Chapter 49
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Demonic Path
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Intelligence is a magnificent thing.
It forms the self and drives thought and cognition.
It is the power that imbues existence with meaning beyond mere survival and breathing. Through successive enlightenments and awakenings, it provides the key to transcending innate limits and laws.
Thus, intelligence is something special.
To use beasts as an example, being born robust was not enough.
Only those who achieved karma reaching a position dominating nature and attained their own accomplishments could accept nature and awaken mystical intelligence.
Or, to use objects as an example, there is the sinister spirituality blooming from a demonic sword that has feasted on all manner of grudges, blood, and death at the site of massacres.
Yet, the human race is truly bizarre.
Not even that great dragon lineage, tracing its bloodline back to its progenitor, amounts to more than a lowly serpent...
Why do these hairless monkeys, of all things, innately possess intelligence even in their most insignificant forms?
Among all living beings and non-living existences in the world, only humans are such creatures.
The reason is...
Because humans are terrifying beings.
It is not about innate malice, inability to harmonize, discriminating and harming each other based on superficial traits like skin, or repeatedly waging war—that level of temperament.
That is merely a characteristic of all intelligent beings, nothing particularly special.
What is terrifying...
Lies beneath that.
Beneath the surface of consciousness.
Beneath the sea of the unconscious.
It exists only in the depths of the human heart—the darkness. And that was the source of wisdom awakening humanity's unique intelligence.
Its mere existence exerted sufficient influence on humans, but discovering its true nature was an entirely separate matter.
The discovery of this darkness resembled the discovery of fire.
In ancient times, before records like writing or drawings remained, a lightning strike felling a tree gifted the first spark of fire to humanity.
One day, from someone dying in excruciating agony, thick darkness erupted forth.
The darkness born from pain, resentment, rage, hatred, sorrow, and death took a form that the masses found repulsive...
Yet, because it was power,
Many coveted it.
The darkness revealed itself when people were wounded or suffered pain.
Those who harbored it became mighty beings.
However, those who seized darkness extracted from others would eventually lose their reason and go mad—though that was hardly a significant flaw.
The immediate power was far too sweet to fear some future bout of madness.
Thus, an era arrived where all coveted this terrifying power.
An age of struggle where all preyed upon all.
Harmony was but a fleeting illusion, a time when barbaric beasts viewing each other as mere prey ran rampant.
They coveted not only darkness but also life force, ghostly qi, grudges, shamanistic presences—every kind of power.
It was a chaotic furnace of endless war and strife, a grindstone of an era, where irreverent and sinister wisdom only deepened.
The darkness spreading across the world truly blotted out the light, preventing dawn from breaking—no exaggeration.
The beasts and great beings of the mythic age fled in disgust to the lofty heavens, the gods' abode. It was the period of annihilation descending upon the earth.
Commonly called the Demonic Path Dominion.
What ended this era, filled with original sin, depravity, and madness, racing toward extinction?
A single human.
An outlier who did not kill others like parents or friends to covet their darkness.
His gaze merely turned inward, to his own heart.
To the inner thoughts, the roots of cognition, the origin of the soul.
Living in hell is asceticism in itself. Amidst horrific torment, he persisted in contemplation and came to understand the darkness.
It was immensely heavy, pitch-black and bottomless like an abyss...
But not evil,
Not a power laden with rage or hatred.
Not something rising from sorrow or death.
Simply the essence that blooms when the human heart becomes a single resolve—the essence of all.
The nearest path being expedients born from denial and suffering, everyone had gone mad pursuing it that way.
To handle darkness properly, one must not covet others' but solely refine it through one's own will and sincerity.
On the first day of enlightenment, he named the darkness "Ma" (Demon).
By the second day, he grasped its depths and origin, rising from his seat to step outside.
On the third day, he gathered all the corrupt darkness rampant in the world into his heart.
Harboring power fiercer than a storm and more explosive than a volcano, he kicked off the earth in a single bound, ascending to the lofty sky.
The heavens, nest of great beings and abode of gods.
He was the first human to set foot there. Though by then, calling him merely human was questionable.
Nay, perhaps he was the human among humans who had awakened the true essence of humanity more than any other.
With no way to reverse it, the world's madness and malice were eradicated in an instant, allowing humans to remain unswayed by demonic nature.
It was the curtain call of the Demonic Path Dominion.
Thus, they praised him as the Demon Ascended to Heaven.
The Heavenly Demon.
Of course, the fact that Ma was humanity's essence remained unchanged, so many continued to pursue it thereafter.
However, the provisions left by the Heavenly Demon before ascension prevented their depravity from reaching the level of the Demonic Path Dominion. Above all, self-correction became possible.
Cultivators who followed the Heavenly Demon's way, properly pursuing and refining Ma within themselves.
Thus, the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult was established.
Those who abused, tortured others, extracted vital blood, and coveted Ma were personally sent to the Heavenly Demon's side by the cultivators.
They incinerated all the sinister wisdom developed in the Demonic Path era, devoting themselves to recovering and repairing the lingering wounds.
Thus, light returned to the world, and people could once again unite to build civilization.
As the abundant Ma quieted, the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's power gradually waned in the age of peace, seemingly destined to fade naturally with time.
Until the emergence of martial arts.
So-hyang tossed a question at the old man with eyes full of curiosity.
"Don't the Cult's cultivators rarely venture beyond the Cult's territory?"
No matter how righteously they pursued Ma, the danger was immense—low achievers often caused accidental mishaps.
Thus, those cultivating demonic arts tended to remain secluded in the main altar at Tianshan in Xinjiang.
The cultivators stepping into the Central Plains were mostly supreme experts who had surpassed Entering Demon (a peak realm) to reach Extreme Demon (transcending peak).
Other daily necessities were handled by ordinary folk uninitiated in demonic arts.
It was an exceptionally insular group.
In any case, to So-hyang's eyes, the old man's realm was peak Entering Demon maturity—one of the strongest at that level, but still not beyond it.
A brief outing might be one thing, but his appearance suggested he had settled nearby for quite some time.
"...There are circumstances, but first, shall we exchange names?"
"Ah, you're right—we don't even know each other's names yet?"
Their first meeting had been anything but ordinary, explosively chaotic even, so it had slipped their minds naturally. So-hyang smiled sheepishly and stated her name first.
"I am Yu Hyeon-o."
Song Seol-ryeong, hearing the introduction beside her, started in surprise and posed a question.
"Yu Hyeon-o... Surely the Azure Spear Hero Yu Hyeon-o?"
"Hm? Do you know me?"
So-hyang wasn't ignorant of worldly affairs either. While at the Murim Alliance, she diligently subscribed to and read the Jianghu News.
The scholars of Hallym Academy truly deserved their top spot in Jianghu journalism—their writing was quite skilled, making for smooth reading.
Yet even in So-hyang's memory, no trace remained of the Azure Spear Hero or Yu Hyeon-o.
With her overwhelming focus and honed brain, she wouldn't forget something she'd seen—so he must be a figure absent from recent news.
"Heh, to think someone remembers this old bag of bones."
Yu Hyeon-o hadn't expected anyone to know him either, stroking his chin beard in astonishment.
Not missing key information others often overlook is a merchant's virtue.
Song Seol-ryeong was a talented martial artist and outstanding merchant, well-versed not only in famous intel but even in distant history.
Among it, tales of the previous generation's master, Azure Spear Hero Yu Hyeon-o, were fairly renowned.
A righteous hero of the orthodox faction wielding a spear wrapped in azure spear qi. Despite not hailing from a deep-rooted sect, he rose from nothing to transcendent peak.
With "hero" in his title, his character was well-regarded; aiding various factions earned him excellent repute—a true knight-errant.
However.
"Surely you... passed away?"
For a martial artist to bestow favors () on some is to accrue grudges () from others.
Even one who enjoyed good deeds like Yu Hyeon-o couldn't avoid vengeful foes.
A commonplace tale in the martial world.
Among them were even transcendent peak masters, and in a life-or-death duel, he lost his life...
"—That's the story going around, yes."
Yu Hyeon-o continued with a wry expression.
"Not far off, really. I did lose my life as a martial artist."
He chuckled hollowly, lifting his robe with wrinkled hands to reveal his abdomen.
"—Gah!"
"Ugh."
"My goodness."
Song Seol-ryeong, Jeon Gal-han-sang, and So-hyang's reactions in sequence.
The two young martial artists aside, even So-hyang—with experiences from her past life—found the wound horrific.
Skin cracked like spiderwebs in all directions, blackened scars around a navel clearly pierced through, healed only superficially—more plugged than mended. A fatal injury where death at any moment wouldn't be surprising.
"I took this wound and plummeted off a cliff. Surviving that was a miracle. Heh, like some wuxia tale."
"How did you survive? Incredible."
As he said, a common novel trope.
The foe spares the plunge off the cliff, assuming death without pursuit.
But at that severity, assumption isn't needed—death is the norm.
"Truly a lifetime's luck stacked up. Nothing more."
The cliff drop landed precisely in a deep pond.
A man happened to be catching and grilling fish there.
That man happened to be a Demon Physician of the Cult.
And Yu Hyeon-o happened to have bestowed a favor on him before.
A confluence of coincidences.
"As they say, good begets good—what you've sown in living kindly has borne fruit."
Yet it was the culmination of his life's trajectory, luck earned rather than pure heavenly grace.
"Hahaha! Indeed!"
Thanks to that, he survived, losing his original arts entirely but gaining orthodox demonic arts in their stead.
"Not being dragged to the Cult was thanks to that friend the Demon Physician's kindness."
With his transcendent history, unlikely to succumb to madness easily, and the transmitted art being mild and non-risky esoteric technique.
Just a verbal vow of silence, and off he went. Perhaps that much trust in Yu Hyeon-o.
"That's how it happened. I do cultivate the Cult's orthodox demonic arts, but I'm not affiliated with them."
"Mm, I see..."
Regardless, So-hyang's interest piqued elsewhere, her eyes sparkling.
"No wonder you handle the staff so masterfully—you were already at a high realm."
The Lan (Block) sweeping his sword outward.
The Cha (Thrust) cleanly firing projected qi.
The Na (Seize) softly pulling, twisting their jaws.
Just three moves revealed fundamentals at their pinnacle—a superb spearman.
Reminiscent of that past-life rival from the Three Harmonies Society, the Yang clansman—flawless skill.
That fellow ultimately lost his head to her sword, but this martial world's martial artists soared far higher, no?
So-hyang reinforced her seal, overlaying spirit qi circulation onto her existing thirty-six titanium rods.
Like Jeon Gal-han-sang's Hunyuan Formation Divine Art constructing inner formations.
Result: dual-layered formations further suppressing physical prowess.
"Mm, this should level the playing field nicely."
Clenching and opening her fist to gauge, she beamed at Yu Hyeon-o.
With Gang Pyo immersed in meditation, finishing his insights before departure impossible anyway—
"Hero Yu? How about a light spar in the meantime?"
Yu Hyeon-o burst into laughter at So-hyang's bright smile, clasping hands in salute.
"...I knew it would come to this."
Obsessed with the martial way, rolling young martial artists endlessly—the one doing it most was himself.
Thirsting for constant ascent, seeking exchange of techniques: So-hyang was excessive, but most martial artists were similar.
And Yu Hyeon-o was a martial artist too.
"Very well, let's do it."
His training stalled perfectly; moving the body and clashing techniques best cleared the mind and shifted thinking.
"Ahaha, great!"
So-hyang grinned at the ready acceptance, slicing nearby bamboo with hand blades.
"Since our warrior Gang sliced up Hero Yu's staff, use this to tide over for now?"
She handed him a six-chi-long bamboo staff—thick and sturdy enough for improvised use.
"Ah, thank you."
He had spares, but fetching from camp would take time—no reason to refuse kindness.
"Oh, and one more for me."
"...Hm?"
Naturally, So-hyang hand-sliced another bamboo stalk.
Gripping the staff two-handed, spinning it smoothly to loosen up—Yu Hyeon-o's expression grew odd.
"Lady, you're a swordmaster, no?"
"Ah, sure, but I handle all weapons."
To gauge a spearman's skill, matching staves after ages added flair.
"...Wouldn't pitting specialties against each other be better?"
"Mm, we'll see?"
A swordmaster telling a spearman, "Fight with your best spear"—ordinarily a provocation.
And not without intent: So-hyang's face bore a provoking smile.
"Hah, poking at this old man's temper, are you...?"
In martial exchanges, a dash of anger and grudge spiced the bout like seasoning.
Her past-life Yang buddy loved it done this way; martial artists' tempers seemed consistent across East-West, ancient-modern, even worlds.
"If it irks you, crush me with skill...?"
"—Hah, fine!"
If a touch of rudeness deepened the bout's savoriness, all the better.
Yu Hyeon-o's sharpened gaze, edged fierce by provocation, met So-hyang's milky-white eyes curved into crescents with a grin.
In that fleeting instant.
The clack of bamboo clashing rang out repeatedly.