Appearance of the Heavenly Demon - Chapter 27

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 27
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After that day, Yeon-u’s meditation changed subtly.
Where once he had simply closed his eyes and felt the flow of air, the sounds and scents around him, now he strived to sense the vital energy inherent within them.
Un-hyeon guided him through the Ju-cheon every day.
He did everything in his power to help Yeon-u awaken to his Gong-ryeok more swiftly, more easily.
He pointed out the Hyeol-do, recited the Gu-gyeol of the Sim-beop, and taught him about the Se-maek.
Normally, forming a Dan-jeon takes a minimum of five years after one begins studying Mu-gong.
But Yeon-u did not have five years to spare.
What Un-hyeon wished was for Yeon-u to form his Dan-jeon and complete the So-ju-cheon, accumulating enough Nae-ryeok and control to do so before the five years had passed and they went to Maryong-gwan.
The road ahead remained long, but he was marshaling everything he could to make it possible.
Pad-pad-
After lunch, as Yeon-u was leaving the house to begin his afternoon training, he felt a familiar presence approaching.
“We have a visitor.”
Un-hyeon, who sensed it first, stepped into the room to fetch his Ban-ga-myeon to greet them, and Yeon-u turned his gaze toward the end of the path.
Two figures were drawing near from deep within the forest.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, peering ahead.
As Yeon-u recognized who they were, his expression brightened swiftly.
He immediately bolted toward the gate with rapid footfalls.
Then he called out at the top of his voice and waved his hand.
“Gwan-hyeok—!”
Gwan-hyeok— Gwan-hyeok— Gwan-hyeok—
Yeon-u’s voice echoed through the forest like a refrain.
Whether they heard that cry, the two figures halted. Then came a shout in return:
“Don’t call me like that!!!”
Like that— Like that— Like that— Like that—
It was Gwan-hyeok and his escort, Baek-gang.
“I hear you’ve been training hard lately.”
Gwan-hyeok, who had come after a long while, seemed quite cheerful.
It had already been three months since they lost Seok-i.
That was time enough to grieve and recover.
“How did Father find out about that?”
“I heard it from your father.”
Un-hyeon had sent word through his servants about Yeon-u’s training.
That ever since the day his attendant died, Yeon-u had taken it upon himself to learn Mu-gong, and that many snacks would be needed to encourage him in that pursuit.
Gwan-yun had happily sent snacks.
Yeon-u’s growth in strength was welcome news to him as well.
“So I came to see for myself. To check how you’re doing. To pay my respects after all this time.”
“Son, were you missing Yeon-u?”
“Not you—your training. I wanted to see your training!”
Gwan-hyeok, true to form, grew indignant at once.
Finding him as usual, Un-hyeon felt somewhat reassured.
“If you’re curious, would you care to test yourself against him in a sparring match?”
“Yes, yes? A spar—”
—ring match?
Gwan-hyeok looked toward Un-hyeon in confusion.
And little wonder—Gwan-hyeok had once rashly challenged Yeon-u to a sparring match and had been soundly beaten for it.
Of course, the sound beating had come from his father, Gwan-yun, but even those few words he’d heard from Un-hyeon still lingered in his memory.
“Ah, no, sir. I couldn’t possibly—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s fine… yes?”
It’s fine, you say?
“Do you truly mean that, sir?”
“I do.”
Un-hyeon nodded.
“Yeon-u has been diligent in his training, from all accounts, so it would not be amiss to see what he has accomplished in the meantime.”
“But…”
He himself had been studying Mu-gong for over five years now.
He hadn’t formed his Dan-jeon yet, but he could perform Un-gi-jo-shik.
“And you, Yeon-u—what do you say? Would you spar with him?”
“Huh? Yes! All right!”
Was he serious?
Gwan-hyeok was confused.
A child who couldn’t hold his own three months ago—there was no way he could be a match now, just from a few months of training.
Lost in that thought for a moment, Gwan-hyeok suddenly found himself standing opposite Yeon-u with a wooden sword in hand.
“…?!”
By the time Gwan-hyeok snapped back to awareness, Un-hyeon was already reciting the rules between them.
“Drop your weapon or cry surrender, and you lose. If things look dangerous, I’ll call it off, so don’t hold back.”
“Wait, wait!”
Gwan-hyeok cried out, pointing at Yeon-u.
“That weapon of his—isn’t it strange?!”
What Yeon-u was holding was a wooden axe. Not a sword at all.
And a child-sized one at that.
“I have a wooden sword, and it’s—?!”
Mine is twice as long as his.
This puts him at far too great a disadvantage, doesn’t it?
“What is the problem? A martial artist fights with the weapon they choose, does he not?”
“But—!”
“No exceptions. This is how it shall be.”
“If there are no further objections, we begin. When I lower my arm, you start.”
Objections flooded his mind, but Gwan-hyeok didn’t know where to begin and could only gape.
Meanwhile, this absurd match was about to commence.
Gwan-hyeok cast one last desperate look toward his guard, Baek-gang.
But Baek-gang, finding the bout amusing, simply watched with his arms folded, perfectly at ease.
Thwack!
Un-hyeon’s arm swept down sharply.
The match had begun.
Gwan-hyeok had no choice but to stand facing Yeon-u, wooden sword in hand.
Yet Yeon-u was still so small, and the weapon he held even smaller.
‘This is madness, absolute madness!’
They actually expected him to go through with this? This bout?
“Haaaaa—!!”
Unlike the hesitant Gwan-hyeok, Yeon-u charged straight at him the moment the match began.
The reckless manner of his approach was identical to their previous bout.
Gwan-hyeok exhaled slowly.
‘Fine. I’ll go easy on him.’
The boy had trained hard enough.
Three months was the perfect window for him to fall into the delusion of his own growth.
He’d spar a bit, let him have his moment, and end it cleanly.
Whoosh!
Before he could finish his thought, Yeon-u’s axe came screaming toward him.
Easy to read, just as before.
A simple, crude motion—striking down from above with no finesse.
Gwan-hyeok raised his sword horizontally to block.
Knowing Yeon-u’s strength, he braced himself with the intent to deflect casually, to let the blow slide past without effort.
Crack!
“—!”
In that single collision, he understood.
And understanding came an instant before a torrent of strikes rained down without pause.
Bang—bang—bang—crack!
“What… what… is… this…?!”
Gwan-hyeok frantically parried the flurry of axe strikes. No—merely defending left him overwhelmed.
‘Fast… too fast…!’
The small axe, nearly dagger-like, came at him with astonishing speed.
Each blow carried a weight that demanded respect—a density that couldn’t be ignored.
But what shook Gwan-hyeok most was this:
‘No openings. Not a single one.’
Despite unleashing such large, rapid assaults, Yeon-u showed not the slightest gap in his defense.
Yet this perfection was not something Yeon-u had willed into being.
For the past three months, Yeon-u had mirrored Un-hyeon’s sword forms daily, again and again.
Repeating the same motion over and over, it had etched itself naturally into his body.
The correct stance for wielding an axe.
‘At this rate… I’m going to lose…!’
Gwan-hyeok, who had been blocking the strikes for some time, felt the world tilt beneath him.
If the sparring ground had fixed boundaries, he would have already been defeated.
As he continued parrying Yeon-u’s attacks, he realized he was only a few steps away from the wall behind him.
‘If I have nowhere to escape, it’s over! So before that happens…!’
I have to do something!
Gwan-hyeok tightened his grip on the Mok-geom.
He anchored himself by putting force into his right foot, and was about to drive the sword forward with his right hand to deploy the family’s Geom-beop, when—
“….”
Yeon-u’s eyes flickered, fixing on his right side.
In that instant, Gwan-hyeok understood.
‘I’ve been read…’
.
Crack—!!
“Ugh—!”
Yeon-u’s axe was faster than Gwan-hyeok’s sword.
The moment his movements grew too large to deploy the Geom-beop, Yeon-u seized the opening and brought the blade down on his hand.
Gwan-hyeok released the Mok-geom and clutched his hand.
Tap—tap—tap.
The fallen Mok-geom rolled across the dirt floor and came to rest.
A brief silence fell.
Thud—
Cradling his throbbing hand, Gwan-hyeok couldn’t help but flinch as footsteps approached him.
The memory of thrashing Yeon-u in their last match surfaced unbidden, and he found himself squeezing his eyes shut without thinking.
‘He’s going to hit me…’
“Why are you crying?”
Gwan-hyeok opened his eyes to look at the child standing before him.
“…What?”
“You’re crying?”
Yeon-u tilted his head.
“I’m not crying…”
“You look like you’re crying. Does it hurt a lot?”
“No, I’m fine…”
“Oh, you’re crying because you lost.”
“I’m not crying!!”
Gwan-hyeok shouted.
The unacceptable words kept coming, and in an instant, the pain in his hand and the shock of defeat evaporated.
All emotion drained away, leaving only the fact of his loss.
‘I lost.’
I really lost.
Whether by chance or by design, the impact felt duller, but the more he dwelt on it, the more an inexplicable emotion swelled up in his chest—surge after surge of it.
Did I really lose?
Mulling it over again and again, Gwan-hyeok soon trudged toward the fallen Mok-geom.
He picked it up.
He stared at his hand gripping the Mok-geom, at his fingers marked red.
“Again.”
Gwan-hyeok raised the horizontal blade toward Yeon-u.
He placed his right palm on top of his left fist.
It was the guard stance he adopted while holding the sword.
“Spar with me again.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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