Good intentions sometimes return as malice.

A common enough saying.

The story his grandfather had kept hidden for so long was much the same.

His grandfather had been a wandering hero — one who had roamed the jianghu freely. He had brought countless evildoers to justice and saved many lives. Naturally, some of those evildoers had repented their ways and become new people. And some of those he had saved had repaid his kindness with brazen ingratitude.

But even so.

This — even he couldn’t have anticipated.

[The child of a family I once saved…… killed your parents. In the end…… it was I who killed them.]

How was one supposed to receive a sentence like that?

His grandfather’s good intentions had returned as malice that stole his family from him. For his grandfather — it meant losing his own child. That pain.

How could anyone begin to imagine it?

His grandson, who had lost his parents overnight.

How heartbroken he must have been. How deeply sorry. How had he endured that weight of guilt?

Seo Woojin’s entire body trembled — but he kept his eyes on the letter and read on.

The family his grandfather had saved had fallen to ruin not long after. But the surviving son had become convinced that his grandfather was somehow behind their destruction. He had spent years building his strength — and then killed his grandfather’s son and daughter-in-law in revenge. As if to return the same pain of losing a family in equal measure.

By some twist of fortune — good or ill — Seo Woojin had been elsewhere with his grandfather at the time, and escaped the same fate.

[Afterward, I left you in the care of a close friend and went after him. Even I — who had tried to live my whole life as an upright man — could not bear the pain of losing family……]

He had eventually found him and faced him directly. But in the end, his grandfather could not bring himself to kill the man. He had been badly wounded and forced to flee. The man — though gravely injured himself — had called out after him as he ran.

[Your grandson is next!]

Those words were what had driven his grandfather into hiding.

What had turned him into a man obsessed with survival.

Drip. Drip.

Tears traced down his cheek and gathered at his chin, falling one by one onto the letter below.

What word was there for this feeling?

He was immeasurably sad. He was furiously, endlessly angry.

Every part of him wanted to set the letter down — but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t turn away from the guilt his grandfather had carried, the regret, the despair.

By the time he reached the final line, Seo Woojin had no tears left to shed. He walked to the wall, held the letter to the torch, and watched it burn.

‘Grandfather……’

His grandfather’s final wish had been one thing.

To forget.

Let go of the grief and the hatred both — and live his own life. That was all he asked for. His last request.

“I’m sorry. You know I was never good at listening.”

A faint smile touched the corner of Seo Woojin’s mouth.

He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice — erupting in a roar at that.

Seo Woojin gathered both swords and turned.

Then——

RUMBLE——!

A tremor rolled through the earth.

He looked up, face blank.

He could feel killing intent seeping in — quiet and deliberate.

‘They found it?’

No.

The passage had been discovered — but these were not the Four Black Dragons. Whatever radiated off these presences was far more viscous, far more unpleasant.

Seo Woojin stepped back without a word.

A moment later——

Thud. Thud.

Over a dozen black-clad figures dropped to the ground.

They spotted him belatedly and exchanged glances. Then made no effort to conceal their hostility.

But Seo Woojin — whatever was going through his mind — looked strangely distant. As though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Perhaps they mistook that for fear. The enemies charged without an instant’s hesitation.

[Your sword will never cut anyone. And no one will ever fear your sword.]

Something his grandfather had said while teaching him swordsmanship.

It had stung at the time.

It had sounded exactly like being told his talent wasn’t enough.

[But that is only because no one can see your interior. When your enemies look only at your unremarkable exterior — inside, a great storm is building.]

True qi surged from his dantian, spinning as it moved through him.

The motion was rough — the kind that could easily damage the meridians — but he had been training this since childhood. There was no hesitation in him.

The rotation of his true qi accelerated rapidly, growing wider and wider, until a vortex formed — and became a storm.

[I will say it again. No one will fear your sword. And yet. No one will be able to stand before you.]

The storm of true qi began to settle into the blade.

The sword itself showed no outward change.

But what it held within was a tempest capable of destroying everything it touched.

Step.

One step — diagonal right.

The nearest enemy’s sword slashed empty air.

Thud!

In the same motion, he drew his sword and drove it into the man’s gut as he passed.

A solid, heavy impact.

The sword Seo Woojin had drawn was the one his grandfather had promised him as a gift — the blade with the edge that didn’t quite bite.

Which was why it didn’t cut.

The enemy was rattled by the sudden strike — but quickly steadied himself, let out a small scoff, and turned back around.

He moved to thrust his sword forward again——

“Gkh——! Hack!“

The cloth covering his face darkened as blood spilled through it.

His pupils convulsed — then rolled back into his head.

His body crumpled to the ground.

Dead.

[The Lingering Heart Sword Art is not a flashy technique like most martial arts. It was created for one purpose alone — to destroy the enemy from within. To destroy even the malice inside the enemy……]

The Lingering Heart Sword Art.

A technique that channels true qi into the enemy’s body and attacks the meridians directly. Because it is rooted in penetrating force, it began its rotation inside Seo Woojin’s own body first — building its destructive power before transferring outward.

“Haah……”

A quiet breath. Warm mist curled from his lips.

His gaze swept to those still standing.

The sudden counterattack had stopped them cold — but they recovered quickly. Some charged back in. Others melted into the darkness.

Front line is a feint. The ones in the shadows are the real threat.

It was a transparently simple tactic — but against someone with little experience, it would have caused panic.

Seo Woojin remained calm to the last.

Shhhhk!

As their blades fell simultaneously, he swept his sword in a wide arc.

CLAAANG! SHING!

Every enemy blade shattered.

He spun once — and with his left hand, sent a palm strike radiating outward.

Whoosh!

Shhk! Shhk! Shhhhhhk!

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The shattered sword fragments scattered in every direction under the force of his palm. Most embedded themselves in the enemies at the front — but several flew into the darkness.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Clang!

“Ugh——!”

Seo Woojin didn’t slow down. He launched himself forward.

The ones close to him weren’t the immediate concern. The sudden blow had left them reeling — they needed time to recover. He used that gap to slip past them and drive into the dark.

Those hidden figures had taken damage too — not fatal, but enough to shake them. And now Seo Woojin was bearing down on them fast.

Shhhhhk!

Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!

The target swung his sword wildly.

The others hurled hidden projectiles.

Seo Woojin dropped into a low stance and slid past the man like water.

“……!!”

He could feel their shock through his skin.

And with good reason.

Whoosh!

The moment the man’s sword cut nothing but air——

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

His own comrades’ projectiles found him instead.

He didn’t even have time to scream before the life left him.

Now he understood.

Why his grandfather had passed down a technique with no outward splendor.

The intent had been to invite carelessness in the enemy. To let them underestimate, let them drop their guard — so that his grandson might escape difficult situations more easily.

What a foolish, contradictory old man.

And that was precisely why the love — so one-sided, so relentless — felt so real now.

Seo Woojin kicked off the ground again. His sword moved simply. His enemies couldn’t keep up.

One by one, they became cold bodies.

“Haah. Haah.”

The truth he now knew.

The grief and rage that came with it.

Ironically — it was those very emotions that had let him move with more clarity and coldness than usual.

Even so — this had been Seo Woojin’s first true fight with his life on the line.

He didn’t even know who these people were.

Enemies who had come at him with nothing but intent to kill.

Drawing his sword against people like that — it had consumed far more of him than he expected.

Seo Woojin steadied his breathing and looked at the sword in his hand.

‘Grandfather……’

The black dragon motif traced along the flat of the blade caught his eye.

‘He blunted the edge on purpose. So it could withstand the true qi of the Lingering Heart Sword Art.’

A sharper edge meant a more brittle blade. It wouldn’t have held up long against Seo Woojin’s particular qi. So rather than sharpness, his grandfather had chosen durability — a blade that could bear the storm within it.

Seo Woojin stared at the sword for a long moment, grief quiet in his eyes.

He thought of what his grandfather must have felt, preparing this.

Then shook his head sharply and sheathed it.

He needed to find the Four Black Dragons first.

His feet turned upward — back toward the surface.

BOOM!

Ice fragments filled the air in every direction.

Within a radius of some thirty feet around him, it was as though an entirely different world existed. Frost clung to the tips of leaves. The ground itself was buried under a pale blanket of cold.

“M-monster……”

A trembling voice.

The monster in question — Yoo Geonwoo — turned his cold gaze toward it.

“Haah……”

Crunch. Crunch.

Thin ice splintered under each footfall.

The sound snapped the assassin back to his senses. He moved to bite down on the poison capsule hidden between his teeth——

Grab!

“Gkh——!”

Yoo Geonwoo’s hand closed around the assassin’s jaw in an instant. He forced the mouth open and pried the capsule out.

“You people are all so predictable.”

His tone was as languid as ever. The killing intent behind it was not.

Whoosh!

Thud!

He flung the assassin to the ground and spoke slowly.

“I’ll ask out of courtesy. I can already guess how this goes — but still.”

“……”

“Who sent you?”

The assassin said nothing.

His attempt at suicide had failed — but he seemed fully aware of his duty. Yoo Geonwoo smiled with quiet satisfaction.

Shhk! Shck!

One easy stroke of the sword. The assassin’s arm came off.

“Gh——ghhk——!”

A belated cry of pain.

Yoo Geonwoo asked again, his expression unchanged.

“Who sent you?”

The assassin’s pupils shook violently. Fear — unmistakable, consuming. But still he kept his mouth shut. As though there was something that mattered more to him than this pain.

“Fine. Then die.”

Shhk. Shck.

Without a trace of reluctance, Yoo Geonwoo cut the man’s throat. He flicked his sword clean and sheathed it.

“Hah. What garbage keeps crawling out of the woodwork.”

This was the age of the Murim Alliance’s ascendancy. In a world that upheld the righteous path, assassin organizations had been driven into the shadows — which meant assassins trained to surrender their lives without hesitation were a rarity.

“Someone put real effort into building these people……”

A few names surfaced in his mind immediately — but certainty eluded him.

He stripped the assassin’s clothes and examined the body. Nothing of note.

Except for one thing.

“A red crescent.”

A tattoo on the wrist.

A mark he had never seen before.

Yoo Geonwoo sighed faintly and rose.

He glanced toward the thatched cottage.

He had already been aware that some of the assassins had moved in that direction. Their real target was almost certainly the Young Lord.

“Well. He got away safely, I’d imagine.”

They had arrived long after he had already disappeared. With Seo Woojin’s lightness technique, they wouldn’t have caught him easily.

He turned to head back.

But just then——

BOOM!

The thatched cottage collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Yoo Geonwoo turned back around.

He assumed the assassins had resorted to explosives after failing to find Seo Woojin.

But the figure who emerged from the wreckage was the last person he had expected.

“You…… Young Lord?”

Seo Woojin stumbled out of the cloud of dust and soot, face streaked with ash.

“Cough, cough! Haah…… What on earth just happened? A pack of men came at me with swords out of nowhere…… Haah — barely made it out.”

“Wh — how did——”

Seo Woojin caught his breath and wiped the cold sweat from his face.

“There was a storage room underground. I think they got careless because I was alone. So I gave them the slip and brought the storage room down on them. I didn’t expect the whole house to come down with it though……”

Yoo Geonwoo couldn’t find words immediately.

He had no idea how much of what Seo Woojin was saying to believe.

Seo Woojin, for his part, kept his composure with easy calm.

“Shall we head back? I’m worried about the others.”

Yoo Geonwoo had little choice but to nod, though his expression remained skeptical.

“Yes…… yes. Let’s.”

And so the two descended the mountain.

Leaving nothing behind but cold bodies.

As feared, White Cloud Village had been attacked as well.

Thanks to the Four Black Dragons, the villagers had come to no harm.

Bae Seokjin borrowed a cart and loaded all of the bodies. Then he climbed back up the mountain and burned them together with the ones left there.

The uniforms the attackers wore could become a serious problem if they were found. The bodies had to be disposed of.

The Four Black Dragons didn’t show it — but the look in their eyes when Seo Woojin returned made clear they hadn’t expected to see him. Still, with no particular explanation exchanged, Seo Woojin and the Four Black Dragons set out for Hangzhou.

Unlike the journey out, they hired a carriage for the return.

And they no longer asked Seo Woojin to stand watch.

They treated him more unmistakably as the Young Alliance Lord now than they had before.

Rattle. Rattle.

Clunk!

Trundle, trundle, trundle.

Inside the carriage, Seo Woojin gazed out the window.

The evening sky burned red as blood.

‘……’

Someone had once said it.

That vengeance only begets more vengeance.

That forgiveness holds more worth than any act of revenge.

Once, he had thought that sounded rather convincing.

Not anymore.

Revenge is a source of fuel.

It dilutes grief. It sharpens the will to grow stronger.

Seo Woojin recalled the final passage of the letter.

[…… ‘He’ appears to have been manipulated. Even after we went into hiding, I continued to investigate him. And only recently did I finally learn who stood behind him — who had turned him against us. The Dark Alliance. They were the ones pulling his strings.]

Something cold and desolate passed through Seo Woojin’s eyes.

‘Handle something carelessly and you leave behind a bigger disaster.’

On the road back.

Unlike when he had left——

He had to keep pressing down the urge to kill that kept surging up inside him.

Turning Song Biryeong’s words over and over in his mind.

(End of Chapter 8)