Obtaining Heavenly Demon Martial Arts in the Magic Era - Chapter 18

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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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18
The sensation of cold, damp floor pressed against his cheek.
As Do Hyun’s senses returned, he realized he was still in that secret space beneath Seoul Station. The image flashed back to him—Gwak Cheol’s Trident Staff filling his entire field of vision an instant before darkness claimed him.
‘I lost.’
He’d trained alongside his grandfather and never once imagined losing a fight, yet here he was: a complete, utter defeat with no excuse to hide behind.
The bitterness lingered only briefly before a small child came into view, hovering near him with obvious curiosity. The boy seemed to think he was hidden behind a pillar, peering out in what he believed to be secrecy—though his attempt at concealment was painfully clumsy.
“You don’t really think standing like that makes you invisible, do you?”
“Tch. Sharp eyes, I’ll give you that.”
The boy who emerged from behind the pillar looked to be barely ten years old. His unkempt hair stuck out in all directions, giving him the appearance of a small lion cub.
“The uncles are going to be back soon for food. I don’t know why they’re wasting meals on outsiders….”
Whether he’d come reluctantly after being asked, the boy pouted and continued muttering even after he’d finished speaking.
“You don’t think I can’t hear that, do you?”
Though his words came out blunt, Do Hyun found the boy oddly endearing and stood up, then began following him down the corridor.
“What’s your name?”
“…What good would knowing that do you?”
“Then should I just call you ‘kid’ and ‘little one’ every time I see you?”
“Ugh! …It’s Cheol Ho. Park Cheol Ho.”
“All right, Cheol Ho. My name is Do Hyun. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The path Cheol Ho led him down was quite long. The sealed corridor seemed to have designated territories for each person. At regular intervals lay an assortment of makeshift beds—newspaper, cardboard, worn mattresses, simple cots—each with its own proprietor. There was an unspoken order where no one dared touch another’s space without permission.
After walking further, a wide intersection appeared. In the center of this spacious area sat a large distribution bin, with homeless men standing in orderly lines. As Do Hyun approached, wary glances poured in from all directions. Then an elderly man eating in the corner raised his voice.
“Hey! This is a guest invited by Buntaju. Treat him with respect!”
The hostile atmosphere dissipated in an instant. Do Hyun cleared his throat awkwardly and stood at the end of the food line. But the face of the man serving food looked familiar. The man with bruises scattered across his face broke into a grin the moment he saw Do Hyun.
“You hit pretty hard yesterday, didn’t you?”
So this was the man who’d rushed at him first yesterday. Yesterday he’d wielded an iron pipe; today he held a ladle. He seemed to be the type who liked to lead the charge.
“…I apologize for that.”
“You were spouting off fine yesterday—what’s with the formal speech all of a sudden? Never mind, relax.”
The man turned out to have a surprisingly easygoing nature.
Plop.
Do Hyun’s bowl filled with thick rice porridge. The portion was generous. Rice grains topped with finely chopped vegetables and chicken—a pristine, neat dish that seemed completely out of place in a homeless shelter.
Cheol Ho beside him polished off his share as if his eyes would close the moment he stopped, then smacked his lips regretfully.
“Why don’t you ask for more?”
“I can’t. One bowl per person. That’s the rule here.”
…….
Even as he said it, his eyes bored into Do Hyun’s bowl—silent, unmistakable pressure for just one bite.
“One bowl per person, then. I should follow the rules too, shouldn’t I?”
Not a chance. Do Hyun deliberately ignored the boy’s pathetic gaze and finished every last spoonful of his porridge.
After the meal, Do Hyun toured various parts of Seoul Station with Cheol Ho as his guide.
“So you’re saying you’re not just beggars, but Martial Artists of a sect called Gaebang?”
“We prefer to be called the Gaebang School.”
According to Cheol Ho’s explanation, Gaebang’s role was far more extensive than expected.
“Information gathering…?”
“Yes. We don’t just beg—we collect information from all over the country. Sometimes we spread rumors too.”
“For what purpose?”
Do Hyun’s question left Cheol Ho hesitating, unable to answer. It seemed too deep a question for a child to grasp. Then, from an unexpected quarter, came the response.
“Because that was the Heavenly Mandate entrusted to Gaebang as a member of the Nine Sects Alliance.”
It was Gwak Cheol. He approached, scratching at his disheveled hair as if he’d just woken.
“Now it’s just habit—we repeat meaningless tasks without even remembering why anymore.”
It still sounded like grasping at clouds to Do Hyun, but one thing was clear: this “Gaebang” was part of a vast world he’d yet to understand. Perhaps it was even entangled with the Cheon clan—his own roots.
“I want to know more.”
“No more for now. You lost our wager. Normally I’d break your limbs and throw you out. If you really want answers, then earn the right to hear them.”
“…What right are you talking about?”
“A man who can’t properly handle his own Internal Energy? You’re far from qualified to call yourself a Martial Artist. Pathetic.”
“Isn’t that why you left me here? To teach me?”
Gwak Cheol scratched the back of his head with his Trident Staff and answered flatly.
“We’ll see about that.”
And so Gwak Cheol launched another bout under the guise of instruction.
#
In the darkness, a silvery arc flashed.
‘Fast!’
Do Hyun instinctively arched his upper body backward. A cool gust swept past his nose—he’d dodged it. In the moment he exhaled in relief, the titanium Trident Staff twisted grotesquely mid-swing and struck his calf. There it was again—that technique where, just when you think you’ve blocked it, the trajectory warps to strike from another angle.
Crack!
“Ugh!”
Do Hyun’s knee buckled under the direct hit, and he tumbled across the cold concrete floor. It wasn’t a simple blow. The dense force channeled through the strike numbed his leg muscles into rigidity. While he limped away to widen the distance, Gwak Cheol approached with unhurried ease.
“Loose screw. You’re fighting without accounting for speed faster than your own or strength greater than yours.”
Gwak Cheol exhaled a long plume of cigarette smoke and clicked his tongue. Do Hyun rose unsteadily, breathing roughly. His entire body was a map of bruises, and his ribs screamed with each breath, yet his eyes burned with a fierce competitive hunger.
“Again.”
“Tenacious bastard.”
Gwak Cheol smirked and tapped the Trident Staff against the floor. The sparring disguised as training stretched into the next day.
Crash!
Do Hyun, attempting to exploit an opening with the Cheonma Hwanyeong Step, was tripped by Gwak Cheol’s foot—which had ghosted ahead to predict his movement perfectly—and fell hard.
“That footwork you use. You treat it like some sort of magical movement ability. You’re just aping the results without understanding the principles underlying it—that’s what magicians do.”
Gwak Cheol began to demonstrate the footwork himself.
Chui Palxian Step.
A wobbling gait as if drunk on wine. Disjointed yet continuous, with an unpredictable direction, yet overwhelmingly swift.
“You must understand the principles of force embedded in footwork. And not just footwork—this is an attitude you must maintain toward all martial skill.”
Whish—!
A kick streaked toward him. Do Hyun raised his arms to shield his head, but the sole curved like a serpent and struck his ribs with perfect precision. Though the power was measured, the shock of being caught off guard was considerable.
‘It curved again. The same principle as the footwork?’
Gwak Cheol looked down at the coughing Do Hyun and spoke flatly.
“You might think it some secret technique, but it’s merely an attack utilizing the essence of the Chui Palxian Step.”
“…!”
Lightning flashed through Do Hyun’s mind. His rigid notion that footwork was for walking and fist technique for striking shattered in that instant. Hadn’t he already witnessed his own Cheonma Gunlim Step become both a footwork and a means of suppression?
Do Hyun gathered his understanding and focused on Gwak Cheol’s words.
“Don’t fixate on appearances—concentrate on principles. The afterimage of the Cheonma Hwanyeong Step doesn’t arise simply because it’s fast. You’re overlaying artificial force on the space where you lingered, deceiving the eye.”
Gwak Cheol’s gaze sharpened with intensity.
“Like this, for instance!”
Snap!
Gwak Cheol’s form blurred, and suddenly three Gwak Cheols stood before Do Hyun simultaneously. It wasn’t mere illusion. All three emanated dense killing intent and breath.
‘Which one?’
Do Hyun’s eyes darted frantically. Then Gwak Cheol’s voice came from behind him.
“Don’t look with your eyes—feel the force.”
Boom—!!
Do Hyun’s body flew through the air again and crashed into a corner.
“Cough…!”
Even as he spat blood-tinged saliva, Do Hyun shut his eyes. Following with sight leads to deception; tracking only force leads to illusion. Now he finally grasped why the Cheonma Hwanyeong Step was called a Divine Technique.
‘It’s not about forcing through with strength. It’s about leaving force behind.’
The incantation his grandfather had passed down echoed through his mind.
[My Body is Emptiness—my body is void itself.]
Hum—
The black vortex settled in his Dantian, the Taeheo Honyuan Heart Technique calming. The violent throbbing subsided, and the taut tension in his muscles released.
“Oho.”
Gwak Cheol’s eyes flickered with interest as he detected the subtle shift. Do Hyun opened his eyes slowly. His once-clouded, unfocused gaze grew crystalline and sharp.
“Might I ask what the next lesson is in advance?”
Do Hyun lowered his posture and raised the corners of his mouth.
“What? Haha, you madman! Land one blow first, then talk!”
Gwak Cheol charged again. The Trident Staff carved countless black arcs as it engulfed Do Hyun’s entire body.
Rat-a-tat!
This time Do Hyun didn’t evade. Instead of forcing power into his movements, he let his weight settle naturally and stepped forward. The force from his Dantian flowed like water through his Meridians and drained out through the Yongquan Acupoint in his sole.
Whoosh—
The vicious attack tore through Do Hyun’s body. Yet there was no contact with the staff. The perfect illusion Do Hyun had conjured in that instant had deceived Gwak Cheol.
Disperse—
Watching the afterimage scatter like a ghost, Gwak Cheol’s pupils trembled.
‘This monster, already?’
Martial skill typically demands decades to comprehend principles and embody them physically. Yet this freak was evolving in real time, gaining mastery from just a few beatings. Do Hyun materialized like a phantom behind Gwak Cheol, who stood defenseless after his attack.
“Here.”
[Cheonma Hwanyeong Step, 4 Stars]
An alert chimed as his Proficiency Rating rose, and Do Hyun’s fist cleaved the air.
Kaboom—!!
Gwak Cheol twisted with animal instinct and blocked the punch with his Trident Staff. An explosive Qi Shockwave erupted, too powerful to believe that metal and bare hand had collided.
“Ugh…!”
A groan escaped Gwak Cheol’s lips. The Trident Staff he’d raised to block the punch trembled visibly.
‘It’s heavier. It’s not just raw strength anymore.’
The quality of the force contained in that punch had fundamentally changed—he’d channeled the distinctive pressure of the Cheonma Gunlim Step directly into his fist. Do Hyun stepped back, breathing hard, his face a mess of sweat and blood, yet his expression remained composed and unhurried.
“Does that qualify me to advance to the next stage?”
Do Hyun flicked the blood from his knuckles with a faint smile. Gwak Cheol rotated his aching wrist, letting out a bewildered laugh despite himself.
“A monster, that’s what you are.”
It was the kind of overwhelming talent that left one cursing in spite of oneself.

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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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