Heavenly Demon Divine Saint - Chapter 5

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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 5
The Demonic Sect of this era was so insular that all I knew was that the Cult Leader and Cheon So-hyun shared a father-and-son relationship.
But I couldn’t simply sit idle—for all I knew, I was being dragged to my own grave.
Thus, during the journey to the Cult Leader’s Hall, I could only endlessly deduce the nature of the relationship between the Cult Leader and myself from the information I gathered.
First, I discerned the meaning behind the Cult Leader sending a carriage and the Gwangmyeong Right Envoy through Yeon Hong.
—Have a safe trip, Young Master!
She had seen me off with a smile right until I boarded the carriage, so it was certainly a positive sign.
Of course, this alone was far from conclusive, so I pressed the Gwangmyeong Right Envoy relentlessly for answers and received an unexpected response.
—From the Cult Leader’s perspective, the mere fact that you’ve awakened is what matters most, so there’s no need for concern.
I was genuinely taken aback, as if my weak point had been struck.
So it was enough that my son had regained consciousness?
Most parents with an ailing child would feel the same, but the other party was the Demonic Sect Leader standing at the apex of fanatics.
Unable to accept it at face value, I turned the matter over in my mind again and again, drowning in suspicion, until…
I arrived at a sudden question: perhaps even those of the Demonic Sect cherish their blood relations no differently than others?
Perhaps because I had long since abandoned my narrow-mindedness, the question swiftly transformed into conviction, and I concluded that the Cult Leader and Cheon So-hyun shared a close bond.
It still troubled me to call a demon my father, but there was no helping it. Surely anything was better than death?
‘But why is there no response?’
I needed some reaction to know how to proceed, yet the Cult Leader’s Hall was filled only with a heavy silence.
‘Do these Demonic Sect people simply not speak much?’
As I rolled my eyes, weighing various possibilities, and had even finished imagining myself becoming a sacrificial offering after being discovered as an imposter rather than Cheon So-hyun…
Whoooosh—
A sinister demonic aura spread through the air from my left.
Turning my head, I found a Red-Robed Man staring at me with murderous intent.
‘What is this demon?’
His eyes looked so fierce that he seemed afflicted with madness.
As I naturally continued our staring contest, the Cult Leader’s voice resonated through the hall.
“You appear to be in decent condition.”
I lifted the corners of my mouth into a smile and looked up at the Cult Leader. It seemed my assumption about calling him father had been correct.
“Yes, you’ve observed quite accurately. For someone who’s been bedridden so long, I’m in remarkably good shape. As the saying goes, a tiger doesn’t beget a dog—surely this is all thanks to inheriting such a robust constitution from you?”
Not even a lukewarm response came back, but I wasn’t flustered.
How many parents struggle to converse with their children?
“I trust you’ve been well in the meantime. Since I regained consciousness, I’ve had quite the hectic time—tormented by the Physician, my belly filled with medicinal broths, and most recently, I’ve even completed breathing exercises to manage my internal injuries…”
The Cult Leader cut me off with a voice that had grown even deeper.
“You were able to do that?”
“Yes? Ah, yes. I was able to.”
Thump.
My entire body went rigid in an instant.
“…!”
A dark aura flickered in the Cult Leader’s pupils.
His gaze, which permitted not the slightest movement, constricted my entire body, and I felt his eyes tracing across the vital points of my meridians.
‘…Is that even possible?’
What would be difficult to discern even through direct pulse diagnosis, the Cult Leader was accomplishing with mere observation from dozens of steps above.
“At times.”
A voice laden with profound inner strength echoed through the Great Hall.
“Events occur that defy comprehension even with vast knowledge. Such is my situation now. I ask you: have you fully awakened the Spiritless Divine Art?”
It seemed an important question, but since I had never heard of this martial technique before, I couldn’t think of an appropriate response.
“When you ask if I’ve fully awakened it… do you mean whether I’ve achieved mastery?”
“Yes.”
Had I achieved mastery of the Spiritless Divine Art?
Since the question concerned whether I had glimpsed the pinnacle of martial arts, the answer was straightforward.
Mastery? Nonsense. They’re calling it mastery simply because there’s nowhere else to attach the label to this body of mine?
“I’m uncertain what prompted such a thought, but I have not achieved it. And certainly, I never will.”
Whiiiiish—
Suddenly my entire body’s hair stood on end, and my breathing began to grow labored.
‘…!’
Soon after, the surrounding air transformed entirely into blades, and an eerie sensation flooded in as if targeting my throat.
“You still cling to pessimism.”
His tone was no longer indifferent as before.
There was something like anger woven into his words, and I instinctively realized that my next answer would drastically alter the Cult Leader’s demeanor.
Gulp.
Could a mere shift in temperament exert such overwhelming pressure?
‘I never imagined it would be this severe….’
Simultaneously, goosebumps cascaded from my spine to my toes.
I became certain that the Cult Leader’s martial prowess far exceeded what the world anticipated.
My body stiffened under the sudden tension, yet the cultivation I had accumulated was no trivial matter.
“I am a body with only improvement ahead, so pessimism is unwarranted. It’s simply… that I suspect the very concept of mastery itself may be meaningless.”
“Continue.”
“No matter how simple a martial technique, there must be a difference between today’s achievement and tomorrow’s, mustn’t there? Whether one becomes complacent through laziness or strives through earnest competition with oneself, the results will inevitably differ.”
“….”
“Then even if one undergoes wall-facing meditation throughout a lifetime, it would be difficult to reach a state worthy of being called mastery.”
“Is that your philosophy?”
I nodded.
“Yes, I believe many become intoxicated by the achievement of mastery and forget they remain within the process. When I witness such ignorance and complacency, my heart grows heavy. Those shining backs of heads, I could just cr….”
I let out a dry cough while looking up at the Cult Leader.
“Ahem. In any case, there will be no state to reach, nor a day to claim I have reached it.”
This was true. I myself did not claim mastery of Shaolin’s foundational technique.
The Cult Leader, resting his chin on his hand, answered without emotion.
“Merely hollow words.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Because such logic will gradually fade. Even if you reach a state where none in the realm can match you, could you still hold such a philosophy?”
“Whether I have a worthy opponent or not is of little consequence to me. As I mentioned before, the one I must always contend with is myself.”
It was also the reason I had confined myself to the Cave for unrelenting cultivation.
“Can you truly guarantee that this path leads upward? Those who walk the demonic way must pursue the Doctrine of the Strong.”
The Doctrine of the Strong—in its simplest interpretation, it meant that the strong possessed everything.
At first glance it resembled the law of the jungle, yet a profound difference existed. Rather than taking from the weak, it focused on honing one’s martial prowess to overcome the strong.
It stood in stark contrast to the teachings of Buddhism. The Buddha had instructed us to focus on ourselves rather than fix our gaze upon others.
Yet this did not change my answer.
“Is there truly such a great difference between testing myself and the Doctrine of the Strong?”
“….”
The Cult Leader fell silent, as if savoring my words.
After a moment, he lowered the hand that had been supporting his chin and spoke softly.
“You have indeed changed. I shall bestow upon you the Infinite Heaven Technique. Come, ascend.”
The Red-Robed Man opened his mouth urgently.
“C-Cult Leader!”
His eyes trembled with disbelief.
‘He’s telling me to ascend to the Throne Dais….’
I assessed the situation carefully before choosing my words.
“I appreciate the honor.”
I declined.
The energy swirling around the Cult Leader was formidable enough that I would surely collapse from exhaustion or have my legs give out before reaching the top of those stairs in my current state.
If my head were to strike something in the process, I would never rise again.
‘Why invite trouble? Who would I be sending to their grave…wait?’
At that moment, the Cult Leader’s expression—which seemed to have remained unmoved his entire life—twitched ever so slightly.
Was it because his son had refused the honor he had offered?
I let out a small cough and continued.
“Once I have recovered from my injuries, I shall send word, and we can share a proper drink together. I shall treat you to my favorite wine.”
The Cult Leader regarded me quietly before responding.
“Amusing. You may depart.”
“Already, Father?”
“Withdraw.”
The dismissal came sooner than expected, and inwardly I was flustered, but truthfully my legs were trembling so badly that standing was becoming difficult.
I had been desperate to end this conversation from the moment it began.
“Ha, what a shame. But it cannot be helped—today is not the time. It is better that we meet again when I am in better condition. Then I shall take my leave, Father!”
I offered a spirited bow and quickly turned to go.
To avoid appearing ridiculous, I moved with careful deliberation until the very end.
‘Even as a demonic cultivator, this is the right path.’
Even in the wretched circumstances of having fallen into the Demon’s Cave, I had done my best. How could a Buddhist disciple who humbly accepted all hardship be shaken by mere suffering?
‘Indeed, that is so.’
With that satisfaction, I nodded to myself while hoping this would be the last time I saw him, and I departed from the Cult Leader’s Hall.
* * *
The Red-Robed Man, the Gwangmyeong Left Envoy, felt his brow furrow ever so slightly.
Since ascending to the position of Left Envoy, he had never encountered anything quite so absurd.
‘Has the Third Prince completely lost his mind?’
What excuse could there be for such a lack of propriety, and what manner of speech was that?
No matter that he was the Cult Leader’s own son, such conduct was utterly intolerable.
He wished to immediately censure such disrespectful behavior, yet the Cult Leader was observing, so there must be reason for it—and thus he endured with desperate restraint.
“…What was your assessment?”
“I could not recognize him.”
In that instant, the Gwangmyeong Left Envoy’s expression hardened.
Though the Cult Leader maintained an unwavering, composed tone throughout, his long service allowed him to perceive even the subtlest shifts.
‘The Cult Leader… is taking interest.’
The Third Prince had sparked the curiosity of a Cult Leader who had reached the Divine Realm. Surely it was not merely because his son had regained consciousness.
“In what aspect did you perceive this change, sir?”
The Cult Leader, emptying his wine cup with an unhurried gesture, continued.
“The Heavenly Slayer Star has vanished.”
“…!”
The Heavenly Slayer Star—a calamitous constellation.
The Third Prince’s inborn destiny, one that would drench the realm in blood and inevitably bring ruin.
Such information regarding the successor’s fate was knowledge only the sect’s highest echelon could possess.
“Then… you are saying he has entered the Spiritless Divine Art and awakened it?”
That was said to be the only method to defy such a calamitous fate.
“The Spiritless Divine Art is called the ultimate principle of boundless adaptability, so depending on the successor’s nature and aspirations, it shall achieve infinite transformations. Should he have reached that state, defying the calamitous star would be no impossibility.”
The Cult Leader spoke with measured calm.
“However, his fundamental achievement remains insufficient.”
The Gwangmyeong Left Envoy, his head bowed, felt his eyes twitch slightly. To his perception as well, the Third Prince’s attainment seemed lacking.
Yet the Heavenly Slayer Star had vanished. If the Cult Leader affirmed it, then it was certainly truth.
“Then, might he have gained insights equivalent to that at the boundary between life and death?”
“There is no other explanation.”
“…!”
The Third Prince bore the reputation of being born with the Divine Sect’s foremost martial talent.
The Heavenly Bone—that supreme gift born alongside the most vicious calamitous star, called heaven’s jest. The Third Prince possessed the Heavenly Bone Constitution, capable of refining any supreme technique in the realm to its absolute limit.
‘If the Heavenly Slayer Star has vanished, then only that talent remains….’
It was at that moment the Gwangmyeong Left Envoy’s eyes widened.
“Prepare the Demonic Restoration Pill.”
The voice, infused with inner power, caused the torches in the Cult Leader’s Hall to flicker precariously.
The Demonic Restoration Pill.
A divine treasure of the Heavenly Demon Cult, comparable to Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill or Huashan’s Purple Essence Pill.
The difference lay in that the Demonic Restoration Pill, true to its name, carried the risk of transforming into a lethal extreme toxin.
It contained such vast spiritual essence that failure to properly dissolve it would cause one’s energy to rampage and bring instant death.
‘It was a misunderstanding.’
In that instant, Gwangmyeong Left Envoy’s body trembled. The Cult Leader’s interest in the Third Prince was far more than mere curiosity.
The excessive spiritual energy of the Demonic Pill would certainly act as poison to the Third Prince in his current state. Thus, the instruction was to remove the toxicity, no matter how long it took, before delivering it.
This was undoubtedly….
‘He harbors expectations.’

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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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