Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 200

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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 200
Jan Chil’s eyes widened in shock.
It had been a strike channeling his entire being.
The sword technique had pierced perfectly toward the opening, yet it had been blocked with casual ease.
‘How could…?’
Jan Chil felt bewildered.
Assassins were those who walked the razor’s edge of a blade.
After all, they were those who took on contracts for human lives.
Because of this, a successful contract would raise their value, but if they failed, the price was their own death.
Precisely for this reason, they did not move recklessly.
Mission failure meant certain death.
They moved only when absolutely certain.
This was especially true for Jan Chil.
He was a Heaven-class assassin, counted among the elite of Salmak, the largest assassin organization.
Over decades, he had completed every single mission without a single failure.
His caution had reached its absolute limit.
This time too, he had waited and struck after carefully suppressing his presence and breath.
Yet to be blocked so easily—his shock was beyond words.
Then.
“That was quite a decent sword technique, I’ll admit.”
Cheon Hui complimented Jan Chil’s blade.
It was crude and had no followthrough, yet it had poured everything into that single strike.
His very spirit, his intent—all of it.
“But that’s the disappointing part. How can an assassin lose his composure just because I blocked one strike? You should be launching your next attack. Or are you just going to stand there and offer up your neck? Tsk tsk, who trained these assassins anyway?”
“……!”
Startled by the sudden taunt, Jan Chil snapped back to attention. Seeing the contempt in Cheon Hui’s expression, he gritted his teeth and poured strength into his hand.
Screeeech!
But the sword in his grip remained immobile, as if wedged in stone.
“Do you think you can pull it free like that— huh?”
Just as Cheon Hui was continuing his mockery.
Clang!
A sharp sound erupted.
Gon Son Seung, readjusting his grip on his sword, struck upward against the blade that had driven into his shoulder.
With a violent wrench, he dislodged the sword that had half-buried itself in his left shoulder, and blood sprayed skyward.
“Ugh!”
Yet Gon Son Seung merely let slip a short gasp before immediately hurling himself backward.
“Oh, you can endure that? Tough one.”
Cheon Hui turned his gaze toward the man who had wrenched the sword free as if a chunk of flesh carved away meant nothing whatsoever.
Whoosh!
Jan Chil leaped upward and drove both feet forward toward Cheon Hui’s face.
“Well, well, what’s this?”
Cheon Hui watched the soles approaching his face, then tilted his head to the side.
The moment he evaded the kick.
Snap!
Taking advantage of the instant Cheon Hui’s grip slackened, Jan Chil finally wrenched his trapped sword free.
“Hmm?”
Cheon Hui flexed his empty hand and looked ahead.
“Hah!”
Jan Chil retreated hastily and took position beside Gon Son Seung, whose wound he steadied.
“Huff, huff.”
“Wheeze, wheeze.”
Both of them breathed heavily.
Yet only for a moment.
“Damn it!”
Gon Son Seung pulled out Golden Wound Medicine from his inner robe, and without even looking at the wound, applied it to his shoulder.
“Ugh!”
His face contorted from the pain, but he gritted his teeth and tore at his clothes.
Then he wound the fabric around his shoulder.
“He’s more skilled at treating wounds than at martial arts.”
Watching him apply the makeshift bandage, Cheon Hui muttered absently as he let his sword hang down at his side.
Blood droplets fell steadily, spreading across the dirt in scattered patterns.
“It seems there’s nothing more to see.”
Cheon Hui’s lips curved into a long smile.
“Let’s end this.”
With those words, Cheon Hui moved.
Snap!
Jan Chil, who had been watching Cheon Hui intently, gritted his teeth harder as his opponent vanished in an instant.
“……Tch.”
Muscles tensed along his clenched jaw, and his eyes flooded with cold killing intent.
Jan Chil poured all his inner force into his blade.
Ordinarily he would have preserved strength for escape, but there was no time for that now.
The same was true for Gon Son Seung beside him.
Using his uninjured arm, he raised his sword and unleashed all his internal force at once.
Whoooosh—
Light burst from his blade.
In the moment his Haenam Sect’s Wonyang Divine Art merged with the sword to display its power.
Crack!
Gon Son Seung was faster, unleashing his sword like a thunderbolt.
His final ultimate technique, the Banchen Geom, was wielded with a different force than before.
Though he had lost one hand and his center was unbalanced, his momentum was actually stronger than the forms he had displayed before his injury.
“Your eyes are sharp, tracking the Divine Step Hundred Transformations.”
Cheon Hui narrowed his eyes as he saw the Banchen Geom swing toward where he had sensed his own presence.
Perhaps sensing the crisis of death itself.
The Gon Son Seung who moments ago had been unable to detect his presence now stared straight at him, his sword swinging wide.
Cheon Hui stepped forward.
Moving toward the wildly oncoming Banchen Geom, Cheon Hui’s blade soared skyward.
Clang!
Having struck the Banchen Geom from below upward, Cheon Hui closed the distance to Gon Son Seung’s face, gazing at his shocked expression with a slight smile.
“You first.”
“Mon—monster…….”
Squelch!
A sickening sound echoed across the field.
At the same moment, Gon Son Seung’s head flew skyward, scattering blood in all directions.
And simultaneously.
Swoosh!
The hidden assassins attacked.
Cheon Hui’s blade rose high.
In that instant, crimson plum blossoms scattered, mingling with Gon Son Seung’s blood as they bloomed.
A sight so strange it took one’s breath away.
Yet Cheon Hui, who had created that spectacle, lowered his blade with an expressionless face.
A simple sword stroke, drawing downward from above.
But those who witnessed it could only turn pale, their expressions hardening.
For they had recognized the sword form.
And it was from just moments ago.
The Chiljeol Maehwa Geom Fifth Form.
Nak Mea Cheon U Hwa.
Crimson plum blossoms gorged with blood poured down like rain, consuming the assassins.
Though their faces were grim, these assassins, heedless of death, surged forward through the blossoms regardless.
The technique of Flesh Severed, Bone Broken!
Believing it was already too late to stop the torrential downpour of blossoms, they gripped their swords and hidden weapons tighter.
And they tried to break through the blossoms.
Thud.
The blossoms blocked their approach.
Some assassins swung their hands and blades to strike down the blossoms.
Shred!
As the blossoms scattered and their petals brushed against the assassins, they carved bloody lines across their skin.
Yet these assassins, as though accustomed to such pain, continued their charge toward Cheon Hui.
And that was their fatal error.
Whoooosh—
The scattered petals descended ever more fiercely and swiftly, pouring down upon them.
Inescapably, the petals swirled thick and heavy.
Soon the flower petals descended upon them.
“Arghhhh!”
“Hack!”
“P-please… spare me…….”
Anguished screams and the wet sound of flesh being severed rang out without pause.
When the bloodstained plum blossoms began to glow with luminous color.
Screech!
A blade shot forth from beside Cheon Hui.
Jan Chil, single-minded in his resolve to cut down everything else and strike true, had rushed forward with the speed of a single sword.
His blade, pouring forth powerful internal force as though he had wagered his very existence on this one strike, drove deep into Cheon Hui’s flank—
“That again?”
Cheon Hui regarded it without expression, as though he had already seen it coming.
Cheon Hui drew his left foot back slightly, twisted his blade, and thrust it toward the incoming Jan Chil.
Thwack!
Cheon Hui’s sword pierced through his abdomen.
Yet Jan Chil did not stop his forward momentum.
As though resigned to mutual destruction, he seized the blade embedded in his belly with his left hand and drove his right sword forward.
“You die here!”
Jan Chil’s eyes gleamed with killing intent.
The desperate gaze of one determined to kill at any cost.
And just as his blade, sharp as a whistling arrow, was about to reach Cheon Hui’s throat—
“No. That won’t work.”
Cheon Hui smiled coldly.
And he thrust his left palm forward.
“……!”
The moment Jan Chil’s eyes widened at the palm driving toward his chest—
Boom!
The Falling Flower Chasing Shadow Palm shattered Jan Chil’s ribs and sent him flying backward.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Jan Chil bounced off the ground several times, flew back roughly twenty paces, and collapsed in a sprawl, life draining from him.
“G-gahhh!”
“Ugh… ahhh!”
The martial artists of the Seop Hon Moon and Geum Hui Bu froze in horror at the sight of Jan Chil collapsed before them.
His form was ghastly.
His abdomen was punctured, blood and organs spilling out, and his chest bore a distinct handprint, caved inward.
“C-coughing…”
As he, still clinging to the last threads of life, began to spit up blood foam—
Step— step—
Cheon Hui approached him, gazing down with cold eyes.
“You should never have come to Shenxi. Anywhere else, perhaps, but not here.”
“G-gurgling—”
Cheon Hui drove his sword down.
The blade pierced precisely through his throat and embedded itself in the ground.
“Inhale!”
At the sharp intake of breath from nearby, Cheon Hui turned his gaze toward the martial artists of the Seop Hon Moon and Geum Hui Bu.
“Ah, you were here too?”
At Cheon Hui’s words, they felt their very souls departing their bodies.
His overwhelming martial prowess was one thing.
But what dominated their minds was the absolute, unwavering killing blade.
“P-please, spare us!”
One of them fell to his knees, weeping abjectly, wringing his hands.
But—
“No. You must all die.”
Cheon Hui spoke with utter certainty.
“It’s the only way to be clean about it.”
Moments later, as Cheon Hui surveyed the countless corpses that now filled the surroundings, he wiped blood from his blade and murmured to himself.
“Now only they remain.”
* * *
“Ungh.”
Cho Ryeon’s eyes fluttered open.
The moment consciousness returned, she surveyed her surroundings with sharp, methodical precision.
“Where am I…….”
Then she spotted the expressionless man and furrowed her brow.
“What happened?”
“Master has been defeated…….”
“That’s enough. I don’t need to hear more.”
Cho Ryeon bit her lip and forced herself upright.
“You should rest more. Your condition—”
“Rest? In this state?”
She gnawed at her lip, seized by some urgent worry she couldn’t quite name.
“I need to report back to the sect immediately.”
Her eyes froze over with cold certainty.
“This mission has failed, but there’s still something we gained from it.”
“I will investigate this man in detail.”
“You can’t do it alone.”
Cho Ryeon spoke with absolute conviction.
The Daoist named Cheon Hui, whom she had faced directly in combat, was no ordinary figure.
“First, we head to the Secret Base. We hide, and then we send word to the sect. That’s the priority.”
“Understood.”
Without another word, the two unfolded their movement techniques to their limit and slipped into a secluded mountain gorge.
When they reached the area near the falling waterfall, they surveyed the surroundings and extended their hands.
The empty air rippled like water, undulating, and then both of them vanished.
Stepping through the Illusion Formation, they walked slowly toward the hut before them.
“You send word to the sect. As for me…….”
Cho Ryeon was speaking when she pushed the door open just a crack.
“……!”
“Master!”
Both of them froze in place.
“Munch, munch—ah, you’re here now?”
The Secret Base should have been empty.
Yet inside, a man in blood-red robes sat with his back to them, tearing into meat.
Cho Ryeon transmitted her thoughts in a flash of panic.
‘Did anyone from the sect tell you to come here?’
‘I have received no such message whatsoever.’
‘Then this man……..’
Both their expressions hardened simultaneously.
This was the Secret Base of the Tianma Divine Sect.
Only those holding the sect’s highest responsibilities knew how to enter.
Whoooosh—
Cho Ryeon pulled her inner force to its peak.
A biting chill gathered at her fingertips, beginning to consume the Secret Base.
“Hold on. I’ve got one bottle left.”
The man, speaking words that clashed grotesquely with the tension in the air, tilted his head back and brought a bottle to his lips, gulping it down with abandon.
At the same moment, a familiar scent tickled her nose.
‘……Wine?’
Cho Ryeon’s face twisted as she watched the wine-guzzling man’s back of his head—
Clack.
The man set the wine bottle down.
He casually wiped the wine from his lips with his sleeve, rose to his feet, and turned around.
“Ahhh. Now then, shall we talk?”
The moment Cho Ryeon saw his face, both she and her companion were seized by shock.
“Y-you are?”
“You don’t know my sect token?”
The man—Cheon Hui—smiled with a ragged edge to his voice.
“How did you even get here…….”
“Ah, you don’t need to know that.”
Cheon Hui rolled his neck casually.
“From now on, whatever I say—relay it to the Tianma Divine Sect exactly as I tell it.”
“What nonsense are you——”
“I don’t care whether you conquer Zhongyuan or dye All Under Heaven in blood.”
Cheon Hui’s eyes sank to an unfathomable depth.
His irises divided in stark black and white.
Cho Ryeon found herself trapped in pupils as fathomless as an abyss with no discernible end.
“But there is one thing.”
As Cheon Hui spoke, he drew upon the Absolute Supremacy Art.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the Inner Power of the Absolute Supremacy Art flooded the hut and bore down upon them completely.
“Ugh!”
“Gasp!”
Both their heads bowed of their own accord.
The Absolute Aura and the overwhelming presence.
The man beside Cho Ryeon was overwhelmed by that martial bearing and dropped to his knees on the ground.
Fortunately, Cho Ryeon did not kneel, but that was all she could manage.
‘I… can barely breathe.’
As if she’d reached her limit, sweat poured from her entire body, and her heart pounded violently.
As though it might explode at any moment.
‘What kind of power is this? Even compared to the Sect Leader’s Heavenly Demon Divine Art…’
Cho Ryeon stopped her thoughts mid-stream.
To continue thinking would be no different than disrespect toward the Sect Leader.
Then Cheon Hui’s lips parted.
“But do not touch Huashan.”
With those words, Cheon Hui turned toward the door and began to walk slowly.
Step… step…
One footfall after another.
The two at the door felt their hearts leap as his footsteps drew near.
Soon his feet passed through their downcast line of sight.
Yet they could not move.
Like an eternity, time crawled by until the sound of his footsteps faded so far away they could no longer hear them.
“Hah… hah…”
“Gasp… gasp…”
Color slowly returned to their pallid faces as the two expelled ragged breaths.
About a quarter of an hour later.
“Who is he? Who could possibly be…”
Cho Ryeon stared at the open doorway.
Or rather, she recalled Cheon Hui departing just moments before, and began to gnaw at her fingernails.
“…Huashan, Huashan. Could it be Huashan…?”
As she continued to turn the name over in her mind, her expression darkened abruptly, and she spun around.
Then she threw a final command to the man.
“Hurry and relay everything to the Sect. All that happened here today!”
Meanwhile, Cheon Hui stepped outside and dispelled the Absolute Supremacy Art, glancing back toward the hut.
In truth, he could have killed them whenever he wished.
But he had chosen not to.
“Sparing them once shouldn’t hurt. Besides, I got to see the Soosu Demon Art because of her.”
Murmuring casually, Cheon Hui turned his steps toward the Huashan Sect.
“Well then, I suppose it’s time to head back.”

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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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