Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 225

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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 225
The Jiuke Pavilion of Sorim.
Plink, plink—
Cheon Hui watched Won Gyeon pouring an unfamiliar tea into a cup.
‘Is this man really the Abbot of Sorim?’
In Zhongyuan, the Abbot of Sorim was regarded as an extraordinarily revered figure.
He was, after all, the current Head Master of Sorim and the keeper of its gates.
‘Yet he doesn’t seem as formidable as I’d expected.’
Of course, he was strong enough.
Even without drawing upon his inner power, the presence that emanated from him carried weight.
But.
‘Compared to the Sect Master, he falls short.’
Having met the Sect Master recently, Cheon Hui’s standards had risen considerably.
Just then, Won Gyeon extended a teacup toward him, its surface trembling with the heat of the brew.
“As a pastime, I dry the leaves myself, so I’m not sure if it suits your taste.”
“I’ve had plenty of that sort of thing before, so I’m used to it.”
Cheon Hui answered offhandedly and found his mind drifting to the Sect Master.
He too had preferred tea he dried himself to the sort purchased elsewhere.
Does becoming a Sect Master leave one drowning in spare time?
Lost in idle musings, Cheon Hui accepted the cup and took a sip.
“Well? What do you think?”
To Won Gyeon’s hopeful question, Cheon Hui replied with a bland expression.
“It’s just ordinary.”
It was an answer that shattered expectations, yet Won Gyeon only laughed louder at something or other, raising his own cup to his lips.
“Just as you say, Little Master Do—it is merely that. Yet it possesses a certain clarity of flavor, does it not?”
“Most would call that bland.”
“Hah, one could look at it that way indeed.”
Cheon Hui watched him smile, then set down his own cup.
“So what is it you wanted to discuss?”
“It’s nothing much, really.”
Won Gyeon set down his cup as well.
“I simply wished to offer my proper thanks.”
“Thanks? For what?”
“Hah, you needn’t keep pretending. There’s no one else here, is there?”
“Pardon?”
What’s he going on about now?
When Cheon Hui looked back with a bewildered expression, Won Gyeon’s eyes warmed with delight at that very gaze.
‘He’s maintaining it perfectly—genuine ignorance all the way.’
Won Gyeon’s eyes studying Cheon Hui grew deeper.
Won Ho had let his emotions overwhelm him and emanated killing intent, yet this youth had not only weathered it serenely but had also spoken on his behalf and shielded him.
He had done this despite the risk that such an act might strain relations between his own sect and Sorim.
It was a breadth of tolerance as vast as the sea itself.
Would he himself have done the same, had he found himself in such straits?
Won Gyeon shook his head slowly.
No matter how he thought about it, he lacked that quality.
‘My cultivation falls short.’
A bitter smile rose unbidden to his lips.
Had the exact same incident occurred in any of the Nine Factions and One Gang?
They might well have seized upon such conduct as grounds for censure.
In fact, they surely would have.
Yet this young Daoist before him had taken that risk anyway.
And as if that were not enough, he was now asking Won Gyeon to forget his own contribution.
‘Remarkable, at such a tender age.’
It was an extraordinary breadth of heart.
Though Cheon Hui had already made clear that he understood the deeper meaning of what had transpired, he persisted in feigning ignorance.
The reason for this was surely……
‘To preserve Won Ho’s pride.’
In that moment, the lines around his eyes deepened.
Even with Won Ho absent from his sight, he still held him in his thoughts.
How many within Sorim possessed such clarity of character and such restraint?
‘……I’m not sure.’
Meanwhile, Cheon Hui watched Won Gyeon’s expression shift moment by moment, then took a sip of tea.
The subtle fragrance of tea lingered in his mouth for a breath, and after a moment of appreciation, he swallowed it down.
“If there’s nothing more, I’ll take my leave.”
Just as Cheon Hui, muttering inwardly that he still had no idea why he’d been summoned, began to rise—
“Forgive me. My thoughts had wandered.”
Won Gyeon came back to himself then.
He seemed about to say something more, but shook his head and let it go.
‘I meant to repay him somehow, but he won’t accept it.’
Won Gyeon, imagining what Cheon Hui would say if he knew, pressed his palms together in salute.
“Amitabha Buddha. When you step outside the Jiuke Pavilion, someone will be waiting to show you to your quarters.”
“Is that so? You prepared ahead of time, then.”
Won Gyeon nodded and asked in a low voice.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Then you’ll likely not stay long?”
“We’ll see.”
“I understand.”
Having heard Won Gyeon’s final words, Cheon Hui left the Jiuke Pavilion without hesitation.
Won Gyeon watched the space where Cheon Hui’s figure had vanished as the door closed, then slowly shut his eyes.
What Cheon Hui had said pointed to a problem at the current Sorim.
‘A frog in a well, one might say.’
Was there a more accurate way to describe Sorim now?
Sorim was stagnant, and had remained stagnant.
In the past, during Alms Gathering practice, they had taken on missions to eliminate demons and evil beings, building practical experience through real combat.
But now that had become difficult.
‘It is the age of the Guzhou Three Powerhouses.’
As the era of peace continued, demons and evil beings hid themselves away, making it harder to gain practical combat experience.
Even the most recent mission—determining the truth of whether the Shadowless Divine Kick in Bidong was genuine—had already become an old matter from over a year ago.
A handful of the Arhats who had undertaken that mission seemed to feel a sense of crisis.
But most did not.
And one of those who didn’t was—
‘My disciple.’
Won Gyeon thought of Won Ho.
A prodigy among prodigies who had reached the position of Arhat Abbot before his fortieth year.
But—
‘He has been stalled for the past decade.’
Currently, Won Ho was trapped behind a wall.
His confidence that his present strength was sufficient had blocked his growth.
That was a grave matter indeed.
If he continued to settle into complacency, no matter how gifted he was, eventually someone would overtake him.
But Won Ho did not grasp the severity of this.
Convinced of his own strength, and elevated by the title of Arhat Abbot, he had simply grown content.
Then, opportunely, a chance had arrived.
The emergence of Cheon Hui, a young Daoist master.
A face that scarcely looked past his early twenties.
Yet his martial prowess and character were already deserving of the title True Person.
‘I wish my disciple would wake up as he was before.’
Naturally, his thoughts turned to the Won Ho of old.
The Won Ho without arrogance—who had poured everything into Martial Arts and the Buddhist way.
Won Gyeon opened his eyes again.
In the quiet Jiuke Pavilion settled into silence, only a faint tea fragrance tickled his nostrils.
Subtle, yet profound in its depth.
Much like Cheon Hui, who had just vanished.
‘This is the first time I have envied Huashan.’
* * *
After his brief exchange with Won Gyeon, Cheon Hui stepped outside the Jiuke Pavilion and spotted two familiar monks.
Those Arhats—
They were Gong Moon and Gong Jin, two of the three who had disrupted the flow of the Eighteen Arhat Formation.
The moment they caught sight of Cheon Hui, both broke into bright smiles and came hurrying over.
“Amitabha Buddha. It has been a long time since we met.”
“Amitabha Buddha.”
They both pressed their palms together and smiled gently at Cheon Hui.
“We were waiting to show you where you’ll be staying during your time at Sorim.”
Gong Moon spoke with barely contained excitement.
“But we were truly astonished. We never imagined that you were a Daoist of the Huashan Sect….”
Gong Moon’s cheerful words trailed off.
In truth, they had many questions.
It was then that Gong Jin ventured to ask carefully.
“Forgive me, but was Gu Yeon your name before you received your Sect Token?”
“That’s right.”
Cheon Hui answered matter-of-factly.
It was the name from my previous life, after all.
Seeing their eyes light up with curiosity, Cheon Hui let his annoyance show. “When are we going?”
“Ah! My apologies.”
The two monks snapped to attention and hurriedly led Cheon Hui to the Monk’s Chamber.
“…Is this really it?”
Cheon Hui furrowed his brow as he surveyed the room they’d arrived at.
Despite its classical exterior, the interior of the Monk’s Chamber was remarkably sparse and shabby.
It felt like returning to his quarters on Huashan.
“What troubles you?”
“Is it always this rundown?”
Gong Moon nodded as if it were obvious.
“It is.”
Where does all the money from alms go? Cheon Hui found the whole thing bewildering.
As he recalled the endless stream of pilgrims flowing through Sorim, he shook his head and sighed.
“Then we shall take our leave.”
“We shall see you again.”
Gong Moon and Gong Jin bowed respectfully with palms pressed together, then withdrew with measured steps.
Cheon Hui couldn’t bring himself to call them back and ask for a different room, so instead he unstrapped his sword and leaned it against the wall beside him.
In that moment.
Creak—
The Monk’s Chamber door swung open with a sound that grated on the ears the instant he heard it.
Won Gyeon entered.
“Hmm, is something the matter?”
“Forgive me.”
Won Gyeon began with an apology the moment he arrived.
“I extended the invitation but then left you unattended.”
It was his own failing.
Properly, as the one who had invited Cheon Hui, he should have stepped in midway to prevent such circumstances from arising.
But he had not.
To be precise, he could not restrain his curiosity.
He wanted to see how Cheon Hui would face the Eighteen Arhat Formation.
His inability to suppress that curiosity had allowed the situation to spiral.
Cheon Hui scratched his chin as he observed Won Gyeon, whose face was written with genuine remorse.
He was offering an apology, yet Cheon Hui himself had found the experience worthwhile.
He had tested himself against the Eighteen Arhat Formation.
Though the outcome had been disappointing.
It was then that a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
‘Ah!’
Cheon Hui’s eyes snapped open at the notion that cut across his consciousness.
“If you’re truly that sorry, then later I’d like to study the Baek Bo Shin Gwon.”
Cheon Hui smiled as he recalled the striking footwork he’d witnessed in Bidong during the Shadowless Divine Kick.
“What do you say?”
Won Gyeon’s eyes widened.
“Is that truly enough?”
“If you show me other martial arts of Sorim as well, I’d be delighted. After all, Sorim’s martial arts are said to be unparalleled under heaven.”
Cheon Hui spoke smoothly, his tongue nimble.

It was meant to elevate Sorim’s pride and heighten Won Gyeon’s spirits.
‘Since I’ve come this far, I might as well make the most of it.’
Cheon Hui continued speaking.
“To come all the way to Sorim and miss that would be a terrible shame, wouldn’t it?”
“Ha ha ha!”
Just as anticipated, Won Gyeon burst into delighted laughter.
“I see.”
He spoke with evident pleasure.
And why wouldn’t he—the youth before him was none other than the rising master known as the Plum Blossom Divine.
And such skill, such character.
For such a young Daoist to be so eager to witness Sorim’s martial arts—
How could his mood not soar?
“We’ll do that tomorrow. Rest for today.”
“Pardon? Not now?”
“Haven’t you had a full day already? How can I demonstrate the arts when you’re fatigued?”
“Ah, you’re right.”
“Then I’ll visit again tomorrow—”
Won Gyeon caught himself mid-sentence, his expression shifting.
“No, rather, I’ll come by at evening meal.”
Cheon Hui glanced back slightly.
Through the open window, the dusky glow of twilight was slowly suffusing the Monk’s Chamber.
‘If it’s just mealtime…’
Cheon Hui’s eyes narrowed.
‘Well, it has to be better than Huashan, at least.’
Remembering the tasteless vegetables he’d eaten ceaselessly at Huashan, Cheon Hui licked his lips, hoping Sorim’s fare would be even slightly more palatable.
But when evening meal arrived, Cheon Hui was forced to revise that hope.
‘It’s the same greens.’
Huashan and Sorim were no different.
‘I’ll watch the martial arts and leave quickly.’
Cheon Hui chewed and swallowed the remaining vegetables still in his Alms Bowl, steeling himself.
His palate had grown accustomed to refined dishes throughout his journey.
Now, forced to eat these flavorless greens, his mouth felt thick and unpleasant.
That was when it happened.
“Where are you going?”
Turning toward the voice, Cheon Hui saw Won Gyeon roughly seizing Cheon Yi Gae’s collar as he abruptly stood, leaving his food unfinished.
“…I just need to relieve myself for a moment.”
“Finish your meal first.”
Cheon Yi Gae’s face twisted in displeasure.
“But surely those two over there—”
Cheon Yi Gae gestured toward Cheon Hui and Dan Mok Lin, then fell silent.
“Those two have eaten quite well.”
Won Gyeon smiled gently in reply.
Indeed, both had already emptied their Alms Bowls and risen from their seats.
‘Damn it! They’re Daoists!’
Remembering the fact he’d forgotten, Cheon Yi Gae found himself fixed with Won Gyeon’s gaze—cold and merciless as a demon—and finally collapsed back into his seat.
A moment later, Cheon Yi Gae emerged, having barely managed to finish his evening meal, and Cheon Hui stood waiting before him.
“What is it?”
His voice came out sharp and curt.
His stomach still felt unsettled.
‘Those damn vegetables…’
He felt like he might be sick.
Cheon Hui opened his mouth to him.
“Tasteless, isn’t it?”
“Obviously.”
“Would you like to eat something else?”
“What?”
Cheon Hui smiled with dark amusement.
“You’re skilled enough to evade Sorim’s notice and deploy the Divine Technique, aren’t you?”
“Oho.”
Grasping Cheon Hui’s intent, Cheon Yi Gae’s lips began to curl upward as well.
“Did you go out and eat?”
“No.”
Cheon Hui answered curtly.
It was too much trouble to go all the way there.
“Buy some for me.”
“What? Have you lost your mind?”
Cheon Yi Gae was dumbfounded.
Bringing outside food into Sorim?
Who in their right mind would say such a thing?
‘Though it would be entertaining, I must admit.’
The absurdity of it lasted only a moment before Cheon Yi Gae’s lips twisted into a smile.
“What will you do if we get caught?”
“As long as we don’t get discovered.”
* * *
Won Ho walked toward the Monk’s Chamber with an unsettled heart.
‘Was he protecting me?’
After speaking with the Sect Master, his mind churned with confusion.
He had thought Cheon Hui a man without courtesy.
Yet in truth, he was a man of grand vision.
His tone and bearing were sharp, but the intention beneath ran impossibly deep.
‘Had I been so consumed by arrogance?’
He reflected on his own past.
As memories of his lazy martial training and pride since becoming an Arhat flooded back, his brow furrowed without his knowing it.
‘Perhaps that young master was right.’
After walking for some time down a corridor lined with chambers, he suddenly stopped.
Seeing light seeping from beneath a door, he knocked.
Knock, knock.
“Young Master. Are you within?”
An answer came from inside immediately.
“What is it?”
“I’ve come to apologize.”
“At this late hour?”
“I wished to apologize for what I’ve come to understand.”
“Ah, very well.”
The door opened, and Won Ho could see inside the room.
“Ahem, ahem.”
“We meet again.”
His companions were there.
Cheon Yi Gae sat in a chair sipping tea, and across from him was…
Won Ho’s eyes widened.
A beautiful woman stood bathed in moonlight.
‘That woman with the veil?’
At the sight of Won Ho gazing at Dan Mok Lin with clouded eyes, Cheon Hui’s expression turned contemptuous.
‘A monk, and yet so easily shaken?’
He exhaled softly and spoke.
“What are you doing?”
“Ahem, ahem.”
Only then did Won Ho snap to himself, covering his mouth with his fist and coughing repeatedly.
Then he bowed with palms pressed together toward Cheon Hui.
“I apologize for my earlier conduct. I was far too quick to take offense at your words, Young Master.”
“Yes, yes. I understand.”
Cheon Hui replied as if the matter bored him.
By the way he refused to dwell further on it, Won Ho felt inwardly humbled.
‘A magnanimity entirely beyond my own.’
Now he understood why the Sect Master had spoken of Cheon Hui with such praise.
“Hmm? Sniff, sniff.”
Won Ho’s nose twitched.
“This scent… is that liquor?”
Frowning, he followed the sharp aroma toward Cheon Yi Gae.
And his brow deepened.
Because a rich aroma was rising from what he’d assumed was tea.
He turned his head sharply, this time looking at Dan Mok Lin.
“What’s the matter?”
Dan Mok Lin asked, a hint of alarm crossing her face.
Spotting the traces of oil around her lips, he moved his eyes quickly, then caught sight of a bowl in the corner—and his eyes went wide.
“Five-Spice Braised Pork……?”
“Tsk, you caught us.”
Cheon Hui clicked his tongue and met Won Ho’s gaze as the latter spun around abruptly.
“What is the meaning of this! Meat and wine—in the sacred grounds of Sorim!”
Won Ho’s voice was rising in protest when—
Pop!
Something went into his mouth.
‘This is…….’
It melted on his tongue in silky waves.
His face softened of its own accord.
‘In all the world, I never knew a taste like this existed.’
Won Ho chewed what had found its way into his mouth before reason returned.
“Gasp! What have I just…….”
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
Cheon Hui’s face, radiant with amusement, filled Won Ho’s entire vision.
“Now you’re my accomplice.”

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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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