Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 222

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 222
“There are quite a lot of them.”
Following Won Eum down to the base of Songshan, Cheon Hui surveyed the scene before him.
‘I thought Huashan had been drawing more visitors lately, but this isn’t even comparable.’
The mountain path leading to Soshil Peak was crowded with pilgrims ascending and descending, and sensing the opportunity, merchants had spread their wares along both sides, hawking their goods with vigor.
People gather people, as they say.
Sorim, the most renowned temple under heaven, drew pilgrims, and the pilgrims drew merchants of every stripe.
Their numbers were beyond counting.
‘So this is Sorim.’
Cheon Hui stroked his chin thoughtfully.
This was Sorim, a place he’d heard of only in tales.
The spiritual pillar and towering giant that had sustained the Kangho of Zhongyuan for so long—such were the stories told of it.
And seeing it with his own eyes now, he understood that those words were no exaggeration.
‘It may take longer than I thought for the Huashan Sect to surpass this.’
Cheon Hui’s gaze deepened.
The goal he had set for the Huashan Sect was to become the Greatest Faction Under Heaven.
Which meant they would inevitably have to surpass Sorim. But witnessing the scale of Sorim now, he felt acutely that such a thing was currently impossible.
‘Hmm, but if this many pilgrims visit every day, how much are they earning?’
Cheon Hui scanned through them quickly.
Even if each pilgrim visible here now offered only a single copper coin as patronage, the sum would be quite substantial.
And if that continued every day……
‘Perhaps the wealthiest sect in Zhongyuan isn’t one of the Eight Great Clans that operates trading houses, but Sorim itself?’
It was certainly a plausible thought.
Had not the Huashan Sect also earned considerable money recently from the pilgrims who visited daily after the public Martial Match?
‘And looking at those expressions, it seems they won’t come just once or twice.’
Every pilgrim’s face was radiant.
The satisfaction shining through their expressions was so palpable it seemed to ripple outward to those who beheld them.
As Cheon Hui was observing the pilgrims thus,
“So this is Songshan……”
an excited voice came from beside him.
He turned to see Dan Mok Lin turning her head about, busy taking in the view of Songshan.
The gauze veil rippled like waves with such grand motion it seemed to reveal just how thrilled she was.
Behind that veil, her eyes were surely sparkling.
Cheon Yi Gae, by contrast, trembled with anxiety, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth.
He looked as though he feared his presence might be discovered by someone.
Then it happened.
“Yeoraesin Gwon, the Great Master?!”
“Master Won Eum!”
Pilgrims and merchants who had been traversing the mountain path belatedly spotted Won Eum and swarmed toward him like ants.
“Thanks to your aid, Master, we made it through last winter without incident.”
“Your Buddhist Path seems to have deepened since we last met.”
Just as Cheon Hui’s party was being swept up in the tremendous crowd offering their gratitude and about to be separated from Won Eum,
“Amitabha Buddha.”
Won Eum chanted the Buddha’s Name in a low voice.
Thereupon, a soft golden light emanated from his body, spreading gently across the surroundings.
Witnessing that wondrous sight, all joined their palms and reverently chanted the Buddha’s Name.
“Amitabha Buddha.”
“Amitabha Buddha.”
With a single chant, Won Eum stilled the commotion, his face settling into a compassionate smile.
As all gazed upon him in silent reverence, as though bewitched by that Buddha-like smile, he spoke.
“I am grateful for your kind welcome. I wish to greet each and every one of you patrons, but I’m afraid circumstances compel me to ascend first.”
At the apologetic tone in his words, those surrounding Won Eum shook their heads.
“No, Master. We have only detained you needlessly.”
“If you have matters to attend to, you must go at once.”
Immediately they stepped back, creating distance between themselves and Won Eum.
The crowded mountain path was quickly ordered, and a narrow passage formed anew.
“Amitabha Buddha. Thank you for your understanding.”
Won Eum smiled warmly and walked through the opening.
As Cheon Hui’s party followed in his wake, those watching murmured among themselves.
“Who are those people?”
“Is this the arrangement the Master spoke of—taking these people along?”
“But it’s rather peculiar, isn’t it? That young man is carrying two swords, and the woman beside him has covered her face entirely with a veil. Only that elderly scholar looks presentable, but his expression suggests….”
Cheon Yi Gae’s brow furrowed.
Though they spoke in hushed voices, his cultivated realm allowed him to catch every syllable with perfect clarity.
“Tsk. We’ve become a spectacle.”
At his grumbling, Won Eum, who had been leading the way, wore an apologetic expression and turned to address them.
“My apologies.”
At Won Eum’s apology, Cheon Yi Gae had nothing more to say and closed his mouth.
Cheon Hui and Dan Mok Lin, who had also heard their murmuring, remained silent.
“Tsk.”
Yet the dissatisfaction had not faded, and he was just about to open his mouth and pout his lips, meaning to voice his displeasure to Cheon Hui and Dan Mok Lin, when—
“Let’s move on. How much longer do you intend to waste time here?”
Cheon Hui spoke dryly, paying no mind to Cheon Yi Gae whatsoever.
Whether the bystanders gossiped or not, Cheon Hui gave it no thought.
He simply wished to reach Sorim Temple as quickly as possible.
Won Eum nodded.
“Follow along.”
With his gentle voice drifting behind him, he quickened his pace up the mountain path, and soon the party arrived at the Mountain Gate of Sorim.
‘Well, well, look at that.’
Cheon Hui gazed intently at the massive plaque hanging on the antique gate, with “Sorim Temple” written in gold characters.
A subtle aura emanated from the plaque.
Even from looking at it alone, one could sense the lingering power of Pasa and Pama.
It was an aura potent enough to cause considerable distress to heretics or practitioners of the darker arts who had not reached the Realm.
‘Who wrote this? At this level, it must have been someone who has ascended to the Realm.’
As he lingered, studying the unexpected aura—
“What are you staring at so intently?”
“This plaque.”
At the question from beside him, Cheon Hui pointed at the plaque with his index finger.
“How dare you!”
“To point at it like that!”
Several worshippers cried out indignantly at the disrespectful gesture, but Cheon Hui ignored them and turned to Won Eum.
“Who wrote this?”
Won Eum, startled by the bold pointing, soon answered in a measured tone.
“Dharma Master did, my friend.”
Cheon Hui’s eyes grew bright with interest, curving like a crescent moon.
‘Ah, so this plaque was written by Dharma Master? That certainly explains the power it carries.’
Cheon Hui accepted this readily.
Dharma Master was numbered among the five greatest masters across all ages.
‘Strange, though. A thousand years have passed, yet it remains so vivid?’
Then Won Eum opened his mouth.
“Truly remarkable, is it not? Though a thousand years have elapsed, the characters and their power remain so clear and distinct.”
As if reading Cheon Hui’s very thoughts, Won Eum smiled faintly and continued.
“Now, let us proceed inside.”
Won Eum turned and gestured.
Seeing that Dan Mok Lin and Cheon Yi Gae were already standing at the entrance of the gate, Cheon Hui cast one final look at the plaque before moving forward.
Step— step—
Perhaps because they were accompanied by Won Eum.
The party crossed the Mountain Gate without any obstruction.
Once they had fully passed through the gate, the stifling tension in the air suddenly lifted.
“There are no people here.”
“Beyond this point, not just anyone may enter.”
“So it seems.”
Cheon Hui replied, taking in his surroundings.
The interior of Sorim, sealed off from the throng of worshippers outside, was serene and pleasing to behold.
“Come along.”
Won Eum walked ahead.
Unlike the crowded bustle outside, Sorim’s interior was not chaotic.
Only scattered monks and young acolytes were visible.
It appeared that Cheon Hui’s party were the only visitors from the outside world.
‘This is quite different from what I imagined.’
Cheon Hui gazed about him as he walked, taking in his surroundings.
The interior of Sorim was serene and austere.
Though pavilions of classical design stood arrayed on all sides, neat and orderly, there was nothing more to it than that.
‘I thought the place must be lavish inside, given how much money they must have made. Compared to other temples, it’s rather modest, honestly.’
The Jongnam Sect he’d seen before seemed far grander by comparison.
Cheon Yi Gae, following behind, was observing the surroundings in much the same way when he murmured softly.
“Nothing’s changed from before.”
It was a quiet remark, yet Won Eum responded at once.
“Has the great master visited our temple before?”
“Well, I happened to drop by for a brief moment, now and then.”
Cheon Yi Gae, who had spoken without much thought, suddenly looked flustered and glanced away.
Just as Won Eum was beginning to find this curious—
“Rough as it appears, there’s real refinement in it. This stone Buddha statue must have taken considerable effort,” Dan Mok Lin said, admiration spilling from her lips as she stepped carefully toward it.
She was seeing the inside of Sorim for the first time, and her excitement was still evident.
“Just looking at it feels like all my anxieties are washing away.”
“Heh heh, I’m grateful you see it that way. This statue was carved by hand by one of our masters. The compassion of the Buddha in…”
Won Eum, pleased by her appreciation, began to elaborate on the stone Buddha, and as if that weren’t enough, he went on to explain the surrounding pavilions as well.
“…and one of the three great temples is the Daeung Boejeon, and that pavilion there is the Nahan Hall, which…”
Dan Mok Lin, who had been listening carefully to Won Eum’s explanation, suddenly stiffened.
“The Nahan Hall—isn’t that where the Eighteen Arhats dwell?”
“Heh heh, you’re well informed, patron.”
The Eighteen Arhats?
Only then did Cheon Hui perk up, his ears sharpening.
His interest kindled.
The Eighteen Arhats—weren’t those the elite of Sorim?
“So the Eighteen Arhats are there right now?”
When Cheon Hui, who had been viewing Sorim with indifference moments before, suddenly showed interest, Won Eum’s eyes crinkled warmly.
“Unfortunately, they’re in retreat for cultivation at present.”
“Ah, I see.”
Cheon Hui looked disappointed, and Won Eum posed a question.
“Are you interested in the Eighteen Arhats?”
“Of course I am. The Eighteen Arhats are chosen from among a hundred and eight monks of exceptional ability. I’d be a fool not to be curious about their skill.”
“Indeed.”
A smile played at Won Eum’s lips.
“Then follow this old monk.”
With those words, he turned his direction.
‘As luck would have it.’
The corners of Won Eum’s eyes deepened with a quiet smile.
Gongmun and Gongjin, who had once received Cheon Hui’s aid in Bidong, had recently been selected as new members of the Eighteen Arhats.
He had been planning to summon them separately to reintroduce them; but with Cheon Hui showing interest, it seemed he could escort him there directly instead.
“The Eighteen Arhats…”
Cheon Hui’s eyes gleamed.
As he followed Won Eum, who was walking ahead, eastward through the grounds, at a certain moment—
He came to an abrupt stop.
Won Eum halted before a gate.
“This is the Sorim Thirty-Six Rooms, where the warrior monks train.”
With that brief introduction, Won Eum pushed open a wooden door that was tightly shut between red pillars.
Creak—
As the door swung open with the sound of aged wood—
A shout tore through the air—
Hah-ah-ahhh!
A spirited cry, sharp enough to make one’s ears ring, swept violently over Cheon Hui and his company.
And not only Dan Mok Lin, but Cheon Yi Gae too stood transfixed, staring dumbly into the space before them.
Within the training grounds, countless warrior monks were driving their fists forward and swinging long staves with enormous sweeps.
All in perfect unison.
Just as Dan Mok Lin and Cheon Yi Gae stood speechless at the magnificent sight—
“Hmm.”
Cheon Hui asked with cool indifference.
“So where exactly are the Eighteen Arhats?”
In his past life, he had witnessed spectacles far grander than this, so his sense of awe was limited.
The shout rang out clear and resonant.
That was all it was.
Won Eum was momentarily taken aback by Cheon Hui’s attitude, yet his eyes gleamed with interest.
‘Hmm, just as I suspected before—this patron is no ordinary figure.’
Won Eum took a step forward and spoke.
“Just a little further west, and we’ll be there.”
Cheon Hui tore his gaze from the Training Grounds and followed in his wake.
“Hurry!”
“Ah!”
Dan Mok Lin and Cheon Yi Gae, who had regained their senses moments later, rushed to catch up with them both.
As the group continued through the Training Grounds, no one spared them a glance.
The martial monks who stood atop the Training Grounds were wholly absorbed in the martial arts they had mastered.
And the martial arts they displayed were techniques well known throughout Kangho.
Yukap Gwon, Ho Gwon, Musang Gak, Eung Jo Su, and more—
The martial arts that had originated in Sorim and spread throughout Kangho unfolded from their hands.
Though they were considered lower-tier techniques now, readily available to anyone, in their hands the power and momentum transcended that of third-rate martial artists entirely.
“This is Sorim’s….”
Dan Mok Lin swallowed hard.
Sorim exceeded even its reputation.
In martial arts, in prestige, in might.
As she gazed upon the overwhelming presence of Sorim, wonder overtaking her, Cheon Yi Gae shook his head and murmured.
“Sorim is truly Sorim.”
He too sucked in a breath.
There might be no unparalleled master, but Sorim was unmistakably the head of the Nine Major Sects and Four Unorthodox Schools. And the power he witnessed with his own eyes was extraordinary.
How long had they walked?
Soon the group arrived at a Training Grounds situated at the western edge.
There, martial monks stood with Long Staffs held in both hands, their eyes shut.
“Wait just a moment.”
Won Eum stopped his steps and held up a hand.
The moment he did, the martial monks opened their eyes in perfect unison and moved with flawless coordination.
Patter-patter-thud!
The eighteen monks, who performed the Nahan Bo—a technique all Nahan Seung must learn—swept across the Training Grounds in a single breath, claiming all cardinal directions before unleashing their force.
A subtle golden aura flowed like ripples, swiftly dyeing the entire space.
And slowly, ever so slowly.
The space began to warp and distort.
Boom!
In unison, they brought their Long Staffs crashing down.
Roooar!
A colossal wave of force erupted.
“……!”
Dan Mok Lin’s eyes went wide.
It was an unbelievable sight.
In an instant, the eighteen monks vanished, and in their place appeared the phantom of a Buddha, holding the entire Training Grounds in the palm of its hand.
Even to witness it made her breathing quicken.
And she was not alone in her shock.
“The Eighteen Arhat Formation…!”
Cheon Yi Gae, too, widened his eyes and let out a voice trembling with awe.
The Eighteen Arhat Formation was a compressed Array Formation of the Hundred Eight Arhat Grand Formation—Sorim’s unbroken pride throughout its long history and its invincible technique.
‘I saw it decades ago, but this power truly takes one’s breath away.’
Beads of sweat formed on his brow and dripped onto his robes.
The overwhelming golden aura and force.
Even though it was not directed at him, his spine grew cold.
‘The Eighteen Arhat Formation has been perfected.’
Won Eum, watching the awestruck pair, beamed with pride across his face. Yet as his gaze turned to Cheon Hui, he could not help but betray his bewilderment.
“You’re saying that’s the Eighteen Arhat Formation they just displayed?”
Cheon Hui made no effort to hide his disappointment.
“It’s completely sloppy.”
It was as he clicked his tongue in frustration.
Boom!
A heavy sound echoed from the martial arena.
One of the Buddhist monks holding the Eighteen Arhat Formation had driven his long staff into the ground, fixing Cheon Hui with a piercing gaze from above.
He was Won Ho, the Nahan Hall Master and the figure who embodied Sorim’s current martial prowess.
“You called it a complete mess?”
Won Ho’s eyebrows twitched sharply.
A deep furrow etched between his brows now betrayed how thoroughly his composure had been shaken.
“That’s correct.”
“How dare you——”
His voice split like a whip.
Most men would have shrunk back at such a tone, their spines folding in on themselves.
“You still don’t see it?”
Cheon Hui met his eyes with an amused smile, his index finger rising briefly before he spoke.
“There, there, and there.”
He singled out three of the eighteen monks with surgical precision.
“Those three broke the flow that should have continued unbroken.”
———
Won Ho’s pupils trembled.
The three monks Cheon Hui had identified were recent additions to the Eighteen Arhat ranks.
‘A coincidence……?’
But his words were far from finished.
“Because those three lacked skill and broke the formation’s rhythm, you pushed forward with the Array Formation without noticing. You should have manipulated the Gate of Life, Gate of Rest, and Gate of Death to bind and overwhelm your opponent——but you didn’t.”
Cheon Hui shook his head slowly.
He glanced at Won Ho and clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Seems you don’t even realize what’s wrong.”
The words struck their mark, and Won Ho’s nostrils flared.
“……Your tongue flows like a spring in clear mountains.”
“See? You still don’t understand.”
Cheon Hui exhaled slowly.
“How do you expect to properly deploy the Eighteen Arhat Formation at all?”
“You insolent——!”
Won Ho let out a sound like boiling water.
Won Eum quickly stepped in to restrain him.
“Master, compose yourself. And patron, such harsh words are——”
“Shall I show you, if you still don’t grasp it?”
Cheon Hui twisted one corner of his mouth into a thin smile.
“Deploy it for me. That Array Formation you called the Eighteen Arhat Formation. I’ll show you just how badly you’ve bungled it.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————