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Chapter 6
The number of people was fewer than expected.
To begin with, this estate stood at the very heart of Cheongeumjang, a place only those descended from families that had served Cheongeumjang for generations were allowed to enter.
Standing at the front, as always, was Cheongin, his expression dignified and imposing.
To either side of him walked the guardians, and behind them, a line of carriages followed in succession.
All of that was for a single person.
For five full years, he had done nothing but travel in search of elixirs, pills, and medicinal herbs—so much so that it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he had traversed nearly the entire land.
The three figures gradually drew closer.
The men who had returned on horseback came to a precise stop in front of Cheongjin, Sowol, and Cheongun.
“Have you been well, Father?”
“Hoo… You truly feel your age as time passes.”
His gaze shifted from his son to his grandson.
Though his expression did not show much emotion, a faint smile lingered on his lips.
“Welcome back, Grandfather.”
“Haha. Anyone hearing that would think I just returned from a nearby inn.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Mm. Right. Worry doesn’t suit me. Let’s go inside.”
This was time reserved only for members of the Cheongeumjang bloodline.
With so many carriages, the amount of items Cheongin had brought back was beyond imagination.
Enough that Cheongun could consume them daily until coming of age and still not run out.
But once a certain level was reached, ordinary items only served as mild nourishment.
“Don’t be surprised when you hear this. I even obtained the Taecheong Pill.”
“W-What? How did you…?”
“Have I not always said it? There’s nothing that cannot be obtained with gold.”
Cheongin was the person who believed that more than anyone—and acted on it.
A man who believed even the emperor’s throne could be bought with enough wealth.
Of course, that would require an amount of gold no human could realistically gather.
Unless one possessed the wealth of an entire continent.
“Un.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Do you know anything about elixirs?”
“Yes. I’ve read about them.”
How could he not?
In his previous life, he had struggled desperately just to obtain even a mediocre pill.
Yet in Cheongeumjang, such things were treated like snacks.
“I intended to give you an elixir suited to your level. With guidance from an expert, you can absorb far more energy. But…”
Cheongin’s eyes slowly filled with astonishment as he looked at Cheongun.
Five years—long if long, short if short.
But what stood before him could not possibly be explained by just five years of growth.
‘His dantian…’
How had it grown so vast?
And not only that—it was purer than before.
If anything, it felt even more refined than when he first saw it.
Due to the nature of Cheongeumjang, children rarely spent much time with anyone other than their mothers.
Even the lord of the house barely had time, constantly occupied with correspondence.
So it often took years to truly understand a child.
And yet, even Cheongin—the former lord himself—had not fully grasped Cheongun.
Despite being his own flesh and blood.
“What… level are you at now?”
“The early stage of the Peak Realm.”
“Hah… Hahaha…”
Who would believe it?
That was a level many struggled to reach even after coming of age.
And he had reached it at just ten years old.
“What about the Golden Intent Sword Art?”
“I’ve mastered it.”
“W-What?”
When Cheongin looked at Cheongjin and Sowol, they only smiled.
A smile filled with many meanings.
The pride of having borne such a child.
‘Even I only reached mastery well after coming of age…’
It was talent enough to evoke jealousy—even from one’s own blood.
“Father, we actually held him back as much as we could.”
“Held him back? From what?”
“Well…”
Sowol explained everything that had happened.
From the day Cheongin departed.
How Cheongun had stimulated his own meridians, expanding them on his own.
That alone was absurd enough.
But it was only the beginning.
Sword techniques, footwork, fist techniques, kicking arts, even formations—
He had learned them all.
Not all to mastery, but still…
“…I’m speechless.”
“Hehe. We were the same at first.”
Even so, one thing could not be ignored.
The absurd wealth of Cheongeumjang.
A wealth so vast it flowed endlessly, like a spring from the earth itself.
It was the one place capable of turning such talent into something truly terrifying.
“Alright, Un. Since I see you again after five years, I’ll ask you once more.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want to do now? What do you wish to become?”
Was it the same as before?
Or had it changed?
If it had changed—how?
“The same.”
“Haha. Good. A man’s word is worth a thousand pieces of gold.”
A gentle smile filled the air.
Then Cheongun dropped a thunderbolt.
“I want to go out into the martial world.”
“T-The martial world…?”
He wasn’t ignorant of what the martial world was like.
And judging by his expression, this wasn’t childish curiosity.
“Why… do you think that?”
“It’s a place I need to understand.”
“A place you must understand…”
Cheongin fell silent for a moment, then grasped the meaning.
To rule something, you must first understand it.
Trying to control the martial world without knowing it would be foolish.
Even if Cheongun hadn’t meant it that way, it didn’t matter.
Dominance didn’t always come through force.
And with his talent for commerce, there were countless ways.
“But judging by your expressions, you didn’t discuss this beforehand.”
Cheongjin and Sowol stiffened.
It really had been a spontaneous declaration.
“Do you have a plan?”
Without one, even determination meant little.
“I want to join a merchant caravan.”
“A caravan… That makes sense.”
A merchant caravan could go anywhere.
“But Father, isn’t that dangerous? Un is only ten—”
“Your mother isn’t wrong. It’s dangerous for someone so young. Many eyes are on Cheongeumjang.”
If the sole heir of Cheongeumjang traveled openly—
It would be an opportunity for everyone.
Still…
To bear the weight of Cheongeumjang, one had to fall off the cliff countless times.
“Ask your father about the caravan. I’m no longer the head of the family.”
“Let’s start with nearby routes. We don’t know much yet.”
“Yes, Father.”
At times, Cheongun’s calm manner and brief replies made him seem too mature.
Perhaps going out would bring out more of his true self.
Nearby were only direct family, a few servants, and guards.
Most of his time was spent training or studying.
Little need for conversation.
“Father. How is the martial world these days?”
“Unsettled. There are rumors of the Demonic Cult stirring again.”
The Demonic Cult?
That word made his heart tighten.
At first, he thought this life was simply reincarnation.
But if that wasn’t the case…
‘Did I… return to the past?’
“It’s too early to say. I heard those same rumors even when I was young.”
“Then it could be another scheme.”
“Exactly. They’ve been saying that for decades.”
But he knew better.
This was how it started last time.
Exactly the same.
The great war between the righteous and demonic factions.
He didn’t know exactly when it began.
But he could find out.
‘The Demonic Cult…’
He had no fondness for them.
Not because of their crimes.
But because they had destroyed his dantian.
And eventually taken his life.
‘Though… in a way, I should thank them.’
If he hadn’t died then, this life wouldn’t exist.
He didn’t seek revenge.
But one thing was certain.
Just before the war began—
The Demonic Cult first targeted Cheongeumjang.
Holder of half the continent’s wealth.
A pillar of the orthodox faction.
And after that, the Hwangin Clan, which had ties to the Demonic Cult.
Cheongeumjang had nearly been destroyed.
He hadn’t lived to see the end.
But he knew it had never recovered.
Same name.
Same fate.
Perhaps this too was destiny.
And if so—
He could not step back.
If the Demonic Cult wasn’t eradicated, Cheongeumjang would always be in danger.
Danger existed everywhere.
Righteous factions weren’t all righteous.
And demonic ones weren’t all evil.
But lines had to be drawn.
And Cheongun had just finished drawing his.
‘If they nearly destroyed Cheongeumjang…’
Then their plans had already begun.
Spies.
Information theft.
It was already underway.
As he gathered his thoughts, the conversation around him came to an end.
Where should he go?
Near the Demonic Cult?
“Father.”
“Yes, Un.”
“Is there a caravan heading to the Kunlun Sect?”
“There is. But it leaves in two hours—”
“I’ll go.”
Was it impulsive?
No.
The others briefly reflected on his words—
And remembered something from five years ago.
‘He’s still a child.’
They thought so.
But Cheongun knew better.
Historically, the Kunlun Sect stood closest to opposing the Demonic Cult.
“It’ll take about a month. You’ll need to prepare.”
“I’ll handle it myself.”
“Will you? That puts my mind at ease.”
Despite their son leaving in just two hours—
And at only ten years old—
None of them seemed overly worried.
Sowol left first with Cheongun.
Father and son exchanged a look.
They didn’t need words.
They both knew what had to be done.
“I’ll prepare carefully.”
“Good. Make sure no one notices.”
