The Return of the Namgoong Clan's Granddaughter-Chapter 71

Seolhwa’s movement came to a sudden halt.

She stood frozen, blankly staring at the sword that had blocked her path—

“...! Hah! Guh...! Gahk! Hah!”

Coughing violently, she gasped for air, choking on breath that wouldn’t come.

Someone quietly supported her as she inhaled and exhaled in ragged bursts.

“Hah... Hff...”

Once her breathing had steadied enough, Seolhwa slowly raised her gaze to the person holding her up.

Standing there with a stern expression, Seop Mugwang tilted his head slightly and asked,

"Why are you so angry?"

“...Am I angry?”

“You are. Very.”

Straightening her posture, Seolhwa let go of his arm.

“You looked downright vicious. No killing intent, but everything else screamed ‘break whoever gets in my way.’”

So it had shown that much.

“I didn’t notice,” Seolhwa said, looking down at her sword.

Anger? She hadn’t meant to show anger.

“Well, it’s not a [N O V E L I G H T] bad thing,” Seop Mugwang replied with a low chuckle as he reached out and tousled her hair.

“You should be angry sometimes. Cry, too. And it’d be even better if you could smile.”

Seolhwa let the corners of her lips curve softly.

“I smile often these days.”

“Not those forced smiles. I mean the real ones. The kind that make you feel lighter just seeing them.”

The kind of pure, bright laughter you’d expect from a child.

Shouldn’t a normal thirteen-year-old girl be able to laugh at something as simple as a falling leaf? Could that kind of laughter ever come from her?

As that thought passed through his mind, he glanced at her—only to see Seolhwa tilting her head.

“Isn’t it about time you got married?”

Seop Mugwang’s face instantly contorted.

“...What did you say?”

“I heard somewhere—when a man starts liking kids, it means it’s time for him to settle down.”

“...You know what, let’s just not talk, you little brat.”

Grumbling, he pulled his hand away from her hair.

She could faintly hear him mutter under his breath, “What’s the point in talking to a rock...”

“How did you get in here?” she asked.

She had told Yeoyul and Ryeong not to let anyone in.

“How else? I climbed the wall.”

With complete nonchalance, Seop Mugwang pointed to the back wall of the training hall.

Seolhwa thought to herself—probably only Seop Mugwang could say something like that with such confidence in the Namgoong estate.

“What, got a problem?”

“No.”

He chuckled again, clearly pleased with himself.

“So? What’s going on?”

She’s a child who doesn’t show her emotions—or maybe, a child who doesn’t know how to.

The anger that radiated from her sword... it hadn’t been light. Not at all.

Seolhwa quietly stared at him.

'He hasn’t heard yet.'

The rumors had been spreading among the household staff.

Whoever started them surely took measures to keep them from reaching the clan head’s ears too soon.

Even without that, no servant would be foolish enough to insult the clan head’s beloved granddaughter near the master’s quarters.

Which meant that Seop Mugwang, who was always at the clan head’s side, likely hadn’t heard.

After following that train of thought, Seolhwa gave a small nod.

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“I was wondering... where the Namgoong clan draws the line on justice.”

Seop Mugwang rubbed his chin, frowning in confusion.

“You know, you’ve always had a strange way about you.”

“Me?”

“You think about things kids your age usually don’t.”

The other day, standing outside the clan hall, she’d asked if it was sad when a family member dies.

“So, what kind of scheme are you working on this time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Your face.”

He pointed at her expression. His eyes narrowed.

“You’ve got that same look you had when you first came back to Namgoong.”

She flinched—hit right where it hurt. Her eyes shifted sideways.

Staring into the distance for a moment, she turned back—he was still watching her with those sharp, narrow eyes.

“What is it?”

“How far can I take the authority that comes with being the Namgoong clan’s young lady?”

“Got a rat you want to catch?”

“Yes.”

“Inside the clan? Or outside?”

“Most likely... inside.”

A crooked grin tugged at Seop Mugwang’s lips.

His chuckle was low, like the laugh of a seasoned rogue.

“Take it from someone who’s closest to the clan head—whatever you do inside Namgoong territory, it’ll be fine.”

“Whatever I do?”

Was he serious?

“Sure. As long as you’re not trying to take out the Patriarch himself. You’re not planning on killing anyone left and right, are you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then do whatever you want.”

Still grinning, he reached out and tousled her hair once more.

“Go on and do what you need to. The clan head... I think he cares about you even more than you realize.”

And in that moment—once again, a strange flutter stirred faintly in her chest.

The more Seolhwa mulled over the words—that Namgoong Mucheon cared for her more than she’d realized—the more that strange itch in her chest grew.

She furrowed her brows and scratched lightly just below her neck. Seeing that, Seop Mugwang let out a quick laugh.

“Try doing that again—what you did earlier.”

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

“Earlier?”

“Let me see your sword.”

“Ah.”

Seolhwa nodded and immediately took her stance. After a deep breath, she swung her blade.

Swish—shwiik—

The trails of qi from her sword danced through the air once more. But unlike before, this time the movement was light, clean, refined to perfection.

Now Seop Mugwang understood why he’d sensed anger in her sword earlier.

Once she was slightly out of breath, Seolhwa halted and turned to face him.

He’d been watching with serious eyes. Now, a broad smile spread across his face as he nodded.

“Well? Do you get what I meant now?”

“Yes. It’s not hard anymore.”

“There’s a world of difference between a sword that’s forced and a sword that flows freely. It’s good to channel emotion into your sword. Sometimes, emotions can strengthen your blade like inner energy. But.”

He raised one finger. His eyes sharpened.

“One thing—you can’t let emotions control your sword. That’ll only eat away at your body and your mind.”

“....”

“Especially anger. Anger blinds you. It clouds judgment. Sometimes it’s a stronger driving force than anything else... but most of the time, it’s just something that gnaws away at your life.”

Channel emotion—but don’t be ruled by it.

That was what Seop Mugwang truly wanted to say.

But as he finished speaking, a bitter taste settled on his tongue.

Because when he looked at the child standing there, nodding and staring down at her sword, her expression was the kind you wore when facing a question far too heavy for your age.

“She grasps swordsmanship instinctively... yet knows so little about emotion.”

On the way to this very training hall, he’d passed at least a few chattering kids laughing their heads off.

But in the whole Namgoong estate, this was the only child who never allowed herself to laugh freely. And that weighed on him.

“If you weren’t a child of Namgoong, I’d take you as my disciple on the spot. Damn shame.”

Seolhwa blinked once.

“Just because I’m a Namgoong, does that mean I can only learn the Namgoong sword?”

“...What?”

“Being able to learn the sword of the Storm Thunder God would be an honor.”

Storm Thunder God—a title the martial world used when referring to Seop Mugwang.

She had chosen to address him not by his position in the Namgoong clan, but by the name he’d earned in the wider world. A sign of genuine respect for his martial prowess.

That title wasn’t something handed down by the clan—it was a name forged by Seop Mugwang himself, through his own strength, with his own sword.

He blinked, stunned for a beat, then burst out laughing.

“Damn! You’re a clever one! I know it’s flattery, but I’ll take it!”

“It’s not flattery.”

Seolhwa meant it. She sincerely wanted to learn his sword.

Seop Mugwang might’ve lived in Mucheon’s shadow, but his martial ability was easily on par with the Ten Great Masters.

And he hadn’t gained that status through clan techniques or sect affiliation. He’d done it entirely with martial arts of his own making.

Even a three-year-old who knew a bit about cultivation would understand how rare and incredible that was.

Seop Mugwang’s expression sobered without him realizing it.

“...Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“Do you understand what that means?”

For a child of Namgoong to learn a sword that wasn’t the Namgoong style—it was the same as giving up the right of succession.

In other words, she was saying she’d forfeit her claim to become head of the clan.

“You know you can’t learn the Namgoong clan’s secret arts unless you become the clan head, right? Even after seeing your grandfather, you still want to be my disciple?”

Namgoong Mucheon’s sword was... the very embodiment of the ultimate path of the blade.

Overwhelming in presence. An impossibly heavy sword that couldn’t be stopped, even when you knew it was coming.

Once you saw it, you never forgot. If you followed the path of the sword, you couldn’t help but chase after it—even unconsciously.

To say she’d give that up...

“Forget it. Honestly, even as someone who walks the path of the sword, I can’t recommend it. Sure, I’m no slouch when it comes to teaching, but your grandfather—he’s the Sword Emperor.”

“I never said I wouldn’t learn the Namgoong sword.”

“No matter how much of a martial genius you are, you can’t walk two paths at once.”

“I never said I would.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Seolhwa paused, thinking carefully.