Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 3

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

Against Heaven’s Will Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Struggling to Survive. (Three).

After transcribing the thirteenth martial arts text, no new books or tasks arrived for three days—for no reason I could fathom.
Yet the generous portions of meat appeared before me without fail, every single day.
On the fourth day of this rare respite,
the man finally spoke to me, his face utterly expressionless.

“You’re moving rooms.”

I asked him in confusion.

“Moving rooms so suddenly? But I like this one, and it’s convenient for transcribing…”

The man merely looked down at me with that emotionless gaze, offering no reply.
Then came the black cloth over my head.
The moment it covered me, something hard struck the back of my skull.
Just like the first day I was brought here.
My consciousness faded slowly.
How long had I been unconscious? Still blindfolded, I barely came to my senses and, my body rigid with tension, slowly raised my head.

“A new one, then.”

The man’s voice cut into my ears.
Along with it came an unfamiliar old man’s gravelly voice.

“It’s been five years, sir.”

To the old man’s words, the man replied in an emotionless tone.

“This one will work here now. Care for him as you normally would.”
“Very good, sir.”

As the old man finished speaking, the black cloth binding my head was slowly removed.
Still tense, I began to look around, and the moment I saw the old man’s face, I had to hold my breath against shock and dread.

“By your height and skin, you’re still quite young.

The old man began to feel my body.
As he probed me, he took my left wrist and checked my pulse, then nodded slowly.

“Strong limbs as your master said, but no trace of Internal Cultivation training.”
“Hmm. Still, he’s exceptional. Keep close watch on him at all times.”
“Understood, sir.”

When the man turned to leave, the old man rose on his gaunt frame and looked down at me.

‘How can his eyes be…’

To my shock, the old man had no eyes. Or rather, his eyes were bound shut with thick cord.

“I am Kang No, keeper of Musim Cave here. What is your name, boy?”

At the old man’s question, I swallowed hard and answered slowly.

“Myo Jin… that is my name.”
“Myo Jin? A most unusual name indeed.”

Upon hearing my name, the old man turned, tapping his grimy staff against the stone floor with deliberate thuds.

“Since you’ll be living here from now on, come along slowly and look around.”

At his words, I rose to my feet gradually, taking in the surroundings with wide eyes.

“Forgive me, but what exactly is Musim Cave?”

I asked carefully as I followed him, regarding the cavern-like landscape before us.

“You’ll come to understand in time, but as the name suggests, it’s a cave where various Martial Arts Texts are stored.”
“Martial Arts Texts, you say?”

My questioning tone hanging in the air, the old man stopped walking and swept his sightless gaze across our surroundings.

“As the name indicates, this is where Martial Arts Texts from every corner of the realm have been gathered. If my memory serves, the left wall should bear the inscription Heart Cave, and the right wall ought to read Strength Cave.”

I turned my head slowly in each direction, observing first the left wall, then the right, just as the old man described.
Indeed, faded characters were carved into the upper portions of each cavern wall.

“Heart Cave holds all manner of Internal Cultivation Methods from throughout the realm, while Strength Cave contains works on External Martial Arts. Continue forward and you’ll find Sword Cave, with the martial techniques of various schools arrayed all around it.”

Having finished his brief explanation, the old man struck his stooped back and resumed walking.
I stood dazed for a moment, my gaze wandering through the shadows, until the distance between us widened and I hurried to catch up.

* * *

A peculiar stone tea cup was placed before me.
Still dazed, I gazed down at the cup without speaking, and the old man, gauging my distracted state, spoke as if the matter were of little consequence.

“Your name was Myo Jin, was it?”

Numbly staring at the cup, I nodded at his question.

“Yes, sir.”
“It’s been five years since I’ve laid eyes on another soul. Yet when I checked your pulse, I found no trace of Internal Energy cultivation. How did you manage to reach this place?”

At his question, I answered truthfully.
Once I had finished recounting how I came to be here, the old man nodded and drank his tea.

“It seems that man held you in quite high regard.”
“High regard? What do you mean by that?”

At my puzzled question, the old man set down his tea cup and began to explain briefly why I had come to this place.

“Well, given Jo Wu-in’s temperament, he likely never told you.”
“Jo Wu-in, you say…….”
“The man who brought you here.”

Now that his name had been revealed, memories of those past hours flickered through my mind.

“In any case, the fact that you’ve come to Musim Cave speaks to truly exceptional talent.”
“You’re too kind.”

At my words, the old man chuckled softly and shook his head.

“As I mentioned before, this is Musim Cave, where the martial techniques of the realm have been gathered. Surely you don’t imagine that an ordinary person could dare set foot in such a place?”

At the old man’s words, I found myself nodding in agreement without a word.

“…then.”
“In other words, you who have come to this place are no ordinary person either.”

The old man lifted his tea cup with deliberate slowness, drawing in the rising steam through his nose and savoring its fragrance.
After holding a brief silence, he continued, his expression grown oddly distant.

“Five years before you arrived, two people made their dwelling here. One was a scion of the Jegal Clan—quite renowned, that family—and the other was a Shaolin Lay Disciple.”

My eyes widened at his words. If two people had lived here five years ago, then they must already be dead. Yet I asked carefully, clinging to a fragile hope.

“What became of those two?”

The old man sipped his tea at my cautious question, then answered with the faintest of smiles.

“They failed to surmount the second wall. Their heads were taken from their shoulders—a regrettable end.”

Though I had expected as much, hearing it spoken aloud struck harder than I’d anticipated. Yet what mattered far more was understanding what this second wall was.

“What exactly is this second wall that it claimed their lives?”

At my question, the old man’s weathered face contorted, and he fixed me with those grotesque, ancient eyes as though peering straight through me.

“A bold one, aren’t you? Most who walk in death’s shadow lack your nerve.”

At his words, I swallowed my hot tea in a single gulp and clenched my fists.

“I ask because I wish to live. I must know what that wall is, so that I might prepare.”

At my reply, the old man set down his tea cup and suddenly erupted into raucous laughter—so loud that even the shadowed cavern, lit only by the hazy glow of candlelight, rang briefly in response.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Prepare, you say?”

Startled by his sudden outburst, I answered tensely.

“Yes, that is so.”

Apparently amused by my response, the old man began to explain the wall slowly.
As though he wished to gauge exactly how capable I was.

“Among the Eight Great Clans, the Jegal Clan is renowned for producing the keenest minds. The one who died here was not born of the legitimate line, yet his brilliance was no less remarkable—a prodigy whose blood ran true to the Jegal name. He excelled in Formation Technique and possessed an extraordinary understanding of the human body.”

At the mention of the Jegal Clan, my eyes went wide.
When I was young and praised as a prodigy by those around me, they would always invoke the Jegal name, gazing at me with approval and warmth.
I never thought I would hear the Jegal Clan’s name spoken in a place like this.
Yet even as surprise seized me, the old man—Kang No—continued without pause.

“Had he not been brought here and instead taken a position as physician at the Imperial Palace, he would surely have won the Emperor’s favor. But fate willed otherwise, and here he came. For ten long years he endured, yet in the end, he could not decipher the Medical Text placed before him. His head was taken.”

A Medical Text? But surely this place housed Martial Arts Texts gathered from across the realm, did it not?
If I were ordered to decode a Medical Text, I would not last even a month before losing my head.
How could I? I had never once seen or transcribed a Medical Text in my life.
Troubled by this puzzle, I asked carefully.

“Elder… how can I be asked to decipher a Medical Text in a place devoted to Martial Arts Texts?”

True to form, the old man answered without hesitation, as though he had already glimpsed my question.

“Because one must understand the Medical Arts in order to unlock the secrets of the Internal Cultivation Method.”

It was an impossibly brief answer. And yet, unmistakably clear.

“If you do….”
“Precisely. To expound upon an Internal Cultivation Method, one must first understand the nature of Internal Energy itself. And that foundation is rooted in Medical Arts.”

The answer blindsided me—my mind went white.
All this time, when I’d transcribed Martial Arts Texts, I’d only considered my opponent’s intent and movement.
But this was different—entirely different. Without realizing it, I’d stepped into a dimension far beyond where I’d been before.

“Don’t trouble yourself overmuch. They, too, recognize your brilliance, and they will surely grant you sufficient time.”

At least that much was a mercy.

“Then, why did that second Shaolin Lay Disciple die?”

I gathered myself and pressed on with another question.

“It was quite simple, actually.”

I tilted my head at the old man’s words, asking again.

“Simple, you say?”

My question hung in the silence before his reply came.

“He fell prey to a Heart Demon. He was a Shaolin Lay Disciple with profound Buddhist Faith, yet he too could not unravel the Demonic Martial Arts that lay before him. In the end, a Heart Demon consumed him.”
“De—Demonic Martial Arts…?”
“The martial arts of the Demonic Cult.”

What manner of place was this, and who were these people, that they would invoke the Demonic Cult’s arts?
As the true weight of the situation crashed down on me, cold sweat beaded across my skin.

“Are you speaking of that Demonic Cult I’ve only heard rumors of?”
“Indeed. The Demonic Cult that dwells in Singang.”

My head spun. I nearly retched on the spot.

‘These damned bastards… they might as well ask me to die. Is what I’ve already proven still not enough?’

The shadow of death blurred my vision.
How cruelly fate had twisted to drag me this far—what kind of cosmic jest was this?
I’d thought that simply displaying my talent would be enough to survive. But now Medical Arts were only the beginning, and I was expected to decipher the Demonic Cult’s martial techniques besides. It was no different from being thrown to my death.

The old man rose slowly to his feet, his sunken eyes twitching faintly as he looked down at me.

“While you remain here, you must prepare yourself bit by bit. Do not let panic cloud your mind.”
“But….”

Before I could finish, the old man was already standing.
As if his work here was done.

“You’ve come to an unfamiliar place, and your heart is troubled—I understand. For now, clear your mind and rest well. Soon enough, you’ll find yourself with no time to rest, and no strength left even if you wished it.”

The old man turned slowly, tapping his weathered staff against the ground with dull thuds before he vanished into the darkness.
I stared after him with hollow eyes at the place where he’d been, my breath trembling.

‘Damn it all.’

My mind spilled curses as I sat there in silence for a long time, staring at nothing.

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