The Return of the Namgoong Clan's Granddaughter-Chapter 66

“Ugh!”

Namgoong Jangyang instinctively clutched his throat.

‘What the hell...?!’

What was that—just now?

He could’ve sworn his throat had been cut. The sensation of a sharp blade slicing clean through his neck lingered with terrifying clarity.

Gasping, choking, he stared at the girl who had swung the sword.

Namgoong Seolhwa stood exactly where she had been.

‘W-what... was that?’

Then, she raised her wooden sword again.

Second Form of the Three Elements Sword Style: Vertical Slash.

The tip of her sword pointed to the sky. The movement, once again, wasn’t particularly fast.

The blade dropped in a clean line from above, as though it were cleaving him in half.

‘I... I’m going to die!’

Panic overtook him. Jangyang drew his sword in reflex, moving to block her strike. But—

Shrrk—

That slow, unhurried sword once again split his body in two.

“Urgh!”

He stumbled back several paces before realizing—

His body was untouched. Seolhwa still stood where she’d been the entire time.

But the vile, crawling sensation of being carved open hadn’t faded.

‘What the hell is going on?!’

He had died. He was certain of it. Twice now—by that worthless sword.

How was that possible? Was it even real?

Was she saying she had unlocked some kind of secret technique hidden within that trash-tier Three Elements Sword Style?

While his mind reeled in disbelief, Seolhwa moved into her final stance.

Third Form: Thrust.

But the final move never came.

“S-stop!”

Jangyang shouted, raising a hand to halt her.

Sweat was pouring down his face.

Seolhwa slowly lowered her sword.

He stole a glance at the group of boys nearby.

“She’s actually doing it. Hah!”

“She did say she’d mastered it, hahaha!”

Led by Namgoong Soryong, the boys continued to laugh, still mocking Seolhwa’s swordplay. They clearly hadn’t seen what he had.

Thank god...

Jangyang felt a twisted sense of relief—but the fact that he felt relieved at all shook him to the core.

How pathetic was it, that something so slow, something so visibly simple—just a horizontal slash, then a vertical one—had made him flinch?

Damn it...!

This wasn’t some harmless worm.

This girl was a monster.

If he were ignorant of swordsmanship, he could’ve dismissed it as imagination.

But Jangyang was a seasoned Peak Realm martial artist, a captain of the Red Dragon Division.

He knew exactly what he’d just witnessed—and how terrifyingly refined it was.

And that only made it worse.

To be intimidated by a thirteen-year-old?

He glared at her and barked, voice raised and brittle with anger.

“I told you to practice the basics! What the hell was that? There’s no philosophy in your sword!”

Seolhwa tilted her head, unconcerned.

“Really?”

His face flushed red.

“It’s thuggish! That kind of barbaric swordplay has no place in Namgoong's style! Again! Do it again! You’re nowhere near ready to learn our sword arts!”

To an outsider, he probably looked furious.

But Seolhwa had seen it clearly.

The flicker of fear in his eyes.

‘No philosophy? But you called it thuggish, didn’t you?’

And thuggishness itself... was a philosophy. If the unorthodox sects heard him, they'd be howling.

“Go on! Do it again—everything!”

Seolhwa said nothing. She simply turned and walked toward the practice dummies.

From behind, she could hear Jangyang shouting angrily, but she paid him no mind.

She raised her sword and struck the target again.

Behind her, the rhythmic shouts of Namgoong disciples training in the clan’s sword art continued without pause.

Jangyang, still fuming, increased the intensity of their drills—using it as an outlet for his shame. The boys, unable to grasp the reason for the sudden change, were left panting and gasping for breath.

****

A delicate hand gently picked up a soft pink flower and placed it in a vase.

The warm light of the afternoon sun filtered in, catching the petals and illuminating the clustered bouquet inside the vase.

“So, did she go along with it without complaint again today?”

Yun Solran asked softly as she selected another flower to fill the empty space in the arrangement.

Namgoong Jangyang, who had been standing near the door, blinked in surprise and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, she did. She spent the entire session striking the training dummy and left when the young master’s training ended.”

“And she didn’t tell anyone.”

“As you know, the First Young Master has entered closed-door training in the Cheonodong Pavilion... and since the Clan Lord hasn’t said anything, it’s safe to say she’s told no one.”

Solran’s lips curled into a sharp, amused smile.

“So, she has her pride.”

“Those types are always easier to deal with.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Pride was a poisonous thing.

There were so many who threw themselves into ruin simply because they couldn’t let go of their pride—knowing full well it would destroy them.

Solran considered such people the most foolish of all, but as Jangyang had said, they were the easiest to manipulate.

All it took was the right push in the right place—and they’d do exactly what you wanted.

“I’ve heard something interesting.”

“You mean the rumor from Shaanxi?”

The rumor from Shaanxi.

That before Seolhwa arrived at Namgoong, she had robbed a Black Path sect of the mythical Great Return Pill.

A rumor strong enough to stir even Mount Hua—and one that had now reached Anhui.

Solran nodded slowly.

“I heard the girl was living in a pleasure house called Hwaoru before she came to Namgoong.”

“A pleasure house...?”

Jangyang, who hadn’t known that detail, blinked in confusion. Then his eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me... she was raised to become a courtesan?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the case.”

“Ah...”

Snip.

A thick stem was cleanly clipped in Yun Solran’s hand.

The moment the trimmed stem fell with a soft thud, her smile deepened.

“But it’s only natural for people to jump to that conclusion. What else is a woman expected to do in a place like that?”

“...Ah!”

Jangyang finally caught on and let out a quiet gasp.

“You want me to spread the rumor.”

“I only wish to share the truth.”

The moment it became known that the First Young Master’s daughter was raised in a pleasure house, suspicion would fall upon Namgoong Seolhwa. People would naturally assume she had once been a trainee courtesan.

The Namgoong Clan was one of the most prestigious orthodox families—renowned for their moral rigor.

The thought that their heir apparent had once been a girl in training to be a courtesan would be unacceptable to many of the clan’s upright elders.

And if such whispers took hold, so too would doubt about Namgoong Cheongun. No one would want to see a former courtesan rise to become the next Lady of the Clan.

“There’s no need to lie about her being a courtesan-in-training.”

Just as Jangyang had misunderstood it on his own, the rumors would naturally flow in that direction without any nudging.

“Spread what’s true. Everyone will learn it eventually—we’re just moving up the timetable.”

It was obvious why Cheongun had entered closed-door training ahead of the Celestial Martial Tournament.

That act alone implied confidence. But—

Things won’t go his way.

If they could use his daughter to chip away at his standing during his absence, then so be it.

An enemy who lets their guard down deserves the gift that comes next.

“Oh, and the new candidates set to rise to the Inner Hall—are they being properly prepared?”

Jangyang’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes. They’ve been training diligently, and we’ve provided elixirs as support. I’m confident they’ll be selected.”

“You do realize that’s not what I was asking.”

Solran’s voice turned cool, her gaze dropping to a chill.

She didn’t care about their martial progress.

She was referring to who they were—sons of merchant lords, nephews of security bureau heads, young heirs of noble families.

“You know who they are. And that’s all you can tell me?”

“Ah...”

Jangyang quickly folded his hands and bowed his head.

He tried again.

“I’ve already spoken to the squad leaders. I emphasized the names and appearances of our candidates—twice, even three times. There shouldn’t be any slip-ups during the first round.”

“Hm.”

“And as for the second round, both I and the Yellow Dragon Captain will be overseeing it personally. The Azure Dragon Captain will follow ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ your wishes, no doubt.”

“There mustn’t be anyone who stands out.”

In order for their preselected candidates to be chosen as Inner Hall guards, others had to appear weak in comparison.

That was why they had intensified training across the board—and even distributed elixirs to stir competition and exhaust the rest.

Jangyang thought of a few members of the Red Dragon Division who had recently shown notable improvement.

“There are a few who’ve been pushing themselves hard lately...”

“Disqualify them.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Don’t even let them apply. Was that unclear?”

“Ah—no, not at all. But... how exactly should I go about disqualifying them, specifically...?”

Solran let out a soft sigh and lowered her hand, flower still in it. Her eyes gleamed.

“Do I really need to spell out something so trivial for you?”

Jangyang stiffened and quickly bowed again.

“N-no, not at all. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“I would expect nothing less. You are the Red Dragon Captain, after all.”

Snip. Another stem was cleanly severed.

Jangyang swallowed hard, as if his own neck had just been cut.

After all, it was Solran who had placed him in his position—and she could remove him just as easily.

It would be best not to test her patience.

“Don’t forget. The Red Dragon Division must be fully under our control—like a hand obeying its fingers.”

Snip.

Another flower stem fell.

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“And if there are any obstacles, we cut them away—every single one.”

Jangyang swallowed again and bowed low.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”