Fist Demon of Mount Hua - Chapter 17

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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 17. Into a World Beyond This World……-2
The Huashan Sect martial artists who followed Qingxu arrived at Tianyang County, which lay on the border between Shaanxi Province and Gansu Province.
Tianyang County, some four hundred li west of Chang’an, had always been a crossroads of commerce. Because of this, it bustled with travelers and merchants in every season.
“There’s the gathering point.”
Qingxu pointed with one finger toward a rather substantial manor house within Tianyang County. The estate, called Yun Manor, appeared lavishly appointed at first glance.
“Does it have a connection to the Wudang Sect?”
“The master of Yun Manor, when he was young, received a great favor from our sect, or so I’ve heard. That’s why he’s quite cooperative with us now.”
Qingxu answered Mujing’s question with perfect composure.
In that moment, Mujing’s face twisted slightly.
Shaanxi Province had always been Huashan’s territory. There was a time when no other sect would have dared even to dream of establishing a foothold there.
‘So the Huashan Sect’s influence has declined that much.’
Mujing’s gaze grew heavy and settled.
Just then, Yunjiang spoke up.
“Senior Brother?”
“What is it?”
Mujing broke into a broad smile as if he hadn’t been serious just a moment before. At the sight of Mujing’s ease, Yunjiang’s expression brightened with relief.
He had been worried that Mujing might not contain his frustration. Sensing Yunjiang’s concern, Mujing gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m relieved. I hope you’ll keep smiling like that from now on.”
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
They followed Qingxu into Yun Manor. In the broad courtyard at the center of the estate, roughly a hundred people had gathered. Some of them spotted Qingxu approaching and hurried forward.
A middle-aged, heavyset Daoist priest clasped his fist in salute to Qingxu.
“Senior Brother.”
“Qingguang.”
Qingxu smiled warmly.
The middle-aged Daoist priest, whose belly protruded in a most unmonastic fashion, was Qingguang, his fellow disciple. Though he did not match Qingxu’s abilities, he too was a martial artist of considerable skill.
Just as Qingxu had ascended to the Huashan Sect for aid, Qingguang had gone to the Zhongnan Sect.
Two more figures approached beside Qingguang: a mature man in his late forties and a youth who appeared no more than his early twenties. What they shared was the fierce intensity burning in both their eyes.
Qingguang introduced the two men to Qingxu.
“Allow me to introduce you, gentlemen. This is our Wudang Sect’s foremost master, known as the greatest swordsman of Hubei, Senior Brother Qingxu. And these are Yan Zhonghua, the Great Paladin of the Zhongnan Sect, and his disciple Gim Hansu, the Young Paladin.”
Before Qingguang had even finished his introduction, Qingxu clasped his fist in salute.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Great Paladin Yan, Young Paladin Gim. I am Qingxu of the Wudang Sect.”
“The honor is all ours, Immortal Master Qingxu. I am Yan Zhonghua of the Zhongnan Sect.”
“I am Gim Hansu of the Zhongnan Sect. It is a boundless honor to meet the greatest swordsman of Wudang. I hope to receive much instruction from you going forward.”
Yan Zhonghua and Gim Hansu bowed with proper courtesy.
This time it was Qingxu’s turn to introduce the Huashan martial artists.
“These are Xuanxiao, an Immortal Master of the Huashan Sect, and Mujing, a Young Paladin.”
“I am Xuanxiao of the Huashan Sect.”
“Mujing offers his respects.”
Both men clasped their fists in salute.
In that instant, the eyes of Yan Zhonghua and Gim Hansu gleamed.
The Huashan Sect and the Zhongnan Sect both had their roots in Shaanxi Province.
When Huashan prospered, Zhongnan waned, and when Zhongnan rose, Huashan declined. Perhaps because of this, the two sects had never enjoyed much exchange with each other.
“Well now, to meet our neighbors in this way. A pleasure, Immortal Master Xuanxiao.”
“The pleasure is mine. I only hope we won’t prove burdensome to you, Great Paladin Yan.”
Yan Zhonghua and Xuanxiao exchanged greetings first, and then came the turn of Mujing and Gim Hansu.
“I am Mujing of the Huashan Sect. Delighted to meet you!”
“I am Gim Hansu of the Zhongnan Sect. Looking forward to working with you.”
Being young men still, sparks seemed to fly in the eyes of both as they regarded each other.
‘This is Huashan’s premier disciple.’
‘A rare talent in a generation, bearing all the hopes of the Zhongnan Sect.’
Both men recognized each other’s brilliance in an instant.
Young martial artists of the same age. Moreover, since both Huashan and Zhongnan were rooted in Shaanxi Province, they would inevitably continue to cross paths.
For this reason, the eyes of both men held within them a mingling of wariness and curiosity.
It was not only the two of them. All the martial artists from both Huashan and Zhongnan gathered in Yun Manor regarded each other with gazes full of wariness and curiosity.
At that moment, Qingxu stepped forward.
“Let the young people be. We elders should go inside and discuss our plans ahead.”
Xuanxiao and Yan Zhonghua nodded in agreement.
The task was to find traces of the Demonic Cult. There was no time here for leisurely trials of strength.
The elders of the sects disappeared inside, leaving only the young martial artists behind.
Mujing broke the silence and spoke to Gim Hansu.
“Care for a drink, Young Paladin Gim?”
“I’d be delighted!”
Gim Hansu offered a cold smile.
At Mujing’s gesture, Yunjiang and several other talented disciples of the Huashan Sect approached. Gim Hansu, in turn, summoned a few skilled members of the Zhongnan Sect with a wave of his hand.
It was inevitable that they would spend time together. This occasion presented no harm in becoming acquainted with one another.
And so a drinking gathering of the Huashan and Zhongnan martial artists came to pass. Yet Damho was not invited to that gathering. Yunjiang had opposed it.
As Damho quietly watched them fade into the distance, Yeon Soha approached.
“Are you all right?”
“All right about what?”
“About not being invited to that gathering.”
“Not in the least!”
At Damho’s firm reply, Yeon Soha smiled. She had suspected he would answer precisely that way.
“The disciples of the Wudang Sect are planning a modest gathering as well—would you care to join us?”
Damho shook his head again. Yet Yeon Soha was not disappointed. She had anticipated this answer too.
“Then…….”
Yeon Soha lowered her head slightly and passed by Damho.
Damho glanced around the courtyard.
The remaining disciples had been assigned quarters by the servants of Yun Manor. They were escorted to a structure built around a spacious courtyard.
Though each was shown to a different room with the courtyard between them, they could see one another whenever they wished.
Damho, too, was given a small room. But instead of resting there, he stepped back outside at once.
He had already obtained Immortal Master Xuanxiao’s permission to leave for a time.
It was Damho’s first time ever visiting Tianyang County. Yet his eyes betrayed no hesitation or fear.
As Damho emerged, the guard at the main gate of Yun Manor watched him with curious eyes.
“Where are you going?”
“I wish to step out for a time. Might I borrow a horse?”
“A horse?”
“Would that not be possible?”
At Damho’s question, the guard paused to consider before responding.
“The Master instructed us to cooperate in all things, so lending you a horse presents no difficulty. However, it must be returned by tonight. Is that acceptable?”
“That will be more than sufficient.”
“Then wait a moment, please.”
The guard sent a servant nearby to bring the horse. It was a magnificent creature, its white coat gleaming with health.
“It is a fine horse, so please handle it with care.”
“Thank you.”
Damho bowed to the guard, took the horse’s reins, and departed Yun Manor. He paused to survey his surroundings.
Far to the south, a great mountain rose into view. Though distant, its height made it clearly visible from this place.
Damho knew the mountain’s name.
‘Taibaek Mountain.’
Damho urged the horse toward the mountain’s direction.
Though he had never ridden before in his life, his eyes showed no trace of fear. He drove the horse forward as if possessed.
South, and then south again he rode. After galloping for two hours, he arrived at an unnamed mountain path—a place encircled on all sides by low ridges, the road itself grown faint beneath grass that reached to the knee.
Damho’s gaze grew distant and profound.
He dismounted and began walking, brushing through the tall grass. This was a place he had traversed several times alongside his father. Then, too, he had navigated by the distant peak of Taibaek Mountain.
How long had he walked like this? Suddenly, a broad basin opened before Damho’s eyes.
Thick undergrowth and tangled brush covered the basin so densely that there seemed no place left to step. As Damho gazed upon it, his eyes grew even more distant and sunken.
“Father. Mother. Garyeong.”
His voice came out rough and fractured.
Now it was merely a ruin overgrown with bramble and grass, but once, people had lived here.
Thick veins stood out across Damho’s clenched fists.
This was his home.
A village where thirty families—roughly a hundred souls—had lived in contentment.
His mother had worked the fields, his father had gathered medicinal herbs. Damho had spent his evenings caring for his younger siblings until his parents returned.
Though his daily life had mostly been filled with hardship, it remained the happiest period he could remember.
Here, his memory ended six years ago.
Damho knelt in the overgrown brush.
Scratch!
Both his hands clawed at the earth. Soil and grass filled his palms. His fingers tore and split, blood flowing, but Damho did not care.
His shoulders trembled with quiet convulsions. But no tears fell.
His tears had dried six years ago.
It was the moment he witnessed his mother and father die in agony before his very eyes.
He still didn’t know why they had to die. The bandits came like a plague, draining the village of its breath and light.
Damho murmured softly.
“I have returned.”
His voice came out hoarse and fractured, as though phlegm were rattling in his throat. Yet his eyes burned with a brilliance sharper than ever before.
“I still cannot understand. Why did you have to die? Why did you have to lose your lives like that……. If it was simply because you lacked strength, if this world took you for that reason alone, then this world must be fundamentally wrong.”
Damho’s lament carried on the wind, echoing across the desolate ground.
Though more than a hundred people had perished, not a single soul had stepped forward to uncover the cause of the tragedy. Not even the Huashan Sect, who had saved Damho.
They merely guessed that bandits had attacked and plundered, and did nothing more.
What was for Damho a loss as though he had forfeited the entire world was for them merely the unfortunate misfortune of a stranger.
It was then that Damho understood.
No matter how close they seemed, no matter how warmly they drew near—in the end, they were nothing but strangers.
There was one exception. Only one.
Only Xuanxiao had truly worried for his sake, and only he had sought to find a way forward together with him.
Damho’s eyes became bloodshot. Yet he shed no tears.
Damho stood motionless as a stone for a long while. It was nearly an hour before he finally rose to his feet.
“I have not forgotten you. And they, too, shall never forget you.”

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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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