The Heavenly Demon of the Blue Sky - Chapter 11

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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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Cangcheon Celestial Demon 011
Beneath the flicker of candlelight, I examined the Secret Manuals of Cheonpung Swordplay and Cheonpung Body Technique.
“Indeed, the principles of the blade run deep and subtle—befitting a righteous sect’s noble lineage. Yet…….”
Hyulkyo’s Fire Demon had taken far more than I’d anticipated.
Entire passages that bound together the Sword Path had been consumed to ash.
More than half of the body technique was charred beyond recognition.
An ordinary martial artist would have closed the book with a sigh.
But I am the Seat, the Pacheongmajon who once mastered all martial knowledge of the Ten Thousand Mountains.
I possess overwhelming experience enough to reconstruct a half-erased map of lost arts.
“There are limits to what the mind alone can piece together.”
I resolved to test it with my body instead, closed the manual, and stepped out into the courtyard.
Whish—! Then I drew forth a long blade.
I unfolded the Technique Forms of Cheonpung Swordplay one by one, as confirmed in the manual.
Whoosh!
Cheonpung—the wind that splits the heavens. True to its name, it flowed both upright and graceful.
‘Indeed, this is the swordplay of the Five Great Families. The lost passages must have felt something like this.’
I boldly pruned away movements that didn’t belong, and dug deeper around the points where Internal Force circulated freely.
Then, piece by piece, the beginning, development, twist, and resolution locked into place—one perfect Technique Form restored.
“Hm!”
I unfolded that movement into key phrases and inscribed them into the manual.
In the same moment, an intriguing notion flashed through my mind.
‘This time as well—if I could weave Namgung and Makyo into one, my own unique Secret Technique would be born.’
I drew out a Makyo absolute technique that would harmonize best with Cheonpung.
In those days long past, when I volunteered as vanguard commander.
The Shura Swift Wind Sword—a technique that had separated the bones and flesh of many enemies.
I raised Cangcheon Demonic Qi and wove the two swordplay forms into one. But then.
“Hnngh!”
As expected, it was not easy at first. The gap between the two forms was too great.
‘Both techniques possess high completion. Since their essences are so strong, I cannot simply suppress one with force—I must become more fluid, letting them flow together as naturally as water.’
I twisted the blade from countless angles, corrected its path, and swung dozens, hundreds of times. And finally.
“Ha!”
A new Sword Path began to open before my eyes.
I cut through empty space once more.
A clear, transparent breeze carrying the nobility of the righteous path.
Just as the blade’s tip traced its most graceful arc and reached its apex.
‘Now—this very instant!’
I twisted my wrist outward and detonated my Internal Force. The subtle essence of Breaking, the core of Shura Swift Wind Sword.
Thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum!
The gentle breeze that had been flowing softly began to reverse with fierce momentum.
Simultaneously it transformed into a violent whirlwind tinged with purple. Boom-boom-boom-boom!
‘It succeeded!!’
Righteous and Demonic—they seemed as unlikely to mix as water and oil.
Yet through me, now Celestial Demon and Head of Namgung, they became one.
The body technique was no different.
I decided to add variation to straightforward, upright footwork and transcend the limits.
“This feels right.”
So I chose Ghost Shadow Demonic Step—Makyo’s illusory stepping art.
‘I’ll maintain the clear flow of Cheonpung, but weave illusion and reality together.’
Fwish!
I swept purple wind beneath my feet, wreathing everything around me.
Then whirlwinds layered upon whirlwinds, creating afterimages.
As if I had become many people, moving at once.
Namgung’s Cangcheon concealing Makyo’s swift wind—a martial art born only of me.
‘I should give it a proper name.’
I gazed at the Sword Spirit and whispered softly.
“Shura Cheonpung Sword, Shura Cheonpung Step. Yes, that will do.”

* * *
The next morning, at the Training Ground.
I taught the Cheonpung Technique Forms, refined through the night and reinterpreted for the Twin Swords.
“Again.”
“Right!”
Yuhwa crossed her swords and executed the technique form I’d taught her exactly as demonstrated.
“Ha!”
At first, her strikes and thrusts were clumsy and uncertain.
But her sustained effort over these weeks had borne fruit—she was picking up the movements with surprising speed.
Whoosh—! The Cangcheon Demonic Qi flowed through properly now as well.
She had grown to wield the higher-level swordplay without strain.
“How was that? Hyuk?”
She wore the look of someone seeking praise. I nodded my approval.
“Your foundation is solid. But real combat doesn’t unfold according to the manual. You need to adapt to any circumstance.”
This was an ability better cultivated through sparring than words alone.
“Think fluidly. Wind, after all, blows freely according to each moment.”
I pressed forward with my sword, driving her continuously into tighter quarters.
Yuhwa’s jaw clenched as she forced herself to focus.
“Slower.”
“Right!”
“Your lower guard is wide open.”
“Oh, oh!”
After pressing her relentlessly over many exchanges, she seemed to touch the wall of enlightenment.
The simple, straightforward wind suddenly became erratic and sharp.
“Oh, oh my—! I used less strength, but the blade’s edge became so much keener!”
Yuhwa forgot her fatigue entirely, eyes blazing with wonder as she cried out.
“I’ll knock my brother down!”
Competitive fire ignited in her then—she thrust her blade with keen intent straight at my chest.
Clash—! A formidable ambush. But.
Shimmer—! I left a ghost image as I evaded her strike by the narrowest margin.
“Opening.”
I drove in from the lower left diagonal, sweeping my blade upward from below.
Whoooosh—!
In the same instant, a purple wind surged like a tidal wave, engulfing Yuhwa utterly.
“Ahhh!”
She couldn’t withstand the oncoming tempest and fell flat on her backside.
I’d held back—mercy alone kept her alive; had I meant to cut, she’d already be gone.
Whoooosh—
When I withdrew my blade, the waves that had swept the Training Ground scattered like illusion.
“Cough, cough—! What, what on earth is this—?”
Yuhwa stared up at me, disbelief painted across her face.
“How—how can this be? It’s not the same wind at all!”
Of course it wasn’t—it was Pacheongmajon.
How could wind nurtured in a hothouse compare to it?
I sheathed my sword with measured calm, then parted my lips with deliberate restraint.
“The weight carried differs.”
An offhand remark, laced with arrogance—though I hadn’t meant it as explanation.
“The weight… carried…”
Yuhwa repeated my words, and suddenly her eyes glistened red.
“The burden of restoring our family and protecting those we love—! That’s it, isn’t it!”
She had completely misunderstood what I meant by the weight I carried.
“Ugh—Hyuk—!”
Then, tears streaming down her face like droplets from a roof, she pulled me close and held me tight.
“Your foolish sister didn’t realize! All I did was feel jealous! This won’t do. Starting today, we’re doing special training again!”
She burned with resolve, as if to shoulder the burden I carried alongside me.
“This household is always awash in tears!”
I clicked my tongue in outward disapproval, yet I couldn’t bring myself to push Yuhwa’s shoulder away coldly.
Instead I stood there, head turned sharply away.
Feeling the warmth that radiated where our bodies touched.

* * *
Much time passed after that, and the seasons shifted.
Autumn’s crisp breeze gave way, and true winter began at last.
The buildings of the Main House began taking shape one by one, and at last the reconstruction was complete.
‘I hadn’t expected much.’
I’d worried that Yeonhwa and Seolhwa might be overwhelmed by the rough laborers.
But blood doesn’t lie—the women of Namgung proved themselves as steely as their name demanded.
Thanks to the two of them, who threw themselves into the work covered in dust and meticulously cross-referenced accounts with carpenters and stonemasons, the Main House achieved complete transformation.
The first thing that caught the eye was the main gate—the face of a great house.
A plaque bearing the Namgung name inlaid with silver leaf on premium blackwood, and tall, formidable walls.
They emanated such an aura of power that ruffians wouldn’t dare approach.
Stepping inside, an open Garden and a pond came into view.
‘To think he wanted to fill in a pond this size simply because I was away.’
Even now, the absurdity of it drew a rueful breath from me.
Rather than waste it, I’d had the pond preserved and installed a quiet pavilion nearby for leisure.
The Training Ground, where dust had once swirled freely, was now paved with expensive blue stone laid so closely that not a footprint would mark it.
An armory was built on one side, stocked with weapons and supplies needed for training.
And next to it stood a new Medical Hall, complete with herb gardens and makeshift warehouses behind it.
“Now that Namgung has begun to reclaim its former glory, this old man cannot help but shed tears…….”
Elder Baek swept and polished with care, his eyes reddening as he worked.
“Yes, maintain it well. If you need anything, just tell me.”
The last place I examined was a building deep within the Inner Courtyard.
A massive three-story hall that had been scorched and half-destroyed by Hyulkyo’s flames.
The place that once represented Namgung’s glory had reclaimed its majesty.
While the scent of freshly applied lacquer drifted softly through the air,
I stood at the window of the study chamber, hands clasped behind my back.
“The seat of the Head of House.”
A position far too grand for the sickly youngest who once lay dying in a corner, spitting blood.
Yet it was no less than befitting the stature of Pacheongmajon, who once commanded the heavens.
With this, the Main House of Namgung had been safely rebuilt.
But the old Village spread far below the mountain still lay in ruins.
Even with the Main House reconstructed, it seemed an isolated island rising alone from a sea of ashes.
‘There’s nothing to be done.’
To fully rebuild the Village would require dozens of times the money and labor already spent.
Besides, who would want to live where the horrors of war had been wrought?
For now, it was impossible.
It was just as I, wearing a bitter expression, reached for the window latch to close it.
“……Hm?”
From far away, I sensed a faint presence approaching.
Then dust rose into the air, and a stocky man emerged into view.
“M-My lord!”
It was Dangsuk—the one I’d beaten not long ago.
“What’s wrong with him now?”
His fine clothes were caked in dirt, as though he’d rolled and stumbled across the ground countless times.
His face too was smeared with tears and mucus, a truly wretched sight.
“Gasp, gasp……!”
Dangsuk collapsed onto the courtyard, breathing in ragged gasps.
Deep desperation glistened in his tear-filled eyes.
Looking up at me leaning against the window, he cried out urgently:
“My, my son has been…… kidnapped…….”
“Your son?”
Now that I thought of it, this man called Dangsuk
was born with the Namgung name, but possessed so little talent with the blade that he suffered much ridicule and scorn.
Yet talent takes many forms.
Dangsuk, blessed with a gift for commerce, had come to lead a great trading house.
When war broke out, he’d gathered his household and wealth, fleeing to Gangnam for refuge.
Thus he’d survived to this day and now commanded vast sums of money.
I’d heard that his only son now served as a manager of the trading house, traveling through various regions to conduct commerce.
And now that son had been kidnapped.
“He was leading the caravan toward the nearby towns when it happened. The guards and workers were all slaughtered, and only my boy was taken…….”
It was a tragic matter, but his past actions made it difficult to regard him favorably. I looked down at him coldly, arms crossed.
“Then why not seek help from the Government Office or other martial schools? Why crawl all the way here?”
“That is……!”
Dangsuk struck his head against the floor, weeping uncontrollably.
“The Government Office promised to investigate, but they’re being passive, suggesting it might be a Murim matter……. The sects I know have all refused, claiming they don’t have time to concern themselves with others’ affairs……. Even when I tried to offer them money, nothing would stick……. Now there’s truly no one left to rely on but you, the Head of House…….”
Just months ago, a great war had swept through the Kangho.
It was natural enough to hesitate before wading into such perilous affairs.
“How can I blame anyone when some noble abandoned his own family to save his own skin? It’s all the consequence of his own deeds.”
“Sob, sob…….”
At my words, Dangsuk rose to his feet, as if too ashamed to press further.
His face, smudged with dust and tears, had already gone half-vacant.
“……I’m without excuse. This is all my karmic debt…….”
But before he left, he added one more thing for my sake.
“Following traces of my son’s whereabouts and investigating quietly, I discovered it wasn’t only my own boy.”
“……?”
“People of Namgung—those who fled to escape the Hyulkyo Rebellion in the past—they’re vanishing without a trace. It may be connected to this matter. Since you too carry the Namgung lineage, I beg you to be cautious…….”
My brow knitted at once. Namgung people disappearing?
Then the same fate might befall me and my household.
Who could it be? This was no trivial matter to ignore.
“Wait. Stop.”
Before Dangsuk could finish, I hurled myself through the window.
The bitter winter wind tore savagely at my blue robe and hair.
“Aaah!”
A vertiginous plunge from the third-story pavilion.
“G-Great Lord!”
Dangsuk leapt from his seat in shock, at a loss for what to do.
I landed perfectly on the ground, one knee bent.
Slowly I raised my head, a sinister demonic aura settling over me as I spoke in a low voice.
“Is that the truth? Tell me every detail.”

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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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