The Sword Queen swiftly masked her initial shock, her keen eyes carefully scrutinizing Ji-ryong.

Her gaze moved from Ji-ryong’s shoes to her clothing, then to the simple ribbon tying her hair, and finally to the broken sword in her hand.

She was likely assessing whether Ji-ryong had spoken the truth.

The shoes and training robes provided no indication of her status as a princess. She had worn them specifically for training, after all. Her hair was tied back in a plain knot, revealing nothing about her identity.

But then, her master's eyes landed on the broken sword hilt.

The moment she saw the countless embedded gemstones, Ji-ryong heard the unmistakable sound of a dry gulp.

Gulp.

After a long silence, her master finally spoke.

“Is this… really? No, is it truly so?”

She seemed thoroughly shaken.

Ji-ryong had only just become her disciple, not even half a day had passed.

What if her master decided to rescind the decision? What if she was cast out before she had even begun?

Panic seized her.

In desperation, Ji-ryong picked up the broken blade and pressed it against her neck.

“If you intend to take back your word or abandon me, I—I will take my life right here!”

But her master was no ordinary martial artist.

She was the Grandmaster of Botaram, the leader of the Sword Pavilion, a woman known to have reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

Clang!

Before Ji-ryong could even react, a single flick of her master’s blade sent the broken sword flying from her grasp.@@novelbin@@

For a brief moment, hope slipped from her fingers.

She wanted to learn the sword.

She needed to learn the ascendant sword arts that suited her.

She longed to split the twilight, the darkness, the moonlight—just like her master.

But now, that hope seemed to be slipping away.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

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