but let out a faint, incredulous laugh.

“Look at me — getting into swordsmanship.”

For scholars, swordsmanship was not exactly a common hobby.

Of course, swordsmanship was recognized as a means of self-defense and as a noble martial tradition, but it was far less common than poetry, calligraphy, painting, or music.

What’s more, the rough and violent nature of martial artists — men who wielded blades — was one of the main reasons scholars typically looked down on swordsmanship.

And yet, having wielded a sword himself, everything felt different.

“So this is why they were all so dedicated.”

He felt like he finally understood why martial artists never hesitated to sweat and struggle, why some devoted their entire lives to the sword.

If even someone as clueless as him could fall this deeply into it...

Suddenly, Jincheon imagined how the Oracle would react to the news. She would probably wear that proud little smile and say, “I told you so.”

Clack, clack.

Without sparing a glance for the passing scenery beyond the carriage window, Jincheon gazed down at the sword resting across his lap — Wind and Cloud.

Slide.

The familiar texture of the scabbard brushed his fingertips.

“Is it not a joy to learn and to practice what one has learned?” — so said the old sages.

Learning something previously unknown was a joy. Getting better at it little by little was even more so.

Jincheon found great pleasure in learning the Yongcheon Sword Art.

Maybe it was because of the constant, unconditional praise from beautiful women — who knew?

“Well, at least I’m not bored anymore.”

Thanks to that, even the long and tedious journey no longer felt dull.

Even while sitting in the carriage, he only had to close his eyes — and unlike before, the Yongcheon Sword Art would unfold in his mind like a painting.

“Besides, that incantation really is strange in the most interesting way.”

Previously, it had just been an eerie chant that reminded him of nightmares — unfamiliar and unsettling. But when performed alongside the sword art, it was different.

Reciting the incantation silently while moving through the forms created a rhythm that aligned perfectly with the movements of the blade.

Now, he could recite the incantation even if someone woke him from sleep.

“It was the right decision.”

Jincheon felt genuinely satisfied with his choice to pursue swordsmanship.

The wealth he now enjoyed, the respectful treatment — none of it truly belonged to him. It could all vanish at any moment.

But what he learned and practiced — that belonged solely to him.

Looking back, there could be no better decision.

“I’m learning swordsmanship — and not just any swordsmanship, but a proper, ancient art.”

Sure, one could probably pay a local martial hall to learn swordplay — but how often would one get the chance to study the ancient, renowned Yongcheon Sword Art?

And with masters like Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong beside him — masters who were not only skilled, but beautiful as well — it would be absurd not to leap at the opportunity.

“Even the name sounds cool.”

Yongcheon Sword Art.

The more he said it, the more it grew on him. Maybe it was just the typical flair they all seemed to have, but still.

Even the reactions around him weren’t bad.

North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon always kept a gentle smile, as usual, but East Wind Commander Ak Mujin looked as though he were moved to tears.

“He’s probably thinking, ‘The Palace Master is fulfilling his sacred duty,’ or something like that.”

That hadn’t been Jincheon’s intention, but he saw no need to correct it. His conscience prickled a bit, but he could ignore that much.

Listening to the advice of Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong — and growing a little closer to them in the process — was another welcome benefit.

Just then—

“Seoan is in sight.”

The voice of Ilyo came from outside, prompting Jincheon to lift his eyes.

Ah.

In the distance, beyond the mountain pass, the silhouette of towering city walls came into view.

A city of a thousand years, cradle of ancient civilization, former capital of countless dynasties — essentially the birthplace of Zhongyuan itself. That was Seoan.

“So this is finally Seoan.”

Jincheon murmured to himself in quiet awe.

“How many days has it been?”

“It has been nine days since we left Nanzhou, and twenty-five days since we departed the palace.”

Ilyo answered.

“I see. Nine days...”

Not a short time, by any means. But having been so focused on the Yongcheon Sword Art, it had flown by.

“Anyway, we’re really in Seoan now.”

It might have been reachable in under ten days, but the difference between Nanzhou and Seoan was immense.

If Nanzhou was a relatively major city in the borderlands, then Seoan was the very heart of Zhongyuan’s history and stage.

In short, he had now entered the true Central Plains.

As Jincheon drifted in reflection, the carriage picked up speed, drawing closer to Seoan.

Clack, clack.

Suddenly, unease began to creep in.

“They’re not going to make a big fuss here too, are they?”

If the local officials in Seoan came out to greet him as they had in Jucheon and Nanzhou, it would be the third time.

Being recognized by high-ranking regional officials — those who governed territories rivaling small nations — was not a good thing. Not for someone like Jincheon, whose future was still uncertain.

“Gi Cheonhwa.”

“Yes.”

Gi Seoran responded immediately, approaching the carriage.

Jincheon asked her,

“Is there any chance the Seoan officials might come out to meet us?”

If you don’t know something, the best course is to ask someone who probably does.

And if that someone happens to be a woman you like, all the better.

“None whatsoever,” Gi Seoran replied.

Good.

Jincheon smiled inwardly with relief.

“How about cutting off their heads?”

That clear, melodic voice made Jincheon instinctively turn his head.

Meeting his gaze, North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon smiled.

“Anyone who dares fail to show the proper respect to the Palace Master would find even that to be a merciful punishment.”

If Ak Mujin had said such a thing, it would at least make sense. He often suggested violent and outrageous solutions without a second thought.

But for the elegant and beautiful Neung Gayeon to say such a thing?

“Indeed,” came the expected voice of East Wind Commander Ak Mujin.

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He spoke like the thought alone brought him joy. But Jincheon was speechless.

“Kick whose ass now?”

They were talking about the top officials of Seoan.

Obviously, neither kicking them nor executing them was an option. Not that he had the power to do it anyway.

“Don’t,” Jincheon said flatly.

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Neung Gayeon replied in a gentle tone,

“We shall obey.”

Jincheon turned his attention back to Gi Seoran.

“Gi Cheonhwa.”

“Yes.”

“Will there be any trouble entering Seoan? I mean in terms of our identity, affiliation, that sort of thing...”

A mounted group of over seventy armed escorts would startle anyone.

At worst, if their identity wasn’t clearly established, they could be barred entry entirely.

“None at all,” Gi Seoran replied.

Her answer was so firm that Jincheon found it hard to believe.

“Just saying we’re from the Heavenly Flame Palace will be more than enough.”

It had worked up to this point.

The Heavenly Flame Palace and the Heavenly Valley were native powers in Gamsuk, and even the regional officials couldn’t afford to ignore them.

But would that carry any weight here in Seoan, in the province of Shaanxi?

“Hm, well... understood for now.”

Still a little doubtful, Jincheon nodded.

Now, before his very eyes, was one of the great cities of Zhongyuan — the historic city of Seoan.

Jincheon’s concerns were justified.

The soldiers guarding Seoan’s gates were visibly alarmed the moment they spotted his party.

“H-H-Halt!”

The officer’s voice rang out, laced with obvious panic.

The gate guards reflexively pointed their spears, though the tips trembled in their hands. Some hastily reached for their bows.

“Wh-where are you f-from?! Identify yourselves!”

Clack.

At the head of the group, the Rider of the Rat, Yu Hyerin, urged her horse forward.

With a cold gaze, she addressed the officer.

“The Heavenly Flame Palace.”

“T-The Heavenly... what?”

Watching the officer frown in confusion, Jincheon gave a bitter smile.

“I had a feeling.” But now it was confirmed. The name of the Heavenly Flame Palace clearly meant nothing to them.

“What are you talking about?! Get down from your horses and state your identity and affiliation at once!”

The officer barked furiously—

Tap tap tap.

A messenger came running, practically stumbling as he rushed to the officer. He whispered something urgent and low into his ear.

“What? What are you saying...?”

The officer looked flustered. The messenger, frustrated, whispered something again.

The officer’s face changed.

He looked back and forth between the messenger and Jincheon’s entourage as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

But in the end, there was nothing else he could do.

“Ahem. P-Pass!”

He shouted.

The soldiers, still holding spears and bows, looked around in confusion, unsure what to do. The officer glared at them.

“Lower your weapons! Quickly!”

Then he bowed his head deeply to Yu Hyerin, who was still mounted.

“M-My sincerest apologies! Please forgive our rudeness!”

Yu Hyerin looked down at the officer with a cold expression.

The officer couldn’t even lift his head. Sweat dripped down his face.

Slide.

Without a word to the officer, Yu Hyerin turned her gaze toward the carriage — toward Jincheon, to be precise.

She was waiting for his command.

But truth be told, Jincheon was just as confused as the officer.

He hadn’t expected to pass through the gates with nothing but the words, “We are the Heavenly Flame Palace.”

“That actually worked?”

It was strange — but he couldn’t just sit there gawking.

“Ahem. Let us pass.”

It was also a sign that he wouldn’t pursue the officer’s rudeness.

Truthfully, calling it “rude” was a stretch.

It would’ve been more surprising if a gate guard hadn’t panicked at the sight of over seventy armed horsemen.

Clack, clack.

Confirming Jincheon’s decision, Yu Hyerin boldly led her horse forward.

A short distance behind her followed Jincheon’s carriage, and the dozens of mounted escorts after that — entering Seoan in a quiet procession.

Only then did the officer raise his head, and the onlookers who had scattered cautiously returned to the gate.

Everyone was curious about the crimson-colored carriage, but no one knew what it was.

The messenger who had whispered the urgent warning left in a hurry, while the remaining guards stared blankly.

Unable to contain his curiosity, one soldier sidled up to the officer and asked quietly,

“...Who was that?”

“No idea,” the officer muttered, still wiping cold sweat from his brow.

“You don’t know?”

He didn’t know who they were, and yet he had bowed his head and begged forgiveness?

“I told you, I don’t! But the Provincial Command’s messenger came running straight from the Command Bureau! From the Provincial Commander himself! And you think I wouldn’t bow? He told us to show utmost courtesy, to avoid any offense at all — and you wouldn’t bow?”

The officer burst out.

The soldier, flustered, tried to protest.

“Still, shouldn’t they at least explain who they are? They just come in saying whatever they want and—”

“Why would they do that?”

The officer’s eyes narrowed.

“If you don’t know who they are, you die. It’s the ones below who die. It’s people like us who have to watch ourselves. That’s this damn world we live in.”

The soldier flinched. Realizing he’d struck a nerve, he started backing away—only for the officer to glare again.

“Come to think of it, you were the first one to point a spear! You startled me, and I overreacted!”

With that, he smacked the back of the soldier’s head.

“Ow! I didn’t! It wasn’t me!”

But the officer continued swatting him with growing frustration.

The soldier scurried away, shielding himself. The officer, still fuming, had no real outlet for his rage.

Yelling at the waiting crowd like a madman, he finally turned away from the gate.

The soldier rubbed the back of his aching head.

“Man, he’s the one who didn’t recognize them — why’s he taking it out on me...”

But there was nothing he could do. It was his responsibility to read the room.

Just like it had been the officer’s job to bow once he realized he was dealing with someone powerful.

Grumbling, the soldier returned to his post.

And just like that, the commotion at Seoan’s city gate faded away.