“Then why did you co here, Elder? And more than that...”
Unhwi’s voice trailed off as his gaze settled on the severed head before the Go board.
“...why did you go so far as to intercept my guest?”
“Intercept, you say... is that what you call it?”
Heh-heh-heh.
The Heavenly Seer laughed quietly, and Unhwi asked,
“Would you say I’m lucky?”
The sudden question drew only silence. The old man studied him for a mont, eyes unreadable.
There weren’t many things they both understood with certainty, but each knew what this situation ant.
“You’re fortunate,” he said at last.
“I see. That must be why I’m still alive.”
A faint glint passed through the Heavenly Seer’s eyes.
Why was he here?
How had he known that the Red Demon Grand Duke was inside the Secret Realm?
Clearly, whatever words that ancient specter might have spoken were not ant to reach the world outside.
That was why the old man had co—
If anyone other than Unhwi had erged from the realm, they would already be dead.
Even in his past life, Unhwi had never heard of this particular Secret Realm. That ant it wasn’t erased by Cheonrim, but by the Heavenly Seer himself.
And that made everything fit together.
“I hold you in very high regard,” the old man said finally.
It was an answer.
A quiet confirmation of Unhwi’s guess.
After a mont’s silence, he picked up a black stone—but hesitated for a long while before placing it.
Unhwi leaned forward slightly, studying the board.
The formation was intricate, tangled. Black and white stones were locked in a stalemate, neither gaining the upper hand.
Then Unhwi spoke, almost idly.
“You can’t find the answer, can you.”
“...Hm?”
“The black stones in the upper left threaten the white in the lower right, but white pushes out to the center to block. And if black moves to the center, the white in the upper right will extend to the lower left.”
His tone was calm and certain.
“Whichever side you choose, the other will have a perfect response.”
“...”
“Do you know why?”
A faint, wry smile curved the Heavenly Seer’s lips.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Because your opponent... is yourself.”
A long silence fell.
No bird calls, no wind—only the collision of two gazes suspended in the air.
“Self-contradiction,” the old man murmured.
“...”
“When one collides with oneself, no matter how perfect a move one plays, the other—being the sa—can always respond perfectly in turn.”
“Exactly.”
Unhwi nodded once.
“No genius can ever surpass his own reflection.”
At that, the Heavenly Seer laughed softly.
He wasn’t a fool; that much was obvious.
All of this—the solitary ga, the balance without resolution—was deliberate.
He wanted to show Unhwi sothing.
He wanted to hear sothing from him. And from that laugh, Unhwi knew the old man had heard it.
“Then,” the Heavenly Seer asked, “do you think I can never end this ga?”
“I don’t know,” Unhwi replied honestly.
“But one thing is certain—this ga, as it stands, has no answer.”
“No answer...”
The old man repeated the words quietly.
“Then what should be done?”
“Flip the board,” Unhwi said.
The Heavenly Seer’s eyes glead.
“Flip the board?”
“Yes. Break free from the existing rules.”
“That would no longer be Go, would it?”
“It wouldn’t. But it would decide a victor.”
Their gazes clashed again, sharper this ti—like blades crossing.
Then the Heavenly Seer burst into laughter.
Heh-heh-heh! What an amusing man you are!
His laughter echoed through the trees.
“To overturn the board... that, too, is a kind of answer.”
He dropped the black stone onto the board—not on any intersection, just wherever it happened to fall.
“But then it wouldn’t be Go anymore, would it?”
“True,” Unhwi said evenly. “But sotis, the right answer lies outside the ga.”
The old man rested his chin on his hand, studying him.
“You are truly fascinating. You completed the Tri-Profound Unification Doctrine, and now you talk of overturning the board itself.”
“You flatter .”
“It isn’t flattery.”
His tone hardened, suddenly solemn.
“So tell —can you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Flip the board.”
The Heavenly Seer rose slowly to his feet.
“I an the board of this world.”
Unhwi’s muscles tensed.
The aura of the Martial World’s Sovereign began to stir, vast and oppressive—but not hostile. There was expectation in it.
Now he was sure.
Whatever the old man’s true aim, one thing was clear:
He wanted the Thousand-Year Demon Cult reborn—
And he intended either Yucheong or Unhwi to beco its master.
Unhwi spoke quietly.
“I respect you, Elder Heavenly Seer. Deeply.”
“Heh-heh... then I should be honored—”
“But I am no one’s stone on the board.”
Unhwi took a step forward.
Martial World Sovereign?
A man he had once regarded as a father?
Before all that, Unhwi was a martial artist.
And a martial artist must not cower, no matter the opponent.
Even if death waited a single step away, he could not bend.
He could not deny the path he had walked.
So he repeated the words he had once spoken long ago.
“If you an to use , Elder, you’ll pay dearly for it.”
“A price, you say... such as?”
“Your life.”
“Oh?”
Though their features were not identical, the resemblance in build, in presence—was undeniable.
“You never fail to surprise ,” the old man said at last.
It was genuine admiration.
“So will call it madness, others reckless pride. But that refusal to bow even before death—that is what completes the aning of ‘martial artist.’”
He knew the worth of that conviction.
And before him stood one who embodied it.
It wasn’t madness. It wasn’t arrogance.
It was proof.
Neither man was small-minded.
“You really are alike,” the Heavenly Seer murmured. “So very alike.”
“Alike to whom?”
He smiled faintly.
“To the one who held the heavens before .”
“May I ask who that was?”
He shook his head.
“It’s the sa reason I haven’t asked what you and the Red Demon Grand Duke discussed inside the realm.”
“You an it’s sothing I’m not ant to know—yet.”
“As perceptive as ever.”
“I’ll take that as praise.”
Heh-heh-heh.
He patted Unhwi’s shoulder.
“We haven’t known each other long, yet sohow it feels as though I’ve known you for ages.”
Unhwi said nothing.
The old man withdrew his hand and sat once more before the board.
“Go on, then.”
“I’ll repay the debt I owe for that head when the ti cos.”
Heh-heh-heh... I’ll look forward to it.
Unhwi bowed politely with a warrior’s salute and turned to leave—
“Forgive , but one more thing,” the old man said.
“Yes, Elder?”
“What do you think of ?”
It was abrupt.
But the answer had long been ready, and it hadn’t changed.
“Genius among geniuses,” Unhwi said.
“That all?”
“...”
He was silent for a while before answering.
“It may sound rude... but I think you’re a lonely man.”
“Lonely...?”
For the first ti, the Heavenly Seer’s eyes wavered.
“Heh... heh-heh-heh. So that’s your judgnt? An old man so lonely he takes a liking to the young prodigy who humors his company—so he spends ti chatting, letting himself be tricked and toyed with? You an to insult the Martial World’s Sovereign to his face?”
Unhwi shook his head.
“That’s not what I ant.”
“Then what did you an?”
“You stand too high above the rest. You always have.”
“...”
“I can feel the weight of the solitude you’ve spoken into the air a thousand tis over.”
“...”
“That’s why you’re lonely. And since we’re speaking honestly—whatever binds you, Elder, you could overturn your board as well, right here, right now.”
“...Overturn the board... ?”
“Yes.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot.”
“May I ask why?”
The old man smiled faintly.
“Because I made a promise to a man.”
“...”
“And I have an obligation to keep it. You and I, in our lives, acquire many titles—Martial World’s Sovereign, Snow-Mountain Demon Lord, Blood Heaven Venerable...”
Unhwi could feel it then—the weight of regret behind his words.
“Whatever we’re called, in the end, we’re just n.”
“Indeed.”
“A man’s word—”
“—is worth a thousand gold.”
He pointed at the board.
“I have no opponent now, so I play alone. But in the not-too-distant future, you’ll be sitting across from .”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Sothing glimred in the old man’s gaze—expectation, perhaps even hope.
“Until then, don’t die.”
“...”
“And...”
He added quietly,
“I’ve never taken a disciple. Not once have I ever felt the urge to. Not until this conversation today.”
Today.
That was the key.
Their eting in the Bright Spirit Domain had been re acknowledgnt.
But now—the Heavenly Seer’s mind had changed.
Unhwi didn’t answer right away.
In his previous life, he had been that man’s disciple—his adopted son, one of the few he cherished.
But in the end, the Heavenly Seer had abandoned him.
He still didn’t know why.
To beco his disciple again now would be to walk the sa path as before—and if that happened...
He shook his head.
No.
This life was different.
The path ahead was one he would carve himself. Fear of the unknown had no place in him.
That was what the old man himself had taught him.
Unhwi clasped his fists once more in formal salute.
“It’s an honor beyond asure, Elder—but I must decline.”
Heh-heh... a pity, then.
After a mont’s silence, the Heavenly Seer spoke softly.
“Go on. And that false dantian you created—it will cause serious trouble soday. If you ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ ever wish to know how to fix it, co to the main sect.”
“I’ll try to solve it myself first. If I can’t, I’ll consider it then.”
“The confidence of youth—always a fine thing to see.”
He said nothing more, and neither did Unhwi.
Unhwi turned and began to walk away.
No matter what he told himself, the truth remained—
Right now, everyone was still moving within the grand board set by the Heavenly Seer.
And for now, no one—not even Seol Unhwi—could yet escape it.
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