Appearance of the Heavenly Demon - Chapter 57

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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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Episode 57
* * *
Maryong Hall.
Within its walls, the power held by the Maryong Hall Master and the Gyotoos was absolute.
Even the Gyojoo could not exercise his will freely within Maryong Hall.
It was a safeguard against the other eleven Majuns of equal rank meddling in Maryong Hall’s affairs or wielding their influence as they pleased.
A limited absolute authority.
‘Winning the favor of the Hall Master and the Gyotoos in Maryong Hall might even influence the test results…!’
For this reason, every student desperately wished to catch the attention of the Hall Master and the Gyotoos.
But it wasn’t just the tests.
Outside Maryong Hall, the Hall Master and the Gyotoos were all high-ranking executives who formed the core of the Demonic Sect.
Once one left Maryong Hall, these were people one might never meet again, so naturally every student wanted to make a good impression while the opportunity existed.
“Your opponents will be determined by lottery drawing from this point forward.”
As Gwi-ya-gaek raised his hand, twelve Gyotoos took positions at the front of each line.
In their hands they held bamboo cylinders filled with wooden sticks.
“…!”
It was Gu-yeong who distributed lottery sticks to Yeon-woo’s line.
Joy flickered across Yeon-woo’s expression, but only for a moment.
Avoiding his gaze, Yeon-woo drew a single stick.
– Be careful not to get hurt.
Sound Transmission flowed into Yeon-woo from Gu-yeong as he passed.
Yeon-woo’s lips curved into a faint smile as she checked the number on the stick.
‘Twenty-seven.’
“Those who’ve received number plates, take your positions in order.”
Yeon-woo made her way to the twenty-seventh position.
In that instant, without anyone saying a word, every student’s attention converged on Yeon-woo’s movements.
No one spoke it aloud, but regardless, Yeon-woo was the first to pass the first test.
She could not help but draw attention.
“Did you hear? She passed the Illusion Formation in less than an hour.”
“And she’s not even from the Seven Families Three Palaces.”
“I heard she has the backing of Hwan-yeong Majun? That’s probably why the Illusion Formation was so easy for her.”
The students around Yeon-woo were busy whispering about her.
Today’s martial exhibition was not a test.
The intervals between tests and the timing of tests were entirely at the discretion of the Maryong Hall Master.
Yet regardless of such discretion, the ‘nature’ of each test had to be made absolutely clear.
In other words, unless it was explicitly called a test, today’s sparring was not a test.
Because of this, the students’ thoughts were divided.
‘Who’d want to face the first person to pass…’
No matter what other reasons existed, first was first.
If one faced them carelessly, defeat was certain without even showing one’s true abilities.
But then again.
‘If I’m fighting anyway…’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to face the first person to pass?’
‘No matter what, she passed first, so wouldn’t the Hall Master and the Gyotoos focus their attention on that match?’
So, simply by facing the first person to pass, one was bound to stand out!
‘Please let it be me.’
‘Anyone but me…’
Even students who had no interest in such things found themselves divided into three camps.
‘Is this the spot?’
The moment Yeon-woo took her position.
Some felt relief, while others swallowed their disappointment.
And exactly one person.
“Huh…”
A student standing beside Yeon-woo saw her and his face went pale.
He was the One-hundred-eleventh Student who had spoken to Sa-ma Hyeon the day before.
“You’re… you’re here? Really…?”
“Yes.”
Yeon-woo flipped her number plate to show him.
Despair spread across the student’s face as he confirmed the number.
‘Of all the rotten luck. Had to draw the first person to pass.’
He was one of the students who had desperately wanted to avoid facing Yeon-woo.
‘Should I forfeit?’
Already barely hanging on outside the top hundred as it was.
If he showed anything more pathetic here, he’d be laughed out by the other students—
“Hey, get lost.”
What?
The One-hundred-eleventh Student, who had been tearing up, opened his eyes wide at the figure standing before him.
And then he caught his breath with a sharp gasp.
‘What is—what the—who is this?’
His face was covered with thin scars.
With an expression vicious enough to kill someone on the spot and a killing intent so thick he made no effort to conceal it.
Could it be anyone other than the student everyone called a madman—no, “Mad Dog”—standing right in front of him?
“M-me, you mean?”
You’re telling me to get lost?
“But this is my spot—”
In that instant, Mad Dog snatched the number plate from the One-hundred-eleventh Student’s hand with brutal force.
Then he shoved his own number plate into the One-hundred-eleventh Student’s chest with a hard thwack.
The One-hundred-eleventh Student stumbled backward under the weight of this rough, arbitrary show of strength.
“You trembling wretch, stay put. I’m the one killing this punk.”
“W-what?”
Trembling wretch? Him?
The One-hundred-eleventh Student stared confusedly at the number plate now in his hand—Mad Dog’s number plate.
Nineteen.
An earlier position than his current one.
“So you’re saying… we swap turns?”
But the only response was a glare so thick with killing intent it practically screamed “Don’t you dare still be standing there—you want to die?”
The One-hundred-eleventh Student felt tears beginning to well up at this merciless highhandedness.
But still.
‘Is this… even allowed?’
The One-hundred-eleventh Student glanced toward the platform.
Just then, Gwi-ya-gaek happened to be watching the whole scene.
But before he could think whether a scolding was coming, Gwi-ya-gaek let out a yawn, then simply turned his head away as if he couldn’t care less.
Now that he thought about it, the Hall Master had said “anything goes as long as you don’t kill your opponent.”
‘So this counts as allowed.’
Then he should be grateful!
‘I never wanted to face the first person to pass anyway!’
The One-hundred-eleventh Student gratefully made his way to his new position.
But even in his new spot, he couldn’t tell whether things had improved.
“They say once is chance, twice is coincidence, and thrice is fate. It seems you and I are bound by providence, my friend.”
The One-hundred-eleventh Student’s new opponent was the student he’d met yesterday.
The One-hundred-twelfth Student, a boy of slight build.
Unfortunately for him, the boy was using the adjacent sleeping mat according to the assigned turn order.
‘Why is my luck like this?’
He’d clearly come to Maryong Hall and made his mark, made allies, earned a Divine Palace Position, built up his influence, and was supposed to rise as the new generation of the Demonic Sect—
‘Is it already… ruined?’
Perhaps it was.
An invisible tear rolled down the One-hundred-eleventh Student’s cheek.
* * *
The martial arts match had begun.
Defeat came when one side conceded or crossed the line at the Martial Arts Arena’s edge.
There was no time limit.
Free sparring where anything was permitted—any technique, any style—so long as it didn’t threaten the opponent’s life.
It was a place where students could truly display their individual abilities to the fullest.
The students each chose the weapon and martial art they were most confident with and began their matches.
The order in which they had passed the Illusion Formation mattered not at all in combat.
Passing the Illusion Formation depended not merely on martial prowess but on a complex interplay of luck, wisdom, and other factors.
In other words, the order of passing did not determine the strength of one’s martial art—and the students knew this well.
“Heyah!”
Whoosh!
A massive staff swept across the Martial Arts Arena.
The number plate on his chest read Eighty-sixth Student.
Whack—thud!
The quick-footed opponent managed to dodge the staff just in time.
His chest bore the number Forty-seventh Student.
‘Damn—I can’t close in with that staff in the way!’
The reason he’d passed the Ring Trial with such a respectable ranking was thanks solely to the speed of his feet.
Forty-seventh Student’s weapon was a short sword.
In combat, naturally, he excelled at close quarters.
Eighty-sixth Student, by contrast, moved sluggishly but wielded tremendous power.
His weapon was a thick, heavy long staff.
He was strong in mid-range combat—keeping opponents at bay, relentlessly pressing forward.
“Hgh—!”
Bang—whack!
Forty-seventh Student kicked off the ground and launched himself into the air.
Eighty-sixth Student did not miss that moment.
Thud!
“…!”
The staff that seemed to strike the floor rebounded sharply, using its own elasticity.
Rather than driving down with crushing force, he’d converted that power into upward recoil.
Whoosh—crack!
“Urgh—!”
Suspended in mid-air, Forty-seventh Student couldn’t evade the staff’s abruptly redirected path.
Struck across the ribs by the swinging staff, Forty-seventh Student was sent flying beyond the boundary—whoosh—and crashed to the ground.
Gyotoo, standing in the direction Forty-seventh Student had flown, raised a white flag.
It was the signal confirming he’d crossed the line.
“Outside the Arena! Match over!”
Thump!
Eighty-sixth Student planted his staff with satisfaction.
Then, with indifferent nonchalance, he clasped his fist in salute to the Maryong Hall Master watching over the match and to the referees stationed around him, before strutting down from the Martial Arts Arena with evident pride.
“Hnngh….”
Forty-seventh Student, who had climbed onto the Arena brimming with confidence, now descended wreathed in pain, clutching his injured ribs in desolate silence.
The students watching the match stirred restlessly.
“Another lower-ranked student won.”
“At this rate, wasn’t the first trial flawed?”
And One-hundred-eleventh Student, observing all of it, felt his own chest kindle with heat.
‘As the Hall Master said, this match is an opportunity.’
A chance to display the skills I honed before entering Maryong Hall!
A stage to demonstrate, without constraint, abilities that remained hidden in the first trial!
‘Moreover….’
One-hundred-eleventh Student glanced around at the other students.
‘Thanks to the previous matches, an atmosphere has formed where no one truly cares about the ranking on their chest anymore.’
If anything, the lower-ranked students’ eyes gleamed with anticipation—what would they show?
‘And next is….’
“Nineteenth pair of combatants—take the Arena!”
His turn.

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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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