Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 226

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

Episode 226
“The taste seems even better today.”
Cheon Hui tilted his cup to his lips.
Perhaps it was because they were eating meat and drinking in Sorim, where such indulgences were forbidden.
The flavor seemed richer than usual.
“I didn’t expect you to come, though. Didn’t you dislike doing things like this?”
Cheon Hui regarded Dan Mok Lin with apparent surprise.
She was reaching for the Five-Spice Braised Pork with chopsticks faster than anyone else, and at his gaze her cheeks flushed slightly as she answered.
“The evening meal wasn’t enough.”
“Hmm, the portions were rather small, weren’t they.”
Cheon Hui nodded in agreement.
The bland vegetable fare was meager enough, but the quantities were so pittance-like it was laughable.
It never satisfied the stomach at all.
“I’ve heard Sorim prides itself on austerity, but to eat so little? How does anyone manage proper training on such rations?”
Cheon Hui spoke between bites of meat, unable to comprehend it.
“How about it? Don’t you feel hunger when you train?”
Cheon Hui turned his gaze toward the bedchamber, posing the question, but no answer came.
“What in heaven have I done…….”
Won Ho sat on the bed with his head cradled in both hands, seemingly oblivious to Cheon Hui’s question.
Perhaps it was because he had broken the Ten Precepts.
Won Ho, emanating gloom from every pore, continued muttering to himself after accidentally consuming a morsel of the Five-Spice Braised Pork.
“Tch, he’s still lost in his own mind.”
The sight of a middle-aged, powerfully built monk in such a state was far from pleasant.
Dan Mok Lin sensed this and opened her mouth.
“Elder brother. Even so, he is a monk of Sorim—forcing him to eat meat…….”
“And would you rather we let word of us eating meat here spread about?”
Dan Mok Lin promptly closed her mouth.
What they had done was sacrilege of the highest order.
They were consuming Five-Spice Braised Pork and drinking Grain Liquor within the grounds of Sorim itself.
“Besides, it’s reaping what he sowed.”
“I’m sorry?”
Bewildered by his remark, Dan Mok Lin asked again, and Cheon Hui chuckled before responding.
“When the meat was put in his mouth, he had every chance to spit it out. Yet he chewed and swallowed it quite deliberately.”
Won Ho’s body jerked at those words.
It was true.
He could have spat it out immediately, but the extraordinary flavor melting slowly on his tongue had undone him…….
‘Ah, what a grievous sin I have committed.’
As he squeezed his eyes shut, Cheon Yi Gae, who had been quietly drinking, finally spoke.
“Come now, surely it isn’t that serious. A person makes mistakes in life—there’s no help for it.”
Cheon Yi Gae rose to his feet, his eyes full of pity for Won Ho, who had been drowning in remorse.
His nose already flushed from drink, he picked up a cup and plopped down beside Won Ho.
“Take this mistake as a lesson, and next time just make sure you don’t repeat the same error—wouldn’t that be the way of it?”
Won Ho lifted his head slowly and looked at him, moved by the sincere counsel in Cheon Yi Gae’s words.
Then Cheon Yi Gae held out his cup.
“So don’t despair so. Come, have some of this tea and calm yourself.”
“……Amitabha Buddha. Thank you.”
The worry in Cheon Yi Gae’s tone and expression allowed Won Ho to settle his heart somewhat, as he had suggested.
But the moment he drank the cup in gratitude for the genuine comfort offered——
“Phfft!”
Won Ho spewed the liquid from his mouth.
Already half-swallowed, the aftertaste lingering on his tongue startled him, and he stared at Cheon Yi Gae.
“This—this isn’t plain tea, is it?!”
Cheon Yi Gae dissolved into giggling laughter.
“Hehehehe, isn’t grain wine still a drink?”
“No, what do you—wait……”
Just as Won Ho was about to burst out in anger, he felt a sudden dizziness wash over him.
His head began to throb.
And yet, strangely, he felt wonderful.
It was a sensation unlike anything he’d ever known.
His mood suddenly lifted, and unbidden laughter bubbled forth from his lips.
“Ha, haha.”
Watching Won Ho giggle uncontrollably, Cheon Yi Gae seized his belly and burst into laughter.
“He’s drunk. Completely drunk.”
“Look at him—you’d think he could drain a whole bucket of liquor without flinching based on his build, yet here he is, a total lightweight.”
Cheon Hui’s gaze drifted toward Dan Mok Lin as he watched Won Ho grow tipsy after barely finishing a single cup, his expression one of disbelief.
“I’d say he’s about as bad as you.”
Dan Mok Lin laughed awkwardly.
In that instant, she remembered—that day when a single cup of liquor had made her drunk and stolen her memories away.
“What?! You’re saying the collapse of the Eighteen Arhat Formation was MY fault?!”
Won Ho shot to his feet, his voice rising.
“That’s absurd! I worked that hard to master the Eighteen Arhat Formation!”
As he spoke, he drew up his internal force, and a faint golden light enveloped his body.
Cheon Hui shook his head at the sight.
“Quite the temper when roused, isn’t he? Who would ever mistake him for a Sorim monk?”
It was then, as Won Ho thrashed about with half-lidded eyes, channeling his inner power, that the moment came.
Won Ho unleashed the Lion Roar.
“If we clash again, I will not be able to contain the Eighteen Arhat Formation—!”
Thud!
A dull sound burst forth.
“Ughhhh!”
Won Ho’s upper body snapped backward with a groan, and he sprawled across the bedchamber in a spread-eagle position.
Moments later, a teacup clattered to the floor beside him.
At the sight, both Cheon Yi Gae and Dan Mok Lin turned their gazes toward Cheon Hui.
Cheon Hui, his empty wine cup hand now gently lowered, smiled and spoke.
“There. Much quieter now.”
* * *
“Nngh… nnngh…”
Won Ho labored to sit up.
“Ack!”
Pain shot through him, and he groaned.
For some reason, his head felt as though it might split open.
Especially his forehead.
He raised a hand and touched his brow.
His fingers brushed against a sizable lump.
“Why is there a bump…?”
It was just as he voiced his confusion.
“You’re awake?”
“Huh?!”
Cheon Hui’s face suddenly appeared before him, and Won Ho started in surprise.
“Master… why are you here…?”
“Why? This is my monk’s chamber.”
“Your monk’s chamber?!”
Now alert, Won Ho looked around.
This wasn’t the Nahan Pavilion’s chamber where he normally stayed.
‘Why am I here?’
He tried to piece together his memories.
‘I came to apologize, and then—!’
In that moment, fragments of memory before his collapse came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
At the same time, his face went deathly pale.
“What have I done…?”
As he recalled the meat and the liquor—both forbidden by Buddhist precept—his eyebrows trembled, and he stared at Cheon Hui.
Then Cheon Hui’s lips curved into a thin line.
“Seems you remember it all. I was hoping the full drunkenness might have erased it.”
“……”
“So, as my accomplice, I’m counting on your discretion.”
As Won Ho froze at the word ‘accomplice’,
Tap, tap—
“Are you within?”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by a familiar voice.
“Come in.”
The moment Cheon Hui finished speaking, the door slid open and Won Eum entered.
“It’s time for the morning meal—Hmm? Why is the disciple here?”
Won Eum noticed Won Ho and asked with a puzzled expression.
“He came by last night wanting to express his gratitude. We ended up talking for quite a while, so we’ve been sitting together.”
“The disciple, you say?”
Won Eum’s eyes widened.
It was hard to believe.
Won Ho was skilled enough, yes, but precisely because of that, he’d grown wrapped up in arrogance somewhere along the way.
Yet here he was, coming to bow his head and offer thanks.
‘Well, he did spend quite a long time talking with the abbot. To spend an entire night in conversation like that—they must have built considerable affection.’
A faint smile played at the corners of Won Eum’s mouth.
Cheon Hui stood at a realm Won Eum’s eyes could never fully grasp.
He was the one who had broken through the Eighteen Arhat Formation, which even the Eight Immortals would have struggled to withstand, and identified its weaknesses.
‘Perhaps he’s drawing near the level of the Eight Immortals….’
As he continued that thought while recalling yesterday’s Cheon Hui, he suddenly shook his head.
That was a difficult notion to entertain.
The Eight Immortals were supreme masters of the Heavenly Realm Beyond Heaven.
It was nearly impossible for a young man of Cheon Hui’s age to be compared with them.
Yet one thing was certain.
‘In decades—no, in merely years—this will be the age of the Young Master.’
He could see it clearly in his mind’s eye without needing to witness it.
As he regarded Cheon Hui and Won Ho in turn with warm eyes, he suddenly tilted his head.
“But what’s the matter with your forehead?”
The bruise on Won Ho’s closely shaven head was something that could not be hidden.
“That is….”
As Won Ho grew flustered, Cheon Hui spoke up.
“He said it would grow back fine, so he kept stubbornly trying to stay awake, but ended up dozing off and smacking his head on the table.”
“That doesn’t make—”
Won Ho was about to protest this absurd excuse when he caught the thin smile in Cheon Hui’s eyes—a look that seemed to say ‘shall I mention the meat and wine instead?’—and hastily changed his tone.
“…Yes, that’s right.”
“Heh heh. The disciple certainly had much to discuss after all this time.”
At Won Eum’s laughter and teasing remark, Won Ho’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
“Ah, but come now, hurry along. The morning meal hour approaches.”
When the three of them left Cheon Hui’s chamber and entered the Pavilion for the morning meal, all eyes fell upon them.
At the sight of Cheon Hui’s arrival and Won Ho’s accompaniment, everyone’s lips itched to speak, but they exchanged only glances, barely restraining themselves from opening their mouths.
The morning meal must be observed in silence.
The three quickly took their seats, and the meal proceeded in quiet.
As Won Ho began eating as he always did, his brow suddenly furrowed.
‘Was it always this bland?’
The vegetables he had eaten gratefully each day.
Yet now, chewing felt like a chore.
‘Compared to the Five-Spice Braised Pork I ate yesterday…this is—oh no!’
Without meaning to, Won Ho’s body jerked noticeably.
As those around him turned in surprise, Won Ho quickly pressed his palms together in apology.
Watching the monks resume their silent eating, Won Ho squeezed his eyes shut.
‘What am I thinking right now?’
It was a thought he should not be having.
‘A demon has taken hold of me, a demon has truly taken hold.’
While he was thus reproaching himself—
Whoosh—
Cheon Hui and Won Eum rose.
They paid no attention to Won Ho, whose state seemed somehow odd, and simply left the Pavilion, heading toward the Sorim Thirty-Six Chambers.
“Elder?”
“And even the Young Master….”
The warrior monks who had been preparing for training swallowed hard upon spotting Cheon Hui and Won Ho.
Ignoring those stares, Won Eum ascended to the Training Grounds at the far eastern end, then opened his mouth.
“Watch carefully.”
With that, he clenched his fist.
The fist, covered in calluses, bore the mark of one who had not trained lightly in the martial arts.
In that moment, inner power surged forth.
Whoosh—
His crimson robes fluttered slightly.
In the next instant, as a pure white aura gathered at the wrist he gripped tightly at his waist,
Bang!
A colossal fist shadow tore through the air in an instant, advancing relentlessly.
‘Faster than I expected.’
Cheon Hui’s eyes tracked the movement with precision.
In that fleeting moment, the fist shadow reached the far end of the Sorim Thirty-Six Chambers and struck a strange large boulder standing before the wall.
Crash!
A massive fist imprint was carved into the stone.
So vivid it was visible even from a distance.
“Amitabha Buddha.”
The monks who had been watching Won Eum unconsciously pressed their palms together and chanted the Buddha Call.
“Ah, so this is what true Baekbo Divine Fist truly is.”
They too gazed upon Won Eum’s display with admiration and reverence, as if witnessing such a demonstration of the Baekbo Divine Fist was a rare occurrence.
Meanwhile, Cheon Hui stroked his chin with a serious expression.
‘Sorim’s martial arts are indeed exceptional. To generate such power with so little internal force drawn upon.’
Won Eum had mobilized a modest amount of internal force.
Yet with that, he bridged such a distance and unleashed such devastating might.
‘Even in the Shin Gyo, there are few fist techniques that channel internal force so efficiently.’
It was not only the Tianma Divine Sect.
Among all the fist techniques he knew, this would rank among the top five.
Then Won Eum turned to Cheon Hui and asked,
“What do you think?”
“It’s no wonder Sorim’s Baekbo Divine Fist is called the finest under heaven.”
“Heh heh, indeed.”
As Won Eum responded with evident satisfaction to Cheon Hui’s praise, Cheon Hui’s lips curled into a smile.
“If I may be so bold, might I have the chance to witness other martial arts of Sorim as well?”
“Other martial arts, you say?”
“I’ve grown curious to see how remarkable Sorim’s other martial arts are, compared to the Baekbo Divine Fist.”
Cheon Hui’s tongue flicked serpent-like between his lips.
He had come all this way to witness Sorim’s martial arts. To leave after seeing only the Eighteen Arhat Formation and the Baekbo Divine Fist would be far too wasteful.
Then Won Eum chuckled softly.
“It would be difficult for me to demonstrate martial arts myself. Instead, you are welcome to observe the training of other monks here—feel free to watch as much as you wish.”
It was a response that verged on a polite refusal.
There was reason for it—secret divine techniques such as the Baekbo Divine Fist would not be practiced openly in such a place.
Disappointing as it was, there was no help for it.
Cheon Hui understood his refusal.
What sect would open its most treasured secret arts to outsiders?
“I see, then.”
Cheon Hui nodded in acknowledgment and glanced around.
‘Still, this is Sorim. It will surely be different.’
The monks who had been subtly eavesdropping on the exchange stiffened momentarily, then drew in a deep breath and immediately poured greater force into their forms.
One purpose alone.
To demonstrate to Cheon Hui how extraordinary Sorim’s martial arts truly were.
That was the Hyeonkong Fist, and there—the Mantis Claw too. And even the Iron Shirt Three Skills?
Contrary to his disappointment moments before, Cheon Hui quickly became absorbed in watching the displays.
This was natural—even Sorim’s foundational martial arts possessed a depth that set them apart when compared to other sects.
‘Well then, I suppose I’ll stay to see all of this before I depart.’
After that, time passed swiftly, and five days had slipped away.
During those five days, Cheon Hui’s routine at Sorim remained steady and simple.
Meals, observing martial arts, and eating the food brought by Cheon Yi Gae late in the evening.
On the seventh day since arriving at Sorim, as Cheon Yi Gae finished his morning meal last as usual, Cheon Hui spoke to him.
“It’s time we departed.”
Cheon Yi Gae’s expression brightened.
“I’ll prepare at once!”
He, who had grown weary of remaining at Sorim, spoke with obvious excitement and hurried off to the Monk’s Chamber where he lodged.
Once the party had made their preparations and headed toward Sorim’s Mountain Gate, Won Eum, Gong Jin, and Gong Moon stood waiting before it.
Won Eum approached Cheon Hui.
“Leaving already?”
“There’s no reason for there to be anything more.”
“Is that so.”
Won Eum spoke as though disappointed.
“Then we shall meet again another time.”
“Well, if such an opportunity comes.”
“Heh heh, you needn’t worry about that. We both belong to the same Murim Alliance through the Nine Major Sects and Four Unorthodox Schools, so we’re bound to meet again someday, are we not?”
“That’s true enough.”
After a brief exchange of farewells with Gong Moon and Gong Jin as well, Cheon Hui’s party slipped out through the Mountain Gate.
Won Eum, watching their receding figures, brought his palms together.
“Amitabha Buddha. They arrive so suddenly and depart like the wind itself.”
With those words, he turned his head.
“Come out now.”
The moment Won Ho emerged from where he had been pressed flat against the wall in hiding.
“Why offer no greeting—and what is this pitiful state of yours?”
Won Eum scrutinized him with concern.
The change in five days was stark—he had grown so gaunt it was almost painful to look upon.
It was rather pitiable to witness.
“It is nothing.”
Won Ho shook his head in reply.
There was indeed something wrong.
But how could he explain it?
He could hardly confess that the memory of the Five-Spice Braised Pork and Grain Wine he’d eaten five days ago had robbed him of sleep these past nights.
‘Ah. This is affliction—pure affliction.’
As he gazed in the direction Cheon Hui had vanished, only to be assailed once more by phantom sensations and the lingering scent of that Five-Spice Braised Pork, he squeezed his eyes shut.
* * *
“It has been a long time since we last met.”
As they descended the Mountain Gate, Go Sam, who had already prepared a carriage, welcomed them.
“Have you all been well during this time?”
“We are well thanks to you, Master.”
Go Sam, smiling brightly, smacked his lips.
“Then shall we depart now?”
The three of them climbed into the carriage.
Just as the carriage was about to set off.
“Huff, huff! P-please, wait a moment!”
At the familiar voice calling from behind, Cheon Hui and Cheon Yi Gae spun their heads around.
“Jin Gae?”
“What is he doing here?”
It was strange to see Jin Gae, who should have been at the Maehwa Inn, appearing in this place.
“H-huff, huff! P-please, Elder! Young Master!”
Jin Gae came stumbling over breathlessly, forgetting even to catch his breath, and spoke with urgent haste.
“I-I have been waiting for you to emerge from S-Sorim this whole time.”
“Why is that?”
“What are you talking about?”
As Cheon Hui and Cheon Yi Gae asked with puzzled expressions, Jin Gae gulped hard and cried out with wide eyes.
“The Cheonha Trading Company has sent word requesting your assistance!”

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