Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 37

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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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Opposing Heaven’s Student, Chapter 37

Chapter 37. The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault.

The Heavenly Demon’s presence before me was something utterly inhuman.
Literally, the presence of Tianshan itself.
It was the overwhelming pressure of a colossal peak, thrust endlessly skyward, piercing through clouds to stand against heaven.

“You dare attempt to negotiate with me?”

Crushed beneath that presence, my entire body trembled violently.
Blood pooled thick in my mouth and trickled down my chin, while my breath caught in my throat, each gasp a labor.
Yet I clenched my teeth and answered, my voice low.

“A deal need not always be struck between equals in strength. It takes form when both parties want something the other possesses, and are willing to give it.”

The Heavenly Demon’s gaze deepened. In that instant, the pressure bearing down on me grew heavier still.

“Then you claim to know what I desire?”
“I do.”

With great effort, I raised my head to meet his gaze directly.

“What you seek is not scattered martial arts, but the lost roots of the Demonic Cult.”

Silence.
The darkness of the Heavenly Demon Hall seemed to deepen. This silence stretched on, heavier than before.
Yet strangely, what I felt was neither murderous intent nor anger.
Only emptiness and desolation.

What the Demonic Cult had lost—the Secret Manuals burned away seventy years ago in the Righteous-Demonic Great War, and with them, the bloodline severed.
It was not mere loss. It was a wound carved into pride itself.
No matter how strong the Heavenly Demon might be, so long as he bore that name, he could not turn away from such a wound.
I had touched it.

“Roots……”

The Heavenly Demon murmured low. For the first time, I felt the faintest glimmer of emotion in that voice.

“Can you restore those roots?”
“Not all of them.”

I spoke honestly.

“Good. Then can you prove those words here and now?”
“I can.”
“In this very place?”

I did not know where such courage came from, but I met his gaze steadily as I answered.

“Which martial art do you desire?”

The Heavenly Demon’s eyes remained fixed on me. After a moment, his hand rose slowly.
The movement was deliberate. Yet in that instant, a single red line emerged from the darkness of the hall.
It was neither sword nor energy—only the faintest trace left in the wake of his fingertip.
As red as blood, as thin as thread. That scarlet line hung suspended in the air.
The moment I saw it, I drew in my breath.

‘This is……’

The Heavenly Demon spoke.

“Blood Shadow Waning Moon Hand.”

A name I’d never heard before. Yet it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.
A weathered Secret Manual I’d seen in Musim Cave came to mind.
Its cover was half-charred, the back half nearly gone—a Demonic Cult technique manuscript.
The complete name hadn’t survived, but there was a passage that repeated throughout the Incantation.

-The blood shadow lingers first, while the hand arrives late. When the moon wanes, the shadow grows redder than blood.

I hadn’t understood it properly then.
The Incantation remained, but half the technique moves were severed, and it was unclear whether it was a martial art using the hands or a secret art connected to footwork.
But now. The moment I saw the red line lingering at the Heavenly Demon’s fingertips.
The scattered fragments began to lock together in my mind.

‘The hand doesn’t move first. The shadow remains first.’

Blood Shadow Waning Moon Hand.

This martial art wasn’t a hand technique that tore apart an opponent through swift finger movements.
By the time the opponent saw the trajectory of the hand, a residual shadow left beforehand should already be occupying their Blood Meridian.
The hand is the result. The true attack is the red shadow embedded in the opponent’s consciousness before the hand even moves.

“Why do you say nothing?”

The Heavenly Demon’s voice lowered.

“Do you not understand?”
“No, sir.”

I answered slowly.

“I’m still putting it together.”
“Putting it together?”
“Yes.”

I gazed at the red line suspended in the air.

“The essence of this art isn’t the hand technique itself. It’s the residual shadow that lingers before the force at the fingertips.”

The air in the chamber stilled again. The Heavenly Demon’s eyes shifted, ever so faintly.
I pretended not to notice and continued.

“Ordinarily, a hand technique moves first, and the energy follows. But Blood Shadow Waning Moon Hand is the reverse. The energy marks itself in the opponent’s eyes and senses first, and the hand follows that trace.”

I tried to move my fingers just slightly. My body was still pinned down.
But whether the Heavenly Demon permitted it or not, my fingertips moved a fraction.
I soaked my fingertips in my own blood pooled on the ground. Then I drew a short line across the cracked stone.

One line. Beside it, another line, half-broken.

“The name ‘Waning Moon’ is given because it doesn’t draw a completed circle.”

I spoke.

“Not a full moon, but a waning one. Not a completed arc, but a flow deliberately broken. The opponent instinctively tries to fill that gap. In that instant, their gaze shifts, their breathing follows, and their Blood Meridian opens—just for a moment.”

The Heavenly Demon said nothing. I continued.

“The Blood Shadow enters at that point. Not through the hand itself, but through a shadow left behind beforehand.”

My fingertip twisted slightly at the end of the second line.

“But in the Secret Manual I saw, this section was severed. That’s why I initially thought this art was an incomplete hand technique. Yet just now, seeing the line you left behind, I understood.”

I looked up at the Heavenly Demon.

“It’s not broken. It’s meant to be broken in its original form.”

Complete silence.
A quiet devoid of all emotion wrapped around us.
The Heavenly Demon said nothing. He didn’t move. Yet I could tell.
My words had struck perfectly true.

“How much of that Secret Manual did you see?”
“Three techniques. About half the incantations.”
“And that was enough to piece together this much?”
“Yes.”
“Can you restore the rest?”

I paused, keeping my lips sealed. I couldn’t claim certainty.
But I couldn’t retreat by saying it was impossible either.

“I’ll need time.”
“How much.”
“It would go faster if I could see more of the original. And if someone who actually mastered it demonstrated, I could be more precise.”
“Without either of those?”
“I can still attempt it.”

I spoke slowly.

“But to guarantee its completeness, I’ll need to see more of the Demonic Cult’s arts.”

The Heavenly Demon’s gaze deepened.

“So you’re asking to see my hand.”

I didn’t answer. There was no reason to deny it.

“Was this why Yeon Hwarin brought you here?”
“She saw potential.”
“And you?”
“I saw an opportunity.”
“An opportunity… A man who barrels through everything with sheer nerve.”

Slowly, he rested a hand on the armrest and called to me quietly.

“Hwang Myojin.”
“Yes.”
“You’re weak.”
“I know.”
“But you have your uses.”
“I know that too.”
“Presumptuous.”
“That’s also true, isn’t it.”

At those words, the Heavenly Demon laughed for the first time.
It was a short, low laugh.
Yet the moment that laughter resonated through the hall, the killing intent retreated a step, and the force pressing down on me began to ease.
As the pressure on my knees dissolved, pain came flooding in, delayed but intense. I swayed but forced myself to remain standing.
The Heavenly Demon looked down at me and spoke.

“Good.”

Only two words. Yet those two words shifted the current of the entire hall.
I held my breath.

“The agreement you made with Yeon Hwarin — I acknowledge it in my name.”

My heart raced. But it was too soon to feel relief.
The Heavenly Demon’s gaze remained sharp.

“However, I do not acknowledge mere words. Nor do I accept stitching together fragments of a Secret Manual. From my perspective, it must be a living martial art.”
“I shall ensure it is.”
“And when the day comes that you seek the Demonic Cult’s aid.”

The Heavenly Demon’s voice dropped lower.

“If that request harms no fundamental principle of the Demonic Cult, and if under my judgment it proves acceptable… then the Demonic Cult will not turn away from your agreement.”

It was not an unqualified acceptance. But it was enough. A pledge from the lips of the Heavenly Demon, the absolute authority.
With that alone, the agreement between Yeon Hwarin and me transcended a mere private transaction.
I slowly bowed my head.

“I am grateful.”
“Gratitude is unnecessary.”

The Heavenly Demon spoke coldly.

“Now, you are only beginning.”

I raised my head.

“Pardon?”
“The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault.”

That name settled within the hall like a stone.

“It is what one might call the heart of the Demonic Cult. To enter, you too must steel your resolve.”
“My resolve has been steel since I came to this place.”
“Indeed, I knew as much. You showed such boldness even before me.”

The Heavenly Demon slowly lowered his hand. In that instant, one side of the hall’s darkness split open.
A black gate appeared.

* * *

The gate before me was not large—barely tall enough for a single person to pass through.
There was no ornate pattern, no grand decoration.
Only a blackened Iron Gate stood quietly behind the Heavenly Demon’s seat.
Yet knowing what lay beyond, it could never be seen as anything trifling.

The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault.

A forbidden territory that even the elders of the Demonic Cult, the law enforcers, and even the Heavenly Demon’s own disciples could not approach carelessly.
The secret repository at the innermost heart of the Demonic Cult—accessible to the Heavenly Demon alone.

The world believed that place to be the Demonic Cult’s greatest treasure vault.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Art and the Demonic Cult’s peerless martial techniques. The forbidden Demonic Arts that orthodox sects feared.
The secret transmissions left by successive Heavenly Demons and the divine arts and absolute teachings hidden by the Demonic Cult.
I was no different in my assumptions. Of course I had thought the Heavenly Demon Secret Vault would be such a place.

“You speak of the Heavenly Demon Secret Vault, then.”

When I asked cautiously, the Heavenly Demon did not answer at once. He was gazing at the Iron Gate.
As if, from long ago, he had been looking at something beyond that door.

“Our sect maintains several vaults.”

The Heavenly Demon’s voice fell low.

“There is a place where martial arts studied by disciples are kept, and a library of documents managed by elders. There are separate records of past battles that the protectors can access. But that place is different.”

His gaze remained fixed upon the Iron Gate.

“The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault is a place only successive Heavenly Demons may enter. Even my disciples cannot go inside, and even elders cannot stand before the door. Gwak Yeom merely guards that gate—he has never seen what lies within.”

I gazed silently at the Iron Gate.
A place Gwak Yeom had never seen. A place Yeon Hwarin could not enter.
Seol Wuhyeon, Dokgo Hwan—none of them had been granted permission.
And now the Heavenly Demon was revealing such a place before me.

“You are showing me such a place, then.”

The Heavenly Demon turned toward me slowly. His gaze was cold.

“That is why I spoke of the resolve that would be necessary.”

A chill ran down my spine, stiffening it.
What resolve was I supposed to steel myself with?

“And you must prove for yourself whether your words are truth or deception.”

He stood before the gate. The blackened Iron Gate gave off no sign of anything.
Yet the moment the Heavenly Demon stood before it, man and gate seemed to merge into a single shadow.

“The world believes the Heavenly Demon Secret Vault to be our sect’s pride, but the perfected martial arts do not actually remain within.”

Startled by this unexpected statement, I slowly lifted my head.

“The perfected ones emerge outward. Those martial arts that emerge are transmitted to disciples, passed down to protectors, and become the strength of our sect. For martial arts must, in the end, live within the bodies of people.”

The Heavenly Demon’s hand came to rest upon the Iron Gate.

“How could perfected martial arts languish in darkness?”

It was a brief statement. But the weight contained within it was heavy.
Why the Heavenly Demon Secret Vault lay so deep. Why even the Heavenly Demon’s disciples were not admitted.
Why Gwak Yeom merely guarded the threshold and had never seen inside—now I began to understand.

“What remains within are failures.”

The Heavenly Demon’s voice grew quieter.

“Martial arts that successive Heavenly Demons sought to create but ultimately never perfected. Internal cultivation methods that glimpsed the path yet never reached the end. Techniques of power that, though formidable, the human body could not withstand. Had they advanced merely one more step further, they might have become peerless arts, yet they never crossed that final threshold.”

Silence fell within the hall.

“The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault is not the pride of our order. It is our wound, our regret alone.”

The Heavenly Demon Secret Vault.

What lies within is not merely the strength of the Demonic Cult.
The failures of those who bore the name Heavenly Demon. The walls they could not breach.
And the old debts they could never discard—only pass on to the next Heavenly Demon, generation after generation.
That innermost sanctum of the Demonic Cult now lay before my eyes.

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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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