The Heavenly Demon of the Blue Sky - Chapter 17

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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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Blue Heaven Heavenly Demon — Episode 17
Even a cornered rat will bare its teeth.
How much more so for Sadohmoo, whose eyes gleamed like daggers.
“You, you whelp! How dare you mock the Blood Sect! I’ll tear you to shreds!!”
He shrieked and widened the distance, swinging his Fan in a blur.
Whoooosh! Crack-crack-crack!
Dozens of massive strands of Blood Wind poured down like a downpour from all directions.
Tap-! I planted the Asura Heavenly Wind Step, leaving afterimages in my wake.
In the next instant, I drew my sword and slashed the Blood Wind above my head without pause.
Swish—! A graceful crescent arc, clean as the waxing moon.
But my frail body could not withstand the onslaught entirely.
“Tch.”
The hand gripping the sword split open, blood dripping steadily.
Jang Ho and Hye Gwang fighting beside me were little help either.
‘This is bad. We lack real combat experience.’
I was not displaying my full strength relative to the Realm I could sense within myself.
The techniques I possessed felt shallow, offering little practical use.
‘In my past life, the warriors from Shaolin and the Gaebangs were far stronger. Our Realms are comparable, yet the standard is lower—they must have all hit a wall.’
From fighting almost daily in my previous existence, the mere sight of beggars’ reek and monks chanting sutras was enough for new techniques to paint themselves in my mind.
‘Wait.’
What if the countertechniques I’d memorized could be the very key to opening a new Realm?
I cut through the sea of blood-wind and drew closer to Jang Ho and Hye Gwang.
“H-House Master……!”
Defeat was already etched into both their faces.
They barely clung to life, but the razor-sharp winds left them powerless, drowning in helplessness.
In such a bleak moment, when death could come with each blink, how many could refuse to surrender? And yet.
“Warriors of Jianghu! Get your wits together!”
To give up is to die. My sharp rebuke startled Jang Ho and Hye Gwang, their shoulders flinching.
“But House Master, there is no method available to us…….”
“Don’t bind me to the limits you’ve set for yourselves.”
I ordered Jang Ho to abandon the Drunken Fist immediately.
“Taju, stop that useless stumbling this instant.”
“Pardon? But the essence of the Drunken Fist lies in unpredictable footwork…….”
“That trick only works one-on-one. Besides, you’re not even drunk—you’re just scared.”
His nose was flushed red, cold sweat streaming down his face.
Not a trace of the Drunken Fist’s natural ease remained.
“The Drunken Fist lures enemies by showing openings, then strikes from close range with unpredictable force. But your opponent stands distant, fanning away—your fists can’t even reach. You’re just thrashing at empty air.”
“Ugh, that may be true, but…….”
“And in a confined space like this with multiple attackers, the Drunken Fist’s chaotic footwork ruins not just the enemy’s coordination—it breaks your own ally’s timing too.”
I deflected the Blood Wind while making the diagnosis clear.
Jang Ho finally grasped his situation, his face flushing crimson with realization.
“You speak truth, House Master. Yet our Gaebangs’ techniques—the Short Staff Technique and Drunken Fist—are chiefly close-range arts. Against Qi Technique raining down from afar, we truly lack any real counter.”
Jang Ho voiced his frustration like an excuse. But my thinking was different.
‘No ranged attacks at all? Then what of that vicious inferno that old bastard of a Gaebangs leader spewed in my face?’
I recalled the days as the Heavenly Demon, when my facial skin nearly burned away.
“From what I understand, the hidden marvel of the Drunken Fist isn’t just close combat—you have something that merges the Gaebangs’ free spirit with poisoned wine, then detonates it.”
“D-Detonate poisoned wine?”
“Yes. Load the wine you’ve swallowed with Qi from your Dantian, ignite it with a spark, and expel it as Qi Technique—that is the secret pinnacle of the Drunken Fist. So.”
I tapped Jang Ho’s chest as he stood there, dumbfounded.
“Bunta Taju, attempt the Fire Drunken Technique.”
I had shown him the path forward.
The rest depended on Jang Ho achieving that understanding and seizing the chance to escape this crisis on his own terms.
“If you can release the reek of poisoned breath that marks a beggar’s exhalation, even the stench of blood will pale.”
At my words, Jang Ho’s pupils trembled as if struck by an earthquake.
“House Master, that knowledge passed down only through oral transmission—how do you know of it……? The Fire Drunken Technique, it is said that only eccentrics within our Gaebangs have ever succeeded—it is perilous beyond measure…….”
“I know, a double-edged blade: failure means backlash that scorches your Dantian, or the wine detonates inside your body and you die. So what?”
I narrowed my eyes at Jang Ho even as I forced back Sadohmoo’s assault.
“Born a warrior of Jianghu, staking your life is nothing extraordinary. At this rate, we die by the enemy commander’s hand regardless. Shouldn’t we attempt everything we can?”
Faced with that harsh truth, Jang Ho’s face grew gaunt.
He swallowed hard, his hands trembling, then threw open his eyes and seized the large Gourd Bottle hanging at his hip with a fierce grip.
“Blast it all! Since when did the great Jang Ho of Jianghu start thinking so deeply? A life chasing free wine until I’ve become a beggar! I’ll trust your word, Chief, and we’ll see where it goes!”
The sharp stench of blood pierced his nostrils, and the Blood Wind howled from all sides, tearing at flesh as though to strip it from bone.
If this was the path to death, he would pour himself out without regret.
Click—! Jang Ho bit the cork from his Gourd Bottle and yanked it free, then poured the remaining poison liquor straight into his mouth.
It burned down his throat and set his stomach ablaze, and his eyes flickered with an otherworldly gleam.
With the poison liquor compressed in his mouth, he began to intone the incantation of the Fire Drunken Technique—a secret transmitted only in whispers within the Gaebangs.
“One bowl of murky wine washes away the world’s sorrows, one sip of poison liquor sets the five organs and six viscera aflame with crimson fire.”
Bubble-bubble—. The True Qi that had been coiled in his Dantian surged backward into his stomach, colliding violently with the potent spirit of the liquor.
A terrible, searing pain swept through him as if his entire body were burning like molten metal, yet Jang Ho endured it through sheer force of will.
“As breath transforms through drunken spirits into flame, the Qi devours and expels heaven and earth, and with each exhalation, the fire of calamity blooms forth!”
Crimson heat-haze shimmered up from his skin, which had turned a flushed, angry red.
The vast, uncontrolled force that had swollen through his Conception and Governor Vessels surged backward up his throat, a moment away from catastrophic rupture.
Jang Ho pressed his Short Staff hard against the stone and scraped it with brutal force.
Screech—! At the same instant, a shower of crimson sparks erupted upward.
In that precise fraction of a moment—
“With the breath of the Drunken Immortal, I drive back this wicked blood wind!”
Jang Ho unleashed toward the sparks suspended in air the compressed fusion of liquor and True Qi from his mouth, an exhalation as mighty as a lion’s roar.
The Gaebangs’ secret technique: Fire Dragon Spews Flames.
Roooooaaar—!!
The dragon of flame that would consume all things and the Blood Wind that would tear all things asunder clashed violently, their domains eating each other away in a ferocious vortex.
The two enormous forces locked in perfect tension, and the explosive heat-wave that burst forth reduced the surrounding trees to charcoal.
“Oh! He’s done it!”
Hye Gwang, who had been driven backward, could not hide his astonishment.
The blood wind of the demon—which seemed utterly impossible to breach—was being held at bay by his old companion, the Gaebangs’ Second Master.
Yet from where I stood, it was nothing more than a temporary reprieve. I furrowed my brow against the searing heat-wind and answered.
“Don’t celebrate yet.”
“Pardon? What do you mean—”
“Look carefully. It may appear they’re evenly matched, but look at the Second Master’s complexion.”
Jang Ho’s face, from which flames still poured, had turned as pale as paper.
Blood vessels stood out in his eyes, and a dark crimson fluid seeped from his eyes and nostrils.
“The Fire Drunken Technique is a reckless art that detonates poison liquor and True Qi within the body. One can amplify the power of flame by borrowing the liquor’s potency, but as time passes, the esophagus and five organs and six viscera will suffer internal injuries that devour them from within.”
And facing him now was Sadohmoo, who had spent long years cultivating his own path. A fundamental difference in internal strength lay between them.
“At best, he’s buying time. The moment those flames falter, the blood wind will tear the Second Master to shreds.”
“Ugh—! Then, then what are we to do!”
I turned to stare at Hye Gwang and answered quietly.
“Will you merely watch your friend die? Now it’s your turn.”
“Me? But, how could I possibly—”
I tilted my chin toward the thick strand of 108 Prayer Beads that hung around Hye Gwang’s neck.
“Those heavy black sandalwood beads you wear around your neck. You didn’t hang them there merely as decoration, surely?”
The face of that stubborn old monk who had clung to my ankles in another life flickered through my mind.
Hye Gwang’s eyes widened as though he’d been struck a heavy blow.
“You’ve seen through the mystery of the Heavenly Net 108 Binding—using the beads as a weapon to ensnare an opponent. How could you know of Shaolin’s hidden techniques, Chief?”
At Hye Gwang’s question, I let out a dry laugh.
A distant memory flickered across my mind.
Even the Heavenly Demon had once been a child in need of care.
‘This child bears the appearance of one destined to become a great star in the martial realm. I shall purify the demonic nature within through my Buddhist Heart and raise him as a pillar of Shaolin.’
The Old Monk who had raised me hoped I would forget my worldly entanglements and embrace the Buddha’s way, becoming an ordinary believer.
But my choice was not the Buddhist Path, but the blood-soaked way of the Asura.
In the end, I betrayed the Old Monk’s expectations and left the temple.
“I once had my ears bent off by an old priest I was bound to in a past life. Though I did run away—didn’t want to end up a shaved-headed monk.”
“Pardon? Shaved-headed—”
At my flippant and irreverent answer, Hye Gwang faltered and swallowed dryly.
“In any case, your guess is correct. Shaolin has transmitted secret techniques for subduing demons.”
Yet his face was still shrouded in deep helplessness.
“However… shamefully, my training has been insufficient, and I have yet to reach that stage. These beads hang from my neck, but I cannot even mimic the true power of the Heavenly Net to bind an opponent.”
He exhaled deeply, as though admitting that for now they were merely tools of practice.
“Tsk.”
Like Jang Ho of the Gaebangs, he too was underestimating himself.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere unique to the orthodox sects—the belief that one should think little of what one possesses and cultivate humility.
“Infuriating lot.”
From where I stood, Hye Gwang had already reached the threshold of his breakthrough.
He was simply foolish enough to turn his back on the wall of enlightenment.
“Master, what matters most in the prayer beads—the individual beads themselves, or the string that holds them together?”
At my sudden question, Hye Gwang blinked.
“Surely it must be the beads, which symbolize affliction. The string merely connects them.”
“That’s exactly why you fail.”
My firm pronouncement made his face grow rigid.
“The Heavenly Net 108 Binding is not some crude striking technique, hurling metal weights to batter an opponent senseless. It is a net-casting art.”
Recalling the flow of True Qi that had most vexingly ensnared my ankles in my past life—the work of the Arhat Temple monks—I spoke with perfect clarity.
“You are drowning in the weight of one hundred and eight afflictions, in those beads alone, and so you cannot summon the strength to extend outward. What matters is not the scattered beads, but you yourself—the string that passes through all those countless afflictions in silent practice.”
“Ah……!”
The pinnacle of martial arts cannot be reached in a single moment through teaching alone, yet to one standing ready at the threshold, a single phrase of instruction is enough to shatter the wall of limitation.
“Do not let your gaze be stolen by each grain of affliction. Face the afflictions and overcome them. Channel your unwavering Buddhist Heart as that string, and weave your True Qi through it like a net. Then the 108 Prayer Beads shall become a true Heavenly Net, moving through the void according to your will.”
“……!”
I laid bare the subtle principles I had learned in my former life, clashing against Shaolin.
Hye Gwang’s lips trembled, and then his eyes began to shake violently, as though seized by some inner tremor.
“Not affliction itself, but I myself carrying afflictions forward……! I must center on my own resolve……! Ah, so that was the true meaning of the Heavenly Net all along! How could I have been so blind, shackled by the weight before my eyes!”
In that instant, the knot of anguish and the blockage of True Qi that had not loosened even through years of sitting meditation suddenly became clear.
Simultaneously, a rich and brilliant golden radiance began to pour forth from within him.
And then——
“I am forever grateful for this great debt, Master!”
Hye Gwang pressed his palms together in a deep bow toward me, his face full of emotion.
Beyond his sturdy shoulders, the image of the Old Monk overlapped with his form.
That foolish old man who, even as his breath stopped, had worried for me and tried to place the broken prayer beads in my hand one last time.
‘Are you watching? I passed on the subtle principles to the next generation, exactly as you taught me long ago.’
It was my wordless message to the old monk who had found peace.
‘So by this, I repay some small portion of the debt for raising and nurturing me.’
And then I smiled, bitter and true.
Feeling, for the first time, that I was offering the very compassion the Old Monk had so longed for.

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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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