Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 179

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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 179
Cheon Hui stood atop Samong Field, looking down at the disciples of the Huashan Sect arrayed before him.
Eighteen First Generation Disciples.
Forty-two Second-Generation Disciples.
The assembled fighters here were considered the Huashan Sect’s strongest combat force.
‘Look at them.’
Cheon Hui swept his gaze across their elated faces with an expression of sheer disbelief.
“You all seem to be in quite the cheerful mood.”
Several of them flinched.
Cheon Hui tilted his head to one side and spoke, his words dripping with disdain.
“Your joint operation failed, and just days ago you looked like a rabble of undisciplined fools, yet here you are, smiling away.”
……
“If I were in your position, I’d either be hanging my head in shame or too mortified to even meet anyone’s eyes. But it seems you’ve left all sense of shame behind entirely.”
His tilted head was the least of it.
His words, barbed and crooked, cut straight through the hearts of every disciple gathered on Samong Field.
The Maehwa Sword Masters in particular—those who had gone out on the failed joint operation—bowed their heads low.
Cheon Hui’s eyes narrowed to slits.
He understood their joy well enough.
They had been chosen for the Huashan Sect’s first Force Unit, an honor that would be written into the sect’s history.
But that was that.
This was not the time to be elated.
‘They need to face reality.’
Why had the Force Unit been created?
Because the Huashan Sect faced a crisis and needed to build its strength as quickly as possible.
And yet they were giddy.
‘They deserve far worse than a scolding.’
So he’d spoken harshly on purpose, and fortunately, it seemed to be working.
But then—
“Master, isn’t that too harsh?”
Cheon Hyang stepped forward, her voice steady.
Perhaps it was the weight of her role as unit commander.
Or perhaps it was the pride of a Maehwa Sword Master.
Standing as the representative of her demoralized unit, she spoke with a pouting expression, clearly unhappy with what Cheon Hui had just said.
“Did we want to fail?”
Cheon Hyang’s words were a diplomatic way of saying that they had done their best.
But Cheon Hui had no intention of letting her off easily.
“So you’re saying failure is inevitable?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…….”
Cheon Hyang, unfamiliar with how to counter without equivocating, scratched her head and tried again.
“I’m saying you should acknowledge that we did our best despite the difficult circumstances.”
“Effort?”
Cheon Hui drew out the word, his tone dripping with incredulity.
“Actually, I was meaning to bring this up anyway, so this works out perfectly.”
Cheon Hui’s eyes flickered with intensity.
“So doing your best means it’s fine to fail, is it?”
“Well, that’s…….”
Cheon Hyang’s voice faltered.
“And if you’re going to make an effort, why aren’t you doing it now? Did you collapse after coming back and train until you passed out? Or are you planning a closed-door cultivation retreat?”
……
“I mean, it’s not like you’re making a fuss about revenge or anything—you just quietly receive treatment. Oh! So receiving treatment counts as effort. Well, how could I have missed that? Right?”
Cheon Hui’s scalding criticism flowed on without pause, without mercy, and finally Cheon Hyang shut her eyes tight.
“You don’t even feel ashamed, do you?”
Cheon Hui’s gaze turned cold.
“You faced some Sapa rabble, one of your disciples ended up half-crippled, a few are still whining about their wounds—and yet you feel no anger.”
“No, I do feel anger…….”
Cheon Hyang’s voice grew small.
She, who was always confident, had been completely overwhelmed by Cheon Hui.
And she was not alone.
The Maehwa Sword Masters who met Cheon Hui’s gaze shrank back, averting their eyes.
“You say you’re angry, yet you stand there so contentedly. If I were you, I’d be so furious with my own weakness that I’d enter closed-door cultivation immediately. Instead, you’re all cheerful, training not at all, and—tsk!”
At Cheon Hui’s blunt words, the Maehwa Sword Masters hung their heads as though they were criminals.
“From today on, I’ll show you exactly what that thing called effort means, the way I see it.”
Cheon Hui fixed them with a piercing stare.
“Oh, one more thing before we start. During training, there’s no such thing as First Generation Disciples or Second-Generation Disciples.”
His radical words sent a tremor through the students. The senior disciples looked flustered, while disappointment flickered across the faces of the younger ones.
But Cheon Hui pressed on regardless of their reactions.
“If you want to receive my instruction, you’ll need to set aside your pride and everything else. Though if you hate the idea…”
Cheon Hui pointed toward the door with his index finger.
“Then leave this place.”
Everyone held their breath.
The younger disciples showed no sign of wavering, but several of the senior ones hesitated.
Bowing to a master was an utterly shameful thing to do.
Yet the deliberation didn’t last long.
‘This is a chance to grow stronger.’
‘Does pride protect my life?’
The memory of that failed Joint Operation surfaced in their minds, then faded away.
Suffering defeat through weakness was more shameful than bowing before a master.
Cheon Hui, watching the disciples’ eyes harden with resolve, allowed himself a pleased smile.
Yes. That’s how it should be if you have pride.
“Then since you’ve all chosen to stay of your own will, don’t raise any complaints about what happens next in training.”
Anxiety etched itself into the disciples’ faces.
But what was done was done.
Just as everyone began to swallow hard—
“First, let’s get organized. The three of you who’ve just become Unit Commanders—step forward.”
Cheon Hui spoke without a trace of warmth.
“Yes!”
“You called for us?”
“I’m here.”
The three of them sprang forward smartly.
Cheon Hui regarded them with an expression of mild irritation, pointing at each in turn.
“The Bi Geom Unit, the Mu Hwa Unit, the Hwa Ryeong Unit—you’ll lead each one respectively.”
He indicated Jeok Geom, Seol Ran, and Cheon Hyang in order, then twisted his lips slightly.
“Now, go pick members for your respective Force Units and bring them back.”
“Pardon?”
“M-Members, you say?”
“You want us to choose them ourselves?”
“Should I pick members you can trust with your back? No—you pick them yourselves.”
The three were momentarily swayed by Cheon Hui’s logic.
‘It does make sense to choose them directly…’
‘If they’re people I’m entrusting my back to…’
‘Hmm, members, then.’
The instant they were about to consider the matter—
“Better hurry, actually. If you’re slow, someone else will snatch your recruits.”
Cheon Hui rushed them along.
The moment he finished speaking, the three bolted toward those they’d already marked.
“Won’t you join the Bi Geom Unit?”
“Will you trust me and join the Mu Hwa Unit?”
“Come join me.”
About an hour passed.
“We’ve assembled everyone.”
“Done.”
“All set.”
The three stood in formation before Cheon Hui, each flanked by their newly gathered members.
Cheon Hui looked at them and let out a hollow laugh, his expression one of pure bewilderment.
‘Remarkable. I told them to do as they pleased, yet they managed to match the numbers perfectly.’
The three had assembled their recruits as if by unspoken agreement, each selecting exactly nineteen members.
“Well, that doesn’t matter for now.”
Cheon Hui shuffled forward.
He opened his mouth to address them.
“Then let’s begin the first training session.”
In an instant, everyone swallowed hard.
At that very moment, hope and a trace of unease flickered across their faces.
“See over there?”
Cheon Hui pointed backward with his thumb as he spoke, and all eyes lifted skyward.
It was Nagan Peak.
When they all looked at Cheon Hui in confusion as he indicated the sheer and unforgiving summit.
“Go to the top and come back down.”
“You mean… all the way up there?”
The question came out deflated.
The training was far simpler than anyone had anticipated, and the wind went out of their sails.
Cheon Hui watched them, and his mouth curved into a slow, deep smile.
“It’d be better if you got there and back quickly.”
The moment those words left his lips.
Dash!
A group bolted forward like arrows loosed from a bow.
The disciples scanning their faces couldn’t hide their bewilderment.
“Commander… sir?”
“That’s… Jeok Geom?”
It was Jeok Geom and Seol Ran, along with the Maehwa Sword Masters who had trained under Cheon Hui.
And Cheon Hyang chased after them.
“Even… Master?”
As everyone stood staring in a daze.
“Why aren’t you going? Well, do as you please—it makes no difference to me.”
Cheon Hui cut in mid-sentence, his smile turning sinister.
“You’ll find out soon enough for yourselves.”
……!
The remaining disciples snapped to attention and hurried frantically up Nagan Peak.
Thud-thud-thud!
They deployed their Divine Movement Technique without a care for draining their Internal Force.
Soon only Cheon Hui remained on Samong Field.
Hmm.
Cheon Hui lifted his gaze upward.
Dozens of disciples desperately climbing Nagan Peak created a sight rarely seen on ordinary days.
“Physical stamina is the urgent need.”
For any martial artist, the Mind-Breath-Body Trinity was paramount.
They’d built up their Internal Force well enough with the An Hyang Dan, and their Martial Arts were progressing reasonably well.
But stamina was the problem.
‘No matter how much Internal Force one has or how strong one’s techniques are, it means nothing if the body can’t sustain it.’
Cheon Hui recalled the melee that had occurred when he selected the commander for the Force Unit.
Even though it was a chaotic struggle, the fact that most of them were gasping and struggling within barely a quarter-hour was a serious issue.
‘Still, physical training grows faster than cultivating Internal Force or Martial Arts, so that’s a saving grace.’
Cheon Hui shifted his gaze from Nagan Peak and rummaged through his sleeves, producing a black pellet.
It was the An Hyang Dan.
“Its toxicity is stronger than before.”
The worn An Hyang Dan gleamed far darker than the previous one.
Not only that, but the poison’s scent pricked his nostrils even from a distance.
“Even so. This should be potent enough to make them desperate to avoid swallowing it.”
* * *
“Huff… huff!”
“I’m… going to die.”
“I never thought we’d have to deploy the Divine Movement Technique this relentlessly, going back and forth like this.”
The disciples who had gone up Nagan Peak and returned lay on the ground, gasping for breath.
Normally they wouldn’t have been this winded, but the exertion from the competition had drained their stamina severely.
“The later arrivals look particularly miserable.”
Cheon Hui surveyed those who had returned.
Cheon Hyang, who had arrived first, followed by Jeok Geom and Seol Ran, looked fine.
But those who came later showed clear signs of struggle on their faces.
“The one who arrived last…”
Cheon Hui approached the last disciple to arrive and shoved the An Hyang Dan into his mouth.
“Mmph—ugh! Gulp! W-what did you just make me eat?”
“What else? That spiritual elixir you’re so fond of.”
Cheon Hui spoke flatly.
Yet the face of the disciple hearing those words began to turn ashen.
“No… surely not the An Hyang Dan…?”
Cheon Hui smiled wickedly instead of answering.
The disciple’s face flushed purple, and soon his eyes reddened.
“Nnngh!”
A thin cry escaped him.
Unable to endure the pain, he bolted upright and adopted the Un Gi Jo Sik.
“See? It’s all a matter of willpower after all.”
Cheon Hui smiled with satisfaction.
Just moments ago the man couldn’t move a single finger—yet here he was, driven by agony to assume the Un Gi Jo Sik.
“Let’s see. Who else arrived late…?”
Cheon Hui scanned the other disciples like a predator eyeing prey, then moved.
“There they are.”
“Aahhh!”
“Iyahhh!”
“P-please… spare us!”
Five more disciples immediately convulsed.
They hurried into the Un Gi Jo Sik, fighting desperately to suppress the An Hyang Dan’s surging energy.
“Pity,” Cheon Hui clicked his tongue.
He smacked his lips.
“If I had more of the An Hyang Dan, I’d have fed it to the others too. Well, can’t be helped.”
At his callous words, those disciples who had trembled in dread exhaled with relief.
They exchanged glances with one another.
‘W-we’re alive!’
‘If we’d been late…’
Just as they began to relax.
“Now that everyone’s had a rest, shall we move on to the next exercise?”
Cheon Hui smiled brightly.
“Let’s start easy—an hour of Horse Stance. Though not quite that simple, of course…”
Cheon Hui drew his scabbard and swung it toward the enormous boulder beside him.
Slash!
The boulder, cleanly cut along a diagonal plane, slowly began to tilt.
Whoosh—
Cheon Hui caught it with the tip of his scabbard.
It was a feat of remarkable skill.
Balancing the boulder on his sword’s point with perfect equilibrium, Cheon Hui held it aloft effortlessly and opened his mouth.
“With this balanced on your head. Ah—drop it and you’ll find out what happens.”
Cheon Hui smiled wickedly, and all color drained from the disciples’ faces.
“Now then, we’ll begin at once. Assume the Horse Stance—quickly, get into position.”

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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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