I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 28: Riding a Tiger’s Back

The sky was so blue it stung the eyes.

The peaks of the Giryeon Mountain Range surrounded the area like a folding screen, and the streets and buildings nestled beneath looked like miniature models—delicate and quaint.

Gazing quietly at that strange yet beautiful scenery beneath his feet, Jincheon brought the teacup to his lips.

‘...Not bad.’

Even a single sip of the tea brought him comfort.

The fragrant warmth spreading through his chest made even his heart feel a little more at ease.

‘Let’s see...’

Jincheon picked up a pair of chopsticks and grasped a xiaolongbao.

As he bit into it lightly, the thin dumpling skin burst, and the broth began to flow out.

Its temperature was perfectly judged—hot for a moment, then spreading gently with warmth to fill his mouth.

‘Oh.’

It was just one small dumpling, but Jincheon was genuinely impressed.

Getting the temperature just right wasn’t easy. Get it wrong and it would scald the inside of the mouth. He could tell the palace chef had adjusted it with delicate care.

“Tastes good.”

At Jincheon’s comment, Sunday—Nanyak—gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, and Jincheon reached with his chopsticks for the next xiaolongbao.

There weren’t many, so they were gone in no time.

Savoring the lingering taste of pork and shrimp in his mouth, Jincheon hesitated for a moment.

‘Should I have more?’

He’d only meant to take the edge off his hunger, but once the food touched his lips, his appetite only grew.

When in his life had he ever eaten such delicious xiaolongbao, and been treated so devotedly by such beautiful women?

After a brief internal struggle, Jincheon ultimately put down his chopsticks.

Clack.

‘No. I can’t.’

He wasn’t in a position to get comfortable just yet.

This wasn’t the time to lower his guard or indulge in satisfaction.

Just because his mouth was happy and his eyes delighted didn’t mean he could afford to let himself go.

It might just be a few dumplings, but a human heart could crumble from the smallest crack.

‘I’m in a position like someone riding a tiger’s back.’

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

Slide.

Jincheon picked up his teacup instead of the chopsticks.

Feeling the warmth seep into his fingers, he gently washed down the lingering taste in his mouth with tea.

His appetite faded slightly, and Jincheon was able to compose himself again.

“You may clear the table. Ah, and more tea...”

Pour...

Before he could even finish, Monday—Hyowol—was already refilling his cup. The silver-haired woman lifting the teapot had a graceful, old-fashioned air to her.

Watching Saturday—Sohong—disappear with the empty dishes, and Hyowol with the teapot still in hand, Jincheon lifted his teacup to his lips and recalled the Oracle’s words.

“You’ll get used to {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} it soon. The painful, miserable days... the idle, debauched hours too.”

What had she meant by that strangely suggestive line?

Perhaps it had all been a warning to Jincheon. Or maybe it was a test, probing his true feelings.

Sluurp.

Savoring the fragrant, warm tea, Jincheon lifted his gaze.

The surrounding Giryeon mountains, the vivid blue sky, and the small city of Cheonhwa Valley below—it was all stunningly beautiful.

Jincheon made his decision.

Clink.

Lowering the teacup, he turned to the black-haired attendant—Nanyak.

“Summon Sapoong and the Twelve Signs. To that same great hall we visited yesterday.”

“Yes.”

The black-haired attendant responded without hesitation.

The gleam in her dark eyes might have seemed to sparkle for a moment—but perhaps that was just his imagination.

Slide.

At Nanyak’s glance, Saturday—Sohong, with her ash-brown hair—immediately moved to carry out the command.

While she was gone, Jincheon asked Nanyak:

“Do you always go around in a group of seven like this?”

“Not always.”

“Is that so?”

Seven maids following him around felt a bit much—excessive and burdensome, even.

Wouldn’t just a few, or even one, be more than enough?

“If you wish, we can reduce or increase the number.”

How she knew his thoughts, Jincheon didn’t know—but Nanyak said it plainly.

“Really? Then...”

Just as he was about to say ‘reduce,’ he happened to lock eyes with the silver-haired attendant—Friday, Yeonhwa.

And in her blue eyes, he saw a fierce tremble.

“...Just... continue as usual.”

“Understood.”

The relief in Yeonhwa’s eyes clearly showed that Jincheon hadn’t imagined it.

He could understand.

To them, serving Jincheon—no, serving the Red Dragon—must have a meaning far deeper than mere duty.

Before long, Saturday—Sohong—returned.

“I have delivered the message.”

‘Already?’

Jincheon had expected it to take some time and was momentarily surprised.

He quickly turned to Nanyak.

“Do you have something... that can be worn around the neck?”

“A necklace, do you mean?”

“Well, yes, though not exactly jewelry... Like how, in mourning, people wear rough hemp bands around their arms? Something to express sorrow or grief—something for the neck.”

“We don’t currently have such an item, but if you require it, we can prepare it.”

“I’ll need sixteen.”

A strange glint flickered in Nanyak’s eyes.

“I will obey.”

“Can you have them ready now?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in her answer.

“Thank you.”

“You honor me too much.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she bowed her head.

“Let’s go.”

Clunk.

As he rose from his seat, the silver-haired Yeonhwa—when had she come so close?—silently pulled his chair back.

Thanks to her, Jincheon stood up with ease, gave her a small nod of gratitude, and began to walk.

Step. Step.

Listening to the echo of his footsteps along the wide corridor, Jincheon renewed his resolve.

‘I’m already on the tiger’s back. I can’t just stumble around clueless.’

If he did, he’d end up eaten alive before accomplishing anything. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Jincheon clenched his fist.

It was time to end this.

****

A large door opened—without making a sound.

It had been the same the last time, but still, it was a sight that defied reason.

The door was massive, visibly heavy, and yet under the delicate hands of the palace maids, it moved as if it were nothing more than a sheet of paper.

Step.

Jincheon stepped inside.

The interior of the Grand Hall was much the same as it had been the previous night, when he first entered.

The high ceiling, the wide space, the lamps lit even in broad daylight, and the massive chair set upon the dais—all exactly the same.

The only difference was that sixteen people were already standing in two lines to his left and right.

They were the ones Jincheon had summoned: Sapoong and the Twelve Signs.

Slide.

All at once, they knelt on one knee.

And bowed their heads.

Step. Step.

Without the slightest hesitation, Jincheon moved forward.

Calmly passing between them, he ascended the dais with the same natural poise as always.

He came to a halt in front of the long, broad chair.

Jincheon let out a quiet sigh.

He had steeled himself, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Still, there was no turning back.

Jincheon turned around—and sat down.

The sixteen individuals remained kneeling with their heads bowed.

The Seven Luminaries stood at the doorway like silent sentinels, heads lowered as well.

“Rise.”

Jincheon’s voice echoed through the great hall.

The sixteen and the seven maids rose to their feet.

Jincheon took a slow moment to look over each of them.

‘These must be the Four Winds.’

The four standing closest were already familiar to him.

He recognized the woman called North Wind, who had led the brief conversation last night, and East Wind, whom he met that morning.

‘Then those must be South Wind and West Wind.’

They were both quite visually distinct.

The man had a thin frame and sharp features, with a long beard—he looked exactly like the strict scholars Jincheon had often seen in the academies.

The woman, by contrast, wore flamboyant, flowing clothing that was extremely revealing. Her feminine charms—especially her chest—stood out boldly.

‘Is that even allowed?’

Her attire was so at odds with the atmosphere that Jincheon couldn’t help the thought.

They referred to the Four Winds as Commanders, yet here was one dressed like that? He wasn’t sure if it was really acceptable.

‘Well, not my place to interfere.’

He had neither the intention nor the standing to criticize anyone’s clothing.

His eyes moved to the remaining twelve.

‘These must be the Twelve Signs.’

Unlike the Four Winds, they included five men and seven women.

Given the title General, it was clear they held military ranks—but Jincheon couldn’t understand why there were so many women.

‘Come to think of it...’

He thought of Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong.

Not just them—Ji Yeowol, the one in charge of guarding the gates, was a woman too.

Recalling the crowd in the streets last night, there had been many women among them as well.

‘...Is this a place where women are just more common?’

In a secluded region like this, it wouldn’t be unusual for the gender ratio to be skewed.

With that thought, Jincheon studied them more carefully.

“By the will of the Red Dragon,”

The woman who had called herself North Wind the night before spoke in a quiet voice.

“Sapoong and the Twelve Signs now stand before our lord. Please give your command.”

Sixteen pairs of eyes turned toward Jincheon in unison.

Each one of them radiated a powerful presence.

But Jincheon didn’t back down. No—he couldn’t.

“I’m sure,”

He began, composed and steady,

“You all know what I did this morning in front of the palace.”

No one replied.

But there was no surprise or confusion, either.

Jincheon was certain they were already aware.

“So then, what will you do?”

They all lowered their heads again.

A heavy silence descended, and the Grand Hall was filled with stillness.

What did that silence mean? Were they silently accepting judgment as criminals? Or was it a quiet resistance—an objection to what they saw as an unlawful order?

In that suffocating quiet, Jincheon stood firm—silent, patient, unyielding.

It wasn’t his place to answer now. It was they who had to decide.

How long passed like that?

North Wind finally spoke.

“The merciful will of the Red Dragon...”

“I beg your pardon, but it is only just that the guilty receive punishment.”

A voice interrupted her.

It was the man with the sharp features and long beard—likely South Wind or West Wind.

“This is the law of Cheonhwa Valley and the custom of the Heavenly Flame Palace. Even if the Red Dragon grants mercy...”

“So what you’re saying is—you want to die. Is that it?”

Jincheon cut him off.

The man’s brow twitched. He bowed his head deeper.

“Not just I alone. All the Four Winds and Twelve Generals here are guilty, and the Seven Luminaries of the palace are not without fault either...”

“So you do want to die?”

Jincheon interrupted him again.

“Yes.”

His voice was filled with resolute conviction.

‘...Bragging about it like it’s something noble.’

That was Jincheon’s inner thought, though he kept it to himself and merely frowned as if weighing it seriously.

“Hm.”

But that was just for show.

“Very well. Let’s do that, then.”

Jincheon said it—coolly, indifferently.