While the two had all their senses keyed on the person who had just stepped into the inn, it happened.

“Hey there, grandpa. Ordered anything tasty yet?”

A couple of men drifted toward Seolhwa and Yu Gang’s table.

They were the ones who had been whispering among themselves at the next table a moment ago.

She had already been in a foul mood—the word “Blood Cult” kept slipping into their chatter here and there.

She had wanted to flip the table then and there and shut the mouths praising the Blood Cult, but she couldn’t afford a scene, so she simply ignored them.

And then they came up to the two of them.

“The young lady here is quite the beauty! Miss, where are you from?”

They came on with a friendly tone, edging in as if to slide into their seats.

Seeing Seolhwa’s face harden, Yu Gang raised a hand to block the man trying to sit beside him.

“Sorry, but we’re not interested in that. Try somewhere else.”

He was wearing an old man’s face, so he refused with formal politeness to match it—but they had no intention of backing off.

“Hey now, what’d we even say to deserve that?”

“You’re about to talk about the Blood Cult. We’d like to eat quietly, so go.”

“Oho, sharp eyes on this grandpa! Hah! So you’ve heard of the Great Asura Blood Sect!”

“I said: go.”

At that, another one of them moved toward Seolhwa.

“Is this your granddaughter, then? Miss, do you know how great the Great Asura Blood Sect is?”

Seolhwa’s expression went even harder.

Yu Gang tensed as he saw her fingers tighten around her chopsticks.

She won’t... slam those down, will she?

We can’t afford a disturbance. She’s not going to hold back... right?

— [Voice Transmission] Seolhwa...?

“My son lay bedridden all his life, but then the Cult Lord laid hands on him and overnight— Aagh!”

The last thing Yu Gang saw was Seolhwa’s hand move; he squeezed his eyes shut.

So we won’t be sleeping in this inn tonight.

He opened them with resignation—only to find a scene utterly unlike what he’d imagined.

“They said no.”

“!”

“...”

The one who had seized and twisted the man’s wrist mid-harangue at Seolhwa was the very master he had been watching intently ever since Seolhwa and Yu Gang stepped into the inn.

The man with the bent wrist thrashed to yank free, but when it wouldn’t come loose he barked in anger.

“W-who are you!”

“If you mean to proselytize, do it with some manners. If you shove at people who say no, how do you expect them to think well of that place you keep praising?”

“Tch...!”

“Looks to me like you pick targets that seem easy enough and try to drag them in by force. Don’t be so petty. You’re annoying everyone.”

The master tipped his chin as if to say: look around.

Indeed, the inn’s patrons’ attention had gathered on the disturbance at Seolhwa’s table.

No—strictly speaking, not on Seolhwa and Yu Gang, but on the Blood Cult men and the man in the Bamboo Hat.

“More Blood Cult zealots.”

“Tsk, tsk. Why do they always make a scene?”

Between their shouting in the street and now this ruckus in the inn—clearly not the first time—people frowned and muttered.

Perhaps stung by the looks, the Blood Cult men began to rise.

“W-we were only trying to share good news.”

“If they don’t want it, that’s that...!”

Only then did the master release the man’s wrist, and the Blood Cult men fled the inn, leaving their food behind.

Only then did people return, cheerful again, to their meals.

“Mind if I sit?”

The master, who had watched them run all the way to the door, addressed Yu Gang and Seolhwa.

“I’m not looking for a free meal. As you can see, there’s nowhere to sit.”

“Now that they’ve left, there’ll be a free table.”

Yu Gang gestured toward the place the Blood Cult men had vacated.

The master flicked a glance that way and, as if to make a point, undid the knot of his Bamboo Hat.

“As you can see, the server’s too busy to clear it. Call it fate—won’t you share the table?”

Yu Gang glanced at Seolhwa.

Seolhwa dipped her chin, quiet.

“Then come sit over here.”

Standing at Seolhwa’s side, he circled the table and took the seat at Yu Gang’s side, taking off the Bamboo Hat and setting it on the empty chair.

Seolhwa lifted her gaze to study him.

Shoulder-length wavy hair, black threaded with white; a beard kept roughly enough that dark stubble shadowed his face.

At the corner of his left eye ran a pinky-finger-wide scar crossing the brow—thankfully, the eye itself seemed unhurt.

A straight gaze that looked as if it could hide a keen edge.

She had sensed it when he entered: his body was solid, the kind forged by long years of training—plain to the eye.

At a glance he could pass for middle-aged, but on closer look, fine lines of an older age marked him here and there.

‘...’

In her previous life and in this one, Seolhwa had never once seen this man.

Living twice did not mean she knew everyone.

‘At least a near-Transcendent master.’

He might even be masking his true strength.

It was strange that a master at such a level had never once crossed her hearing.

“Good to meet you. I’m called Gwancheon.”

Seolhwa’s brows knit, ever so slightly.

“White Shadow...?”

“Oh? You know me? I’m honored.”

Gwancheon, the White Shadow.

Under heaven there were those known as the Ten Masters.

The Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor Namgoong Mucheon, Unfeeling Overcomes Buddha Gong Cheon, Thousand-Handed Buddha Beopseon, Plum-Blossom Divine Sword No Mun, the Blood-Slaying Fiend Ak Jaryu, the Green Forest War King, the Invincible Gentleman Sword.

And the remaining three: the Lord of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the Imperial Brocade-Guard Commander, and the man before her eyes—Gwancheon, the White Shadow.

By now, some among them had surpassed the Ten Masters’ plateau; the Tang Clan’s Supreme Lord or Shaolin’s Precept Hall Master, and those newly risen to the ranks of the strong like Seolhwa herself.

But only a few years back, the Central Plains had stood with these ten names like peaks of a vast mountain range.

The only wanderer among them belonging to no faction was the White Shadow.

And the only one to have entered the Ten Masters’ ranks with the bow.

In my previous life, the White Shadow never appeared.

Not when the martial world of the Central Plains was collapsing, not when the Blood Cult strode rampant and ruled the land.

Even as countless died and the innocent cried out—

Not once did he fight for the Central Plains.

That isn’t to say he was wrong.

Being a master does not oblige one to fight for the Central Plains.

In truth, many counted among the Ten Masters were Blood Cult men.

Only—

Why did this man never once show himself?

And why had he appeared here, before her?

“Being called that is an old tale. I can’t fight as hot-bloodedly as before.”

“Did something happen?”

Yu Gang poured water into a cup and offered it as he asked.

A bitter smile touched the White Shadow’s lips.

“A great many things.”

Come to think, it had been quite some time since any rumor of the White Shadow had circulated through the rivers and lakes.

Even before I returned to the Namgoong Clan, there had been no word of him.

For nearly ten years, then, he hadn’t shown himself in the Central Plains.

“May we ask what happened?”

“Before that...”

The White Shadow drained the water in one go, set the cup down with a tak, and fixed his eyes on Seolhwa.

For an instant, his gaze flashed razor-sharp.

“...”

“...”

“...May I order food before we talk?”

Seolhwa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Do so.”

Yu Gang raised a hand to call the server.

The White Shadow ordered the same thin wheat noodles and dumplings the two had asked for.

Soon, Seolhwa and Yu Gang’s food arrived first.

Yu Gang slid his dumplings over so the man could eat ahead.

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”

Rubbing his chopsticks together, the White Shadow smacked his lips.

Still gazing at the ring of dumplings set in a circle, he spoke.

“Are you from the Martial Alliance?”

Yu Gang, about to lift a mouthful of noodles, and Seolhwa, about to take up her chopsticks, both paused.

As if it were nothing, the White Shadow picked up a dumpling and went on.

“An unfathomable master and a near-Transcendent. If you’re having to hide your identities on top of that, something big is afoot, isn’t it?”

He popped a dumpling into his mouth, chewing as he looked between the two.

They had assumed their identities had been seen through from the moment he stepped into the inn.

Even if he might miss her, there was no way Yu Gang would slip past the White Shadow’s eye.

But for him to pick out even the Human-Skin Masks so easily—

“Sharp eye.”

“I’ve lived long enough. So—what brings you this far?”

If this man truly was Gwancheon the White Shadow, lived long enough was no boast.

By seniority he was on par with Grandfather Namgoong Mucheon; he’d have the seasoned discernment to see through something like a Human-Skin Mask at a glance.

Tak—

Seolhwa set ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ her chopsticks down atop the noodle bowl and looked at the White Shadow.

“Let’s do it this way.”

A master she had never met in her previous life was more than enough to stir Seolhwa’s interest.

“We answer one of your questions, and you answer one of ours.”

“Oh ho, that’s an amusing proposal.”

Interest flickered over the White Shadow’s face.

He nodded without the least hesitation.

“Good. Then I ask first?”

“Go ahead.”

In that instant, the White Shadow’s eyes flashed keen once more.