Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Agony
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Hubei Province, Luo River District.
A city located northwest of Yungzhong Mountain, where the secret chamber of the Generation's Heavenly Demon lay hidden.
As darkness began to settle in, Byeon Ryeo-gun, her face veiled in gauze, knocked on the gate of a modest manor. Soon, the gate creaked open, and an elderly servant bowed low.
"Young miss, you've returned?"
"No trouble while I was away?"
"None at all. Please, come in."
The gate swung wide, and as the servant stepped aside, Byeon Ryeo-gun entered.
"Shall I prepare a bath?"
"I'll pay my respects to Master first. Get it ready in the meantime."
"Understood."
The servant closed the front gate and headed toward Byeon Ryeo-gun's quarters. She made her way to the main hall. At the back of the hall stood the ancestral tablets of past generations in a neat row, with her master's tablet placed at the very end. Byeon Ryeo-gun lit incense and bowed deeply in reverence. Then, she gazed silently at her master's tablet for a long while.
The eyes beneath her veil held a distant, wistful light.
It was as if she were reminiscing about days gone by, never to return—a profound sadness evident in her expression. After a long moment lost in thoughts of her master, a weary sigh escaped her lips, accompanied by a voice drained of strength.
"Haa... Master and the ancestors longed for it so desperately, yet in the end, that man took it all."
What Byeon Ryeo-gun truly wanted to ask was what she should do now. But standing before her master's tablet, the words wouldn't come.
—I want you, at least, to live a life different from your master's. Don't be bound by the ancestors' wishes. Live as you desire. Choose whatever path you want and follow it.
Those were her master's final words. A life shackled to the ancestors' aspirations was no life of freedom. Her master had wanted to grant his disciple that freedom, at least. Knowing the depth of that love, she couldn't bring herself to ask.
Byeon Ryeo-gun stared at the tablet a while longer before turning away. As she headed to her quarters, a sudden change of mind made her alter course. Exiting through the back door of the hall, she came upon a door leading underground.
She opened it and descended.
The underground stone chamber reeked of musty air.
Vast shelves lined the spacious room, packed floor to ceiling with what must have been thousands of books. These were tomes gathered from across the land by generations of predecessors—works on astronomy, geography, mechanisms, engineering, and formations, all to unlock the Generation's Heavenly Demon's secret chamber.
It was a space where she had spent every day from childhood alongside her master. No book here had escaped her touch. Byeon Ryeo-gun believed she had merely followed the path paved by her ancestors' relentless obsession to open the chamber. She herself had done little more than turn the final key.
Staring blankly at the shelves, she approached the chair where her master always sat and ran her fingers over its rough wooden grain. Seated there, he had imparted countless lessons. And it wasn't just these endless books. Histories of the martial world, tales of heroes, sects, and even the lives of ordinary folk beyond the jianghu—she had learned it all while sitting in this very spot.
"What... what should I do?"
In the end, she had no choice but to ask.
Her life's purpose had vanished. She was meant to open the Generation's Heavenly Demon's chamber and study the peerless arts he left behind, but now that was impossible. Standing there amid the silence, with no answer forthcoming, Byeon Ryeo-gun crossed to the opposite side of the table and sat in her own chair, gazing at her master's empty seat. As always, it seemed he was smiling at her. Staring at that imagined smile, she finally voiced the question burning in her heart.
"Is there a place for me there too?"
Seven people had gathered in one place.
They wore an assortment of attire, but two among them were clad identically—in pitch-black monastic robes like those of temple monks.
The Four Buddha Twin Evils!
These two vicious monks were notorious throughout the Buddha Mountain region in Guangdong Province. They abducted women and girls, raped them, and slaughtered anyone—man, woman, child—who dared interfere, without mercy. True scum among scum. Yet their martial prowess was so immense that they rampaged unchecked across the area, like fish in water.
Seated alongside these Four Buddha Twin Evils were five other warriors.
As the old saying goes: birds of a feather flock together.
Unless their skills were evenly matched or their deeds cut from the same cloth, they wouldn't gather like this.
Garment Old Ancestor, Ong Jung-seo, Blood Water Rakshasa, Poison Eye Great Power Ghost, and Heaven Killing Sword.
Notorious villains from Guangdong, Guangxi, and southern Hunan had converged in these mountains. Something big was afoot.
"What does it mean that he's in closed-door training? It means the Iron Lions' manuals are there. So enough with the doubts about whether their peerless arts even exist."
The rat-faced elder monk, Ong Jung-seo, shot a glare at the ever-suspicious Poison Eye Great Power Ghost.
"Doubting even after coming this far? You'll blow the whole thing before we even open the door."
A middle-aged woman with blood-red lips spoke up.
It was the Blood Water Rakshasa. At her words, Poison Eye Great Power Ghost flushed crimson with rage.
"You bitch! Maybe I should rip that mouth open to your crotch!"
"Why get so worked up? Even at the outhouse, if you're too busy doubting it's real, you'll shit yourself before you even get the door open. Is that worth raging over?"
The Blood Water Rakshasa tilted her head innocently, as if baffled.
Poison Eye Great Power Ghost's face turned from red to purple, but he held his tongue. He knew he couldn't win with words—only if he actually tore her mouth wouldn't count.
"Shut it and listen up. When we get the Iron Lions' manuals, we draw lots for one each. If any bastard tries funny business thinking he can snag the Iron Lion King's Brain Wall Fist, I'll make you regret being born alive. Got it?"
All nodded at the words of the oldest-looking elder.
Garment Old Ancestor.
In any ranking of the top hundred experts in the unorthodox sects, he'd claim a spot. The Four Buddha Twin Evils might have greater infamy, but in pure martial skill, even those two together couldn't guarantee victory over him.
"We're here on the condition of no tricks, so of course. But the Flying Swallow Fairy's arts—the only woman among the Iron Lions—those go to me."
The Blood Water Rakshasa smiled. Garment Old Ancestor scanned the group.
"Any objections? Speak now."
They exchanged glances but voiced none. He nodded.
"The Flying Swallow Fairy's arts are yours."
"Thank you."
"Wipe that grin off. A hag pushing forty acting all coy—what bullshit is this?"
"Even at sixty, a woman's still a woman."
"Quiet. Last thing: listen well. That Iron Divine Dragon who clashed with the Heaven-Rending Legion—me, the Four Buddha Twin Evils, and Heaven Killing Sword will handle him. The rest of you grab his master and disciples in the chaos. Done. Simple, no room for screw-ups. But if anyone does... I won't hold back."
"He's no pushover if he fought the Heaven-Rending Legion, even if caught off guard. How long can you hold him?"
"What, drag it out till we drop dead, then show up with the hostages?"
"Of course not."
"They say aside from the Iron Divine Dragon, the Iron Lion Sect's barely third-rate. Half an incense stick—if you're not there with them, I'll assume betrayal and leave. You know what happens after."
Garment Old Ancestor's eyes gleamed with icy light, murder flashing within. A threat to hunt them down and sever their throats later.
"No need to scare us like that. Our legs are shaking before the real deed's done."
The Blood Water Rakshasa crossed and uncrossed her legs nonchalantly. Garment Old Ancestor disapproved but figured they'd gotten the message—no further threats needed.
"We move when night deepens. Rest till then."
With that, they dispersed. Distrusting one another, they kept at least five or six paces apart. But the Blood Water Rakshasa sidled right up to the youngest-looking one: Heaven Killing Sword.
"Rumor must be wrong. You don't seem the type for this."
Heaven Killing Sword!
A swordsman called heaven-sent killer, for he never left an opponent alive once provoked. His ruthless hands had carved him a place in the unorthodox world. Yet curiously, he'd never once initiated a quarrel or strike that led to a kill.
That's why the Blood Water Rakshasa said he didn't fit. A man who never started trouble joining a pillage?
"Well, the Iron Lions' arts would tempt anyone."
She muttered.
"Wrong."
One of the Four Buddha Twin Evils spoke from across the way.
She turned to him.
"Wrong how?"
"He's here to repay a debt to us."
"Pfft, whatever the debt, it's not worth more than the Iron Lions' arts."
"Ignorant wench. As if you'd understand a warrior's code."
"Code or not, beats having none. Kinda hot, actually."
Muttering to herself, she averted her gaze from the Twin Evils and fixed shining eyes on Heaven Killing Sword's face.
"After this, wanna shack up? I'm getting old, lonely and all."
Leaning in with a beaming smile.
He turned to meet her grin.
Eyes like carved ice—clear, cold, utterly indifferent.
'A man like this won't give a woman his heart!'
The Blood Water Rakshasa frowned.
Men who gave no affection doomed women to misery. Knowing this, she smoothed her brow and smiled brighter.
"At least one night, right?"
Deep darkness.
The hour when only distant night insect cries pierced the silence.
Seven shadows vaulted the Iron Lion Sect's walls in a single bound.
One slithered over like a snake, another leaped high, yet another floated across like a leaf on the wind. Methods varied, but one thing united them: utter silence.
Unleashing their lightness skills, the seven streaked straight toward the sect's heart. As they moved unchecked like a gale—
"Not assassins, huh? Just bold little rats with swollen guts?"
A calm sneer drifted out. The seven halted abruptly, scanning warily for the voice's source. Garment Old Ancestor stepped forward.
"Iron Divine Dragon?"
A figure rose before the front hall. He'd been sitting motionless, yet none but Garment Old Ancestor had noticed him.
"No idea why you're hunting dragons in the Iron Lion Sect. But yeah, that's me."
Do Cheon approached. His demeanor was serene, almost leisurely. The other six flanked Garment Old Ancestor, exchanging glances, as he asked:
"True you've found the Iron Lions' arts?"
"Yep. All the ancestors' peerless techniques. That why you're here? Lusting after them?"
"What else would bring us to a fallen third-rate sect?"
"Fair enough. So what now? Looks like you'll leave empty-handed."
"We'll decide that."
"Just your opinion, old timer."
No more words needed. Both lunged.
As Garment Old Ancestor and Do Cheon charged, the remaining six kicked off too. Per plan, the Four Buddha Twin Evils and Heaven Killing Sword followed to engage Do Cheon; the other three peeled left and right.
Their scheme was obvious even to a child. Do Cheon saw through it instantly, unleashing a ferocious aura that sucked in the surrounding air explosively.
Compressed, compressed, compressed air.
The atmosphere's pressure shifted violently, slowing time itself. Their movements turned sluggish, like deep underwater. Only Garment Old Ancestor moved near-normally—but even he couldn't shake it like the Heaven-Rending Legion, trapped in the same peril.
Garment Old Ancestor's eyes bulged.
Then, a thunderous fist strike hurtled at his face.
Kwarung!
'Brain Wall Fist!'
That flashed in his mind. He reacted on instinct—but too slow.
Kwang!
Garment Old Ancestor flew. Before he hit the ground rolling, heavy impacts rang out in succession, sending the other six tumbling one by one. The compressed air dispersed simultaneously.
"Ngh!"
Ong Jung-seo groaned.
The strongest, Garment Old Ancestor, took the worst hit and lay unconscious. The rest were struck with equal force. Even the Twin Evils were out cold; Blood Water Rakshasa too. Ong Jung-seo's groan meant he endured better than most. Maybe he was stronger than his thieving rep suggested.
Do Cheon now stood before one man.
The only other still on his feet besides Do Cheon.
Heaven Killing Sword.
Struck by Do Cheon's fist, he'd rolled but sprang up instantly, sword thrust forward in guard. His trembling body betrayed the blow's severity.
Yet his eyes were unfocused.
His mind wandered the edge of reality. Do Cheon eyed him, smacking his lips. Such indomitable spirit qualified him as an Iron Lion.
Do Cheon reached out, tapping Heaven Killing Sword's forehead lightly. His torso reeled back, then snapped forward—consciousness restored.
"...!"
Panicking at Do Cheon's presence, he gripped his sword crushingly, ready to fight.
"Killing isn't everything. Lesson learned—I'll let you go. Take the others."
How far did his prowess reach across the land?
His vague sense from the Heaven-Rending Legion fight sharpened with clarity.
In that light, his first kill at Sky-Spanning Gang was pointless. These wall-scalers weren't much different. The skill gap was vast.
"Don't want blood in the sect. Go quietly."
Heaven Killing Sword visibly wavered, then sheathed his blade. Staring long at Do Cheon, he hoisted the still-unconscious Twin Evils over each shoulder.
"No ties to the others."
As he vanished with the Twin Evils, Do Cheon watched blankly before turning to Ong Jung-seo, just sitting up.
"Wake them and go. Remember, I know all your faces."
Ong Jung-seo bowed deeply at the mercy. Do Cheon turned away, glancing once more where Heaven Killing Sword had gone.
'Should've said something?'
The intruders irked him, but now he felt a pang of regret.
'Anyway, decent ones are gathering here. Tomorrow, I'll scout for worthwhile recruits.'
His destination: Lion Hall. Precisely, the underground training chamber of the Iron Lions beneath it. His master, martial uncles, and juniors were all there. Since discovering it, they'd moved beds inside to sleep. The massive walls doubled as doors, muffling detection. Even with the Wise King's intrusion and clash with Heaven-Rending Legion, those inside remained oblivious.
'With the Wise King guarding, I'd have more freedom...!'
Thinking of the Wise King, Do Cheon halted abruptly, face paling in realization.
The technique he'd used to capture the intruders at once!
Habitually unleashed, it wasn't an Iron Lion art—the Wise King might sense it.
Do Cheon spun. Gauging direction, he blasted off like a gale. One ground-shattering kick warped space ahead, his form vanishing into the void.
What he'd just unleashed was no Iron Lion technique either.