Appearance of the Heavenly Demon - Chapter 73

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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 73
* * *
Deep into the night, when darkness had settled in completely.
The Council Hall at the center of the Instructor’s Quarter was wrapped in heavy silence.
At the front center, arranged around the seat of honor belonging to the Master of Maryong Hall were six seats on either side.
Of the twelve total seats, eleven Instructors had gathered—all but one.
Creak—
The rough sound of a door being thrust open shattered the silence.
Thud, thud.
Careless footsteps echoed from the left side of the seat of honor for a moment.
Then Gwi-ya-gaek, the Master of Maryong Hall, emerged from the darkness.
His face and clothes were stained with blood in numerous places.
Several Instructors’ gazes drifted toward the empty seat.
But soon they turned their attention to the Master settling heavily into his seat of honor.
“Master of the Quarter.”
Man-cho, the Master of the Quarter, rose from his seat and clasped his fists in salute. “We have not yet identified the type of poison.”
At that moment, a sudden, suffocating density of Qi flooded the Council Hall.
The Instructors’ expressions tightened with tension, and Man-cho swallowed hard.
None of them could look Gwi-ya-gaek directly in the eye.
Rather, a sense of oppression—as if not a man but some abyssal darkness itself now occupied that seat—caused them to instinctively avert their gaze.
Man-cho bowed his head and spoke. “I apologize for not catching this sooner. I never imagined they would tamper with the meals on the very first day.”
Yet the suffocating Qi showed no sign of abating.
Man-cho’s lips grew damp again. “However, the Antidote has been prepared. When we administered it to the poisoned student, it proved effective. We should be able to identify the poison itself shortly.”
At this, the oppressive Qi that had seemed to constrict the very breath began to slowly recede.
Man-cho and the remaining Instructors finally exhaled.
Gwi-ya-gaek turned his gaze toward the Instructors.
Man-cho took his seat, and the Instructors straightened their spines without realizing it.
In the heavy silence that followed, Gwi-ya-gaek posed a question to the assembled Instructors.
“Have any of you ever witnessed martial techniques based on Primordial Qi?”
Confusion crossed the Instructors’ faces.
Primordial Qi referred to Innate Primordial Qi.
Not the Grain Qi or Heavenly-Earthly Qi accumulated through later cultivation, but the Qi that a human possessed from birth itself.
For this reason, Gwi-ya-gaek’s question was bewildering.
‘Martial techniques based on Primordial Qi?’
They had often heard tales of warriors who wielded Innate Primordial Qi.
Stories of warriors exhausted of all their power and standing upon the Death Line, who in their final desperation drew upon Innate Primordial Qi to unleash a technique.
But the Master of Maryong Hall’s question was something entirely different.
Not merely drawing upon it in the moment, but martial techniques where that power itself formed the foundation.
When all of them remained silent, Man-cho clasped his fists and spoke.
“Master, if I may say—a warrior who uses Innate Primordial Qi to perform martial techniques will not live long.”
Innate Primordial Qi was life force itself.
Since it was the wellspring of the human spirit, the purity and profundity of such power were beyond description—yet the price of wielding it was ultimately one’s own life.
It was a power coveted and envied by all, yet which warrior would erode their own life force to use such strength?
‘Of course not. What madman would ever…’
‘…create martial techniques based on Innate Primordial Qi?’
All the Instructors harbored the same thought.
“Instructor Gu-yeong.”
At Gwi-ya-gaek’s call, Gu-yeong clasped his fists.
“Yes.”
“You witnessed it directly, so you would know.”
All eyes turned immediately to Gu-yeong.
Beyond the Black Mask, Gu-yeong’s gaze lowered.
He gave a slight bow.
“Yes. I witnessed it.”
“Truly?!”
Man-cho sprang to his feet in disbelief.
The other Instructors’ reactions were no different.

“Primordial Qi Technique? You mean such a thing actually exists?”
“What exactly… Could it be that the Instructor…?”
As all eyes turned toward the empty seat, Gu-yeong continued.
“The moment he drew upon his power, part of his body transformed, and force concentrated there. It was his right hand that changed, and the throwing blade he hurled could not be easily blocked.”
“Then he suffered internal injuries…!”
Gu-yeong turned to Man-cho and nodded.
“Yes. At first, I could not discern what that power was, but I came to understand afterward. It was unmistakably…”
Gu-yeong looked at Gwi-ya-gaek.
“Innate Primordial Qi.”
Gwi-ya-gaek met his gaze and nodded in turn.
“Correct. The transformed body had reverted to its original state.”
Much as muscles swell taut when one draws upon power, only to return to normal once the tension releases.
The body, expanded to its extreme, returned to its natural form once the Innate Primordial Qi withdrew.
“Traces of the transformation remained, yet no traces of Primordial Qi usage were evident. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it myself.”
Such was the shock of the Primordial Qi Technique’s existence.
A technique forged by burning away one’s very life force.
The sheer destructive power to inflict internal injuries upon a master at the peak of cultivation with nothing more than the deflection of a throwing blade.
The Instructors swallowed hard.
‘If such a technique truly exists…’
‘Would it not overturn the entire order of the Demon Path itself?’
“You all look as though you’ve never heard of such a thing,” Gwi-ya-gaek observed.
The Instructors made no reply.
Their silence was answer enough.
Each Instructor was counted among the finest masters within the sect.
That even such masters had never heard of it showed how extraordinary this matter truly was.
Gwi-ya-gaek nodded.
“This matter is to remain sealed. Let no word of it reach beyond the walls of Maryong Hall.”
The Instructors clasped their fists in unison and bowed their heads.
Whether they had served outside Maryong Hall or belonged to other factions, the moment they stepped within as Instructors,
they bore the obligation to obey the absolute authority of Maryong Hall, the will of its master, Gwi-ya-gaek.
* * *
The gathering of Instructors concluded after several warnings and reminders were shared.
By the master’s will, this matter was to be handled quietly, kept from both the students and the outside world.
Maryong Hall’s examination had only just begun.
It would do neither the students nor the atmosphere of Maryong Hall any good for word to spread that disruptions had arisen from the start.
Moreover, news that a prominent family’s child had ingested poison could provoke resistance from the great clans.
“Master.”
As the gathering of Instructors ended and all departed to their respective quarters,
Man-cho, the director of the Council Hall, called out to Gwi-ya-gaek.
Gwi-ya-gaek, who had been about to leave the Council Hall, turned to look at him with a slight gesture, as if asking what the matter was.
The oppressive presence he had displayed during the gathering was entirely absent; his expression bore only the unmistakable mark of annoyance.
“What is it?”
“There is something I must tell you.”
“Speak.”
Man-cho glanced briefly around.
Though the Instructors had departed the moment the gathering ended, they too were masters of considerable skill.
There was no guarantee they could not hear his voice.
“It is…”
– Regarding the Antidote. There is another who has determined its composition.
“Who?”
– A student. Student Yeon-woo.
Gwi-ya-gaek’s eyebrows twitched faintly.
Yeon-woo?
The image of the bloodstained child in the Kitchen rose unbidden in his mind.
The boy had resisted with some mettle, but there was no chance a student freshly admitted to Maryong Hall could stand against an Instructor.
“…Why did you not mention this during the gathering?”
“I was concerned it would draw excessive attention to the student.”
Man-cho scratched the back of his head with a rueful laugh.
“As you know, that one has already drawn far too much notice. Here, such unwarranted attention is itself a poison, is it not?”
“….”
Gwi-ya-gaek’s gaze grew distant and languid.
He fell silent for a moment as if turning something over in his mind, then spoke in a drawn-out voice.
“So? Why bring this up now?”
“I cannot speak to the details, but that one saved the students’ lives.”
Or more accurately, he saved the instructors’ lives as well.
Thanks to his quick discovery of the antidote, the Divine Cult managed to contain what could have been a catastrophic incident without letting word spread.
“And it was he who first detected the poison in the food….”
“Say plainly what you want.”
“I believe he deserves a proper reward.”
Man-cho scratched the back of his neck again, looking embarrassed.
In truth, he’d told Yeon-woo to make sure things were handled correctly, but he wasn’t the one doing the rewarding.
He had laid out the facts in hopes that the Master of the Hall would look favorably upon the matter, but asking for a reward was, when you looked at it that way, overstepping his authority.
Man-cho watched carefully for Gwi-ya-gaek’s reaction.
Still that weary, indifferent expression.
He even dragged a hand across his face as if exhausted before turning away without ceremony.
“I’ll think about it.”
As Man-cho watched the receding figure grow distant, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Man-cho understood.
That was his way of saying he would grant the reward.
For all his appearance, Gwi-ya-gaek possessed a thoughtful nature.
Man-cho had been Gwi-ya-gaek’s cohort-mate at Maryong Hall.
True, that was long ago, but having spent considerable time together in the same class, Man-cho knew well the hidden meaning behind Gwi-ya-gaek’s gestures.
“Master!”
Gwi-ya-gaek stopped and turned to face him.
Man-cho grinned and spoke.
“I look forward to your continued guidance at Maryong Hall.”
A brief glance, devoid of response.
Gwi-ya-gaek turned and left the Council Hall.
Man-cho watched the doorway through which he’d departed, his smile fading into something weary.
“Never changes.”
He scratched his head and took his leave as well.

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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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