Fist Demon of Mount Hua - Chapter 12

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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 12. Walking the Path Together—3
Dam Ho’s shoulders trembled as he knelt.
His lungs expanded fully to drink in fresh air, his heart pounding as though it might burst at any moment. He gripped his trembling legs tightly with both hands, trying to steady them.
Once his breathing had quieted somewhat, Dam Ho lifted his head and gazed forward. He could see the boulder with a circle drawn upon it.
Every day he ran toward that boulder, again and again.
His target was the small circle drawn on the rock—he had run countless times just to drive his fist into it.
At first, his fist wouldn’t even reach the circle on the boulder; he’d miss by a considerable distance, falling short of the baseline.
Running properly. Running straight.
To achieve this, he had to understand his body’s condition precisely—the angle of his leg’s bend, the muscle movement as his feet struck the earth, and the weight his frame could bear.
It took nearly a month just to get the direction right. After that, he gradually increased the distance.
The true hell began from that point onward.
Pushing off from the ground with twisted legs brought agony beyond measure. His entire leg twisted and the muscles seemed to tear to shreds.
Yet he gritted his teeth and ran. He tried to become numb to the pain. And then, at some point, the pain simply ceased to register. Or perhaps he had forgotten it entirely.
It took a month to extend the distance to one zhang—three meters—and another two months to double that again. And today, Dam Ho had finally succeeded in driving his fist into the circle drawn on the boulder.
Blood flowed from his knuckles as proof. His skin had torn open from the impact with the stone.
“Hah!”
Dam Ho rose to his feet.
He had merely climbed the first rung of the ladder he desired. Countless more rungs still remained. He could not afford to collapse and rest simply because he had reached one step.
Dam Ho drew another line extending from the boulder. The distance had grown by another zhang.
‘Faster. More intense.’
It would not do merely to touch the boulder.
He needed to channel enough force and Internal Energy to shatter that massive stone with a single strike.
Whoosh!
Dam Ho hurled himself toward the boulder once more.
Drops of sweat scattered in his wake.
Night fell, yet Dam Ho could not rest.
He consumed a Yunyang Pill and circulated the Zhongtian Heart Sutra. Internal Energy accumulated in his Dantian with each passing day.
At Dam Ho’s side sat Hyeonso Jinin.
Before Hyeonso Jinin lay an open Martial Technique Manuscript—a blank book with nothing yet inscribed upon it.
Hyeonso Jinin began to move his brush across the empty pages. Upon the white paper where nothing had existed, figures of people took shape, and words appeared.
For four months he had not rested a single day, discussing martial techniques with Dam Ho. The result was that they had grasped a clear direction and concept.
Now he was recording the fruits of their labor. Not even a single character could be written carelessly.
This manuscript was for Dam Ho. No matter how much one might understand with the mind or grasp with the body, seeing it rendered in characters was altogether different.
“Hah!”
At last, Hyeonso Jinin set down his brush.
The manuscript that had been empty moments before now overflowed with illustrations of a person deploying martial techniques and densely written characters.
Hyeonso Jinin gazed at the manuscript he had created for a long while. A tumult of emotions crossed his eyes.
“I wonder if I am doing this rightly.”
The martial technique inscribed within the manuscript carried far too much killing intent. It was impossible to believe it had been created by the Huashan Sect, an Orthodox Sect.
It was Dam Ho’s nature, and it was possible that Hyeonso Jinin’s own heart had been inflamed when he first created the technique.
He had wanted to show something to the sect leader and the First Sword Immortal who had scorned Dam Ho. So he had brought forth the Xuegtian Technique, which he had concealed for so long, and had worked to fuse it with other minor techniques besides.
They were martial techniques unconnected to the Huashan Sect, and so he had harbored no hesitation. But as time passed and his heart gradually calmed, he could regard everything with clear judgment.
When the technique in the manuscript reached completion, it would certainly possess tremendous power. For the martial technique written there lacked the compassion that any Orthodox Sect should possess.
“It seems I allowed anger to cloud my judgment. To imbue my disciple’s technique with such intense killing intent.”
Hyeonso Jinin shook his head. Yet he was not greatly troubled.
The technique was only barely formed in concept. It possessed only a handful of forms, and when it would be completed remained uncertain.
Even conservatively, it would take decades; it was possible it might span generations. Creating a new martial technique was such an arduous task.
Likely Dam Ho would be quite advanced in age by the time he perfected the new technique, and by then, the rage and killing intent that roiled in his blood would surely have calmed to some degree.
“Phew!”
It was at that moment that Dam Ho, who had been circulating energy until now, finally opened his eyes. A gleam of light flickered in his gaze, then faded.
Now he seemed to understand the true profundity of the Zhongtian Heart Sutra.
The Internal Energy accumulated through the Zhongtian Heart Sutra was infinitely heavy. Simple yet weighty, and weighty yet not sluggish.
Without the aid of the Yunyang Pill, he would never have grasped the profundity of the Zhongtian Heart Sutra so swiftly.
Now Dam Ho understood precisely why his master had him learn both the Zhongtian Heart Sutra and the Xuegtian Technique.
The two arts were as natural as if they had been a single body from the beginning. Should he master both and fuse them into the technique he was now creating, it would wield tremendous power.
Hyeonso Jinin gazed at Dam Ho and smiled.
“Once you learn to channel that heavy force into your fist, no one will be able to stand before you.”
Dam Ho lowered his head.
Hyeonso Jinin was a single torch burning in the impenetrable darkness that lay before him. With his guidance, Dam Ho could discern direction and move forward.
“Receive this manuscript.”
“What is this?”
“I’ve recorded the concepts we worked through together. When you get stuck, study this manuscript and think it through carefully.”
“Thank you.”
Dam Ho received the manuscript with both hands from Hyeonso Jinin. There were far more blank pages than filled ones.
“We began this together, but completing it falls to you alone. How you develop it from here is entirely your choice.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Afterward, Dam Ho and Hyeonso Jinin spent a long time discussing the martial techniques recorded in the manuscript.
Dam Ho shared observations he’d made while learning the techniques, and Hyeonso Jinin drew on all his martial knowledge to help resolve his student’s questions.
A smile played at the corners of Dam Ho’s mouth.
This martial technique, still grasping only its foundation—he couldn’t know what hardships still lay ahead. But in this moment, Dam Ho was content.
Content to be here with his master.
***
“Phew!”
Mak Hoong, the head representative of the Bukro Escort Agency, wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Even though the wind was still cold, sweat flowed quite freely—the sunlight was that intense.
“Spring can’t be far off now. The Central Plains must be blanketed in spring flowers already.”
A smile crossed his lips.
Just then, a young escort guard rode up on horseback beside him. In his early thirties, Im Ho Ryeong was a trusted junior that Mak Hoong held dear.
“You seem to be missing your wife already.”
“Wouldn’t you be? It’s been seven months since we left on this expedition. I’m dying to catch her scent again.”
“So am I. I can’t wait to get home and see my wife and children.”
A longing light bloomed across Im Ho Ryeong’s face.
It was a trade mission to the Western Regions—a remote journey by any measure. The Bukro Merchant Association had staked its ambitions on pioneering this route to the farthest reaches of the Western Regions.
Seven months was actually swift for such a venture; most expeditions to the Western Regions took a year or more. They had pushed hard and given their best.
Now that they’d broken through to establish trading ties with the Western Regions, nothing remained but to soar to even greater heights.
The two men looked back over their shoulders.
Hundreds of people and countless carts trailed behind them—merchants of the Bukro Merchant Association and escort guards of the agency. Their faces bore satisfied smiles.
Having reaped the harvest they desired, their steps toward the Central Plains grew lighter with each mile.
They were now at Lop Nur Lake in Xinjiang Province; Yumen Gate in Gansu Province, the gateway to entering the Central Plains, was not far off.
If they pressed forward, ten days would be enough to reach Gansu Province. From there to Hubei Province, where the Bukro Merchant Association’s main headquarters stood, was another month’s journey, but with the Central Plains nearly in reach, their spirits soared.
Mak Hoong spoke up.
“What of the Association Leader?”
“He’s asleep in the carriage.”
“He deserves the rest. He’s been worried sick this whole time.”
“Still, now that we’ve gotten the results we wanted, he can sleep soundly.”
Oh Seung Gyeong, the Association Leader of the Bukro Merchant Association, was a lay disciple of the Wudang Sect, a renowned martial family of Hubei Province.
Armed only with martial techniques learned from Wudang and a single sword, he had launched his trading venture some thirty years ago. In that time, the Bukro Merchant Association had become the finest merchant house in Hubei.
To protect the association, he had established the Bukro Escort Agency, with Mak Hoong becoming its chief administrator.
“I offer my congratulations in advance.”
“Congratulations for what?”
“Once we return to Hubei Province, you’ll become the Director of the Bukro Escort Agency, won’t you? My sincere congratulations.”
“Im Ho Ryeong. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves—that only happens if we make it home safely.”
Association Leader Oh Seung Gyeong had declared that once this expedition concluded without incident, he would grant Mak Hoong the position of Agency Director. For a man who had started as a mere escort guard, it was an honor beyond measure.
“We’re practically back in the Central Plains now. What could possibly go wrong?”
Im Ho Ryeong chuckled, and Mak Hoong let out a light laugh in response.
That was when it happened.
Whissh!
A piercing sound of something cutting through air suddenly erupted across the sky.
“Argh!”
An escort guard’s scream followed immediately after.
Mak Hoong and Im Ho Ryeong’s faces went pale.
“What—?”
They spun around to look behind them. An escort guard, struck by an arrow, tumbled from his horse.
“An ambush? Who in blazes—”
At that moment, figures shrouded entirely in black martial robes crested the ridge and appeared one after another. There were over a hundred of them.
“Who are these bastards?”
Mak Hoong and Im Ho Ryeong drew their swords and shouted. The light of alertness was evident on their faces. The killing intent emanating from the attackers was far from ordinary.
Oh Seung Gyeong, who had been sleeping in the carriage, emerged outside. He glared at the attackers and called out.
“I am Oh Seung Gyeong, a lay disciple of Wudang and the Association Leader of the Bukro Merchant Association. Who are you to dare assault the Bukro Merchant Association?”
Oh Seung Gyeong invoked the name of Wudang.
He had meant to invoke the Wudang Sect—one of the Nine Orthodox Schools and the leader of the Five Peak Sword Sects—to intimidate his enemies. But the answer that came back utterly trampled those expectations.
The corners of the assailants’ leader’s mouth twisted upward in a sneer.
“What does Wudang amount to?”
“How dare you show such contempt for Wudang.”
Oh Seung Gyeong’s anger flared.
He could endure many things, but he could not abide an insult to the Wudang Sect—his own school.
The leader advanced toward where Oh Seung Gyeong and the others stood, his words pressing on.
“Your pride in Wudang is admirable. But even so great a sect as yours hardly dared to breathe loudly when we were active.”
“What?”
As doubt flickered across the faces of Oh Seung Gyeong and Mak Hoong, the leader tore away his outer robe. There, seared into his chest, a mark shone clear.
A simple stylization of roaring flame—living and vivid. In that instant, the faces of Oh Seung Gyeong and his companions drained of all color.
“That mark—could it be? No. Surely not the Demonic Cult?”
The organization thought destroyed twenty years ago. The source from which all evil in the world was said to flow.
That place was the Demonic Cult.
Back then, all of the Central Plains had united to drive them out.
After three years of brutal warfare, the Central Plains had finally succeeded in annihilating the Demonic Cult. But the cost to the Central Plains was staggering. Countless sects had been crippled or wiped from existence, and even now, countless more lay ruined, unable to recover from the aftermath.
The leader’s lips curled into a smile.
“Now you understand? Why we do not fear the Wudang Sect.”
“Is it truly… the Demonic Cult?”
“See for yourself.”
The leader gestured.
In that moment, the warriors arrayed behind him rushed forward as one toward the Bukro Merchant Association and the Escort Agency. And a one-sided slaughter began.
Oh Seung Gyeong’s face twisted in anguish. He and Mak Hoong exchanged a glance. Perfect understanding between them—each knowing what the other was thinking.
Mak Hoong looked toward Im Ho Ryeong.
“Ho Ryeong.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“You must survive—no matter what. Make it to the end.”
“What are you saying? I will fight alongside you until the very end.”
“If they truly are the Demonic Cult, we will not survive. But someone must live to carry word of their existence back to the Central Plains. Among us, only you have any chance of that. I’m asking you, Ho Ryeong.”
“Chairman…”
Im Ho Ryeong’s face twisted in despair.
Oh Seung Gyeong and Mak Hoong turned away from Im Ho Ryeong and walked toward the battlefield. Their faces were grim, set with resolve.
That day, the Bukro Merchant Association and the Escort Agency vanished from the world.

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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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