I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 52: A Dragon Handles Its Own Affairs

Jincheon wondered if he’d misheard something. But Gi Seoran’s expression remained utterly grave.

“...You execute anyone who teaches the Red Dragon?”

“Yes.”

Gi Seoran lowered her head deeply as she answered. Jincheon still couldn’t make sense of it.

“No, but why?”

It was a half-conscious murmur, and the one who replied was Ilyo.

“Because no one can stand above the Red Dragon.”

Jincheon turned his head.

It was indeed the palace maiden, Ilyo, who had spoken. She continued calmly.

“Teaching is an act in which one who knows imparts knowledge to one who does not. It is, by definition, placing oneself above the Red Dragon. Such arrogance is an intolerable crime—for which there is only death.”

Her logic was not entirely without merit.

How often do people deem others ignorant simply because they don't know something “obvious”?

Even if unspoken, there’s always the silent judgment that someone is lesser.

“Still... even so...”

To kill someone simply for being irreverent—or even just for the possibility of being perceived that way?

How could that be justified?

“Then... how exactly do you define ‘teaching’? If someone explains something to me, is that allowed?”

This was a matter he had to understand precisely.

He couldn’t risk accidentally turning someone into a criminal—into someone deserving of death.

“I merely shared what I know with the Red Dragon,” Ilyo replied quietly.

Rustle.

She knelt on one knee and placed both hands over her chest. Then bowed her head deeply.

“If the Red Dragon considers that to be teaching, I shall accept my fate without hesitation.”

In other words—she was willing to die.

Jincheon was speechless.

He glanced toward Gi Seoran. She had bitten her lip, clearly resigned to the same fate.

North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon hadn’t even raised her head; her long hair lay scattered across the floor.

“God... these people...”

Jincheon felt dizzy.

He could understand the reasoning to an extent. After all, even in the imperial household, no one teaches the Emperor.

Yes, there were royal tutors, the so-called Hwangsa, but once the Crown Prince became Emperor, they were merely subjects—nothing more.

“But they’re not executed.”

In fact, those tutors often became the most trusted ministers—the real power behind the throne.

And yet here, they kill.

For no more than a perceived slight against the Red Dragon.

“Hmph...”

While Jincheon brooded, Neung Gayeon, Gi Seoran, and Ilyo remained bowed in silence.

They were simply waiting—for his verdict.

And if Ilyo’s explanation was to be believed, Jincheon had, just moments ago, essentially commanded Neung Gayeon to die.

All because he had asked her—out of respect—to teach him the sword, assuming she was the most senior.

“Ilyo.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me—who else must be killed in matters concerning the Red ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Dragon?”

“Those who deserve to die are killed.”

It was a valid answer, but not the one Jincheon wanted.

What was deemed “deserving” wasn’t based on his understanding—but theirs.

That is, based on the Heavenly Flame Palace’s values.

“Gi Seoran.”

“Yes.”

He decided to change both the question and the person.

When things were unclear, Gi Seoran always gave the most precise answers.

“Tell me specific examples.”

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“Anyone irreverent toward the Red Dragon is executed. Anyone who violates the Dragon Form is executed. Anyone who steps ahead of the Red Dragon is executed. Anyone who disobeys the Red Dragon’s will is executed...”

Gi Seoran’s voice seemed endless.

Jincheon was stunned.

“That’s enough.”

Gi Seoran fell silent immediately, bowing her head.

He’d noticed this before—everything they said depended heavily on what the “Red Dragon” judged to be true.

Sitting face-to-face might be a grave offense, unless Jincheon permitted it. Teaching him could be punishable by death, but answering a question was fine.

In other words, they could justify any punishment under the banner of reverence—

They could kill for anything.

Perhaps part of their extreme caution around him wasn’t just reverence, but also fear of this exact ambiguity.

“...Tch.”

After a moment of silence, Jincheon spoke in a low voice.

“Ilyo.”

“Yes.”

“And this is a command for the rest of you as well.”

Shift.

The six maidens, East Wind Commander Ak Mujin, and Po Eunryeong immediately dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

Jincheon’s voice hardened.

“The dignity of the dragon is the dragon’s own to uphold. Punishing the guilty is also the dragon’s duty alone. A dragon is a dragon because it is, not because others raise it up and call it one. Would you not agree?”

He repeated the phrasing several times, partly out of anger.

Killing someone over semantics...

It was fine to demonstrate, but not to teach.

Answering was acceptable—but being seen as teaching? That warranted death.

Taking lives over technicalities—what madness was this?

“A dragon handles its own affairs. So unless I give a clear and explicit command to kill, no one is to die in my name. Understood?”

“Yes.”

There was no protest. Not even hesitation.

They accepted his command immediately.

“Ilyo.”

The black-haired maiden bowed deeply.

“Don’t hesitate to answer my questions. That’s not teaching me—it’s simply you sharing what you know.”

She didn’t seem like the type to hold back, but Jincheon felt this needed to be stated plainly.

Ilyo placed both hands over her chest.

“I shall remember this deeply.”

Jincheon fell silent again.

It seemed the matter was settled—for now. But he couldn’t quite calm his emotions.

“You may all rise.”

Rustle.

The Seven Luminaries, the two Wind Commanders, Gi Seoran, and Po Eunryeong rose silently to their feet.

Jincheon collected his thoughts, trying to calm himself.

“...Right. I suppose, to them, this is normal.”

It didn’t feel like mere tradition—it felt codified, like a strict legal system.

Trying to change it outright would likely provoke resistance.

He resolved not to push them any further.

“Ilyo.”

“Yes.”

Who Would Be Fit to Demonstrate the Yongcheon Sword Art?

“I ask you—who would be appropriate to demonstrate the Yongcheon Sword Art to me?”

He couldn’t be taught it, but merely shown—that should be acceptable.

And if he happened to ask a few questions while watching... wouldn’t that, technically, count as learning?

“In that matter, it would be appropriate to ask the North Wind Commander.”

Jincheon raised an eyebrow.

It wasn’t as if Ilyo wouldn’t know the answer. And yet she passed the question along to the North Wind Commander.

There had to be a reason—but Jincheon chose not to pry.

“Commander Neung.”

“Yes, Palace Master.”

“Who do you think is suitable?”

“Gi Cheonhwa and Po Cheonhwa.”

The answer was clear—but Jincheon didn’t understand it. He’d expected Neung Gayeon to volunteer herself.

“Why?”

“The Yongcheon Sword Art consists solely of incantations. It contains no cultivation method, and is a form of swordsmanship based only on form and motion.”

Swordsmanship without internal energy or core technique—Jincheon realized this referred to what martial artists called gyeokgeom: sword arts composed purely of forms and techniques.

It was unfamiliar to him, but made sense.

“Thus, the shape and execution of the forms are crucial. Yet I must confess—any technique I perform will inevitably be colored by my personal interpretation and style, and may distort its original meaning.”

Neung Gayeon continued.

“My sword is of a self-formed style. Though it may be pleasing to behold, it would not align with what the Red Dragon seeks. Therefore, I believe the most appropriate to demonstrate the Yongcheon Sword Art would be Gi Cheonhwa and Po Cheonhwa.”

Jincheon was briefly tempted by her mention that her style was pleasing to behold, but he shook it off.

She was a Commander, after all. He couldn’t just ask her to perform for his amusement.

“Very well then—Gi Cheonhwa. Po Cheonhwa.”

Taking it as a good outcome, Jincheon turned to Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong.

“Would you demonstrate the Yongcheon Sword Art for me?”

The two immediately bowed their heads low and replied in unison.

“Yes.”

Jincheon let out a quiet breath of relief.

At last, he had achieved at least half of what he’d originally set out to do.

“Gods... all this fuss just to learn a sword form...”

He may have held absolute authority, but he was hardly free.

In fact, in Jincheon’s position, he had to tread carefully in all things.

One careless step could cause something irreversible.

“Well, anyway...”

As he watched Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong prepare to perform, Jincheon couldn’t help but smile.

Black-haired Gi Seoran. Silver-haired Po Eunryeong.

Two beautiful women, about to show him a sword art.

He was the only one unaware of the smile forming at the corner of his lips.

****

Slide.

Their toes brushed lightly against the ground, and in the next moment, their sharp blades cut through the air.

Two swords traced elegant arcs in perfect unison, piercing the void with flawless symmetry.

“Oh.”

Jincheon was impressed—but made no sound.

At last, the two swords swept behind the women’s backs, signaling the conclusion of the form.

Tap.

Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in a formal salute to Jincheon.

“Well...”

A compliment was already forming in Jincheon’s mouth—but he caught himself.

The atmosphere had grown so silent, it felt suffocating.

“Ahem... it was well demonstrated.”

He cleared his throat and spoke with careful gentleness.

The two women bowed their heads even lower in thanks.

Jincheon glanced around discreetly.

The Seven Luminaries, the North Wind and East Wind Commanders—everyone remained utterly silent.

He felt like offering them praise. They had performed with genuine effort. But he knew better than to interfere with their customs.

The real moment began now.

“I have some questions...”

Jincheon spoke with caution, worried it might be considered disrespectful.

Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong lifted their heads, their eyes glittering with interest.

“I saw the Yongcheon Sword Art before—performed by the Three Divine Joys—and it felt entirely different. Why do I perceive such a contrast?”

The sword art shown by the Three Divine Joys had felt more like a dance than a martial form.

But Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong’s swords had precision, edge, and discipline—it felt genuinely like swordsmanship.

He was curious about the difference.

It was Po Eunryeong who answered.

“There... there may be several reasons, but I believe the difference lies in the heart’s imagery.”

“Imagery?”

He knew what she meant: the form the mind conjures in its imagination.

“The heart shapes the action, and the action shapes the heart. If our inner images differ from those of the Three Divine Joys, then it’s only natural for the expression to change.”

It was a refreshing perspective for Jincheon.

“Then... what did you envision?”

“I pictured a deep and powerful current. That is how the incantation feels to me...”

Ah—yes, the incantation.

Of course he knew what she meant.

The Oracle had spoken of it. He had even heard it several times in his dreams.

He hadn’t paid it much thought before—but it seemed that the feeling one received from the incantation was crucial to how the sword art was interpreted.

“I see. Then...”

While he was at it, Jincheon asked a few more questions that had been nagging at him.

Most were answered by Po Eunryeong, though occasionally Gi Seoran spoke up as well.

Po Eunryeong seemed to be enjoying herself, and Jincheon nodded encouragingly, drawing her out further.

And just like that, Jincheon had found a new way to spend his time—a way far more satisfying than idle rest.