Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 128

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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 128
“He’s coming to Banwoldang?”
“The man’s got a death wish.”
“I heard he wasn’t ordinary, but I didn’t think he’d be crazier than us.”
The Banwoldang members broke into hollow laughter.
“What? You’ve heard of me?”
Cheon Hui released his hand casually.
That they knew of him meant their target wasn’t the late-stage cultivators standing before them — it was him.
“So it really is Banwoldang, then.”
“And what are you planning to do about it?”
“What am I planning? I’m going to kill you.”
“Puhahaha!”
“This situation is unbelievable — your head must be spinning.”
The Banwoldang members erupted in raucous laughter.
“Go ahead then. Try killing us.”
“You’ll be dead before that happens.”
Murderous intent exploded from their bodies.
In the same moment, a suffocating killing aura bloomed and completely consumed the empty Abandoned House.
Crack—crack—
The roof fractured under the shockwave.
As the roof, which had barely held up until now, began to shake, rainwater poured down inside.
“Ah, I was trying to avoid the rain.”
Cheon Hui, who had been watching the downpour, pushed off the ground lightly and exited the Abandoned House.
In that instant.
Whoosh!
Swords drawn by the Banwoldang members waiting outside flashed from all directions.
“Coming out on your own, are you!”
Cheon Hui twisted his waist to evade the blades.
“Too late!”
Another Banwoldang member who had been waiting on the roof jumped down, thrusting his sword forward.
Squelch!
In that moment, a fountain of blood erupted into the sky, mixing with the falling rain.
“……!”
The Banwoldang members caught their breath.
The member who had rushed forward was instead falling downward, defeated.
And beneath him.
Cheon Hui was already there, Baek Ryeon Sword held lightly in his right hand, a faint smile on his face.
Moments later, the body of what had been a Banwoldang member fell into the water-logged ground.
Whoosh—
Cheon Hui brushed back his rain-soaked hair.
As the Banwoldang members stood frozen like roots driven into earth, witnessing the impossible scene, Cheon Hui opened his mouth.
“You’re the ones who are late.”
Faced with his cold, contemptuous smile, the Banwoldang members felt rage ignite all the way to their scalps.
“You bastard!”
“Think you can back down now?”
Even after witnessing Cheon Hui’s astounding sword strike, the Banwoldang members showed no sign of retreating.
Instead, they burned with renewed fighting spirit.
‘Interesting — they fight like Shin Gyo disciples.’
The corners of Cheon Hui’s eyes curved upward.
The way they charged forward without regard for death resembled the followers of Shin Gyo.
‘Though their martial prowess falls far short, of course.’
Observing them quietly,
Whoosh—crash!
Countless weapons in the hands of the Banwoldang members pierced through the downpour, raining down upon him.
‘There’s a technique that could handle them all at once…’
Cheon Hui’s eyes narrowed.
‘That should work.’
He had exactly the right martial art for this.
Whoosh—
Cheon Hui raised his left hand.
Dark shadows bloomed from his pristinely pale palm, as if he’d never seen sunlight.
In that instant, the rain stopped.
No—the world itself froze in his hand.
Only one thing moved within it.
Only the black shadow flowering from Cheon Hui’s palm traced across the air in a slow diagonal.
As the shadow pierced through them.
Whoooosh—
Time began moving again.
Crack! Crack!
The various weapons being raised snapped like twigs the moment they touched the shadow, shattering before they could land.
And in the same breath, the weapons’ wielders.
The Banwoldang members tore apart as brutally as their weapons, coughing blood.
“Gahhk!”
“Kack!”
A martial art forgotten for centuries, one that held a high rank among the Sagaloe Great Severing—the technique contained within the Gui Tian Jue.
Cheon Hui, having deployed the Black Shadow Cruel Killing, surveyed his surroundings with an unmoved face.
“I like it.”
The Banwoldang members showed no fear even as their companions died.
Rather, they wore smiles.
Watching them laugh, Cheon Hui’s lips curved into the same smile.
He was deeply pleased.
Had they fled, he would have had the tedious burden of hunting each one down and killing them. Instead, they came of their own accord.
“Without even running away.”
One of the Banwoldang members spoke.
“You think we’d flee from just you alone…… Hack!”
But he could not finish.
A long line of blood had appeared across his throat.
The line deepened with each passing moment, and soon his head tilted sideways.
Splurt!
His head fell and blood erupted.
Cheon Hui flicked the blade he’d swung, brushing it clean, and opened his mouth slightly.
“Come all at once—it’s annoying otherwise.”
“……I’ll kill you.”
Despite witnessing a terrifyingly remarkable sword technique, the Banwoldang members did not lose their nerve.
Instead, they bared their teeth toward Cheon Hui, releasing killing intent as if they would rush forward without hesitation.
A Banwoldang member fell from the tree and swung the long saber in his hand with force.
Screeeech!
At the same moment, sword light flashed.
The Zhui Hun Jian, one of the Sagaloe Ten Great Sword Techniques, was unleashed for the first time in centuries, skewering the Banwoldang member’s abdomen like a spike through soft flesh.
“Gahhk!”
As Cheon Hui reached to withdraw the blade from the member who’d dropped his saber.
Crunch!
The Banwoldang member, belly pierced, gripped the blade tightly and opened his eyes sharply.
Then he spat.
“Ptooey!”
Cheon Hui twisted his head to dodge the bloody phlegm and twisted his lips.
“A final struggle?”
“Will you…… think I’ll die…… alone?”
In that moment, a sharp blade thrust through the member’s chest from behind.
“That’s all you managed to think of?”
Cheon Hui sidestepped fluidly, then stared at him with a look of disbelief, eyes wide.
“Too predictable.”
“How…… how did you…… avoid that ambush?”
“I sensed the killing intent. Obviously.”
Cheon Hui watched the Banwoldang member’s eyes flutter, glare fixed on him, as the light in his pupils slowly faded.
His head drooped, and the hand gripping the blade fell lifelessly to his side.
With an indifferent gaze, Cheon Hui watched the Banwoldang member die slowly, then withdrew his sword.
The corpse collapsed with a whisper.
Rainwater mixed with blood now streamed from all directions, spreading wider with each passing moment.
He lifted his head and met the eyes of the Banwoldang member who had just attempted the ambush.
“But individually they seem competent enough. It’s just—there’s no unified formation or coordinated technique, is there?”
Cheon Hui’s words made the Banwoldang member flinch.
He was right. Banwoldang possessed no such coordinated martial technique.
They were nothing but madmen who fought with reckless abandon, caring not whether they lived or died.
There was no possibility of them joining forces.
Cheon Hui’s Zhui Hun Jian shot forth again.
True to its name, the technique pursued the Banwoldang member’s very soul, piercing through his flank.
“Ack—!”
Cheon Hui watched the member clutch at his wound, bloodshot eyes blazing, and spoke softly.
“Myeong-wol arrived here as well, didn’t she?”
At Cheon Hui’s question, the man’s pupils dilated, and his complexion drained to ashen.
Caught in the extreme manifestation of the Seephon Maryeong Technique, he had lost all reason—only the whites of his eyes remained visible.
“Y-yes… she… came…”
“Where is she?”
Cheon Hui pressed the question, but—
“Gah—”
All that came was the sound of blood boiling in his throat.
“Was the extreme version of the Seephon Maryeong Technique too much for him?”
The extreme manifestation of the soul-suppressing technique had only accelerated the end of a man already hanging by a thread.
“Well, there are still plenty left.”
Cheon Hui swept his gaze across the survivors.
More than twenty remained.
Still a considerable force.
“……!”
The fearless Banwoldang members stirred with unease.
For all the brutal techniques they had witnessed, all the masters they had faced, their resolve had never wavered—yet now it was beginning to crumble.
Or rather, it was being restored.
An emotion they had been unable to feel since mastering the Chwihon Heart Method.
Fear. Terror.
Cheon Hui watched as their pupils began to tremble subtly, then opened his mouth.
“Aren’t you going to come?”
* * *
“Do you know who we are?”
Je Gal Seung Ho asked, turning his gaze upon them.
“Who else? Enemies.”
The reply came as a sneer.
Yet Je Gal Seung Ho did not waver at their words and continued speaking.
“I am Je Gal Seung Ho of the Jegal Clan, and these distinguished individuals here are from the Habuk Peng Clan—”
“Quiet.”
A Banwoldang member cut him off.
“So you’re telling us we should tuck our tails and flee because you’re scions of the Eight Great Families?”
Je Gal Seung Ho swallowed hard and spoke.
“Are you truly prepared to invite war?”
“Krahahahaha!”
“So the Jegal Clan are sharp-minded, they say, yet there’s clearly an exception.”
At those words, the Banwoldang members erupted in unison, their laughter echoing as their eyes blazed with fervor.
“Why do you suppose war would even occur?”
“What do you mean—”
“Who will know that you died here?”
“That… that would be murder and destruction of evidence—”
Je Gal Seung Ho stumbled backward.
“Ah, so your mind finally works.”
The Banwoldang member smiled wickedly and advanced.
“Let me taste the blood of one called the Clever Jegal—see if it’s as refined as the reputation.”
Je Gal Seung Ho bit his lip sharply in that moment.
‘Damn it all. Why is this happening to me?’
He felt desperately wronged.
Had he wanted to attend the Yongbong Conference of his own will?
It was only because his elder brother, who was supposed to go, had recently achieved enlightenment and entered closed-door cultivation that he’d been forced to take his place.
And now this!
To die at the hands of Banwoldang—it was unbearable, unjust beyond measure.
The wrongness of it all pressed down on his chest until he thought it might burst.
‘Is it a crime to lack talent?’
Je Gal Seung Ho raged inwardly.
His elder brother’s martial prowess was so exceptional that even grandfather had taken notice of him.
And his younger brother had been building mechanism arrays on his own since he was three—now there was no one in the clan who could match him.
But what of himself?
His martial skill was ordinary at best; he could deploy basic mechanism arrays, but he had no real talent for it.
Je Gal Seung Ho gripped his fan weapon tightly.
Using the Xiao Tian Xing Gong, he wrapped a faint strand of Sword Qi around the fan.
‘Damn it all—die!’
Whoosh—
Picking Leaves, Flying Flowers!
Je Gal Seung Ho unleashed the Jegal Clan’s secret plucking technique through the fan weapon, not even bothering to watch the result before clenching his fist.
Then he drove his left foot hard into the ground.
Boom!
The moment a heavy weight materialized beneath him, he thrust his right fist forward with all his strength.
Tian Xing Beng Quan.
The only fist technique Je Gal Seung Ho could execute with confidence slammed into the Banwoldang member’s abdomen, hurling him backward.
But—
Whip-crack—
The airborne member spun once before landing, then wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
“The Jegal Clan’s Tian Xing Beng Quan? Not much force behind it.”
Je Gal Seung Ho’s face twisted.
No matter how he looked at it, the blow hadn’t dealt any serious damage.
‘Damn it! If only I’d begged Father to teach me the Da Tian Xing Shen Gong!’
Je Gal Seung Ho clenched his fist again.
What good was regret now?
His life hung by a thread this very moment.
“Come on, then.”
Je Gal Seung Ho spoke the words without conviction, yet the Banwoldang member grinned.
“If you insist.”
Je Gal Seung Ho grimaced.
‘Please don’t!’
But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.
Beside him, the other late-stage cultivators were already locked in brutal combat.
‘Just don’t die. That’s all.’
Je Gal Seung Ho and the Banwoldang member collided.
Meanwhile, the situation for the other late-stage cultivators was hardly better.
If anything, it was worse.
The Banwoldang members’ martial prowess was formidable enough.
But their numbers—there were simply too many of them.
“Damn!”
Mo Yong Sang gritted his teeth as he finally toppled one Banwoldang member, only to see another rushing toward him with a saber raised.
He quickly summoned his Internal Force.
Then he unleashed the Flash Parting Cloud Sword, the hereditary technique of the Moyong Clan.
Whoosh!
Blue Sword Qi bloomed from his blade and shot outward like a shower of thorns.
But—
“Is that all you have?”
The Banwoldang member laughed coldly, deflecting the Flash Parting Cloud Sword. Then he began probing relentlessly for gaps in Mo Yong Sang’s defense.
After several more exchanges—
Under the Banwoldang member’s unrelenting pressure, Mo Yong Sang finally took a wound that could prove fatal.
“Hack!”
Mo Yong Sang clutched at his slashed waist.
“Damn it!”
The curse escaped unbidden.
How many times had he been cut now?
His martial robe was already tattered, and the blood streaming through its rips hadn’t been fully washed away even by the downpour pouring through the broken ceiling.
And that was only the beginning.
“Haa, haa.”
Peng Chul Ui gasped for breath, stumbling backward inch by inch, while Yang Se Ryeong and Hwangbo So Hyeon could barely stand.
As they retreated step by step like hunted animals, they finally reached the end of their road.
And in that moment, panic seized them.
“Corpses?”
“Banwoldang members?”
Bodies lay stacked like mountains.
And atop that mountain of corpses.
A man sat with serene composure.
“You’ve finally come.”
Cheon Hui watched the Banwoldang members pursuing the late-stage cultivators who had retreated, and spoke.
“I’ve been waiting.”

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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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