Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 38

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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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Contra-Heaven Sageborn, Episode 38

Episode 38. The Reason.

The moment I faced the entrance to Cheonma Pigoh, my heart began to thunder against my ribs.
An inexplicable shudder wrapped itself around my senses, and the question ‘Can I truly do this?’ struck like a blade. It wasn’t that I lacked confidence. Rather, there was a small gnawing doubt—whether I could truly restore the roots of the Demonic Sect to life.
As I stood silent, staring at the gate of Cheonma Pigoh, Cheonma, positioned ahead of me, spoke with deliberate slowness.

“Cheonma Pigoh is never shown to outsiders.”

His tone was matter-of-fact.

“If such a thing were to happen, then I would have to be mad…… or there would need to be a compelling reason.”

I lowered my head slowly.

“Then I must prove that reason, I see.”
“And before that comes to pass—”
“—a Restriction,” I murmured.

A flicker of light crossed Cheonma’s eyes.

“……Shrewd. Yes. That’s precisely why I told you to steel yourself beforehand.”

If the contents within were to leak beyond these walls, the vulnerabilities of our sect would be laid bare before the world.
It is not the same as losing a handful of Secret Manuals. What martial arts have failed, which meridians have been severed, what we have ultimately failed to mend—all of it lies within these records, and such knowledge spells out the very limits of demonic cultivation.
I understood what he meant.

A completed martial art is strength; an incomplete one is a weakness.
One who knows where the flow is broken can exploit the blind spots of any who have mastered that art.
One who knows which formulae are dangerous can turn that danger back upon its wielder.
And so the contents of Cheonma Pigoh were both martial knowledge and lethal secret.

“Precisely because I know your capabilities, this Restriction is all the more necessary. You possess the insight to pierce through our weaknesses.”

Cheonma took a step closer.

“So I shall bind not your tongue, but your very body.”

I fell silent. The thought of resistance did not arise. No—it could not.
If I turned back now, all of our dealings would end.
Every word I had spoken before Cheonma, every promise made with Yeonhwa Rin, every future path where I might call upon the power of the Demonic Sect—all of it would become hollow lies.
Cheonma’s finger halted before my chest.

“This Restriction does not read your thoughts. It will not bind your heart. But when you attempt to speak what you have seen within Cheonma Pigoh without my consent, or to write it, or to transmit it through Sound Transmission, it will seal your Qi Pathways.”

The fingertip came to rest upon my Danzhong Acupoint.

“If you force your way through, your Heart Meridian will twist.”

I asked quietly.

“Will that kill me?”
“If luck favors you, you’ll cough blood and collapse. If it does not, you’ll never wield Internal Energy again.”

Cheonma spoke without the slightest emotion.

“And if you still do not stop, eventually you will die.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a condition. A chain she had to accept to cross the threshold of Cheonma Pigoh.

“You’re free to refuse. In that case, this door won’t open, and you can return to Cheongnim.”

You could save your life. But that would be all.
I stared at the iron door. I didn’t know what lay beyond it, but one thing was certain.
If I couldn’t pass through that door, I would prove nothing before Cheonma.
I bowed my head slowly.

“I accept.”

Cheonma’s eyes dimmed slightly.

“You won’t regret this?”
“If I’d had the luxury of regret, I wouldn’t have imposed conditions before you in the first place.”

Silence settled. Then a low, dark energy coalesced at Cheonma’s fingertips.
It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t hot. Rather, it was cold and thin.
Like a chain drawn from the darkness, thread by thread.

Thud.

The moment his fingers pressed against my Danzhong Acupoint, my breath caught.
Deep within my body, something felt like it was sinking into place.
My Qi Pathways hadn’t been blocked, nor had my Internal Energy flow been severed. But it felt as though a thin loop had caught at the edge of my Heart Meridian.
For a moment, it felt as if an invisible door had been erected inside my chest.

The pain was brief. But brief as it was, it was vivid.
This Restriction would do nothing to me most of the time. But the moment I tried to transgress its bounds, that door would open, and my body would betray me.
Cheonma withdrew his hand.

“From now on, you cannot speak carelessly of what you see inside Cheonma Pigoh.”

I pressed my chest. The pain had faded, but a strange metallic taste lingered at the edge of my breath.

“This Restriction won’t fade until I release it. And there are no exceptions whatsoever.”

Cheonma’s voice fell cold and final.

“Even if it’s someone you hold dear, the Restriction makes no distinction.”

I bowed my head.

“I will remember.”

Only then did Cheonma raise his hand.
From the shadows at one side of Jeon Gak, Gwak Yeom quietly stepped into view. I couldn’t tell how long he’d been there. He’d seen everything that had just transpired. But his face was utterly blank.

“Bring it.”
“At your command.”

Gwak Yeom walked toward a low stone chest.

Click.

The lid opened, and from within emerged a Black Iron Tablet no larger than a palm.
At the tablet’s center, the character for “Heaven” had been carved. It was written not with brush strokes, but gouged deep by a blade, cut over and over until the character was complete. Gwak Yeom raised it with both hands.
Cheonma took the Black Iron Tablet and fitted it into the groove at the center of the iron door.

Click.

A sharp sound cut through the air.
Cheonma drew his thumb lightly across the pad of his finger, and crimson blood welled up. He pressed it against the Black Iron Tablet, leaving his mark upon it.

Clang.
Clang.
Clang.

Deep within the chamber beyond the door, bolts disengaged one by one.
Heavy metallic sounds, as if the weight of centuries sealed away were being stripped back, layer by layer.
Then the iron door began to swing inward, slowly, and the smell of aged paper drifted through the widening gap.

The scent of ink.
The scent of metal.

And beneath them, faintly, something like the dried blood of ages long past.
It carried me back to the moment I first entered Musim Cave.

“Enter.”

I looked toward the threshold.

“Alone, then?”
“Cheonma Pigoh is not a place for two to enter. It was so for the previous masters, and for all the Cheonma who came before.”

I understood what he meant. This was not a chamber for deliberation, a place where two might consult and arrive at answers together.
Whoever entered had to see for themselves, judge for themselves, and bear the weight of it alone.

“What must I find within?”

Cheonma answered at once.

“The Maracheonswae-Su.”

A name I had never heard.

“The Maracheonswae-Su… you mean the technique?”
“A martial art that has never left these walls.”

With those words, I understood immediately.
A technique that could not exist even in Musim Cave.
Not a Secret Manual that had been perfected and passed down to others, but a martial art that had never reached completion—trapped here within these walls.

“I am not testing how much of the Sect’s techniques you have memorized. If that were the measure, there would be no reason to open this door at all.”

Cheonma’s hand rose slowly, his fingers curling as though grasping at empty air.
In that moment, the very flow of the chamber—of the empty space itself—twisted.
As if an invisible chain had caught itself within the void.

“A technique that embodies the principle of binding itself. It constrains an opponent’s Qi Pathways, locks the circulation of Internal Energy, halts the body’s motion for a single breath. Perfect mastery would force even a master at the zenith to show an opening.”

I etched that brief demonstration into my mind’s eye.
Powerful, yet incomplete.
Even as Cheonma displayed it with apparent ease, the execution lacked fluidity.

“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“What did you see?”

I fell silent for a moment before answering.

“The moment you bind your opponent, the one who deploys the technique becomes bound as well.”

Gwak Yeom’s gaze sharpened, but Cheonma remained unmoved.

“Go on.”
“To seize your opponent’s Qi Pathways, you must first stake your own energy. But that connection runs far too deep. The moment you lock their flow, the same lock binds your Heart Meridian.”

I steadied my breathing.

“You can force more power to bind your opponent more tightly. But the caster’s Internal Energy becomes sealed as well. You might endure it once or twice, but continued use will damage the Heart Meridian.”

The chamber fell silent. Cheonma studied me for a long moment.
His gaze was cold, yet not without weight.

“So you believe it remained incomplete.”
“I do.”

At my answer, Cheonma turned his eyes toward the iron gate beyond.

“Inside that vault lies the Original Manuscript of the Maracheonswae-Su. Its contents are fragmented, and the commentaries contradict one another. The Cheonmas of old each appended their own interpretation, yet none ever saw it to completion.”

His voice grew softer.

“Some sought to bind through force alone. Others attempted to seal the Blood Meridians directly. Still others believed it required a strength greater than the opponent’s Internal Energy to suppress.”

Cheonma paused.
It was the silence of one who stood at the summit of an era, coldly tracing the limits of those who came before him.
At last, he spoke.

“The Cheonmas before me, myself included, could not solve it either.”

I lifted my eyes.
Cheonma—the supreme master of the Demonic Sect, one of the Three Pillars of the martial world.
A name that alone sets half the realm on edge. And he speaks of his own failure.
Before a creature such as I, and with such composure.
Cheonma seemed to read my question.

“Being Cheonma does not grant knowledge of all things.”

He walked slowly toward the iron gate.

“The Cheonmas of old are typically born with an exceptional Martial Bone. In learning martial arts, they surpass all others in speed, power, and depth. Yet there is one thing……”

Cheonma’s hand came to rest upon the iron gate.

“That alone is insufficient.”

I said nothing.

“When heaven grants a superior body, that body receives martial arts swiftly—but forging a new path is different. The talent to learn and the talent to create are not the same.”

At those words, I felt a heaviness settle in my chest.
One who learns martial arts. One who creates them, who opens new roads.
They seem alike, yet they mean something wholly different.

“I and the Cheonmas before me focused solely on the Cheonma Divine Art. That was the right choice. The Cheonma Divine Art is the foundation of our sect, the path every sect leader must perfect. But because that path was so vast, the other paths were gradually overshadowed.”

Slowly, he turned back to face me.

“Cheonma Pigoh was born from that. The possibilities glimpsed by the first Cheonma and those who succeeded him. The paths they saw but never completed. A place where such things were buried, so they would not be lost.”

Only then did I understand. Why Cheonma had commanded his disciples to restore the martial arts of the Demonic Sect.
He was not simply trying to recover lost secret manuals.
Cheonma was searching.
Not for a Martial Bone that could learn existing techniques well, but for eyes that could bridge a broken current.
Not for one who would inherit completed power, but for one who could open a path of their own.

“One whose Martial Bone touches the heavens can master the Ultimate Martial Art. But only that far.”

His words were cold. Yet within them lay an ancient thirst.

“One who learns what already exists can become strong. But one who discovers what does not exist changes the direction of an era.”

I drew a quiet breath. Cheonma’s gaze turned toward me.

“I do not yet know which you are.”
“…….”
“So I will confirm it.”

His voice was low and resolute.

“Find where the Maracheonswae-Su failed.”

I gazed beyond the iron door.

“You mean to complete it, sir?”
“No.”

Cheonma was firm.

“I do not ask that of you yet. Within two days, find the broken current.”
“Two days…….”
“If you see the path, you will emerge. If you do not, that too is an answer.”

Cheonma’s eyes grew colder.

“If you do not emerge within two days, the door will close. Cheonma Pigoh does not suffer those who are greedy.”

I asked nothing further. I had already received the restriction. There was no path of retreat.
I lowered my head slowly.

“I will remember your words.”

And I crossed the threshold.

Thud.

The iron door closed behind me. In that moment, the sound of the world grew distant.

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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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