Heavenly Demon Divine Saint - Chapter 6

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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 6
After returning from the Cult Leader’s Hall, I devoted myself to recovery for seven days and nights, focusing on breathing exercises to circulate my qi.
Whoooosh!
The demonic energy swirling around my entire body had become quite familiar by now.
The sporadic pain that had plagued me was gradually subsiding, and my body was recovering at a rapid pace, yet even this speed felt frustratingly slow compared to my expectations.
‘If I could just resolve the issue with my dantian, recovery would accelerate significantly.’
It would also drastically shorten the time needed to escape the Demonic Sect, so I needed to search for clues.
After finishing my breathing exercises and eating some rice gruel, I asked Yeon Hong a question.
“By the way, you mentioned earlier that I had shut myself away in the Library. Where exactly is that?”
“Pardon?”
“You said I lost my mind and locked myself in the Library, refusing all visitors, and even muttered to myself. Where is it?”
“Ah, the Library is a converted chamber within your quarters—it’s just a short walk from here. We left it undisturbed since you didn’t wish for anyone to enter.”
“Hmm? You mean I didn’t want anyone to enter?”
Perhaps there was something I hadn’t wanted to reveal. The possibility of finding clues spurred me to ask again.
“So no one has been inside since then?”
“That’s correct. I haven’t cleaned it either, and no visitors came while you were unconscious.”
“No wonder no one showed their face around here. You were so gloomy and withdrawn that no one could even strike up a conversation with you—that sort of person…”
“No, that’s not it!”
Yeon Hong waved her hands urgently and spoke.
“You simply chose not to engage with others—it wasn’t that you lacked social grace or were withdrawn at all. It was a period when you needed to focus on recovery, so it was only natural that you had no visitors!”
“So I didn’t mistreat you or anything like that? Since I wouldn’t have even spoken to you.”
Yeon Hong’s eyes wavered for a moment before a gentle smile graced her small face.
“No, you were far from the type to mistreat anyone. In fact, whenever I faced unfair treatment, you would personally help resolve it.”
“Really? So I wasn’t a complete bastard after all.”
“Pardon? A bas—how could you say such a thing? You seem to have changed somewhat, Young Master.”
“When someone dies and comes back to life, change is inevitable. I’ve been itching to speak for so long I thought I’d die. Now I’m going to say whatever I want. You’ll have to understand.”
“Ah… yes, that’s only natural.”
Cheon So-hyun set down the empty bowl he had just finished.
“Anyway, I want to go right now. Show me the way.”
* * *
Before the Library, Yeon Hong bowed respectfully.
“I’ll organize the medicinal herbs and return shortly. Please feel free to look around, Young Master.”
“Very well.”
Creeeeak.
“There’s so much dust…”
Indeed, it seemed no one had entered in all this time—the Library was completely shrouded in a haze of dust.
The wooden bookshelves lining both walls were packed tightly with volumes. I picked up a few at random and opened them, but they were so severely damaged that I couldn’t make out their contents.
“Yin and Yang?”
Most of the book titles contained either the character for Yin or Yang, or both characters together.
‘It seems this is the field that Cheon So-hyun had immersed himself in.’
Was it to resolve his constitution?
Venturing deeper, I discovered a desk in complete disarray, its surface scattered with black papers.
What I had initially thought to be papers painted pitch-black were actually covered in densely written characters.
Examining one sheet, I noticed the handwriting that had begun neat and precise gradually became erratic as it progressed, devolving into complete illegibility by the end.
“Had his mind completely fractured?”
As I picked up a fallen paper from between the broken chair pieces, I found it stained crimson. The writing grew darker, then gradually faded, only to darken again….
‘A blood letter.’
Every object in the Archive bore Cheon So-hyun’s fingerprints. The traces of his inner demons were evident with such devastating clarity.
I gathered them all and arranged them roughly by handwriting before beginning to read.
My confidence in surpassing the Nine Sovereigns and Eight Emperors had vanished. I had discovered my limits before even reaching adulthood.
Yet it’s acceptable. There must surely be a solution. I decided to leave records for any successors who might face the same affliction as I.
As expected, these were all of Cheon So-hyun’s journals.
I met with the Cult Leader today. I inquired about my constitution and sought his counsel, but he merely instructed me to focus on my cultivation.
The other successors believe I receive the Cult Leader’s favor and often show their wariness, yet he is equally indifferent to me. I returned in disappointment, but strangely, Gwangmyeong Left Envoy’s expression had hardened.
‘Focus on your cultivation….’
Were the Cult Leader’s words truly appropriate for Cheon So-hyun’s situation? Was the person I saw in the Cult Leader’s Hall also Gwangmyeong Left Envoy?
Setting aside these questions, I continued reading.
A secret manual arrived at my quarters. Shadowless Divine Art? I had never encountered such a difficult technique. Reading merely a few lines made my head spin, but since it was called a divine art, I resolved to delve deeper into it.
The handwriting began to change gradually.
I encountered Cheon Se-hui. The moment we met, I realized I had made significant progress. The same applied to the other successors… they had all advanced far beyond me, as if mocking my stagnation.
Emotions I had never felt before suddenly surged forth.
The characters trembled erratically across the page.
I cannot recall how many days I spent confined in the Archive. I have decided to abandon this incomprehensibly difficult technique. Though I made an entrance into it, I cannot predict how long it would take to achieve mastery.
I searched through the entire Demonic Sect Archive, but found no solution for my constitution. Recently, I have experienced nothing but failure. I wish to return to who I was before. To that time when I felt capable of accomplishing anything….
The paper was filled with heavily pressed strokes. Judging by the ink splatters scattered throughout, the brush had been broken several times during writing.
Not a single day passes without thoughts of death. Beginning each day is agonizing, and closing my eyes is equally unbearable. My mind is consumed entirely by negativity, and life has become a living hell.
Sometimes, when I drift into a hazy daze, I imagine painting the Realm in blood.
I am terrified. Something other than myself seems to be bursting forth, and that fear is overwhelming.
The blood letters had begun.
Heavenly Bone Physique, Heavenly Bone Physique. That cursed Heavenly Bone Physique. Is there truly no constitution more wretched in all existence? Who uttered such absurd nonsense? What use is mastering countless martial arts when one’s dantian is fundamentally broken?
I am beginning to feel my limits. A murderous intent. A vicious killing intent that surges endlessly. I want to wring the necks of those who prattle beside me, and those worthless successors who call themselves half-measures.
My fantasies grow longer. I want to cleave, slash, tear, and rend everything in the Realm to ash.
The final entry followed.
I have decided to kill myself.
I pressed my left hand against my heart. The disrupted circulation of qi still pulsed beneath my touch.
I had only suspected it until now, but now I am certain.
“Was this the choice I made to avoid walking the path of the Inhuman?”
Cheon So-hyun had not fallen into demonic cultivation due to impatience.
He had reversed his inner energy and severed his own meridians. Before he could harm others, before he could lose himself entirely.
Looking around the space, I could envision him—a solitary figure wandering lost in darkness and silence.
‘Amitabha Buddha.’
The words that had seemed so easy to read now felt unbearably heavy. As I set down the paper, my entire body began to tremble, and my vision blurred into a haze.
Thump, thump!
At the same moment, my heartbeat thundered so violently it felt as though my eardrums might burst. It was as if Cheon So-hyun’s anguished cry was tearing from my own chest.
“In the next life, may there be no suffering.”
With my eyes closed against the flood of emotion, I whispered a prayer for his peace. As something warm traced down my cheeks, the knot in my chest began to loosen, and I chanted the Buddhist invocation for a long while.
How much time had passed? As I gazed at Cheon So-hyun’s letters, I discovered a single book wedged between the papers.
[Muryeong Divine Art]
‘So it was here all along.’
Reading it immediately seemed impossible, so I tucked it into my robes.
After a cursory sweep of the austere library, I made my way outside.
Creak.
As I opened the door, Yeon Hong came into view. She had been waiting all along, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“Are you all right? Nothing happened, did it? I organized the medicinal herbs and waited for quite some time, but you never came out, so I was worried….”
Her gaze swept over me, her eyes mingling concern with genuine care.
Now that I thought about it, Yeon Hong was the only attendant in this vast residence.
Though she denied it, Cheon So-hyun had likely committed countless atrocities in his final years.
Could Yeon Hong have been the one left behind as everyone else departed, one by one?
I let out a soft laugh and replied.
“Don’t fuss over me—I’m fine, of course. I’ve just gotten dust all over myself and my throat feels parched. I think I need some fresh air.”
“Ah! Then allow me to escort you to the back garden.”
* * *
“Young Master, this is it.”
The back garden was meticulously landscaped. Beside a pavilion, an ancient gnarled tree spread its broad canopy of shade, and a winding path stretched into the distance.
“Thank you. Now go inside and rest.”
Yeon Hong bowed and withdrew, and I began to examine the secret manual I had brought from the library.
“The Muryeong Divine Art….”
Since Cheon So-hyun had abandoned this technique long ago, the pages showed no wear unlike his other books. Yet the paper had yellowed with age, bearing the patina of countless years.
Rustle.
I turned the pages one by one, reading with rapt attention.
The manual was densely filled with the mental states required for cultivation and incantations that spanned thousands of characters.
‘Defying Heaven’s mandate, burning the old to establish the new. Breaking the shackles to shatter the current and forge the sea.’
Defy the mandate of Heaven, burn away the old to establish a new Heaven. Sever the chains and shatter the flow to create an ocean.
So this was what demonic cultivation truly meant. The incantations were uniformly radical and unconventional. The emotions woven through the words and between the lines were remarkably intense.
Rustle.
As I continued reading and turning pages, I came to understand something: the breathing technique I had been practicing without any incantations was precisely this profound art.
‘Hmm.’
Though vast and intricate enough to make my eyes spin, it was undeniably a fascinating technique.
The essence of the Muryeong Divine Art lay in fire energy—transforming external qi into something as scorching as molten lava, burning away all turbid qi and impurities within the body.
It was truly a rare and esoteric art. Among Shaolin’s techniques, few could push the perfection of the physical body to such extreme limits.
What struck me as most peculiar was the explanation of the Sammaejinhwa.
‘Dyeing the heavens and earth with Sammaejinhwa?’
What kind of absurd nonsense was this?
Sammaejinhwa referred to a technique of conjuring flames from the palm of one’s hand.
It was a reasonably impressive art, but the depletion of inner energy was so severe that its efficiency fell drastically short.
In other words, it was nothing more than a useless flourish for those with profound inner reserves—no more, no less. Yet this secret manual discussed it with considerable grandeur.
I glossed over that passage and continued, meticulously committing the vital points to memory, until I reached the end of the book.
“What is this?”
Something felt out of place.
At first glance, the handwriting appeared identical and the ink showed no difference, but the paper’s texture was subtly distinct.
Was it added later?
As I continued rubbing the pages, my suspicion hardened into certainty. This was a supplementary section appended after the manual’s completion.
I turned the page.
The additional section was not new content but rather a summary.
It condensed the main text, organized the foundational meridian pathways, and highlighted the essential points easily overlooked.
Extreme Fire Without End (極火無盡)
Flames that burn all things yet never extinguish—a reiteration of the very essence of the Muyeong Divine Art, symbolizing boundless potential.
After reading through it twenty times, I became convinced that this final section was not written by the original author.
‘Who wrote this, then?’
The manual was not so considerate as to provide summaries like this.
It spared no space, employing abbreviations liberally, and each character carried such density and metaphor that it read almost like poetry.
Moreover, even the descriptions of realms—which any martial arts manual should necessarily explain—were sparse.
Accompanied only by the hollow assurance that one would naturally understand upon reaching each stage, it merely listed the sequence: First White (一白), Second Black (二黑), Third Green (三碧), Fourth Green (四綠), Fifth Yellow (五黃).
From these circumstances, I deduced that the Muyeong Divine Art must have been created by a demon of such arrogant pride that it bordered on absurdity.
Would such a being truly bother to add a supplementary section for the sake of posterity who failed to grasp his intent?
‘Impossible.’
Then who on earth had written this?
Harboring this question, I slowly lifted my gaze.
The moon hung in the distance. Suspended solemnly against the deep darkness of the night sky, it cast its light upon the surroundings.
It seemed both indifferent and forlorn.
As a cool breeze brushed past my ear, I found myself thinking that the moon resembled Cheon So-hyun—surrounded by countless stars yet solitary in its loneliness.
‘Let me begin.’
I steadied my breathing and commenced reciting the incantations of the Muyeong Divine Art.
Perhaps because I understood his life, the demonic energy flowing through the meridian pathways no longer felt alien.
I simply accepted it as it was and chanted the incantations.
As my inner energy rose toward my heart, I felt the severed meridian channels within the delicate network of pathways.
They were Cheon So-hyun’s marks.
And with each circulation of energy, I grew more certain: this was an extraordinarily complex demonic art. Even I, having studied numerous martial techniques of Shaolin, found it sufficiently enigmatic to demand utmost care.
What astonished me was that Cheon So-hyun, at such a tender age, had managed to enter this practice alone.
‘Impressive indeed.’
I scraped away the impurities within the external qi I had absorbed, grinding them down again and again as I circulated the refined essence through the meridians of my body.
As I repeated this cultivation cycle, the moment I sensed myself approaching the limits of my capacity, the chirping of birds reached my ears.
Opening my eyes as light pierced through my eyelids, the world that had been shrouded in darkness was now suffused with brilliant illumination.

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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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