The silence in the Great Hall was heavy enough to crush bone.
Elder Ma wiped the blood from his nose with a silk handkerchief. He didn't scream. He didn't call his guards to chop Dan-Bi into pieces. Instead, he started to laugh.
It was a dry, rasping sound, like dead leaves scraping against stone.
"Well," he said, inspecting the red stain on his white silk. "It seems the kitten has claws."
He looked up at Dan-Bi, who was standing on the dais, her hand raised, the oversized Black Dragon Ring gleaming on her thumb. Her face was a mask of icy fury, but Elder Ma was an old monster who had lived in the Murim world for sixty years. He saw the slight tremor in her left leg. He saw the way her chest heaved, desperate for air.
"Enjoy the view from up there, Lady Han," Elder Ma said softly, his voice carrying clearly to every disciple in the room. "The Sect Leader's seat is magnificent. But you should be careful."
He turned his back to her, signaling his departure.
"It has thorns," he threw over his shoulder. "And paper wives catch fire very easily."
With a wave of his hand, he marched out, his retinue following him like a dark shadow. The heavy doors boomed shut.
The moment he was gone, Dan-Bi's knees gave out.
She collapsed back onto the armrest of the throne, gasping for breath. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like a trapped bird hitting her ribs.
I did it. I actually threw gold at a High Elder.
In her past life, just looking at Elder Ma had made her cry. Now, she had humiliated him in front of the entire sect. She knew this wasn't a victory; it was a declaration of war. He wouldn't kill her openly—not while she wore the ring—but he would try to suffocate her slowly.
"Are you done posing?"
The cold voice cut through her panic.
Dan-Bi looked down. Wi Jin-Hyuk was standing at the foot of the dais.
The fifteen-year-old boy didn't look impressed. He looked annoyed. He turned his back on her and faced the altar.
"The funeral rites are not finished," he announced to the stunned disciples. "Resume the chanting."
The disciples scrambled to obey, terrified of the boy who had inherited his father's killing intent.
Then came the Rite of Incense.
Traditionally, the eldest son would light three sticks of incense, bow to the heavens, and then hand the incense to the new Head of the Household to place in the burner. It was a symbol of transferring authority. A public acknowledgment of respect.
Jin-Hyuk lit the incense. The smoke curled around his sharp, handsome face.
Dan-Bi stood up, smoothing her robes, preparing to accept the sticks. She held out her hands, waiting.
Jin-Hyuk walked up the steps. He stopped in front of her.
He looked at her outstretched hands. Then he looked at her face.
"Move," he said.
He walked right past her, brushing her shoulder with his, and jammed the incense sticks into the burner himself.
"Father," he whispered to the coffin, loud enough for her to hear. "Rest well. I will take out the trash soon."
He didn't bow to her. He didn't acknowledge her. He treated her like a piece of furniture that was in his way.
Behind him, thirteen-year-old Min-Ho walked up. He gave Dan-Bi that dazzling, fake smile.
"Nice throw, Stepmother," he chirped. "But you wasted good gold. Next time, aim for the throat."
He placed his incense and walked away, humming a tune.
Then came the twins.
Tae-Yang stomped up the stairs. He glared at Dan-Bi, his little hands sparking with heat. He didn't say anything, but he deliberately stomped on the hem of her long white mourning dress, leaving a sooty, black footprint on the pristine fabric.
Su-Ah didn't even look at her. She just stared at the empty air, her green snake flicking its tongue at Dan-Bi's ankles.
One by one, they rejected her. Publicly. Brutally.
The disciples watching whispered among themselves.
"See? The Young Masters don't recognize her."
"She's just a placeholder."
"She'll be dead within the month."
Dan-Bi stood there, the Black Dragon Ring loose on her thumb, feeling the weight of hundreds of scornful eyes. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide in her room and lock the door.
But she remembered the rope around her neck. She remembered the cold wind of the execution platform.
They can hate me all they want, she thought, lowering her empty hands. As long as they stay alive to do it.
That night, the Sect Leader's quarters felt too big.
It was a massive pavilion separated from the main disciples' housing. The bed could fit five people. The silence was deafening.
Dan-Bi sat at the mahogany desk, a single candle flickering beside her. She wasn't sleeping. She was writing.
She wrote down a timeline of how the sect would be destroyed. It started with Elder Ma draining the treasury in the first month. In the third month, Jin-Hyuk would try to kill him and fail. By the sixth month, enemies would attack. In four years, everything would be over. She looked back at the first point, "Financial Collapse," and circled it.
"This is the first domino," she muttered, biting the end of her brush.
In her past life, she hadn't known why the Sect fell apart so fast. She thought they were just evil and disorganized. But now, with her future knowledge, she knew the truth.
Elder Ma wasn't just a bully; he was a thief. He had been funneling the Sect's money into his own private accounts for years. When the Demon Lord died, he accelerated the process. By the time Jin-Hyuk took over in the original timeline, the vaults were empty. The disciples stopped getting paid, the guards deserted, and the defenses crumbled.
"I need to stop the money from leaking," Dan-Bi whispered. "But I can't fight him with martial arts. I can't even beat an eight-year-old in a fistfight."
She looked at her reflection in the darkened window. A seventeen-year-old girl with no background, no allies, and a family that wanted her gone.
"I have to use the only thing I have," she said, tapping the oversized ring on her finger. "Authority. Even if it's fake."