Seol Unhwi walked past them and headed toward Ma Suhyeok and Bang Seokun, who were waiting on the opposite side.
Those two were the same. They had no idea what had just happened—only that the Chaotic Heaven Ones had all scattered the moment Unhwi stepped inside.
They were curious about the truth behind it, but Unhwi had no intention of explaining.
He only said one thing, briefly.
Nothing had happened.
Just tighten the security.
Ma Suhyeok asked what should be done about the Northern Wind Merchant Group he had mentioned before.
Again, Unhwi answered shortly.
Proceed as discussed.
Then he moved on.
In the direction opposite the Windwall.
***
Three people watched Unhwi’s back as he left.
Ju Soa spoke quietly.
“......I’ve never seen that expression before.”
“......”
“Chief Seong, do you perhaps know something?”
Chief Seong shook his head.
“Do you think I know everything?”
“You’re the one closest to him. You must at least have some idea, don’t you?”
He responded with silence.
She was right.
Chief Seong was currently the person closest to Unhwi. He had been with him through everything.
And they had been together since childhood—there was no need to say more.
That was why, just as she said, he had his suspicions.
If there existed someone who could make Unhwi reveal emotion like that, there were exactly two people in this world.
One was the Palace Lord of the Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Palace, Seol Jungcheon.
The other was the leader of the Blood Heaven Sect, the Martial Supreme—Cheondoja.
Chief Seong knew about Unhwi’s past life.
And because he knew, he could only keep his mouth shut.
“......Seems like you do know something.”
At Ju Soa’s probing look, Chief Seong shrugged.
At that moment, Namgung Wonyang spoke up.
“This isn’t normal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even you have never seen the lord like that, have you?”
“......It’s not the first time...... but let’s say it is.”
“......Will he be alright?”
Chief Seong turned his head and stared at Unhwi’s fading figure.
From the moment Unhwi awakened his past life—
he had become a completely different person.
Cold.
Ruthless.
At times, even merciless.
But through all of it, he had never wavered.
He had always been certain.
As if he clearly knew the path he had to walk.
As if he understood exactly what he had to do.
More than anything, he was extremely skilled at hiding his emotions.
Even if he had wavered inside, he concealed and revealed it at will, deceiving his enemies.
That was how perfect he was.
And yet—
he had just shown that expression.
Hesitation.
And sorrow.
Even when he killed Seol Cheonhwa.
Even when he faced Mae Widong.
Even when he encountered Yu Cheong.
He had not wavered.
But this time—
something was clearly different.
What on earth did Cheondoja do...?
The Martial Supreme... that ancient monster who had lived for hundreds of years—
Chief Seong bit his lip.
Ju Soa asked again.
“......Will he really be alright?”
“I don’t know. But we cannot stop him.”
Chief Seong’s voice was firm.
“It is his decision.”
“......”
“All we can do is wait. That is what trust is.”
Ju Soa looked at Unhwi’s back.
It was growing smaller.
The three of them stood there in silence, watching him.
The wind blew.
Cold wind.
Snow scattered through the air.
Unhwi’s figure gradually blurred—
and naturally disappeared into the snowstorm.
Chief Seong murmured at last,
“......Please, return safely.”
Unhwi was gone completely.
Yet the three of them remained standing there.
***
Unhwi continued walking along the snow-covered path without stopping.
His mind was far more complicated than Chief Seong had imagined.
Frankly speaking, things like the Chaotic Heaven Gate were no longer the priority.
What consumed his thoughts—
was a single person.
And his feelings toward that person.
Cheondoja.
The person Unhwi had trusted the most in his past life.
A figure like a foster father.
They had never called each other master and disciple, but in his heart, Unhwi had always regarded Cheondoja as his master.
It wasn’t certain, but Cheondoja likely felt the same.
He had that much discernment.
They had been that close.
Yet Unhwi had never asked about his past.
What kind of life he had lived.
What hardships he had endured.
He asked nothing.
And Cheondoja had asked nothing either.
They had focused only on the present, respecting each other as individuals shaped by countless experiences.
And yet—
at some point, Cheondoja’s past had begun to surface.
Or rather, not Cheondoja—
but a man named Baek Docheon.
And that Baek Docheon was almost certainly Cheondoja’s real name or alias.
If quantified—
ninety-nine percent.
The man who had walked alongside him through the long years until reaching the pinnacle.
The greatest benefactor of his life, who had turned a wandering stray into a person—and into a martial artist.
And yet—
his chest felt tight.
What kind of life did he live...?
If he had been the Vice Leader of the Thousand-Year Demonic Cult, then he must be at least seven hundred—no, over nine hundred years old.
Then how had someone who once stood at the peak of the Innate Three Realms reached the pinnacle?
And Zhuge Xian—what about him?
At the very least, this was the first time in this life—
that he was going to meet Cheondoja directly.
Unhwi quickened his pace.
***
Two days later, Unhwi arrived at a nameless mountain.
Deep in the mountains.
Untouched by human hands.
And yet—
there was an inn.
A small inn.
Old, but neat.
Unhwi knew.
Cheondoja sometimes came here.
Alone.
To drink.
A certain memory surfaced.
—Isn’t the scenery beautiful? Heh heh heh.
He had come here with him before.
He even remembered the number.
Exactly five times.
Under the moonlight, Cheondoja had once said:
—People carry their past as they live. If they cannot bear its weight, they collapse.
Back then, he had interpreted it differently.
Ah... he’s talking about me.
But it wasn’t.
Now it sounded different.
That was something Cheondoja had been saying to himself.
He should have asked back then—
What kind of past are you enduring?
Perhaps he might have heard something close to the truth.
Shaking his head, Unhwi stepped inside the inn.
An old man with streaks of white in his hair raised his head.
“......Rare. A martial artist in a place like this.”
No people. No villagers. No settlement.
An inn that felt strange simply by existing.
But Unhwi spoke as if he were familiar with it.
“Give me a seat.”
“At this hour?”
The sun was setting.
“......What kind of seat?”
“A seat for a guest.”
“......”
“A guest worthy of the greatest reception in this world.”
The old man’s eyes flashed.
Despite appearances, his martial level was at the Taehumusal state.
A martial artist of the previous generation.
The former Grand Elder of the Blood Heaven Sect—Cheolhyeon.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“......No appointment... and yet you ask me to prepare for a guest who may never come?”
“Even without an appointment, he will come.”
“Why?”
Unhwi’s eyes gleamed.
“Do I need to explain that as well?”
“......Oh?”
“Give me a good seat.”
Cheolhyeon chuckled.
“Fine. Sit wherever you like.”
After meeting Zhuge Xian, something like this felt trivial.
Unhwi moved upstairs in silence and looked around.
Four tables.
Two by the window, two in the center.
He chose one between them and sat down.
He lifted his head.
Their eyes met—Cheolhyeon peeking up from below.
“Want something to eat?”
Unhwi smirked.
“Something without poison.”
“Without poison... that’s inconvenient. How about porridge?”
“I want meat.”
“Meat?”
“Anything except human flesh.”
“Hah... human flesh? This place has more history than you think—”
“Go cook.”
“......”
“I have much to think about.”
“Hmm... bold, aren’t you? Wait.”
The shifting tone—he was testing him.
Unhwi had no intention of playing along.
“I’m hungry, innkeeper.”
“......”
“And your fingers will break if you keep that up.”
“......Hah...”
With a sigh, Cheolhyeon vanished.
To the kitchen.
Unhwi stood, walked to the window, and opened it.
Wind flowed in.
Snow-covered mountains.
A valley untouched by snow.
A perfect harmony.
Cheondoja liked this kind of distant view.
He also observed the affairs of the martial world from a step—no, several steps—away.
That kind of man.
Detached from the world—
yet never neglecting what must be done.
Unhwi sat again.
He ate roast duck and drank bamboo leaf liquor.
And waited.
Night fell.
The moon rose.
A white moon illuminating the distant snow mountains.
Unhwi did not move.
Then—
the door opened.
The old man came up with more drinks and snacks.
“Boy.”
Unhwi looked up.
“You’re more famous than I thought.”
“Me?”
“The genius of the Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Palace—who else would it be?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Just saying.”
“Innkeeper, if you keep interrupting my thoughts, I won’t be able to pay you.”
Cheolhyeon laughed.
“Pay... me?”
“Yes.”
“You brat. I am Cheolhyeon.”
“I know. The Invincible Fist King, Cheolhyeon.”
“......So the rumors were true. You’ve got eyes. I’ve been in seclusion for over a hundred years.”
“Even after a hundred years, the path you walked does not disappear, Senior.”
“Ha... you’re right. It does not.”
He gestured.
A table rose from below—
snacks, liquor, and a Go board.
“The one you’re waiting for...”
He scratched his head, then sighed.
“That man always keeps his promises. I’ll ask once more—are you truly not expecting him?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll wait indefinitely?”
“It’s not indefinite.”
