I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 64: The Cord

At dawn the next morning—

Cheongyang, the Taoist of Wudang, departed from the Soaring Willow Sword Sect.

It was so early, even for dawn, that only Sect Master Ji Riik and his granddaughter Ji Yeongryeong came to see him off.

“Take care, Cheongyang,” said Ji Riik.

The Taoist smiled softly through his wrinkled face.

“You should be the one taking care. Judging from Iron Gate Sect’s behavior lately, they’re crossing a line.”

Even the Iron Gate Sect likely knew of Soaring Willow’s ties with a Wudang Taoist.

And yet they had still tried to drag Ji Yeongryeong away by force. It was baffling.

“I understand.”

Ji Riik replied curtly. Knowing how much the old man cared for his granddaughter, Cheongyang said no more.

“Yeongryeong.”

“Yes.”

She responded in a calm, clear voice.

“I have a feeling you’ll encounter a fated meeting soon. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’m not worried.”

She answered without a flicker of emotion.

Even that calmness reminded Cheongyang of Ji Riik.

With a quiet invocation of his Taoist name, he nodded.

“Then I’ll be off.”

“Safe travels.”

Cheongyang turned and walked away at a leisurely pace.

The darkness hadn’t fully lifted yet, and Ji Riik and Ji Yeongryeong remained in place until the Taoist had completely disappeared from view.

****

Cheongyang paused and turned to look back.

The Soaring Willow compound he had just left glimmered faintly in the lingering dark.

Who exactly are they?

He thought of the young man—Jincheon.

At first, he had seemed like nothing more than a good-natured youth.

Well-raised, perhaps a bit pampered, but gentle and well-meaning.

But now people were calling him “Palace Master”... and even “Red Dragon”?

It felt too far-fetched to dismiss as the eccentricity of rich martial clans.

And that light—

The inexplicable glow he had seen bloom from Jincheon’s blade still unsettled him.

And then there was the woman.

Who is that swordswoman...?

He recalled the elegant woman who had stood at Jincheon’s side.

He didn’t even know her name. Only that she was called the “North Wind.”

But the way she released waves of light from her sword... that image refused to leave him.

Even now, he shivered at the memory.

Without realizing, Cheongyang began murmuring his Taoist chant.

It took several repetitions before his spirit calmed.

Only then did he begin to truly ponder.

An unfamiliar light. A master of unknown origins...

Neither was a simple matter.

Should he abandon his journey and return directly to the Wudang main temple to report this?

“...Hmph.”

Cheongyang let out a long sigh.

He had always believed that Wudang should avoid meddling in worldly affairs.

But that didn’t mean he took the sect’s grace and teachings lightly.

“I’m still... so lacking.”

He lamented his shallow cultivation, murmuring his chant once more.

Then turned and began walking.

His path was now set—

Back to Wudang.

****

That morning, Jincheon awoke.

After washing and dressing with Ilyo’s help, he took a seat at the table.

“Have you risen?” came Neung Gayeon’s voice from outside.

“You may enter.”

Creaaak.

The old door groaned open.

Neung Gayeon entered with her usual grace, offering a formal bow to Jincheon.

He gestured to the seat across from him.

“Sit.”

She hesitated a moment, then sat facing him.

In the meantime, Ilyo brought in warm tea for both of them.

Clink.

The teacups were set in front of them.

A gentle warmth and fragrant aroma filled the space.

Jincheon lifted his cup, shaking off the last traces of sleep.

“Thank you. Ah—by the way, is the cord ready?”

Ilyo bowed politely.

“Yes.”

Swish.

She offered up a square wooden tray.

Resting on it was a black cord.

Just as Neung Gayeon had described: about one ch’i in width, long and dark.

Jincheon picked it up.

It wasn’t silk, but it was incredibly smooth to the touch.

It shimmered faintly in the light—an intricate pattern embroidered in slightly different black thread showed the care that had gone into it.

He turned to Neung Gayeon.

“Will this do?”

“May I take a look?”

“Go ahead.”

He set the cord back on the tray and passed it to her.

Swish.

Neung Gayeon lifted the cord.

She held one end with both hands, then slowly ran one hand down the length, checking something.

She did this from end to end—then placed it back on the tray.

“It will suffice.”

Whether she had done something to it or simply inspected it wasn’t clear.

Jincheon took it back.

‘So now...’

He was supposed to hold onto this thing—with Ilyo.

Now that it was right in front of him, it really did feel awkward.

“You can tie it around your wrist,” Ilyo suggested suddenly.

A good idea.

Jincheon tried, fumbling to wrap it around his own wrist—

But it was hard to tie with one hand.

“If you’ll allow it, I can help,” Ilyo offered.

He quietly extended his wrist.

Ilyo took the cord in both hands.

Rustle.

Her pale, delicate fingers brushed his skin. It tickled, strangely—but Jincheon bore it.

Soon the cord was tied neatly around his wrist.

She had a deft touch. The knot was snug but didn’t pinch.

‘Hm. This is... a little embarrassing.’

He didn’t say it aloud.

He wasn’t in a position to complain—

After all, he was the one who once tied black cords around the necks of sixteen people.

“...And you?”

He looked up. Ilyo was holding the other end.

She couldn’t tie it with one hand, either.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

Ilyo flinched.

But then, silently, she dropped to one knee, bowed her head, and offered up her wrist.

Her fair skin gleamed before him.

‘...Should I have kept quiet?’

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But it was more practical this way.

With slightly trembling fingers, Jincheon wrapped the cord around her wrist and tied it.

“...There.”

Ilyo lowered her head and answered quietly.

Clink.

Only then did Jincheon return to his tea and sip slowly, enjoying the peaceful morning.

It didn’t occur to him until later—

that with Neung Gayeon sitting right in front of him, they probably didn’t need to wear the cord at all.

****

Iron Gate Sect, Luoyang.

Sect Master Ban Mushim sat in his office.

“Brother. It’s Mu-ryang.”

“Come in.”

Slide.

The door opened, revealing a well-built middle-aged man.

It was Ban Mu-ryang, Ban Mushim’s younger brother and head of Iron Gate’s external branch.

The Sect Master set down the document he’d been reading.

“What brings you here so early?”

“That Taoist left the Soaring Willow Sword Sect.”

Ban Mushim’s eyes lit up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Multiple witnesses confirmed it. He left before dawn.”

“Perfect timing.”

“Are we moving today?”

“No point dragging it out. The plan’s already in place. Let’s begin.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Sect Master Ban Mushim scowled.

“What are you worried about?”

“I was thinking... won’t Wudang have something to say about this?”

Ban Mushim scoffed.

“And what if they do? By the time they open their mouths, Soaring Willow will be dust. What exactly do you think they’re going to do about it?”

“Still... going so far as to cross Wudang...”

“Tch.”

He didn’t bother hiding his irritation.

“We’re not dealing with the Wudang main sect. Just some wandering Taoist who made a few friends. Sure, they’ll make a fuss at first, but throw them a few gifts and a few years later, no one will even remember. Don’t worry.”

He fixed his brother with a pointed glare.

“Besides, it’s the Gu Family from Kaifeng that wants this land. You’re afraid of Wudang—but not afraid of them?”

Ban Mu-ryang flinched.

The Gu Clan of Kaifeng was the wealthiest, most influential family in all of Henan.

They weren’t one of the Four Orthodox Sects or Five Great Clans, but to the Iron Gate Sect, defying them was unthinkable.

“Don’t bring this up again. If we want ties to the Gu Clan, Soaring Willow has to go. Simple as that.”

Once, the Soaring Willow Sword Sect had been so prosperous, it owned most of the surrounding territory.

Now, though it was a shadow of its former self, the land it still held was substantial.

And the man from the Gu Clan had clearly set his sights on it.

These buildings and land... would make a fine offering.

It sounded like an idle remark—

But to the Iron Gate Sect, it was as good as a command.

They wanted the property, sure—

But they also wanted to test Iron Gate’s competence.

“Make sure everything is ready. No mistakes. No slip-ups.”

“Yes, understood.”

Without that Wudang Taoist around, Soaring Willow wasn’t even a challenge.

“Oh—and I heard they’ve got a few guests staying there right now...”

“Handle it. Discreetly. No mess.”

“...Yes, sir.”

Ban Mu-ryang lowered his head.

Just as he turned to leave—

“How’s Jung-gwan doing?”

He paused.

“...Still hasn’t regained consciousness.”

Ban Jung-gwan—Ban Mushim’s youngest son.

Now lying in bed, barely breathing.

His youngest son, brought back home a ruined man—

Ban Mushim’s rage knew no limits.

Crack.

His teeth clenched.

“Have you found them?”

“Not yet. But we’re scouring every lead on the red carriage. We’ll track it down soon.”

“Good. You’d better. Find them. No matter what.”

“Yes, Brother.”

Ban Mushim’s eyes burned with fury.

After a long silence, he finally said—

“Go.”

Ban Mu-ryang gave a deep bow.

When his brother was like this—

You didn’t argue. Ever.

Thud.

The door closed behind him.

Now alone, Ban Mushim closed his eyes.

He tried to suppress the rage, but it refused to fade.

Was it because of Soaring Willow?

The Gu Clan’s bullying?

Or his son’s collapse?

He didn’t know.

“Just wait.”

Crack.

His jaw clenched again.

By tonight, Soaring Willow would be no more.

And the ones who harmed his son—

The ones behind the red carriage—

They would be found. Sooner or later.

That carriage couldn’t stay hidden forever.

And when that time came—

He would repay them a hundredfold. A thousandfold.

That was the vow burning in Ban Mushim’s chest.

****

The Iron Gate Sect’s strongest warrior—was Ghost-Slaying Sword Jang Cheok.

Jang Cheok had reached the threshold of mastery: he could wrap internal energy around his blade.

But more than that—his methods were brutal and merciless. No one dared challenge him.

Ever since he joined Iron Gate a decade ago, the sect had only risen—

Slowly consuming Luoyang from the shadows, a city that once had no true rivals.

But Jang Cheok himself had stagnated.

Iron Gate had pampered him, gave him wealth and status—

And in comfort, growth dies.

The nickname Ghost-Slaying Sword had once spoken to his blade’s eerie edge.

Now it was just a label for his cruelty.

“Soaring Willow?”

He smirked as he looked at Ban Mu-ryang, the External Branch Master.

“You dragged me out here to deal with some old man and a girl?”

Clop, clop.

“The old man’s no pushover,” Ban Mu-ryang replied from horseback.

Behind them, over thirty elite disciples of the Iron Gate Sect rode in formation.

Overkill for dealing with a sect like Soaring Willow—

But anything less might’ve offended Sect Master Ban Mushim.

“They say the sect master was once called Blood Wolf or something. # Nоvеlight # Apparently, he was a big deal back in the day.”

“Pft.”

Jang Cheok snorted.

Back then, Iron Gate was just another small sect.

To them, sure—Soaring Willow might’ve looked impressive.

But not anymore.

Not to him.

“Think of it this way. Once this is over, we’ll be tied to the Gu Clan. That’s a good deal for you too, isn’t it?”

The Gu Clan of Kaifeng—

A powerful stepping stone for Jang Cheok.

He was pleased.

But he wasn’t done.

“I want Ji Yeongryeong.”

Ban Mu-ryang’s expression soured.

Ji Yeongryeong—

The sect’s only disciple, and granddaughter of the sect master.

Famous for her cold demeanor and striking beauty.

Ban Mu-ryang knew full well that Ban Jung-gwan—his nephew—had long had eyes on her.

“Tch... that might be...”

“Is that a no?”

The demand was blatant. Disrespectful.

But Ban Mu-ryang couldn’t say anything.

Damn it...

The decision was easy.

“So be it.”

Once ties with the Gu Clan were sealed—

They’d no longer need Jang Cheok.

Then they could reassert the proper hierarchy.

“Heh. Now I’m in the mood.”

Jang Cheok sneered.

Up ahead—

The weathered gates of the Soaring Willow Sword Sect came into view.