Obtaining Heavenly Demon Martial Arts in the Magic Era - Chapter 44

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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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44
On a mountainside neither high nor low, where even hikers’ footsteps grew sparse, stood Cheong-un Manor—modest and serene. For Cheon Do-hyeon and the members of Gae-bang, who had accumulated exhaustion from the Iron Blood Jang Clan’s relentless pursuit and blood-soaked battles, this place was the first true sanctuary in ages where they could finally lower their guard and breathe.
The next morning.
Cheon Do-hyeon woke early, showered in the cold groundwater, and changed into clean clothes provided by the manor. The carefully pressed linen garment carried the sensation of both roughness and comfort, along with a faint scent of soap that pleasantly tickled his nose.
He walked slowly along a small path laid out around Cheong-un Manor.
The dawn mountainside was hushed, and with the sun not yet fully risen, the world bathed in dim light appeared hazy. It was like a peaceful scene where the world itself had paused to adjust its screen in preparation for morning.
“I thought you’d sleep late given your youth, but I’m surprised to find you awake.”
He was standing at the end of the path, lost in thought as he watched the sunrise alone, when he sensed a quiet presence beside him. Turning, he found Yeo San-dong, the master of Cheong-un Manor.
“Good morning, sir.”
The greeting felt inadequate the moment it left Cheon Do-hyeon’s lips. The Iron Blood Jang Clan had wielded media and law like sledgehammers, nearly choking off all breath in a moment of utmost desperation. Yet this man had willingly risked everything—knowing that if discovered by the Jang family, Cheong-un Manor itself could be erased from the map—and opened his doors as a refuge. He was a true savior.
Cheon Do-hyeon began to search for words, then realized he had no talent for eloquent speeches. So he resolved simply to convey the sincere gratitude that welled up in him.
“I bow again in thanks. Because of you, sir… we all survived.”
Sensing the depth of his sincerity, Yeo San-dong smiled broadly and waved a dismissive hand.
“From now on, no more talk of gratitude and thanks—I forbid it. Heavens, I must have heard it a hundred times over since yesterday evening from the Gae-bang folk. A bit early, perhaps, but shall we not have a meal? I saw our young friend wake early and leave, so I had the kitchen prepare breakfast in haste.”
“Please, sir, speak as you wish.”
“Heh heh, this old man finds it comfortable this way. Do go now.”
The spread in Cheong-un Manor’s modest dining hall was unpretentious, yet it suited Cheon Do-hyeon’s palate perfectly. Wild greens dug fresh from the mountainside, neatly prepared pickled side dishes, and a generous bowl of barley rice. Seeing separate jars of sesame oil and red chili paste set at the edge of the table—as if the hosts worried the young guest’s tastes might not be satisfied—he felt the warmth of their hospitality, and the food tasted sweeter than usual.
“That was truly delicious.”
Stepping outside with a full belly, he saw members of Gae-bang and the manor folk gathered in small groups in the courtyard. These were people he hadn’t properly seen the day before, when they’d arrived in such desperate haste, and now their eyes were bright with curiosity as they took in their surroundings. Among them, a familiar face suddenly appeared.
“Brother Do-hyeon!”
Park Chul-ho came running toward him, waving eagerly. The boy had been evacuated early from Seoul Station to Yongsan Station under the care of adults. But Do-hyeon had been so consumed with devising a strategy against the Iron Blood Jang Clan alongside Seon Young-hun and the other leaders that he’d had no leisure even for a kind greeting to the child.
Cheon Do-hyeon ruffled Park Chul-ho’s hair as he ran up.
“Did you sleep well? You weren’t uncomfortable with the sudden change of bedding?”
The boy had spent his entire life at Seoul Station. Having lost his only home in a single day and been driven into the mountains bore partly on Do-hyeon’s conscience, so his question carried both apology and concern.
“Brother! Why are you asking? This place is a hundred, a thousand times better than that moldy Seoul Station! The food’s delicious, the air’s great, and I slept like a log!”
….
The clear-eyed, unspoiled honesty of the boy sometimes bit more sharply than any cynic’s tongue. The Gae-bang members, who had provided him with that moldy dwelling, suddenly found themselves embarrassed and clearing their throats in the background.
#
After the meal, Cheon Do-hyeon headed to Lee Sang-won’s room to check on his injuries. When he opened the door, he found that others had already claimed the space.
“You’re here?”
“Ah, Do-hyeon’s arrived. Come in, come in.”
It was Seon Young-hun and Lee Ye-rim. The two had commandeered the room as if it had always been theirs. Lee Ye-rim had apparently finished an entire box of tangerines brought as a get-well gift and had stacked the peels into a tower in the corner, while Seon Young-hun sprawled across the plush bedding where the patient should have been resting. Lee Sang-won himself sat awkwardly on the floor in a squat.
When Cheon Do-hyeon fixed Seon Young-hun with a cold stare, he hastily rose and offered a lame excuse.
“Ah, don’t misunderstand. It’s just that Sang-won here—he kept insisting I rest comfortably despite my protests, and as someone of standing, I had no choice but to….”
Cheon Do-hyeon looked at Lee Sang-won to verify the truth, and Lee Sang-won nodded helplessly with the pitiful expression of a dog whose rice bowl had been stolen. It appeared Seon Young-hun had thoughtlessly accepted an offer made merely out of politeness to his elder.
“How is your body? Your wounds?”
When Cheon Do-hyeon finally broached the main topic, Lee Sang-won answered casually.
“The physician said I’d be back on my feet soon enough.”
“That’s complete nonsense. The physician said you won’t be able to fight properly for several months.”
Lee Ye-rim cut through Sang-won’s words and exposed the lie. He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned away in embarrassment.
Then Cheon Do-hyeon’s eyes fixed on an unfamiliar object resting on the windowsill. It was old but intricately crafted, with wood and copper wire interwoven in an elaborate clockwork mechanism.
“What is that?”
“Ah, that? It’s called a ‘Radio,’ I’m told. Looks different from what we’re used to, doesn’t it? Unlike modern machines caked with Mado Engineering, this was built before the Energy Revolution—pure mechanical technology, they say. Cheong-un Manor has quite a few of these antiquated relics.”
“A Radio… it looks fascinating.”
Cheon Do-hyeon’s eyes gleamed. He naturally felt drawn to analog methods untainted by Mana. Objects that required a human hand to fulfill their purpose brought him peace of mind.
Perhaps it was because he sensed his own existence through the marriage of user and tool, where both must interlock to perform their function completely.
In an age where nearly all of humanity wielded Magic, Cheon Do-hyeon—unable to use it—had long been treated as a “worthless human.” He had found solace in analog devices this way.
Shortly after leaving the room, as Cheon Do-hyeon walked beside Seon Young-hun, he spoke from the depths of his thoughts.
“I’d like to hear more about my father.”
At Cheon Do-hyeon’s question, Seon Young-hun’s steps came to a halt.
His eyes grew distant, as if recalling both past glory and a terrible end simultaneously.
“I only watched him from afar, but there are some facts I can share with you.”
Seon Young-hun placed a hand on Cheon Do-hyeon’s shoulder and spoke.
“He was a stern and frightening man, but he cherished his comrades dearly. That’s why he made his greatest mistake. Do you know what it was?”
Since Seon Young-hun had never once spoken ill of Do-hyeon’s father, Cheon Do-hyeon looked at him in surprise.
“He bore everything alone and left.”
Deep regret and sorrow colored Seon Young-hun’s voice.
“Of course you know—that he sacrificed himself to save us all. But Do-hyeon… do you think the Murim Martial Artists merely felt gratitude for his sacrifice? For those of us who survived, it left a debt so heavy it crushed us for life. Shame at not fighting alongside him. A helplessness that never fades.”
Seon Young-hun pressed his hand firmly on Do-hyeon’s shoulder.
“Don’t try to bear everything alone. Asking for help and trusting others with your back—that too is courage. It’s not the only answer to throw yourself into enemy lines alone because it’s dangerous, pushing away those around you. Their willingness to sacrifice and fight beside you is their complete choice. You cannot presume to judge and reject it on their behalf.”
It was as though Seon Young-hun could see straight into Cheon Do-hyeon’s mind. And his words struck hard against a corner of Cheon Do-hyeon’s chest.
After the deadly struggle with Jang Ki-han, he recalled his own image—pushing Kim Seung-yeon and Kim Jun-pyo away decisively, terrified they would be caught in the crossfire.
Those bonds he had severed to protect them from danger. But hearing that such an action could become an even greater burden and wound for those left behind, he finally understood.
‘I’ve hurt you all so deeply.’
The image of Kim Seung-yeon’s reddened eyes and the lonely silhouettes of the two turning away seemed to shimmer before his vision.
“……Wait. There’s something I need to take care of.”
“Go quickly. Don’t waste time.”
#
Meanwhile, in a penthouse in Seoul that was utterly under control.
Jang Ki-jun, who had been monitoring dozens of screens, hurled the wine glass in his hand against the wall with irritation.
Crash!
The operation he’d believed could never fail had collapsed.
The Gae-bang members he’d managed to corner had slipped away like rats, and among the elite hunters he’d brought with massive capital, several of his finest had been torn to shreds by Cheon Do-hyeon alone.
As Jang Ki-jun’s breathing grew ragged with fury, a cold gleam from his father Jang Jae-young’s eyes—a man who would never tolerate failure—flickered across his mind.
‘What happens to me once I’ve exhausted all the forces entrusted to me?’
The answer came easily.
‘I’ll be discarded again. And there won’t be another chance.’
Jang Ki-jun’s eyes gleamed.
“Wait. The operation fails and I’m discarded? Then the operation just can’t end, can it?”
His mind contained nothing but his own survival and his objective. He opened a secret line and attempted to contact Cheon Do-hyeon directly—the target he was supposed to kill.
[Tell Cheon Do-hyeon and those Gae-bang bastards. I’m proposing an alliance.]
For Jang Ki-jun, the very concepts of “enemy” and “ally” had never existed.

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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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