Some time had passed.

The color in the girl Gong Yubing’s face was visibly improving, a change so striking it could not be missed.

A smile crept onto Jin Cheonhee’s weary face at this positive shift.

It worked!

Thieving Phantom Gong Ya-geon was undoubtedly a peerless master, her formidable martial prowess staving off even the ravages of age. By appearance alone, she could pass for a woman in her early thirties. In truth, her physical vitality far surpassed that of youthful twenty-year-olds at their prime.

Even in 21st-century Korea, people over fifty who retained a youthful appearance often made headlines. In the martial world, governed by the omnipotent energies of martial arts and qi, such feats were almost commonplace.

Thus, trusting in Gong Ya-geon’s extraordinary health, Jin Cheonhee’s plan had succeeded.

Her superhuman kidneys were purifying the blood at an astonishing rate.

Now, it’s just a matter of time. Dialysis has alleviated the urgent symptoms of uremia. Moving forward, whether through this world’s methods like dietary adjustments or qi-based treatments, restoring kidney function will eliminate the need for regular dialysis.

Given that Gong Yubing was poisoned by a toxin unique to this world and that the blood used was from the martial artist Gong Ya-geon, Jin Cheonhee couldn’t be entirely certain. A few more dialysis sessions might be necessary.

But the critical hurdle had been cleared.

That alone warmed a corner of Jin Cheonhee’s heart.

Good, good. By the way, Thieving Phantom will need to focus on nurturing qi exercises for a while.

Even in the joy of success, Jin Cheonhee was already thinking ahead.

Thieving Phantom Gong Ya-geon watched him for a long time, finding it strange how his expressions shifted moment to moment.

Truly… the rumors of the martial world were no exaggeration.

With that thought, she closed her eyes again.

***

She dreamed.

“Your grandma is a divine thief.”

After her parents’ funeral, those were the first words Thieving Phantom Gong Ya-geon—her grandmother—had spoken.

Blink, blink.

Gong Yubing had merely stared blankly, listening to her grandmother’s words. In truth, she questioned whether she’d heard correctly, turning the words over in her mind.

Maybe I misheard.

“Your grandma is the unparalleled divine thief, the Shadowless Thieving Phantom.”

“Uh…”

Gong Yubing knew her grandmother was a martial arts master. For one, she had a face younger than her mother’s, and her lightness skill was so swift that no one could tell when she came or went.

Her mother had said Grandma was a famous armed escort in the Hao Sect. Indeed, she seemed to work with an escort agency, earning money.

Like most first-rate masters’ households, they lived without want for money.

But to suddenly claim she wasn’t just a master but a legendary divine thief?

Gong Yubing asked her grandmother if there was anything like a divine artifact that could save lives.

Her grandmother’s expression darkened profoundly.

There was necromancy to raise the dead, she said, but that wasn’t true revival.

So… Gong Yubing just cried.

Even the greatest martial artists couldn’t stop a plague.

Her grandmother cried too.

She said she should’ve told her sooner, that she was ignorant, skilled only in thievery, and had made a mistake.

Before her parents’ ancestral tablets, Grandma apologized, calling herself a fool. If she’d known it would come to this, she would’ve revealed everything—debts and grudges of the martial world be damned—and wept like a child.

She banged her head on the floor, thud, thud, over and over until blood ran down her forehead, striking it again and again.

She didn’t know how to raise her granddaughter, she said. Teaching her martial arts would pass on her enemies, but not teaching her would leave regrets later. And since Gong Yubing wasn’t born with a martial physique, Grandma didn’t know what to do.

Grandma said she was born with a martial physique and genius intellect, which led to her current achievements. But her granddaughter, even if raised well, would struggle to achieve greatness.

She’d likely grow into a mediocre martial artist, like most. And if so, she wouldn’t be able to bear the grudges tied to Thieving Phantom’s legacy.

So, she just sobbed like a bear.

Grandma cries too.

To Gong Yubing, her grandmother was an unapproachable figure. Unlike other grandmothers who lingered by the warm floor, fetching sweets from the cupboard, she was different.

Her youthful, striking appearance—looking younger than her mother—often caused misunderstandings. Grandma let those misunderstandings stand.

So, neighbors mistook her for an aunt or, sometimes, an older sister with a significant age gap.

They hadn’t talked much to begin with.

Grandma had said, “I’ll raise you somehow. I’ll make sure you don’t end up a thief like me, no matter what…”

But she didn’t know she was utterly talentless at teaching, far worse than she imagined.

With an ordinary physique, even a good teacher might struggle, but Grandma was, in teaching, the worst kind of mentor.

Still, Gong Yubing loved her.

She loved Grandma’s hands.

The fierce edge of her past was gone. Sometimes, she’d hold Gong Yubing tightly and sob as if crumbling.

But still.

She loved her grandmother.

***

“Grandma…”

Having dreamed of the past after so long, the girl opened her eyes.

Blink, blink.

The unfamiliar ceiling was adorned with ornate carvings. Young as she was, she knew such a ceiling wasn’t cheap.

Why am I here? she wondered briefly.

Glancing to the side, she saw thin tubes like threads inserted into her arm—two of them, connected to leather pouches hanging on a pole at a suitable height.

Looking around further, she realized she was lying on a bed with intricate wooden carvings.

Only then did she notice someone tightly holding her hand.

A warm hand.

Following that warmth, she saw her grandmother.

Thieving Phantom Gong Ya-geon.

One of the ten strongest people in the world.

The only family left after her mother and father died.

She knew Grandma was there. Grandma stayed for a month or two each year, then vanished somewhere. She never said when she was leaving or returning.

As a child, Gong Yubing had thrown tantrums, begging her not to go, wanting to be with her. Each time, Grandma subtly built a wall.

Looking back, it seemed she was trying to shield her granddaughter from the grudges of the martial world.

Now that Gong Yubing was older, she realized her grandmother, revered as a divine thief, had a surprisingly innocent side.

She loved that about her.

But sometimes, she resented her too. When her parents died, Grandma wasn’t there.

Living alone with her after their deaths, Gong Yubing initially couldn’t believe Grandma was Thieving Phantom.

But without her, wouldn’t she have drowned in tears from grief?

If I weren’t here, Grandma might’ve melted away too. She’s quite the crybaby.

Despite living so long, bearing the title of an Eccentric in the martial world, and achieving feats as a public enemy of the martial world…

Grandma was a crybaby.

Even now, at night, she sometimes called her mother’s name, apologizing with trembling shoulders. She’d buy two hair ornaments—one in her mother’s favorite color, one in Gong Yubing’s—and insist she bought one for herself, stubbornly denying otherwise.

Then she’d leave for the outhouse but end up in the kitchen, staying there for a long time. When she returned, her eyes swollen, she’d cook something delicious.

It’s a secret I can’t tell anyone.

Gong Yubing tightly grasped her crybaby grandmother’s hand.

Once she knew Gong Yubing was recovering, she’d probably cry again.

She’d think of Mom.

And Gong Yubing, too, would probably think of Mom.

…And cry.

Some wounds never fully heal, stinging enough to bring tears at the slightest brush of memory.

That was probably Mom.

Grandma and I are comrades-in-arms.

If either of them died, the number of people remembering Mom and Dad would be halved.

Grandma never liked Dad, calling him the thief who stole her daughter. Dad, a war orphan, had been taken in as a live-in son-in-law and given a suitable surname.

Grandma had wanted her daughter to marry someone from a loving, well-off family. Yet Dad always laughed off her grumbling, enduring it to the end.

Though she complained, Grandma always bought clothes or food Dad liked. Outwardly, she called him the daughter-thief, but inwardly, she cared for him.

Gong Yubing couldn’t fully understand that sentiment.

She allowed the marriage because she loved Mom so much.

Mom had loved Dad so much she fell ill with lovesickness.

That’s why Grandma was upset, calling him a thief.

It was a little funny to think of her grandmother, a true divine thief, saying that.

She gazed at her sleeping grandmother’s face for a long time.

No matter how she looked, she wasn’t a “grandmother.”

When I grow up, when I get old, will Grandma still look young?

Perhaps, after a very long time, some might mistake Grandma for her daughter.

Grandma said her youth wasn’t from martial enlightenment. She’d stolen an elixir of immortality from a deeply hidden vault somewhere difficult to reach and drank it all at once.

Not to boast or sell as stolen goods.

That’s why people called her the Shadowless Thieving Phantom, she said. It was her most memorable theft.

So… Grandma will always look like this.

Gong Yubing thought, staring at the ceiling.

Then she’ll always remember Mom, and me too?

No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t achieve feats like her grandmother’s.

Even if she trained under her talentless teacher, enduring bone-grinding pain, achieving something like rejuvenation seemed impossible.

If I die too, Grandma will have to carry two hair ornaments…

That would be so lonely.

Gong Yubing thought.

Then her sleeping grandmother slowly opened her eyes.

Tears began to pool in her large eyes.

“How… do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness. Thank goodness…”

Grandma didn’t stop her tears. She habitually fiddled with the hair ornament.

Mom’s favorite color.

See, she’s thinking of Mom.

And at the same time, Gong Yubing thought of Mom too.

She missed her.