I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 20: I Can’t Let This Just Flow Past

The inner hall was dark.

Although Jincheon had been told that Dongpung was confined here, he couldn’t see him anywhere.

“I’ll light the lantern.”

At the maid’s words, the lamp flickered to life.

And then, a single figure seated in the center of the hall was revealed.

He was sitting cross-legged with his upper garments removed, both hands resting on his knees, palms facing upward.

The act of baring one’s upper body signified the renunciation of status or authority.

It was likely a gesture of penance for his transgressions—but with his hair unbound and his eyes gently closed, he looked more like a meditating monk.

Step. Step.

Jincheon moved forward.

Then, suddenly, the maids shifted.

Before Jincheon even realized what was happening, they had surrounded him in a protective circle, as if shielding him.

Startled, Jincheon froze in place—and the maids stopped as well.

“...Ah.”

One of them let out a faint sound.

Jincheon turned to look, but couldn’t tell which of them it was.

He didn’t notice that, in that brief moment, one of them had stuck out her tongue slightly, only to quickly hide it again.

He turned to the black-haired maid.

“What is this, no—what’s going on?”

“With all due respect,” she answered softly, “if you approach closer than nine steps, we may not be able to restrain him.”

“Nine steps?”

Jincheon glanced toward the man, trying to estimate the distance between them.

But there was no way to know exactly how many steps away he was.

Just then, a voice rang out.

“What a ridiculous tale.”

The heavy voice reverberated through the hall.

The man seated in meditation slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re telling me the Court’s Seven Attendants can’t handle just one man? With a punishment collar around my neck, the likes of me could be subdued by just three of you.”

A collar?

The “collar” he spoke of wasn’t a literal blade—it referred to the frame fitted around a criminal’s neck.

But there was nothing on his.

While Jincheon furrowed his brow, the maid responded.

“The man who placed that collar on himself is Dongpung, and the only one who can remove it is Dongpung himself. Therefore, we must be prepared for the worst.”

Her tone was remarkably cold.

The man called Dongpung narrowed his eyes.

“So that’s the distance you stopped at? Nine steps... You must really think little of me.”

“On the contrary—we held you in high regard. If the Palace Master weren’t present, we would’ve approached to within three steps.”

A flicker lit in the man’s eyes.

“...You’re serious?”

“We do not bother with useless pride,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze.

“And even more so for one who has yet to swear loyalty to the Red Dragon.”

His eyebrows twisted sharply.

There was a silence—like he was swallowing his humiliation.

Then—

Sshk.

The man stood.

Even seated, he had seemed sturdy—but standing, his massive frame radiated an imposing presence.

And yet, that pressure didn’t last long.

Thud.

He dropped to his knees.

Both knees to the ground, he lowered his body deeply.

Practically prostrate, he bowed his head toward Jincheon, arms outstretched, palms upturned.

A posture of total submission—no ornamentation, no false dignity.

Exactly the same position the fifteen others had taken in the Grand Hall the night before, excluding only this man.

“To the master of the Heavenly Flame Palace, sovereign of the Heavenly Valley, and lawful, rightful successor of the Heaven-Piercing Ten Grounds—I offer my body and spirit, my loyalty and truth.”

The heavy voice echoed through the chamber.

That alone was enough to make the tense air around the maids dissipate at once.

Jincheon looked down at the man kneeling before him.

He couldn’t see his face, but the man’s broad shoulders were trembling faintly.

Just like last night, when he had walked away from the Grand Hall in lonely silence.

Jincheon moved forward.

Step. Step.

The maids said nothing.

Soon, he stood before the man.

“Raise your head.”

The man flinched slightly.

Then slowly, he looked up.

Ugh.

Just like the day before, his gaze was intense—piercing.

And his face was anything but ordinary. He looked young, yet carried the weight of years. It was impossible to guess his age.

Still, Jincheon couldn’t afford to show weakness here.

He spoke calmly.

“I don’t know who you are.”

A flicker of confusion passed through the man’s eyes.

Jincheon continued without pause.

“So if I seemed angry yesterday, it wasn’t directed at you personally. I simply couldn’t overlook the way those who stood by me were being disrespected. They were merely fulfilling their duties with loyalty. And if someone must bear blame for that...”

He looked the man in the eye.

“Shouldn’t that be me?”

Thud.

The man bowed again, touching his forehead to the ground.

“Who would dare blame the Red Dragon? It is this fool, who failed to grasp your deeper meaning, who deserves death.”

Jincheon let out a breath of relief.

That was a good sign.

So... he’s admitting he was wrong, right?

The whole “please kill me” line that government officials or vassals uttered—well, it could mean different things depending on the context.

Sometimes it really meant they acknowledged their guilt. Other times, it was more like a dare: “Go ahead and kill me, I won’t back down.”

But in this case, Jincheon felt confident the man had meant the former.

“Thank you... for understanding.”

Jincheon said softly.

Just as Jincheon was about to say, “Now rise,”—

“I humbly beg to address the Red Dragon.”

The man spoke with his head still pressed to the floor.

“Since last night, upon being confined to this place, I have sealed off my own internal energy. In doing so, I took upon myself the symbolic punishment collar. It was out of shame for having committed the crime of false loyalty without even swearing an oath to my lord.”

Jincheon now understood what he had meant earlier by that “collar.”

But that wasn’t the important part.

“And now, the Red Dragon has graced this fool with a visit, revealing your true intentions. Through your mercy, you have granted this sinner permission to make his vow, and even absolved me of the loathsome crime of false loyalty. That is a kindness I cannot repay even with my life.”

Listening to this, Jincheon felt a pang of unease.

Wait. Why does this sound like...

As expected, the man continued.

“This foolish and unworthy servant now bears his pride willingly and would gladly die. So I beseech the Red Dragon to appoint a new Commander of the Four Winds and Twelve Cloud Generals to guard the Dragon Vessel, according to your deep will.”

Thud.

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The man slammed his head to the ground once again.

Jincheon was caught completely off guard.

“...Did you just say you want to die?”

“That is correct.”

The man answered in a calm voice.

Jincheon couldn’t believe it.

He forced down the irritation rising inside and asked:

“Why?”

“Because I failed in my duty.”

The duty he referred to was protecting the former Palace Master.

...Unbelievable.

To be clear, Jincheon didn’t believe that “Palace Master” was truly dead.

The reason he came here in the first place was to clean up what had already happened.

Because irreversible damage—especially death—was something that absolutely had to be avoided.

And yet the man himself was saying he wanted to die.

Jincheon stared at him.

“...Is that so?”

“It is.”

The man still didn’t raise his head.

Jincheon sighed deeply.

“Haaah...”

And then fell silent, simply gazing down at him.

Even kneeling, the man was so large that Jincheon had to slightly crane his neck downward to meet his line of sight.

After a pause, Jincheon spoke slowly.

“Very well. If that is your pride, then who am I to deny it? If you insist on bearing the sin of failing to protect your predecessor... then who am I to stop you?”

He even gave a slight nod as he said it.

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand.

According to what Gi Seoran had told him, the Commander of the Four Winds and the Twelve Cloud Generals would all be executed for their failure to protect the previous master.

To this man—Dongpung—his death was already a foregone conclusion.

That’s why he was willing to accept it.

“But,”

Jincheon said, his voice now more solemn and direct,

“Why did you fail to protect him?”

He deliberately changed his tone. It was time to push.

The man’s shoulders flinched.

Clenching his teeth, he replied in a bitter voice.

“...That was—”

“It was because someone ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) betrayed the former master.”

Jincheon’s words instantly hardened the man’s expression.

Even the Seven Maids behind him paled.

Jincheon, however, continued in a calm voice.

“Was it you who betrayed him?”

Thud!

The sound echoed through the hall like a thunderclap.

The man had slammed his forehead to the ground so hard that it rang out like a drumbeat.

Blood trickled from his brow, but he didn’t care.

Lifting his blood-streaked face, he looked straight at Jincheon.

“I swear before the Red Dragon and the Wrath...”

Grinding his teeth, he said:

“It was not me.”

His voice was like he was coughing up blood.

Such overwhelming fervor made Jincheon flinch inwardly—but he couldn’t back down now.

“Good. I believe that.”

Jincheon met his fierce gaze head-on.

“But then why are you trying to kill me?”

His voice was steady.

But the man’s eyes widened in shock.

To him, it was a completely unexpected and terrifying accusation.

Jincheon continued coolly:

“Now that the previous master is dead, the Commander of the Four Winds and the Twelve Cloud Generals will all be executed. It’s the law of this Palace.”

Truthfully, Jincheon didn’t know the laws of this place.

But Gi Seoran had told him as much—and from what he’d seen of the atmosphere around here, invoking the Red Dragon’s will or palace law was more than enough to justify anything.

So Jincheon pressed on.

He was saying: “I’m going to say it—what are you going to do about it?”

“And after all of you are dead... who will protect me?”

“Obviously, a new Commander and Cloud Generals will be appointed—”

“What if one of them is the traitor who betrayed the former master?”

The man fell silent.

Jincheon’s voice remained calm.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty and sincerity. When I was powerless and cast aside, it was you all who protected and guided me to this place.”

And by “you all,” he didn’t just mean Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong.

He meant everyone here.

To Jincheon, a total stranger who had arrived carrying nothing but a red orb, they had shown reverence and unwavering submission.

Even the people lining the roads, those he presumed were the Four Winds or the Cloud Generals, even the maids—they had all done the same.

They might feel like a fanatical religious sect at times, but their sincerity was unquestionable.

“But the fact remains: there is a traitor among you. Because the blade that pierced the former master was not one of the enemy.”

The man visibly flinched again.

Jincheon lowered his voice.

“And do you really think that blade was meant only for him?”

The previous Palace Master had been stabbed by someone he believed was an ally.

So then—what had the enemy, or the force behind them, truly aimed for?

Obviously, the first target was the Palace Master’s life.

But was that really all?

Gi Seoran had told him: because of the failure to protect the master, the Four Winds and Cloud Generals would be executed—and many others would choose suicide out of shame.

Wasn’t that what the traitor, or the enemy behind them, had wanted all along?

In fact, wasn’t that the true goal?

If so, Jincheon’s role was clear.

He couldn’t just let it flow past.

He had to stop it.