Talent is akin to a mountain; the closer one approaches, the more crushing its sheer scale becomes.

His master, Yoo Ho, was already a completed vessel. Though he had abandoned his martial ambitions in the face of death, creating a void in his training, he had still stood on the precipice of the Three Supremes despite his age. Because of that immense height, he was too distant a peak for Jin Cheon-hee to fully measure.

The same held true for the Star of Heavenly Slaughter, Yeo Ha-ryoon. He was an existence at the opposite extreme of Jin Cheon-hee, a physician to his core. Yeo Ha-ryoon’s strength bloomed truly only when he killed; his very nature as a protagonist made it impossible to gauge the ceiling of his martial potential.

Perhaps this is simply my unconditional faith in him.

He knew that no matter what the world deemed impossible, Yeo Ha-ryoon would shatter that ceiling. To Jin Cheon-hee, this was a truth as immutable as the sun rising in the east or water flowing downstream. It was the bond between a novel’s protagonist and its reader—a connection that might seem flimsy to an outsider but was, in reality, incredibly tenacious. The more dire the crisis, the thicker that trust became.

Tang Ah, on the other hand, was a talent he could observe from a breathtakingly close proximity. She was the anomaly who had pushed him—a man armed with fortuitous encounters and cheat-like shortcuts—into a corner through sheer aptitude.

Of course, Tang Ah possessed a mindset far removed from the ordinary, her path diverging from the Star of Heavenly Slaughter, yet she was a monster in her own right. For that reason, Jin Cheon-hee was beginning to realize the terrifying depth of her potential.

Even now, as he replayed the image of Gongsun Yeong—the Supreme Yang Physique and possessor of the finest constitution in the Gangho—he saw the difference.

Gongsun Yeong’s fighting style was excellent. At her age, she was likely the only one capable of executing the Gongsun Sword Art to such a high degree of perfection. Though slower than Tang Ah or the brothers he had raised, reaching the Transformation Realm so young was a feat few could rival. Compared to others of her generation, she was effectively invincible.

But there was a difference between ‘great’ and ‘genius.’

So this is why the great mountains of the Gangho are so obsessed with martial intuition and talent.

The more one knows, the more one sees. If his own realm had been lower, or his practical experience lacking, he likely would have declared physical constitution the deciding factor. But nothing is certain in the world of martial arts. In the end, it is Tang Ah’s body that must contain her martial arts, just as his master’s developed intuition had to contend with the Nine Yin Severed Meridians despite his blessed, weapon-like physique.

Is this an aptitude for what lies beyond the Transformation Realm?

It was a supreme irony. For an ordinary martial artist, reaching the Transformation Realm was a dream often left unfulfilled in a lifetime. Yet there was a sky above that sky, and even at those dizzying heights, innate qualities carved out the hierarchy.

“What are you brooding over?”

Wang Gak-yeon suddenly thrust her face in front of his, breaking his trance.

Jin Cheon-hee answered calmly. “Hmm… I was just reviewing the fight in my head.”

“My sister was doing the same thing.”

It seemed she had grown bored with the two of them sitting in silence within the swaying carriage. She hugged Hwanggu tightly, blowing a puff of hot air onto the dog’s forehead.

Woof!

Hwanggu was simply happy to be included. Earlier, Wang Gak-yeon had pulled on his cheeks, and he had wagged his tail at that indignity as well.

“Normally, you would have challenged me to a duel by now. Why did you stay quiet?”

“Hahaha. You’re right. That is what I usually would have done.”

Wang Gak-yeon took Hwanggu’s front paws and swayed them in time with the carriage’s rhythm.

Pant, pant!

Hwanggu stood on his hind legs, letting her manipulate his paws as she pleased. She played with him in silence for a long moment before her voice dropped to a murmur.

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about my duty as an archer.”

“Hmm?”

“Defeating a warrior standing right in front of me is fun, but I’ve started to think that my fight ultimately comes down to a single question: can I hit my target with one arrow, or not?”

“You mean your path diverges from that of a swordsman?”

“Yeah… I don’t mean to sound arrogant. It’s a fundamental question of survival. If I miss, I die. I can’t let the enemy close the distance. So… a duel can’t fully measure my skill.”

Jin Cheon-hee felt a ripple of surprise at her words.

Has she already reached the same point of contemplation as the Elder Phantom Archer?

The Phantom Archer rarely engaged in duels. He devoted himself entirely to the ‘heart of the bow’—the binary reality of piercing the target or failing. He simplified his art, stripping away the superfluous, and strangely, the more he simplified it, the higher his realm ascended. Jin Cheon-hee had come to believe that once a certain peak was reached, the Tao of the sword and the Tao of the bow had to be fundamentally different. A duel begins at ten paces; an archer ends life from a thousand.

Wang Gak-yeon blinked, surprised that he was listening so intently.

“Huh? You’re not laughing?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“I thought you’d say I’ve lost my spirit. Usually, when I voice thoughts like this, people try to lecture me. Especially young swordsmen.”

The less one knows, the more opinionated they become; the man who has read only one book is far more dangerous than the man who has read ten. Young martial artists often fell into that trap. But Jin Cheon-hee, who had devoured countless treatises from the Zhuge Clan to the Imperial Palace, knew the vastness of the world too well to make such dogmatic judgments.

“Well, is that so? I think what you’re saying makes perfect sense.”

“You know, you could easily brag about how smart you are, but you’re a really good listener.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s why everyone feels so comfortable around you. You’re even taking my concerns seriously right now.”

“No, I simply confirmed it because it is the truth.”

“Hahaha, that’s the hard part.”

Wang Gak-yeon smiled, a tinge of sadness in the curve of her lips. She was a woman who had left her father to stand alone as a martial artist, throwing herself into the teeth of danger. She surely carried many unspoken hardships.

“Still, it’s good to see you.”

“Me too.”

As he spoke, he retrieved a strip of jerky from his sleeve and offered it to the dog.

Woof!

Hwanggu agreed enthusiastically.

***

When they arrived at the Gongsun Clan estate, Gongsun Hyeon was already waiting for them.

As the head of the clan, she offered Jin Cheon-hee a deep, formal welcome. Though she had inherited the position at a young age and still bore the title of ‘Acting Head,’ no one was ignorant of the fact that she was the true master of the Gongsun Clan.

True to her moniker, the Black Ice Poison Dragon, she was draped in black robes of rare, exquisite silk, adorned with black jade ornaments and a heavy dark cloak. To some, she looked as though she were in perpetual mourning; they found her ominous.

She enjoys that reputation.

Unlike her sister, Gongsun Yeong, Gongsun Hyeon was born with a constitution as fragile as glass. She could not ride for long, and a day in the sun would leave her bedridden with fever. Because of this, commanding the dignity required of a martial clan’s head was no easy feat. To be accepted as a leader despite her frailty, she required a different kind of authority, and Gongsun Hyeon had chosen to rule through fear and intellect.

Even now, she likely wanted nothing more than to hand the leadership over to her sister. But no matter her desires, Gongsun Yeong lacked the aptitude for governance; if given the seal, she would bankrupt the clan within a year.

The day following the grand welcome, Jin Cheon-hee was summoned to a meeting regarding the acquisition of the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency and their expansion into Shandong Province. He arrived fully prepared to represent the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, but the room was sparse. The only ones present were Gongsun Hyeon and Gongsun Kang.

“Hmm? Are the other members of the Gongsun Clan not attending the meeting?”

At his question, Gongsun Hyeon offered only a pale, thin smile. Beside her, Chief Steward Gongsun Kang answered smoothly.

“The branch families and the elders have stated they will follow the Acting Head’s command.”

“…”

It meant Gongsun Hyeon had seized total control of the clan far faster than the outside world realized.

“The Southern Barbarian Dragon Well tea that just arrived has a remarkably clear aroma. Would you care for a cup, Young Pavilion Master?”

This was an official setting, and Gongsun Hyeon deliberately maintained a wall of formal courtesy. At her gesture, the Chief Steward poured the tea.

Trickle.

The sound of the pouring liquid filled the silence. Jin Cheon-hee felt the warmth of the cup against his cold hands, but the opponent across from him was too formidable for him to simply lose himself in the tea’s fragrance.

A meeting between the Acting Head and the Young Pavilion Master. This is moving faster than I anticipated.

His counterpart was the Black Ice Poison Dragon. Fortunately, she was an ally, but both carried the heavy mantle of their positions, precluding casual friendliness.

“First, this is our proposal.”

She slid a document across the table. It detailed the points he, Wang Gak-yeon, and Gongsun Yeong had discussed previously. Scanning the items, Jin Cheon-hee realized the terms were, if anything, heavily skewed in favor of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion.

This… is a show of good faith.

It was a declaration of her determination. If he refused, she would move to subjugate the river pirates with her own power, regardless of the cost in coin and blood. One could only hope the debt of blood would be sufficient to wash away the pirates’ main base.

She is similar to the Heavenly Demon, yet fundamentally different.

The Heavenly Demon would never use such a method. She would select men from the Ten Thousand Mountains, infiltrate them as spies, and within a decade, the pirates would simply become a branch of the Demonic Cult. That was the way of the demonic. The only reason she refrained was that catching river pirates was a waste of manpower, and those pirates preyed on orthodox merchants rather than the distant cult.

But Gongsun Hyeon walked the path of a human ruler. The weight of her considerations was palpable in the ink of the document.

“If there are any parts you wish to amend, please let me know.”

Jin Cheon-hee gave the answer he had prepared. “The White Qilin Medical Pavilion is grateful for the Gongsun Clan’s hospitality and hopes to continue working together in the future.”

It was a formal reply, but Gongsun Hyeon, understanding the acceptance within it, nodded slowly.

She continued, her voice dropping to a serious register. “To speak of practical matters, river pirates are surprisingly sensitive to information and possess a keen eye. This is something any escort who has actually fought them knows. The only ones who underestimate them are the sheltered young masters of the rising generation who have never crossed swords in earnest.”

“Is it because they do not have many opportunities to fight them?”

“Yes. They strike only when victory is certain and flee the moment they judge the odds unfavorable. Furthermore, combat on the water is a different beast entirely from combat on land. Many masters have met their end by failing to respect that difference.”

Jin Cheon-hee nodded in agreement.