Chapter 71

It was a bold remark from his daughter.

Bukgung Cheon looked down at Bukgung Yoon with half‑open eyes.

‘Her attitude has changed.’

The anxiety, anger, and tension she had always directed at the Family Lord were gone, replaced by confidence, pride, and the quiet dignity of a Manor Lord—qualities he had never before seen in his daughter.

Bukgung Cheon turned his gaze to Yeon Mujin.

‘Curious.’

A man who could change Bukgung Yoon like this with only a few words. Strange. Truly strange.

Many sought the Bukgung bloodline. Their motives were usually twofold: loyalty, or exploitation. None gave the impression Yeon Mujin did.

‘Not use but symbiosis? Does he become Yoon’s blade, and Yoon his face?’

He had wondered suddenly, recalling the image of Yeon Mujin at the Bukgung Guard Tournament that day—staring straight at him and declaring boldly, “I will be the personal bodyguard for the Bukgung Family’s seventh youngest.” He had felt then the same bafflement.

‘He is somehow odd.’

A strange current ran through that man that even Bukgung Cheon’s keen discernment could not trace. Was it merely strength? Ambition? No—the motives of those who came to the greatest golden family were obvious: money or power. Yeon Mujin was neither. His attitude and actions showed he truly intended to make a king. He built Flying Swallow Manor, expanded its influence, removed rivals, and plunged himself into the mire to cultivate the flower that was Bukgung Yoon.

What Bukgung Cheon wondered was why his youngest daughter. If Yeon Mujin sought a throne, there were easier choices: the second son who led warriors stronger than any, the third whose cunning surpassed all, the fourth the wealthiest, the fifth ambitious as few. Even serving the Grand Young Lord or the Sixth Young Lord would have made things simpler. Why Bukgung Yoon? What had he seen in her?

“Flying Swallow Manor Lord Bukgung Yoon.”

Bukgung Cheon could not hide his curiosity.

“Does the will of the Captain of the External Protection Troops align with yours?”

It felt strange. Her father’s fierce commands no longer frightened her. Yeon Mujin’s harsher words had made her rebellion seem comparatively modest; standing beside him steadied her. The madness she contemplated suddenly felt less reckless when someone beside her would take the blow that followed.

‘Yeah, why not pull off a little madness?’

Whatever she attempted, Yeon Mujin would somehow handle. He was her misfortune—the great curse that carried all the storm clouds over her life—but his presence steadied her.

“The Captain of the External Protection Troops has no opinion. All his views are mine as the Manor Lord.”

Yeon Mujin’s wry chuckle sounded behind her, but she ignored it.

“Solitary Cloud Manor has long executed schemes against Flying Swallow Manor. They hampered our management, let our blades rust, throttled us, and swung us about as they pleased—for one reason: Flying Swallow Manor was weaker than Solitary Cloud Manor. Because I was the youngest daughter. Because I had no power. To the Master of Solitary Cloud Manor, I was a stumbling stone to kick aside. Isn’t that so?”

Bukgung Yoon’s gaze was steady; her words flowed unrestrained as she faced her father, the Family Lord Bukgung Cheon.

“Therefore it is unjust to reproach me. Unjust, and again unjust. You call him brother and me sister? The Master of Solitary Cloud Manor has done many things a brother should not do to me. You say I restrained my brother? In his attempt to restrain me, he grabbed my head and shoved me into the mire. I have never once considered the Master of Solitary Cloud Manor a true brother.”

Something flickered in her eyes.

“Just as you have never once treated me like a daughter, Father.”

Her words were tight with thorns—words meant to cut: the most vicious blade she had carried throughout her life.

“Why must I not wield against my brother the same blade he swung at me? Am I a fool? I never told Father about the violence done to me. If you regarded the Master of Solitary Cloud Manor as a brother and me as a pitiable sister, you should have stopped it then—not now, not to reproach and question me.”

The colder her words became, the deeper the smile on Yeon Mujin’s lips grew.

“I am also a Manor Lord. I am the Lord of Flying Swallow Manor appointed by the Family Lord, and the master of the retainers I lead. Do you think a Family Lord who does not respect a Manor Lord can be respected by that Manor Lord? Someone told me: if someone slaps your cheek, break that person’s arm and shatter their teeth. If someone points a blade at you, cut their throat. That was the only lesson I learned in this house. So why should you not bear to see the pitiable youngest daughter now dance with blades?”

Bukgung Cheon listened to her venom without changing expression or posture. At a glance his silence might have looked like anger, or a parent’s worry, but he said nothing.

“I will protect my share too, Father. I will no longer sit like a puppet and lament the passing years. I am the Manor Lord of Flying Swallow Manor… and the master of my own life.”

Bukgung Yoon’s shoulders trembled slightly after she poured out her words. A dense silence settled over the hall.

At last Bukgung Cheon’s mouth opened.

“Do you think you have the right to do so?”

To Bukgung Yoon, it was an unbearably hateful question. What kind of right did he mean? That alone fueled her fury. Does one need a right merely to survive? To scream and beg to be left alone?

She wanted to scream like a madwoman: No rights are necessary! But someone gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

She exhaled, turned her head, and saw him—her misfortune. Yeon Mujin met her eyes and smiled as if to say: Pour it all out, Manor Lord. Is your misfortune not right here? The worst outcome you fear will not come to pass.

Her heart calmed, her head cleared. Sometimes another’s warmth can soothe.

“I have more than enough right.”

“That is not what I asked. I can tolerate your brother restraining you, but do you know why I reproach you for striking him? They may look similar, but they are very different. It is not because you are my daughter and Bi‑beom my son. Do you understand that difference?”

Bukgung Cheon’s voice was resolute.

“If you do not know what right you need, I can only scold you. This is not as a father. As the Family Lord of the Bukgung Family, I can only punish you.”

Bukgung Yoon’s gaze wavered. She could not understand what he meant.

A sound‑transmission slid into her ear.

—The Family Lord hopes the Manor Lord will not hide behind the shield of being a daughter.

That was all. No instruction, no stance.

Bukgung Yoon closed her eyes and weighed Yeon Mujin’s words. Yeon Mujin stared intently at Bukgung Cheon, and Bukgung Cheon—coincidentally—looked back at Yeon Mujin. The two men held each other’s gaze endlessly, the young, inexperienced Manor Lord standing between them. Their methods differed, but their aim was the same: to make the seed named Bukgung Yoon sprout. They wanted her not broken by misfortune, but to stand on her own.

Bukgung Yoon opened her eyes.

“Family Lord.”

“Speak.”

“I will take that position, no matter what.”

Bukgung Cheon’s eyes widened slightly—the first reaction he had shown in the room.

“The defeat of Solitary Cloud Manor is not the defeat of Bukgung Bi‑beom, my son. Those who wish to rise must trample what lies beneath their feet. I did not punish my brother out of petty emotion. Had I, I would not have sent him back to Glorious Flower Manor with courtesy. This fight is war, and this victory, struggle. Bukgung Bi‑beom was eliminated. It is the result of battle for the Bukgung Family Lord. You are…”

Bukgung Yoon spoke before he could finish.

“You cannot reproach me.”

“……”

The seed had sprouted.

“…Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha! Hahahahaha!”

Bukgung Cheon burst into laughter. What began as a tremble swelled into a great laugh that shook his shoulders, escalating into a manic roar that convulsed his body. Through his tearless laughter he saw the Bukgung Family—the splendor that would not perish even if trampled.

He rose and walked behind the seated Grand Steward. There hung a long, large banner. Yeon Mujin chuckled. Only Bukgung Yoon stood bewildered, unable to grasp what was unfolding.

Whoosh!

When Bukgung Cheon drew back the banner, there stood all the people.

Grand Young Lord Bukgung Kang‑geon, Second Young Lord Bukgung Yeong‑noh, Third Young Lord Bukgung Dam‑deok, Fourth Young Lord Bukgung Yun‑ram, and Fifth Young Lord Bukgung Mok‑min. The retainers who managed the Bukgung Family’s glorious affairs, the Inner Hall Chief Seong Yu‑gun who had guided the two here and vanished, and Outer Hall Chief Yeom Su‑gon. All the ghosts who vied at the center of worldly power and the toads who coveted gold—every one of them had listened.

The one who stood above them proclaimed to the people.

“Retainers of the world, listen!”

“Yes! Family Lord!”

The vassals bowed their heads in unison.

“Since ancient times it has been said power does not last ten years, and the red flower cannot remain for ten days. But, ah, the world! People will not remember the name Bukgung for its red flowers or its power! When the flower falls, Bukgung will become the branch; when power wanes, Bukgung will become the root—enduring without break, everlasting and undying! Who among you will follow me as the branch and root of Bukgung?”

A sovereign’s pure dignity, unadorned by martial bravado, washed over the hall.

“One of my six children here will follow me as the Family Lord of the world‑renowned Bukgung Family! One of you will seize the coming glory and riches of the Bukgung Family together with my child! Are you ready to enjoy immortal glory?”

“Bukgung Immortal! Enduring without break!”

The crowd’s cries rang clear enough to cross Tae‑won and pierce the world—a voice so mighty it could deafen and make one’s legs tremble.

“To claim the seat of Family Lord of the world‑renowned Bukgung Family, you may employ any means! Gold and power, strength and ambition—only the one who survives will claim my position. You have earned the right to fight. Are you prepared to seize everything from your father and survive?”

At Bukgung Cheon’s proclamation, his five sons bowed their heads, eyes glittering with greed. The rest looked at Bukgung Yoon beyond her father’s shoulder—no longer the frail youngest daughter, but a contender who would stand proudly with spear and sword for the throne.

“Waaaaaa!”

The hall erupted with warriors’ mad shouts.

Bukgung Cheon turned very slowly and fixed his gaze on his youngest daughter. His look at Bukgung Yoon was unlike anything before. Father and daughter, Family Lord and Manor Lord—those distinctions were gone. It was the look of a beast fighting for the position of the pack’s king.