Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 224

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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 224
Is this what the Pure Land looks like?
Over the Training Grounds—no, over all the world itself—a golden radiance enveloped everything.
“Amitabha Buddha.”
As Won Eum and the other monks clasped their hands together unconsciously and chanted the Buddha Call,
Snap!
an ominous sound pierced through the air.
At that same instant, a single long trajectory carved itself across the golden radiance.
A line so faint it was nearly invisible.
But because it had been drawn across the golden light that wrapped the entire world, everyone could see it.
Thin, yet unmistakably clear.
“Impossible……?”
Before the question—whose voice it was, no one could say—even finished, the trajectory sharpened and split the golden radiance in two.
Crack!
A small, quiet sound.
But the result that sound brought forth was astonishing.
Burst!
The golden light, split in two, shattered in an instant, and in its place, crimson spray erupted outward.
“……!”
“Did he use the Killing Precept?!”
Several who believed Won Ho had committed the deed pushed off the ground to charge forward.
But they stopped short as they saw the sight revealed before their eyes.
The red was not blood.
It was—
“Flowers……?”
Vivid crimson plum blossoms.
The petals began to scatter, blooming within the Temple Grounds of Sorim where only blue trees had stood.
The monks stared, mesmerized.
It was a strange phenomenon.
Yet extraordinarily beautiful and dreamlike.
“Could this be the Maehwa Sword Technique of the Huashan Sect? Is it possible that the Cooperation……?”
At the moment Won Eum, gazing upon the plum blossoms embroidering the sky, opened his mouth in astonishment,
Thud—
the sound of a knee striking ground echoed out.
At that sound, the monks whose eyes had been stolen by the plum blossoms blooming in midair urgently turned their gazes back to the Training Grounds.
And their jaws fell slack.
There, Won Ho and the other Eighteen Arhats knelt on one knee, breathing in heavy, ragged gasps.
And in the center of that Training Grounds stood Cheon Hui, his sword hanging loose at his side, perfectly upright.
As if nothing whatsoever had transpired.
“This cannot be!”
Won Eum doubted his own eyes.
He could not believe it.
The Eighteen Arhats Formation was Sorim’s pride and an undefeated Array Formation.
And yet this was the outcome!
Won Eum rubbed his eyes with his hands.
Surely it was an illusion.
But no matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them again, the sight before him did not change.
“The Eighteen Arhats Formation, broken so easily…….”
Trembling, Won Eum could not bring himself to finish the sentence.
Even though he had witnessed the result with his own two eyes, his pride in Sorim refused to speak aloud the word “defeat.”
But.
“So he’s shattered even the Eighteen Arhats Formation. That man is simply that man.”
Beside him, a tongue clicked, and the reality Won Eum could not voice came out in someone else’s breath.
Cheon Yi Gae deliberately spoke so that Won Eum would hear, and a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.
‘Never in my life did I think I would witness with my own eyes the day that haughty Sorim would be brought so low. Hehehehe.’
Quiet laughter bubbled up inside him.
Sorim was a place that had maintained an air of lofty superiority no matter what transpired.
To see them shaken like this was deeply satisfying.
At that moment, Dan Mok Lin asked,
“You are unharmed, yes?”
“Ha! The one who should be worried isn’t the right one, is it?”
At Dan Mok Lin’s anxious words, Cheon Yi Gae finally couldn’t hold back his laughter.
Anyone in this place would have understood.
Cheon Hui stood confidently, while the Eighteen Arhats knelt on one knee.
“The ones who should be worried are them.”
When Cheon Yi Gae pointed at the Eighteen Arhats,
“Sorcery!”
Won Ho cried out abruptly.
As if he found the current situation utterly unbelievable, he gnashed his teeth and shouted with eyes full of disbelief.
“This—this is absurd! There’s no way the Eighteen Arhats Formation could be—”
“Tsk. Sorcery, my foot.”
Cheon Hui cut him off mid-sentence.
“And if it were sorcery, wouldn’t he need to overwhelm them even more? Because this is Sorim’s Eighteen Arhats Formation.”
Won Ho trembled with indignation, his face flushed.
It was an argument he couldn’t refute.
As Cheon Hui said, the Eighteen Arhats Formation was a combined formation of the Daoist and Demonic paths, and its power was far greater when confronted against both Daoist and Demonic arts.
“From what I see, those three are problematic as well.”
Cheon Hui, who had singled out the three inept ones just as before, raised his sword with a sharp flourish.
“But the greatest problem is you.”
As he pointed the tip of his blade at Won Ho while speaking, the man who had been singled out bit his lower lip hard.
Blood trickled.
Blood ran down his lip.
“How dare you! Me, the problem?”
“A commander of a formation must understand and correct problems before anyone else. Yet you haven’t even grasped that problems exist—what does that make you?”
Cheon Hui criticized him harshly.
“Perhaps you could overlook it alone, but for one who leads subordinates, failing to recognize group problems is the gravest sin of all. Did you not know this?”
His face had turned red as a ripe apple, and the precept marks on his head were particularly conspicuous.
His Kasaya fluttered violently.
“You wretched—!”
At the same moment, the capillaries in Won Ho’s eyes burst as he glared at Cheon Hui.
The pupils of his eyes that held Cheon Hui’s image turned crimson. Then, just as Killing Intent began to rise from him,
“What are you attempting?”
The Lion Roar of Buddha Call struck him directly.
“Gag!”
Won Ho clutched his chest with his right hand and spat out a mouthful of dark blood.
Perhaps because of that.
An old monk appeared before Won Ho, whose face had become considerably more at ease than before.
The elderly priest, dressed in a heavily patched yellow robe and a crimson Kasaya, surveyed the surroundings.
……
Everyone held their breath.
This seemingly ordinary old monk was Won Gyeon, the Abbot of Sorim.
Won Gyeon looked at Won Ho and spoke in a hushed voice.
“What was that Killing Intent?”
Won Ho met Won Gyeon’s gaze with wavering eyes, then quickly bowed his head.
He understood his transgression.
“I was already aware that your temperament is hasty, yet I never imagined you would commit such an act within these temple grounds.”
Won Gyeon spoke in a cold tone.
“The Gyeyul Won shall investigate this matter separately and determine your punishment.”
“But that man provoked me first—”
At the mention of Gyeyul Won, Won Ho, startled into panic, began to protest, and Won Gyeon’s eyebrows shot up sharply.
“Have you still not come to your senses?”
Won Ho flinched at the rebuke.
Won Gyeon regarded Won Ho steadily and let his voice fall low.
“Through one year of wall-gazing meditation, you will come to understand what you have done wrong.”
……!
Won Ho’s eyes widened in shock at words he had not anticipated.
That was not all.
The Eighteen Arhats, who had been holding their breath around him, also gasped in alarm and hastily spoke out.
“Abbot!”
“This is too harsh a punishment.”
They desperately tried to stop him.
And for good reason—Won Ho was the Arhat Guardian.
Allowing such a figure in so crucial a position to spend a year in Wall-Gazing Meditation was troubling even for Sorim.
“Silence!”
Won Gyeon unleashed the Lion Roar again, forcing their mouths shut before he spoke.
“Do you not grasp what you’ve just done? You deployed the Eighteen Arhats Formation against someone who is neither Sapa nor a Demonic Path practitioner—and worse, you kindled Killing Intent. Yet you speak as though this is of no consequence?”
As Won Gyeon’s words continued, Won Ho and the other monks lowered their heads in shame.
Because his words rang true, entirely true.
“And the rest of you are no better.”
Won Gyeon’s gaze swept across the assembled monks.
“An event such as this unfolds before you, and not one of you so much as tries to stop it—you merely stand and watch?”
The monks of Sorim shrank back, necks withdrawn.
Won Eum was no exception.
“And yet you call yourselves Sorim……”
Just as Won Gyeon gathered himself to deliver another rebuke to the dispirited monks, a voice cut through.
“Is it truly such a grave transgression?”
All eyes snapped toward the source of that unexpected, questioning voice.
Cheon Hui stood in the center of the Training Grounds, sword slung across his shoulder, gazing at Won Gyeon.
“Senior Brother?”
“What scheme are you hatching now……”
Dan Mok Lin, who would never have expected Cheon Hui to insert himself into such a situation, started in surprise—but Cheon Yi Gae, finding the current turn of events amusing, grinned widely with unconcealed anticipation.
Meanwhile, Won Eum and the other monks of Sorim stared at Cheon Hui with bewildered eyes.
“Patron……?”
“Why do you suddenly……”
Cheon Hui stroked his chin and spoke.
“Is deploying the Eighteen Arhats Formation really such an offense? And besides, any martial artist can kindle Killing Intent.”
Won Gyeon, observing him, opened his mouth to respond.
“You appear unfamiliar with the ways of the Buddha, Patron. In Buddhism, there exist the Ten Precepts—commandments we must strictly observe. One of these is the Killing Precept, which forbids the taking of life. Thus we refrain from Killing Intent.”
“That seems strange to me.”
Cheon Hui tilted his head as he spoke.
The Huashan Sect, as a Daoist order, also taught that killing should be forbidden—yet as a martial sect, they generally turned a blind eye to killing that occurred within the Gangho.
But Sorim now sought to control not merely killing itself, but even the manifestation of Killing Intent.
“Yet hasn’t Sorim already killed countless Demonic Path masters?”
“Those are different. They are, without question, practitioners of the Demonic Path.”
Won Gyeon narrowed his eyes as he spoke.
“Had they been left alive, the common people would have suffered their depredations. By cutting them down beforehand, we prevented greater calamity.”
“So you’re saying that breaking the Killing Precept is acceptable if one’s enemy practices the Demonic Path?”
To Cheon Hui’s words of seeming understanding, Won Gyeon nodded gently in affirmation.
“Precisely.”
Cheon Hui let out a short laugh.
“That’s absurd.”
At his unmistakable mockery, the monks watching bristled with indignation.
“How dare you utter such—”
“You wretch!”
Yet unlike them, Won Gyeon regarded Cheon Hui with an unmoved expression and spoke.
“What is your meaning?”
“Whether the enemy practices the Demonic Path or not, the fact remains that you took a life.”
Cheon Hui’s tone was matter-of-fact.
“If you’re going to keep making excuses like that, why don’t you leave the Gangho entirely and cede the task of confronting the Demonic Path to other sects? Then you could live out your days as an ordinary temple, far from all this bloodshed.”
“Are you denying Sorim’s very history?”
Won Gyeon’s voice dropped lower.
“It is you who denies it.”
Cheon Hui opened his eyes halfway as he spoke.
“Sorim is the sect with the deepest roots in all the Gangho. You train martial arts in preparation for real combat, yet you say that if the enemy is not Demonic Path, one must not even breathe Killing Intent? How can you expect to perform martial arts properly in actual battle with such reasoning? It makes no sense.”
Cheon Hui finished his statement, then added one more remark as if struck by a thought.
“Don’t tell me Sorim has only now properly deployed the Eighteen Arhats Formation because there haven’t been any rampaging Demonic Path practitioners lately?”
Seeing Won Ho and the Eighteen Arhats fall silent, Cheon Hui clicked his tongue sharply.
“I thought it odd that you didn’t see the obvious flaws in the Eighteen Arhats Formation, but now it’s clear—the problem was there from the start. How would you ever discover defects if you’ve never truly deployed it or experienced it in earnest?”
Cheon Hui muttered half to himself, then sheathed the sword he’d been carrying across his shoulder, disappointment written plain across his face.
“I thought Sorim was the greatest sect in all the Gangho. But it turns out you’re nothing but frogs in a well.”
“You keep saying you’ll listen, but you never do!”
The Eighteen Arhats, unable to hold back any longer, burst into anger and lunged forward — but in that instant.
“Well spoken, benefactor.”
Won Gyeon smiled gently.
“And yet Sorim has upheld the Ten Precepts since ancient times, and it is by such observance that we have endured through history. How could we cast this aside? Not one of them.”
Won Gyeon spoke, his gaze resting on Won Ho.
“As for the matter of Wall-Gazing Meditation — let it be forgotten.”
“Truly, Abbot?”
Won Ho and the Eighteen Arhats stared at him in shock, and Won Gyeon’s lips twitched upward.
“Thank the young abbot for this.”
“Pardon?”
Cheon Hui’s expression shifted to confusion at the sudden words.
“Ha, there is no need for embarrassment.”
Won Gyeon’s smile deepened as he continued.
“You spoke as you did so that the abbot and the arhats would not face punishment for this matter, did you not?”
Cheon Hui was stunned.
What in the world was he talking about?
He had simply opened his mouth because it seemed absurd that such a great sect as Sorim would resort to mere Killing Intent for something like this.
But now he was hearing this.
For his part, Won Gyeon interpreted Cheon Hui’s reaction as bashfulness, and his chuckle drifted softly through the air as he smiled warmly.
“Ah, so Huashan harbored a Sleeping Dragon all this while.”
“Well, you’ve a keen eye.”
“How could I not see it? Such exquisite Plum Blossoms as the young abbot has bloomed can only flower from Huashan.”
“I suppose that’s true enough.”
Cheon Hui nodded.
As if anyone else could have bloomed such flowers.
Won Gyeon, observing Cheon Hui’s self-assured demeanor, smiled with creased eyes.
His neatly groomed white beard rose slowly, and a quiet voice emerged from beneath it once more.
“And what is your Sect Token, young abbot?”
“Cheon Hui.”
The moment he heard the answer, Won Gyeon burst into laughter.
“Ha ha ha, so it is — the young abbot is none other than the Maehwa Sin Hyeop who saved Shenxi.”
“The Maehwa Sin Hyeop?!”
“This young abbot?”
The monks of Sorim gasped in shock.
The Maehwa Sin Hyeop — was that not the alias that now shakes all of Gangho?
Then Won Gyeon spoke quietly.
“Would you follow me for a moment?”
“Why?”
Though Cheon Hui’s reply was indifferent, Won Gyeon’s expression only grew more pleased.
“I should like to have a word with you.”

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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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