I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 67: Grace, or a Fateful Encounter

Early dawn, Soaring Willow Sword Sect.

Sect Master Ji Riik made his way toward the training grounds, sword in hand.

The cold wind brushed the tip of his nose, but the heavy sense of responsibility and the resolve for what lay ahead were so overwhelming that he barely even felt it.

He wasn't anxious.

He wasn't afraid.

He simply felt... sorrow.

Sorrow that such a cruel fate should fall upon his beloved granddaughter.

Step, step.

Rounding the corner of a building, Ji Riik caught sight of the training grounds.

Even in the dim light of the still-burning torches, someone was already there.

His granddaughter, Ji Yeongryeong.

Seeing her, faithfully attending her dawn practice as always, a complicated emotion welled up in Ji Riik's wrinkled eyes.

But the very next moment—

Gasp.

His eyes flew wide open.

Wuuuuung—

A faint blue aura had formed around Ji Yeongryeong’s sword.

In the pale, flickering light of dawn, that shimmering glow struck Ji Riik like a bolt of shock and disbelief.

No... it can’t be!

It was impossible.

No matter how much of a genius his granddaughter was, that was something no mere talent could achieve.

Heart pounding, Ji Riik hurried toward her.

Noticing him, Ji Yeongryeong turned her head.

"Grandfather..."

Her face was filled with emotion.

And understandably so.

What had just formed around her blade was none other than the ultimate mark of a master—a true Sword Qi, capable of cutting through anything.

"Y-Yeongryeong..."

Even the composed Ji Riik couldn't hide his astonishment.

"I... I did it."

A single tear trickled down Ji Yeongryeong’s cheek.

"I did it, Grandfather."

"Yeongryeong...!"

Ji Riik felt tears well up but fought them back with all his might.

He stared at the faint, blue glow enveloping her sword.

Wuuuuung.

It was shallow and flickering, yes. But the force it emanated—the dignified presence—there was no mistaking it.

It was Sword Qi.

"You've done it," Ji Riik said, his voice low and trembling.

Tears now stained the corners of his deeply lined eyes.

"How... how is this possible...?"

The Soaring Willow’s internal arts were known for their upright, straightforward nature—praised even by Wudang’s most venerable Taoists.

But to manifest Sword Qi from the Soaring Willow’s energy was a feat so difficult that, among their ancestors, only a single person had ever succeeded.

Ji Riik’s confusion was natural.

"It’s thanks to the Northern Wind Heroine," Yeongryeong said.

"What?"

Ji Riik blinked, still stunned, barely able to form the question.

But Ji Yeongryeong only smiled through her tears.

"Young Master Jin commanded her to repay the debt we owe. And so the Northern Wind Heroine..."

Northern Wind referred, of course, to Neung Gayeon.

It was the only title they had ever heard for her.

"Hah."

The old Sect Master sighed heavily.

"A fateful encounter, indeed."

Ji Yeongryeong nodded.

If not this, what else could one call such a miraculous, unexpected blessing?

"Come."

Ji Riik’s voice was firm.

Though he said no more, Yeongryeong understood instantly.

"Yes, Grandfather."

She sheathed her sword without hesitation.

There was no doubt about what they must do now, standing before such a gift.

Ji Riik was already striding ahead, and Ji Yeongryeong quickly followed.

Their eyes gleamed with purpose.

****

Meanwhile,

Jincheon rose from bed.

No one had woken him, but out of long habit, he was up at first light.

"Did you cough, Master?"

Just then, Ilyo’s voice came from outside.

Since she could even hear the beating of his heart, Jincheon found nothing odd about her timing.

"I did."

As he got up, the door slid open and Ilyo entered.

The black cord tied to her wrist caught his eye.

Receiving Ilyo’s silent, fluid assistance, Jincheon washed and dressed without a word.

"Young Master."

It was Neung Gayeon’s voice—Commander of the North Wind.

"Come in."

The worn door opened without a sound, and Neung Gayeon stepped inside.

"Ilyo, would you bring some tea?"

Ilyo bowed gracefully and left the room.

Freed from the black cord for once, Jincheon flexed his left hand absently and then sat down.

"Did you sleep well, Commander?"

"Yes. Did you sleep peacefully, Master?"

As they exchanged polite greetings, Ilyo returned with the tea.

Clink.

The cups were set down, and a soft, soothing aroma filled the air.

Just as Jincheon reached for his cup, Ilyo spoke.

"The Sect Master and his granddaughter wish to see you."

"Is that so?"

They would be leaving today anyway; it was only right to meet before departing.

Savoring the warmth of the tea, Jincheon asked,

"When did they say they wished to meet?"

"They are waiting outside, right now."

His hand froze around the teacup.

"...What did you say?"

"They are waiting outside," she repeated calmly.

Clack.

Jincheon set the cup down and shot to his feet.

Ilyo, though she occasionally made sharp remarks, never joked or lied.

If she said they were outside, she meant it exactly and literally.

Bang!

Jincheon threw the door open—and saw a scene almost too unbelievable to accept.

Gasp.

Sect Master Ji Riik, his white hair tousled, and his granddaughter Ji Yeongryeong, were kneeling on the ground before his lodging.

The cold, hard earth, their aged bodies—it didn’t matter.

Ji Riik’s wrinkled eyes stared at Jincheon with fierce resolve.

"What is this...!"

Rustle.

Ji Riik bowed his head low.

His wrinkled forehead touched the ground.

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Yeongryeong did the same beside him, letting her dark hair spill over the dirt, uncaring as soil stained her delicate forehead.

"The grace you have bestowed upon us," Ji Riik said, his voice trembling,

"Cannot be repaid, even with this old life of mine. I shall never forget, even in death."

Jincheon was stunned.

Jincheon stood there, utterly bewildered.

What on earth did I even do?

He had merely slept through the night, and yet here they were, offering him such an extreme show of gratitude. It made no sense.

Ah!

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

Jincheon turned to glance at Neung Gayeon, Commander of the North Wind.

She met his gaze with a serene smile, but to Jincheon, it felt like he’d just been punched.

No, she said it was just a small lesson!

And yet here was Ji Riik, an elder of the martial world, kneeling in the dirt and offering eternal gratitude.

Surely, a mere "small lesson" wouldn’t warrant this kind of veneration!

"Ahem."

Jincheon cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Please, rise. I cannot accept such reverence from an elder."

There was no point pretending he didn’t understand the situation.

Forcing down a bitter smile, Jincheon spoke as politely as he could.

Yet neither Ji Riik nor Ji Yeongryeong lifted their heads.

"Hoo."

Jincheon sighed dramatically.

"I insist. Please, rise."

His voice carried a little more firmness this time.

Rustle.

Only then did Ji Riik finally raise his head, followed by Ji Yeongryeong, who also lifted her gaze toward Jincheon.

Their eyes shone so intensely with emotion that Jincheon found it hard to meet them.

And the knowledge that he had done nothing to deserve this only jabbed at his conscience all the more.

"Thank you, Young Master," Ji Riik said.

"And to the Northern Wind Heroine as well—"

"Stop."

The Sect Master’s words were cut short.

Neung Gayeon spoke in a voice as cold as steel.

"Do you dare offer gratitude to me in the presence of the Young Master?"

Her anger was clear for all to see.

Ji Riik said nothing.

No—he couldn’t.

The moment Neung Gayeon uttered the word stop, he had become utterly paralyzed, unable to even lift a finger.

"I am but one who serves the Young Master.

If you wish to offer your thanks, it must be to him alone."

Shhhk.

Ji Riik’s body was freed once more.

He bowed ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) deeply toward Jincheon.

"I beg forgiveness for my ignorant rudeness."

His white hair slipped forward, and Yeongryeong’s dark hair spilled down in a curtain to the floor.

Jincheon was flustered beyond measure.

"Er, well, first... why don’t you come inside?"

He was the guest here, yet he was the one inviting the hosts in.

It was absurd—but there was no helping it.

Had he not insisted, he had the feeling they would have knelt there all day.

Ji Riik and Ji Yeongryeong respectfully bowed their heads in acceptance.

And so, Jincheon’s quarters ended up hosting their own owners as guests.

****

The warm, gentle aroma of tea filled the room.

Though Jincheon’s quarters were not small, with five people inside, the space felt full.

Jincheon and Ji Riik sat at the table.

Ji Yeongryeong stood behind her grandfather.

Neung Gayeon and Ilyo stood silently behind Jincheon.

Clink.

Setting his teacup down, Jincheon spoke.

"So, our Northern Wind... Heroine helped your granddaughter?"

"Yes," Ji Riik replied.

"Master Ji, please feel free to speak comfortably," Jincheon offered, awkward with the honorifics due an elder.

But Ji Riik remained formal.

"The Soaring Willow Internal Arts are built upon the energy of 'soyo'—the flowing, drifting force.

Because of its pure and untainted nature, even a small amount can yield great power."

Jincheon surmised that the "Soaring Willow Internal Arts" must refer to the sect’s core martial cultivation technique.

So it's efficient, he thought, listening closely.

"However, because the soyo energy is so elusive and difficult to perceive, cultivating it demands long years of painstaking training."

That made sense.

In a chaotic world, finding and nurturing purity was a rare and difficult thing.

"My granddaughter—though I am embarrassed to say so myself—possesses a gift so extraordinary that she could rightly be called a genius.

Yet even she failed to manifest Sword Qi from the soyo energy."

"I see," Jincheon said.

"But with the help of the Northern Wind Heroine, acting under your command—"

Ji Riik’s aged eyes gleamed sharply.

"Yeongryeong succeeded in manifesting Sword Qi."

Sword Qi?

Jincheon’s eyes widened.

"You mean... true Sword Qi?"

"Yes," Ji Riik affirmed, and Ji Yeongryeong nodded.

Jincheon was stunned—and confused.

Wait, it’s really that easy?

When he had summoned that mysterious light from his sword, he had been told it wasn’t even true Sword Qi.

Yet Ji Yeongryeong had achieved it... overnight.

It made no sense—and honestly, it stung a little.

Swish.

Almost involuntarily, Jincheon turned to look at Neung Gayeon.

She answered calmly.

"With respect, I did not transfer any internal energy to her, nor did I impart any profound realizations or secret techniques."

Soyo energy held meaning only in its untainted purity.

Any foreign energy would be poison to the practitioners of Soaring Willow.

Moreover, Sword Qi wasn’t something one could attain just by learning a new sword style.

"I merely pointed out the direction in which her talent and effort should be aimed.

She was already standing before the threshold.

It was only a matter of time before she reached it.

Thus, it would be an overstatement to call it a great favor."

Jincheon listened quietly, but for Ji Riik and Ji Yeongryeong, it was different.

The path of the sword was narrow, treacherous, and obscure.

To take even a single step forward often cost a lifetime of effort.

Many never crossed even a single threshold before death claimed them.

Though Neung Gayeon spoke lightly of a "threshold," to martial artists like Ji Riik and Ji Yeongryeong, it was nothing less than a towering, lifelong obstacle.

"From here on, it will be up to the young lady herself.

Thus, I believe this should sufficiently repay the debt weighing on your heart, Young Master."

Jincheon nodded.

"In that case... well, it seems reasonable."

He wasn’t truly sure.

But with no real knowledge of these matters, all Jincheon could do was trust Neung Gayeon’s judgment.

Clatter.

Ji Riik rose from his seat.

Startled, Jincheon watched as the old man knelt once again and bowed his head.

How could he not?

This was the one who had bestowed such a miraculous opportunity upon the Soaring Willow Sect.

"This grace..." Ji Riik said, his voice trembling.

"I shall never forget, even in death."

Rustle.

Ji Yeongryeong stood up as well and knelt beside him.

Placing her hands over her chest, she bowed deeply.

"This grace," she said, her voice soft yet firm with conviction,

"I shall never forget, even in death."

Ironically, they spoke the exact words Jincheon himself had once uttered during his time at the Heavenly Flower Palace.

And yet, hearing those same words from them now, Jincheon could only let out a wry smile.

The weight of their gratitude was so much heavier than anything he had felt back then.

And with it, his conscience pricked at him all the sharper, knowing he had done so little to deserve it.