Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 197

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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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Episode 197
“There! Sword flowers!”
“The plum blossoms are blooming!”
The crowd’s eyes gleamed with wonder.
As Cheon Hui raised his blade slowly, flower buds materialized at its tip.
One blossom. Then another.
They continued to bloom and multiply, layer upon layer, an endless proliferation.
“Is that the Maehwa Sword Technique of Huashan?”
“Extraordinary. Truly extraordinary. So such a sword technique—one that births plum blossoms—actually exists.”
The spectators gasped in astonishment.
The sight of plum blossoms blooming profusely in empty air was so wondrous that words could scarcely capture the feeling it inspired.
Whiiiir—
Then a gentle breeze swept across the Training Grounds.
As if spring had finally arrived, the warm wind carried the season’s essence and drifted serenely through the arena, drawing the blossoms with it.
And because of that breeze.
The plum blossoms that bloomed in all directions began to drift and undulate gracefully in its wake.
“How can anything be so beautiful…….”
Everyone was spellbound.
The plum blossoms were illusions.
Yet knowing this, the crowd found themselves captivated by the spectacle of flower petals embroidering the sky like waves.
By an endless tide of blossoms.
“Truly, what beautiful plum blossoms.”
The Sect Master gazed up at the Training Grounds.
His beard quivered, and the gentlest of smiles bloomed at the corners of his mouth.
The plum blossoms had opened in full splendor.
Spring itself seemed to have arrived at last.
And at the root of that spring, in the depths of the blossoms that had been conjured into being, Cheon Hui stood rooted.
Firmer than any mighty tree in All Under Heaven.
Unmoved by any calamity or tempest, as if nothing could ever bring him down.
“Show us.”
The Sect Master murmured softly.
“Reveal your true worth to All Under Heaven.”
The moment those words left his lips, the blade in Cheon Hui’s hand traced a perfect arc.
‘Is this the Maehwa Sword Technique……?’
Cho Ryeon’s soul was captured by that sword path.
Though she had never witnessed such a technique in all her years, she too was a master who had reached the upper realms.
While not a sword specialist, she could tell at a glance that the path carved before her eyes differed fundamentally from ordinary sword work.
‘These are no ordinary plum blossoms.’
They were beautiful, fragrant blossoms.
Yet her lips curved downward as she faced them.
For they carried an inner force so potent that merely confronting them caused her skin to prickle.
‘Was she this formidable……?’
She had heard endless talk of the Huashan Sect’s Maehwa Sword Technique.
A martial art that the Orthodox Sects deemed a grave threat.
But now that she faced it directly, it proved far more dangerous than she had been led to believe.
‘Even if I die……’
Cho Ryeon bit her lip hard.
The more the exchange progressed, the more her certainty of victory crumbled, and the possibility of killing him grew ever slimmer.
Yet she did not yield.
Boom!
Cho Ryeon stamped her foot down with tremendous force.
The impact was so violent that the Training Grounds’ already-fractured floor exploded upward in a cloud of dust, sending debris tumbling.
And in that moment.
Crackle—crackle—
A pure white cold descended, and where her foot touched down, frost began to spread slowly outward.
Soon after, the thick cold that blanketed the ground merged with the expanding ice beneath her, transforming the entire Training Grounds into a field of white.
Then she raised her hand skyward.
As if to seize every last plum blossom cascading from above within her grasp.
The Gyeop Cheon Bing Ma Su.
The ultimate technique of the Soosu Demon Art radiated a bitter, piercing cold, and spreading far beyond the Tianma Divine Sect, it revealed itself to the whole of Zhongyuan.
Clang!
The air froze solid, and a savage cold swept in.
The bitter wind that transformed the Training Grounds from spring to winter in an instant cascaded down, freezing the plum blossoms one by one.
Then.
Clang!
A ferocious blizzard tore across the field.
Rime formed on the tip of Cheon Hui’s blade and along his sleeves, locking fast.
At this rate, all the blossoms would shatter, and he would be swallowed whole.
Yet Cheon Hui remained unchanged even within the violent freeze of the Gyeop Cheon Bing Ma Su.
A smile lingered at the corner of his mouth, and he had lost none of his ease.
As though he paid no mind whatsoever to the Gyeop Cheon Bing Ma Su closing in.
‘So this is the martial art you devised to defeat me?’
The image of Narak Bing Ma flashed across his mind.
Her expression cold as ice, burning with the hunger to win.
And the will she left behind—that was what Cho Ryeon now unleashed.
Cheon Hui’s gaze fixed on Cho Ryeon.
With frost woven through her very hair, turned pure white like a snow maiden, she extended her pale hands in perfect form.
Just as Narak Bing Ma had boasted, the technique Cho Ryeon now displayed was worthy of being called the supreme skill under heaven.
Both the circumstances and the martial art itself were formidable.
Yet there was one thing.
It was a pity—a true pity—that the one wielding the Soosu Demon Art now was Cho Ryeon, not Narak Bing Ma herself.
“Well, this is something. To face a martial art of your own creation—I should count myself fortunate.”
Swallowing his regret, Cheon Hui smiled faintly and began drawing up his inner force at a deliberate pace.
This was Narak Bing Ma’s challenge to him.
Spanning three hundred years.
“Don’t you think?”
Still smiling, Cheon Hui raised his blade.
In that instant, the rime at the sword’s tip melted away, and the plum blossoms bloomed anew.
And from that moment onward.
Crack—
The ice that had spread outward from Cho Ryeon shattered, and the blossoms burst into full bloom again.
As winter departed and spring arrived, the plum flowers opened where the ice melted, spreading their rich fragrance.
‘The Gyeop Cheon Bing Ma Su crumbles so easily…….’
Cho Ryeon’s eyes widened in shock.
The plum blossoms were illusions.
Yet they did not vanish.
Instead, they pierced through the Gyeop Cheon Bing Ma Su and bloomed anew, falling downward.
Vivid and dazzling.
Then.
Whisper—
The blade descended slowly downward.
A stroke from above to below.
An utterly simple sword path.
Yet as Cho Ryeon met the end of that stroke, she could only pale.
The plum blossoms were falling.
The sight of crimson blossoms that had overturned the entire Training Grounds raining down was magnificent.
The Fifth Form of the Chiljeol Maehwa Geom.
Nak Mea Cheon U Hwa.
Plum blossoms that filled the sky poured down upon Cho Ryeon like a torrential downpour.
Her heart surged wildly.
The cascade of flower rain that swept down covered the heavens, inescapable.
No—there was not even a gap to slip through.
It seemed she would be consumed by that torrent and vanish in an instant.
“It cannot end here!”
She cried out sharply and wrung out every last bit of her remaining inner force.
A dense cold enveloped her.
At the moment of contact, it was a bitter chill that would freeze anything solid.
Yet.
Whisper—
The blossoms pressed through the cold she exhaled, burrowing ever deeper inward.
And the scent of plum blossoms tickled the tip of her nose.
A deep, rich fragrance.
Then, at last.
Soft.
A single plum blossom petal, falling in the slowest of drifts, came to rest gently upon her crown.
* * *
The plum blossoms and the bitter storm that had swept across the Training Grounds vanished as if they had never been.
As though nothing had happened at all.
The crowd, still caught in that lingering afterimage, stared numbly at the Training Grounds.
In the shattered arena, Cheon Hui and Cho Ryeon faced each other, gazing at one another.
Everyone who saw them held their breath.
‘Who won?’
‘Is it over? Or is it still going?’
Most of the watching crowd could not tell what had become of the match.
They had only witnessed the beautiful plum blossoms bloom and the bitter cold storm rise against them.
But then.
“Oh?!”
Cho Ryeon’s body wavered.
In the next instant, as she began to fall backward without strength,
a figure emerged—
A man suddenly appeared above the Training Grounds and swiftly caught her, supporting her weight.
Cradling Cho Ryeon carefully in both arms, he bowed his head deeply to Cheon Hui.
“I acknowledge defeat.”
Cheon Hui regarded the man for a moment,
“…All right.”
He spoke without concern, waving his hand dismissively.
“Then take her and go.”
The man withdrew carefully backward.
“Huashan’s victory!”
“Waaaaah!”
An explosive roar erupted.
Unlike the earlier match, this duel between the two had been so brilliant that even those ignorant of martial arts could sense the skill on display.
As the cheers grew ever louder,
“Then.”
Cheon Hui turned his body.
More precisely, his gaze shifted toward the Master Faction encampment visible below the shattered arena.
“Who’s next?”
Those who felt his gaze upon them startled, hurriedly averting their eyes when—
“Master.”
A man moved forward among those scrambling to escape the stare.
It was a handsome youth with a smile playing across his face.
The youth, maintaining a composed demeanor even in the present circumstances, approached Geum Hui Bu Master closely and offered a respectful fist salute.
“My apologies. I must forfeit this match.”
“Wh-what do you mean all of a sudden?”
Geum Hui Bu Master was flustered by the proclamation that came like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, staring at the man.
Yet the man merely smiled at that gaze as though unbothered and spoke.
“Against others, perhaps—but against that small master over there, I lack the strength.”
The man gave a slight shrug.
“Since defeat is certain anyway, there is no point in wasting effort.”
“But—but this is a matter upon which Shenxi’s very fate depends! How can you forfeit?!”
“Shenxi’s fate, you say……”
The man narrowed his eyes, drawing out the words.
When Geum Hui Bu Master felt a chill at the cold gaze glinting through those slitted eyes, the man continued speaking.
“If that is truly so important, would it not be better for you to step forward yourself?”
Geum Hui Bu Master’s eyebrows rose sharply.
“Are you suggesting we break our agreement?”
“Agreement? That’s fine.”
“What do you mean—”
Geum Hui Bu Master trailed off, closing his mouth.
In that moment, something he had forgotten came rushing back: their agreement was to absorb the remnants of Baek Gwi Seong’s faction, not to seize Shenxi.
“Then you intend to abandon Shenxi?”
“What is there to gain by clinging to a battle we cannot win? We must know what to relinquish and what to seize.”
As the man spoke with such composure, the Geum Hui Bu Master’s lips tightened.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming out?”
A voice called down from above, impatient. He glanced at Cheon Hui, whose expression had grown bored, then squeezed his eyes shut.
At last, he forced himself to speak.
“……We forfeit.”
The moment the Geum Hui Bu Master declared the forfeit, confused voices erupted from all sides.
“A—a forfeit?”
“Why won’t they fight?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They can’t beat Huashan’s swordsmaster, so that’s why!”
“Still, a forfeit is…….”
Chaos broke out across the field.
And no wonder—the fate of each sect hinged on this martial match.
Men would stake their very lives on such contests, so the crowd’s bewilderment at a forfeit declared without a single clash was only natural.
“No match at all, and they forfeit?”
“What are they thinking……?”
Even the camps of Huashan and Jongnam stood confused, unable yet to grasp the sudden forfeiture.
Sheathed.
Cheon Hui sheathed his sword as though to declare it over, and gave a small nod.
‘I’d like to see what martial arts he’s learned…… but I suppose there’s time for that later.’
Cheon Hui watched the cold-smiling man beside the Geum Hui Bu Master, then turned to leave.
He leapt down from the Training Grounds in one bound.
“Huashan’s victory!”
“Huashan and Jongnam have won!”
Someone cried out, and the crowd, snapping to attention, erupted in cheers.
The roar swelled across Cheong Ya Field and rolled outward, reaching far and wide.
“Far too loud.”
Cheon Hui, his brows drawn together at the deafening cheers, arrived at the encampment.
Whoosh—
Every eye turned toward him.
‘Tch. This is going to be a bother.’
The Huashan elders who had come with him made no attempt to hide their satisfaction, while the disciples gazed at him with reverence.
And what of Jongnam?
The senior figures appeared struck with shock even as they sensed a looming crisis, while the younger disciples showed a mixture of awe and envy.
“You’ve returned?”
At that moment, the Sect Master approached with a smile.
“You’ve worked hard.”
“It was nothing much.”
The Sect Master’s smile deepened.
‘Nothing much’—how could this be nothing much?
But he did not voice the thought.
He simply gazed at Cheon Hui with steady eyes.
“By the way—we need to collect the winnings from this bout. I won’t need to help with the rest, correct?”
“…….”
The Sect Master felt a slight twinge and, without thinking, squeezed his eyes shut.
For a moment he had forgotten Cheon Hui’s willful nature, veiled as it was by confidence.
“Sigh.”
A brief sigh later, the Sect Master opened his eyes and addressed Cheon Hui.
“Very well. Go and return quickly.”
“Then I’ll head back to Huashan.”
“Huashan……? What do you——”
The Sect Master was caught off guard by Cheon Hui’s words—not that he would return soon, but that he would go back to Huashan—and tried to say something more.
Whiiiing—
But Cheon Hui had already vanished.

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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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