The RoFan Novel Fan Has Reincarnated Into A Martial Arts Novel-Chapter 45: The Truth Behind the Rumor

After the race ended, Hwangbo Jeonggun and Hwangbo Gwang caused a ruckus searching for Yeon, and in the end, she had no choice but to meet them both. Jeonggun went first, Gwang followed.

Now Yeon sat across from Hwangbo Gwang, whose scowling face looked like a child denied dessert.

“I clearly arrived first. I even stopped by the main estate before coming here...”

“Come on, Grandpa. You just had way more to talk about with the elder, that’s all.”

“Hmph.”

Nothing was harder to appease than a sulking old man, but Yeon wasn’t especially worried. She simply recounted what had happened during her recent encounter.

Just as she expected, the moment her story began, Hwangbo Gwang’s ears perked up, twitching like radar dishes. His thin, stubborn lips twitched as if fighting to stay composed—but when the phrase Thunder God Divine Art came out, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You’re saying... you manifested the Divine Art?!”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

“Tell me everything. Everything!”

Yeon began painting the scene in vivid detail, describing her battle with the elder as realistically as possible. The more she spoke, the more Hwangbo Gwang leaned forward in his seat, looking like a boy lost in an old bedtime tale.

“The moment of clarity hit me just as I realized I’d walked into a trap. Right then, the Thunder God Divine Art came to me. First form—Thunderclap Shaking Heaven.”

“And?! What happened then?!”

“Well, after that...”

What would happen if she dropped a “Find out in 60 seconds!” cliffhanger right now? Grandpa Gwang might just collapse from outrage.

Yeon licked her lips at the thought of teasing him like a modern broadcast station, but she carried on. She explained every detail—down to the way she circulated her Lightning Energy during the moment of impact.

When the story finally came to a close, Hwangbo Gwang exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. His eyes fixed on the floor, he rubbed his index fingers together before asking in a low voice:

“If I asked you to do it again... could you?”

“Of course.”

Yeon concentrated, condensing Lightning Energy into her palm.

The entire building—Hwangbo Gwang’s new quarters in the family estate—rumbled from the force.

Fweeeeeeng!

“W-Wait! Stop, stop!”

At his urgent cry, Yeon slowly let the Lightning Energy dissipate. Blasting the house apart wasn’t the plan anyway. That little display should’ve been more than enough.

“That’s the general idea,” she said with a casual shrug.

Hwangbo Gwang could only mutter in disbelief.

“I never thought... not in my lifetime... that I’d see the Thunder God Divine Art with my own eyes.”

His small eyes turned red. He tilted his head up abruptly, stopping the tears from falling.

But one still escaped, trailing silently down his weathered cheek.

“Grandpa...”

“You have no idea what I’m feeling right now.”

“I kind of do. You’ve... been through a lot.”

“What do you know?” he barked. “You don’t know anything!”

But Yeon could hear the tremble under the denial. It wasn’t anger. Just the whimper of a heart that had been aching too long.

She reached out quietly and gave his narrow shoulder a soft pat. The dam inside him finally broke, and the tears he’d locked away for decades spilled freely down his face.

“Hkkgh...”

Hwangbo Gwang had devoted his life to a martial art the world had abandoned.

He was a forgotten genius—shouting into the void, begging someone to listen. No one ever had.

He should have died quietly in obscurity, buried alone with his bitter regret.

And now, long past the expiration date of his grief, he was crying again.

That won’t happen this time, Yeon thought to herself. Not in this life.

She didn’t say it out loud. She just sat there and let him recover.

When he finally wiped his face and composed himself, he said simply:

“...Thank you.”

That was enough. Yeon’s eyes stung too, but she pressed on—pivoting ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) back to martial arts to lighten the mood.

“You saw it yourself, but it’s far from perfect. Just one use of Thunderclap Shaking Heaven drained all of my internal energy.”

“Hm. Yes... that’s a problem,” Gwang muttered, already falling back into the role of martial arts expert.

“You’re not lacking in energy, either... That form of the technique just burns through far more than I anticipated. My calculations were off.”

“You think it’s fixable? I mean, increasing internal energy isn’t exactly easy.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t just an energy issue. It’s a matter of balance.”

“Balance?”

“The Thunder God Divine Art is infused with an overwhelming Yang energy. Even your exceptional Yin nature can’t stabilize it. And if you can’t do it... there’s no one in this world who can. It’s a truly unruly technique...”

A thought crossed Yeon’s mind, and she absentmindedly fingered the necklace around her neck.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this...”

After a brief hesitation, she told him about the martial artist from the Flame Cult and the key he’d been searching for. Telling Grandpa Gwang wouldn’t hurt anything—and might even help.

“The Flame Cult, huh...”

“Let’s keep this between us for now. There’s still too much I don’t know. Anyway, about the balance—this necklace gives off a cold energy.”

Hwangbo Gwang took a look at it, then nodded.

“I can sense it, faintly. But it’s too weak. To balance the energy in your body, you’ll need something far colder. Something truly rare.”

“Like... a Frost Crystal?”

“Exactly. But Frost Crystals are legendary for a reason. No one’s ever seen a real one.”

“Some people think this might be a shard from one.”

Gwang snorted.

“Who fed you that nonsense, you rascal?”

“Yeah... I figured.”

A Frost Crystal, huh? Where had that legend even come from?

If something like that did exist, she wanted it. Badly. Who knew when the Flame Cult’s leader might show up again? She couldn’t spend a thousand years slowly training her internal energy.

Just then, Gwang spoke again.

“That Frost Crystal...”

“Yes, Grandpa?”

“It’s tied to the Northern Sea Ice Palace. You’ve heard of it, right?”

“Sure.”

That was information from Hwangbo Yeon’s memories—the mythical sect no one had ever confirmed.

“Is it real?”

“It appeared in the martial world once. Just once.”

“Seriously?”

There was a pause. Then, Gwang changed the subject out of nowhere.

“Where’s that rascal?”

“Who?”

“That bald monk who came with you.”

“Oh, you mean Monk Gongye? He went back to Shaolin.”

“Did he now? That’s a shame. I was hoping to ask him.”

...Why? What’s the connection between Gongye and the Frost Crystal?

Yeon’s face must’ve shown her confusion, because Gwang added nonchalantly:

“Only Shaolin knows the truth behind the Ice Palace.”

After leaving Hwangbo Gwang’s quarters, Yeon headed back to her room.

Night had fully fallen, and the world was wrapped in shadows. She followed the trail of softly glowing lanterns, replaying her conversation in her mind.

“Only Shaolin knows”... What does that even mean?

“Exactly what it sounds like. Back then, there were whispers that the Ice Palace would reveal itself to the martial world. Shaolin was the first to make contact.”

“Then why is it still a rumor?”

“It remained nothing more than a rumor. Shaolin never made an official statement about it.”

What exactly happened?

Yeon tried to recall anything related to the Limitless Divine Art from her memory, but nothing came to mind.

“A shame, really. Shaolin once visited our family estate, you know.”

“I heard about that. If only I’d gotten here a little sooner.”

A sudden flash of memory jolted Yeon, and she rummaged through her robes.

There it was— a letter sent by Shaolin’s head abbot, passed on by her father. In all the rush to speak with Grandpa Gwang, she’d forgotten to even open it.

“Why the hell did I forget this?”

Too impatient to return to her room, Yeon stepped toward a nearby lantern and broke the seal. Judging by the intact wax, it seemed her father hadn’t opened it either.

That was to be expected—but not all fathers of this era, especially heads of noble clans, were so respectful of privacy. On that front, Hwangbo Jeonggun was surprisingly ideal.

With that stray thought, Yeon carefully opened the letter. Under the yellow glow, the short message revealed itself:

“Would you consider visiting Shaolin someday? I am no longer able to travel far and beg your understanding. –Damdeok”

True to his station, the abbot wasted no ink on pleasantries.

Yeon reread it once more, then neatly folded the letter and tucked it back into her robes.

“Looks like I’m heading out again the moment I got home.”

****

Meanwhile, back at his quarters, Hwangbo Gwang sat alone. His posture was straight-backed, his expression solemn.

A brush rested in his hand. He wrote by candlelight, each character carefully shaped, as though he were etching part of his soul into the parchment.

After pausing at the final line, he dipped the brush once more into ink, twirled off the excess, and completed his sentence.

“The heavens themselves trembled at the thunderous force shown by the heir to the Divine Art. It marked the first heroic step toward dominating the martial world.”

“Phew.”

He closed the book, revealing its title etched onto the cover:

Chronicles of Thunder.

It was a personal account—Yeon’s tale, as heard from her own mouth, blended with Gwang’s own reflections.

If Yeon had seen it, she probably would’ve sighed and said, “Yup. Grandpa Gwang really is going senile.”

But he, at least, was dead serious.

“I need to record the path of the Divine Art’s heir. So future generations of our clan can follow her example.”

He wrapped the book in silk and placed it in his treasure vault, tucked alongside the few expensive belongings he owned.

“...Not much, huh?”

Throughout his life, Hwangbo Gwang had never been one to chase wealth. As long as he had martial arts manuals, tea leaves, and quiet time to read, he was content.

But now, things had changed. Just the supplements needed to nourish Yeon’s Yin energy would cost a small fortune.

“I can’t cling to legends like the Frost Crystal. I’ll need to track down some serious medicine.”

As he rubbed his temples, a sudden thought struck him. He clapped his palm with a fist.

“Enough moping. I should shake that brat Jeonggun down—who knows what kind of elixirs he’s been hoarding.”

As the Hwangbo Clan prepared to rise on the wind of warm spring air, far to the south in Anhui Province, a heavy chill settled over the Namgung household.

“Father, why are you saying no?!”

Namgung Myeong’s voice thundered through the chamber, as if he were about to charge at his father.

But Namgung Hyeon, head of the clan, simply stared at him in silence—his eyes deep, still, and impenetrable. Not a trace of youthful fire remained in them, only the kind of depth that smothered petty emotion like a yawning abyss.

“Calm yourself, Myeong.”

The even tone was enough to stop Myeong from raising his voice further.

Others might have admired his father’s habit of addressing his children formally, but not Myeong. Not once in his life had he ever found it respectful. If anything, he found it sanctimonious.

“I am calm. As the Namgung heir, I’m making a formal request. Please authorize the activation of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion.”

“And what justification do you offer for that?”

His father’s voice didn’t change at all. Myeong felt like he was arguing with a stone wall.

Justification? What about what happened to me and Jihyeon? Does that mean nothing?

Swallowing the rage, he pressed on.

“Yi Cheongang...”

“The young master of the Yi Clan, yes?”

“...He paid two hundred gold for an ordinary necklace. What do you think that means? There’s something we don’t know. Something important.”

“Something unknown.”

His father repeated the phrase slowly, then gave a calm response.

“Even if that’s true, it’s not enough to warrant mobilizing the Azure Sky Sword Battalion.”

Myeong clenched his jaw so tightly it nearly cracked.

Is he really this indifferent?

Ever since Grandfather died, Father had done nothing to reclaim the title of strongest under heaven. Beggars in the marketplace used the Namgung name without fear—and he just let them.

“...Myeong.”

“...Yes.”

“Reckless actions do not suit the weight of the Namgung name.”

Ha!

So that’s why you’ve been hiding in your study like a corpse.

Perhaps his father saw the mockery flicker in Myeong’s eyes. He let out a faint sigh.

That sigh made Myeong raise his head instinctively. His father didn’t sigh often. It meant something.

“...Very well.”

“...Excuse me?”

“This time, I’ll defer to your judgment. You’ll lead Namgung one day. Consider this a learning experience.”

“F-Father!”

Myeong clenched both fists in stunned gratitude.

“I’ll give you provisional command of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion. I’ll inform the commander myself.”

It was the first time he’d ever bowed to his father from the heart.

“Thank you, Father.”

“But understand this—there must be no pointless violence. This is not a chance to swing your sword, but a chance to learn how to wield authority.”

“...Yes, sir.”

That night, a unit quietly slipped out through the back gate of the Namgung estate.

They were swordsmen of the Azure Sky Sword Battalion—one of the core military forces of the Namgung Clan.