Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect - Chapter 324

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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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324
Fire
The sudden appearance of the young master sent tremors through the streets of Muheol.
“Did that young skilled expert really knock out Saek Honsu with a single strike?”
“A single strike? The youth threw a wine cup and split the man’s forehead open.”
“What? A thrown wine cup? How could such a thing be possible?”
“Unbelievable as it sounds, it’s the truth. I witnessed it clearly with these two eyes.”
Not even two hours had passed, yet the taverns and pleasure houses scattered throughout the streets buzzed with the story.
The event was simply beyond imagining.
Saek Honsu had taken the place of Muheol’s greatest master—replacing the missing Dok Gwi Su—and his name had long been known throughout Kangho as a skilled expert in his own right.
Yet he had fallen unconscious not from a true strike, but merely from a thrown wine cup.
From an unknown young master.
“Who could he possibly be?”
“Does he belong to some sect? Or is he a wanderer?”
Those who had been gossiping lifted their eyes.
Their gaze fixed on the highest pavilion in Muheol—the Hwacheonru.
Unlike other places, Muheol had no sect that governed or controlled it.
Perhaps because of this.
The balance of power in Muheol had always swayed at the whim of a single master.
Before, merchants and wanderers had watched the movements of Dok Gwi Su, who had been Muheol’s greatest master, and later they had done the same in the shadow of Saek Honsu.
So those who made their home in Muheol kept their anxious eyes fixed on the Hwacheonru.
More precisely, they concentrated their attention on the young master who had entered the Hwacheonru.
Would he simply pass through Muheol and move on?
Or had he appeared to dominate the streets of Muheol, as Dok Gwi Su and Saek Honsu had before him?
Meanwhile, the young master at the center of their attention—Cheon Hui—was quite pleased.
“This will do nicely.”
The room they had reached, guided by Cheong Hwa and Hong Hwa, was exactly to his liking.
The space was not only quite spacious, but lavishly appointed.
And upon the table sat an abundance of fine delicacies and wine bottles arranged in tight rows.
“You have a keen eye for hospitality.”
“We’re delighted it pleases you.”
Cheong Hwa spoke with a bright smile, then moved briskly to the table and uncorked a wine bottle. She poured the contents into a waiting cup.
The delicate fragrance of the wine filled the room.
“Master, please sit.”
As Cheong Hwa pulled out a chair, Cheon Hui strode forward and took his seat.
Then, with hearty enthusiasm, he lifted the wine cup and drank it down in one draught.
“Ah, refreshing.”
The taste as it went down was crisp and clean.
It was worthy of being called fine wine.
“What wine is this?”
“It is Hong A Wine, brewed personally by Ru Ju.”
Cheong Hwa answered as she poured more wine for him.
Even before the Hwacheonru had grown to its present prosperity, the wine brewed by Ru Ju had earned wide recognition.
It was no accident that her alias had been chosen to evoke wine, moonlight, and fragrance.
“Ah, that’s right, Master.”
Suddenly, Cheong Hwa’s expression shifted as though she had forgotten something important.
“Surely dining alone would grow tedious, would it not?”
She spoke with practiced warmth.
The reason the Hwacheonru had grown so large was that it possessed qualities that set it apart from other pleasure houses.
First among these was the wine brewed by Ru Ju—Ju Weol Hyang—and second was the talents of the courtesans themselves.
And now she intended to display the skills of herself and Hong Hwa.
“If it would not displease you, I should like to offer you a humble musical performance….”
Cheon Hui let out a soft laugh.
Their intention was transparent enough.
They were trying to build his favor by any means.
‘A worthless effort.’
Now that he had seen through their design, it would be difficult for things to go according to their scheme.
Cheon Hui twisted his mouth slightly and spoke.
“Go ahead.”
“Then we shall prepare ourselves.”
With those words, both she and Hong Hwa retreated a step, their faces brightening with smiles.
Cheong Hwa soon retrieved the Seven-String Guqin that adorned one wall of the room, while Hong Hwa drew a small bamboo pipe from her sleeve.
It was a striking instrument, its surface a deep crimson.
Once both had their instruments in hand, they settled into graceful seated positions.
With their movements, silk robes embroidered with silver thread rippled and then stilled.
Their eyes met briefly across the space between them.
It lasted only a moment.
But for two who had walked so many years together, that was all that was needed.
Hong Hwa lifted the pipe first.
Her lips, deep crimson, touched the instrument, and a clear note rang out through the room.
Taking that as their cue, Cheong Hwa’s poised fingers began to move.
Her sleeve fluttered as she plucked the strings.
Ting-ting-ding—
Music began to flow.
The harmony of guqin and pipe, two instruments weaving together, raised gentle waves of sound throughout the chamber.
The low and high notes blended in remarkable accord.
Just as the bright plucking of the strings rang out, the clear tone of the bamboo pipe rushed swiftly in pursuit.
They seemed to dance in competition, yet at moments they became one, yielding a beauty of melody.
“Not bad at all.”
Cheon Hui tilted his wine cup, savoring the music that drifted to his ears.
To him, who had been the Sect Master of the Tianma Divine Sect in his previous life, such playing was hardly of the highest caliber.
Yet it brought him joy.
It had been too long since he’d indulged in such entertainment.
The melody caressed his ears, ripples of subtle vibration spreading through his body.
Cheon Hui watched the two intently.
Faint waves of Internal Force flowed through their fingertips and lips.
It was Sound Force.
‘Wait… that could be useful.’
The thought struck Cheon Hui suddenly, and the corners of his mouth lifted.
There was only one reason he had entered Muheol in disguise, his true identity concealed.
To prevent Poong Ri from hiding and instead draw him out into the open.
Ever since that first intelligence report, both Poong Ri and the Heuk Gwae Dan had remained out of sight. Had he arrived openly, they might have burrowed deeper still or called for reinforcements.
But if an unknown figure suddenly appeared, they would be forced to move—if only to learn who he was.
In the midst of war, one had to determine which faction a stranger belonged to, and who they were.
And that was precisely what Cheon Hui was counting on.
So he had deliberately made his way to where Saek Honsu was, seeking to draw all eyes upon himself.
He hadn’t expected to defeat him so quickly with that sudden provocation, but even if he’d simply let matters unfold, Cheon Hui would not have remained idle.
Yet now, even as things had gone smoothly, he felt it wasn’t enough.
‘If I use that…’
As Cheon Hui’s gaze grew distant in thought—
Ting—
The performance ended just then.
“How was it?”
Cheong Hwa, still flushed from her heartfelt playing, asked with clear anticipation in her eyes.
There was unmistakable confidence in her tone.
“Lovely. What is the name of the piece?”
“It is called ‘Spring Night’s Dream.'”
“A spring evening’s dream…”
A most fitting title.
The performance had been warm yet cool, and despite that duality, profoundly soothing.
Cheon Hui repeated the title to himself for a moment, then extended his hand and spoke casually.
“Let me borrow the Seven-String Guqin for a moment.”
The moment those words left his lips—
“…!”
Cheong Hwa’s eyes flew wide open.
The Seven-String Guqin that had rested gently on her lap suddenly rose, floating into the air of its own accord.
Thump.
Beside her, the bamboo pipe dropped to the floor.
Hong Hwa, too, stared in astonishment at the impossible sight, her mouth falling open as her hands went limp at her sides.
Both Cheong Hwa and Hong Hwa were rendered speechless.
He had heard the rumor that masters of Kangho could shatter mountains and split rivers in two.
But he had always believed such tales were nothing more than exaggeration.
Now, before their very eyes, something had unfolded that seemed worthy of a mountain god.
The two women stared in stupor.
Whoosh—
The Seven-String Guqin suspended in midair reached Cheon Hui in a single breath.
‘How did I do it again?’
Cheon Hui looked down at the Seven-String Guqin.
Throughout all his lives, he had never once played an instrument with his own hands.
Yet the memory of every musician’s hand movements he had ever witnessed lingered in his mind.
Cheon Hui extended his fingers.
Toward the strings of the Seven-String Guqin.
Twang—
The string was plucked, and it sang.
But it felt slightly wrong.
‘That’s not it.’
Cheon Hui recalled in detail the performance Cheong Hwa had just displayed, and moved his fingers anew.
Pluck, pluck-pluck-pluck.
His long, slender fingers drew across the seven strings without hesitation.
A deep, heavy sound flowed forth.
It was the opposite of Cheong Hwa’s playing, yet in that moment, Cheon Hui’s eyes gleamed.
‘Yes, that’s it.’
Having found the feel for it, Cheon Hui set his hands in motion.
Recalling how Cheong Hwa had wielded her Internal Force, his fingers now sang against the strings.
Wha-aaa—
In an instant, Internal Force blossomed from his fingertips, amplifying the melody that poured forth.
‘If I spread the sound in all directions like this…’
Thought became action at once.
Uuuoong—
The sound, infused with Internal Force, trembled through the air itself, pressing down upon the room and, beyond that, upon Hwacheonru.
Cheong Hwa and Hong Hwa, who until then had been lost in wonder, felt their skin prickle at their backs and straightened their spines.
A chill ran through them.
Though Cheon Hui’s posture as he plucked the Seven-String Guqin was awkward beyond measure, and the melody that had flowed moments before was far from skillful, this present tune was altogether different.
‘Like the waves of the Yangtze River.’
‘Spring Night Dream was soft yet cold, but this… it’s so overwhelming.’
The two women fell into the illusion that the surging waves of the Yangtze were crashing down upon them.
It was overwhelming.
And it was not only they who felt it.
“…….”
Hwacheonru fell silent without anyone quite noticing.
The guests who had been drinking and talking, the courtesans who had been smiling at them—all of them held their breath and turned their ears to the guqin music that had suddenly filled the air.
Those passing through the corridors stopped in their tracks.
Everyone simply closed their eyes and savored the deep, weighty melody.
“Mm, what exquisite playing.”
“Who could be performing?”
How long had they all been listening, their ears fixed upon the music alone?
Ding—
Cheon Hui stilled his hands.
His fingers had already left the strings.
The performance had come to an end.
Yet Hwacheonru remained silent.
No one spoke a word.
They were still intoxicated by the lingering echo of the Spring Night Dream that Cheon Hui had played.
Meanwhile, Cheon Hui, having finished his performance, set the Seven-String Guqin down beside him with an expression of mild dissatisfaction.
A low murmur escaped his lips.
“A somewhat lacking performance, but I suppose it will do.”
Hwacheonru was caught entirely in his presence.
Not only those lost in wonder, but also those who hid their presence and watched in secret.
Sensing the bustle of their auras, Cheon Hui smiled faintly at the corners of his mouth.
A cold smile, sharp as winter’s edge.
‘They’ll draw too much attention.’
* * *
A single man sat in the darkened room where only an oil lamp flickered.
It was Poong Ri, shabby in appearance.
“Fascinating.”
His eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Cold. Glacial, those eyes were.
“A young master who looks to have only just crossed twenty.”
His blue pupils pierced forward.
“Have you identified him?”
At the question, the shadows ahead rippled.
Then a man in gray martial robes emerged and dropped to one knee.
“My apologies. We are still investigating.”
“What of the Mansu Moon?”
“They seemed ignorant as well.”
“Troublesome.”
Poong Ri crossed his legs where he sat.
The man spoke quickly.
“Additionally, the Murim Alliance’s special unit bypassed Muheol this time and headed toward Mansu Moon.”
“They didn’t come through Muheol?”
“That’s correct.”
Poong Ri’s eyes darkened.
“Then the Murim Alliance has joined hands with the Bi Cheon Society?”
“That is unlikely.”
The man replied quietly.
“If the two had truly allied, they would have merged before heading toward Mansu Moon.”
“Then what is happening?”
“We are still ascertaining the details, but I suspect the Murim Alliance may be investigating first whether the Namgung Clan truly intends to assault Mansu Moon. As the Murim Alliance, they would naturally be sensitive to the Bi Cheon Society’s movements. Or perhaps they have some other scheme in mind.”
“Another scheme, you say.”
“While there are many possibilities, they could certainly have moved in secret if they wished. Yet they are moving openly, as if deliberately revealing their tracks.”
“You mean they could be using bait.”
“Indeed.”
Poong Ri stroked his chin.
Checking the Bi Cheon Society against some other hidden agenda.
Both were plausible suppositions.
But with information this sparse, there was no way to know which was the truth.
He shook his head and spoke.
“In any case, what a pity.”
A savage tone emerged from his lips.
It was a voice as sharp as a starving beast discovering prey.
“I had prepared thoroughly, hearing that the Murim Alliance’s special unit was coming this way.”
The man’s shoulders instinctively tensed.
For an instant, the killing intent was so fierce it felt as though his throat might be torn from his body.
The man swallowed hard, fighting to move his trembling lips.
“The information will spread. They will come eventually.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the pressure that had suffocated him dissipated entirely.
Poong Ri’s eyes shone with light.
“I sincerely hope so.”
He nodded in agreement and spoke again.
“Is there anything else to report?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Then you may go.”
“As you command.”
At Poong Ri’s dismissal, the gray-robed warrior vanished swiftly.
Soon silence enveloped the room.
“The conflict has dragged on far longer than anticipated. At this rate, both sides could crumble.”
Poong Ri rose from his seat and stared at the flickering oil lamp.
Then his white teeth bared themselves.
“Heaven favors ‘us.'”
With that loaded remark, he exhaled toward the flame.
Shortly after, the room fell into deep darkness, and a frigid silence descended.

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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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