Chapter 189
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 189
Chapter Title: The Inhuman Path (3)
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“The weather’s starting to cool down a bit.”
At Lee Sung’s lazy remark, Sang Gan shook his head.
“You’re a Guangdong native, aren’t you, Squad Leader?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m from Shandong. That’s ninety thousand li from here in the Hundred Thousand Mountains. Never mind common folk, even most martial artists would rarely travel this far.”
“What’s your point?”
“It’s hot.”
Sang Gan said seriously.
“It’s seriously hot. I’ve been in the Cult for fifteen years, and I still can’t get used to this weather. I only feel alive when winter comes.”
“Train harder in your martial arts. You should at least become impervious to heat and cold.”
“It’s different from being impervious to heat and cold. This damn humidity is just awful.”
“Have you even reached the first step of that state?”
“…”
“Then don’t talk, you punk.”
“What about you, Squad Leader?”
“Me? I reached it a long time ago.”
“Huh? This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“That’s a good thing. Instead of trying to figure out other people’s cultivation levels, just stand your guard properly. When you have free time, don’t just lie around; pick up your sword.”
Sang Gan was inwardly filled with admiration.
The Gate Guards were the face of the sect. It wasn’t a position just anyone could hold.
Naturally, to become a Gate Guard for the Divine Cult of the Heavenly Demon, the headquarters of the demonic martial world, one needed more than mediocre martial arts. On top of that, one had to be well-versed in etiquette and law, and be quick-witted.
But he hadn’t known that his squad leader had already reached the state of being impervious to heat and cold. This state signified complete freedom in managing one’s internal energy, a level that even so-called supreme masters couldn’t dream of unless their ki cultivation had fully matured.
“Anyway, I wish winter would come soon.”
“It’ll get busy when winter comes. Prepping for the Festival of Papiyas, worrying about each division’s performance for the second half of the year… it’ll be chaotic.”
“Well, I’m not the one doing it.”
“Show some devotion.”
“…?”
“Love the Cult, you fool.”
“Ah.”
“Ah? You’re a carefree one, aren’t you? Don’t you have any ambition?”
“I’m quite satisfied with my position. Do you think just anyone can become a Gate Guard of the Divine Cult of the Heavenly Demon?”
“It’s good to have pride in your job, but you have a tendency to be too content with your current situation.”
Sang Gan sighed.
“It’s not like struggling and striving will make me one of the Cult Leader’s disciples.”
At those words, Lee Sung’s eyes widened.
“The Cult Leader’s disciples? You’re crazy. They were chosen by a god. They’re not fruits that will fall just because you look up at them.”
“I know. That’s why I said it.”
“Just stay content with where you are. It’s better than dreaming an impossible dream.”
“Sigh… I’m not aiming as high as the First Young Master, but I wanted to be at least like the Third Young Master.”
Lee Sung spoke as if he were dumbfounded.
“Are you insane? You think it’s easy to become like the Third Young Master?”
“I was just saying.”
Sensing things were about to get noisy, Sang Gan tried to brush it off, but Lee Sung had no intention of stopping.
Though he couldn’t say it openly to others, as a fervent supporter of the Third Young Master, known as the Demonic Lord, he couldn’t just let Sang Gan’s words slide.
“You fool! The Third Young Master is a monster who can’t be described by the word ‘genius.’ Don’t you know he reached his current level in just two years, even after losing all his martial arts to qi deviation?”
“I know. I told you I know.”
“Is that all? Look at the magnanimity and drive he’s shown. I guarantee you, among those losers from the Righteous Heaven Alliance or the riffraff from the Iron Blood Fortress, there isn’t a single one who can compare to the Third Young Master.”
Whenever the Third Young Master was mentioned, his face would turn red as he launched into a passionate speech. Sang Gan regretted bringing it up.
Of course, with his honest personality, he couldn’t stop the words that just slipped out.
“Still, in terms of martial arts, he can’t be compared to the First Young Master, can he? Did you hear the rumors about the First Young Master? They say he has attained the Pinnacle of Demonic Arts. The Pinnacle! Good heavens, in the history of the Cult, there are only a few who have reached that state before the age of forty…”
Just then, a cloud of dust billowed in the distance, heralding the approach of a group.
Lee Sung and Sang Gan fell silent and straightened their postures. Those who came to this main gate, among the many outer gates of the Cult, were surely members of the Cult.
A moment later, a woman appeared, carrying a splendid, bizarrely shaped white sword on her back.
“It’s the Commander of the Berserk Demon Unit. She’s returning from a mission.”
“Show me your token.”
Wi Hongryeon, as if accustomed to this, took out a token from her robes. It was a black iron token symbolizing the Commander of the Berserk Demon Unit.
After confirming the token, Lee Sung bowed his head.
“You must be weary from your journey. Guard Sang, send word inside.”
Sang Gan immediately pulled a thick rope next to the gate, and a flurry of activity could be felt from within.
*Rumble!*
The sound of the colossal gate opening was incredibly grand.
“Oh, and.”
Wi Hongryeon pointed behind her with her thumb.
“The Third Young Master and his guest are in that carriage.”
“Huh? I-Is that so?”
“…What? Why so surprised?”
Wi Hongryeon looked back.
“Third Young Master.”
*Clunk.*
The carriage door opened, and a well-built, handsome young man stepped out.
Lee Sung’s face flushed, and Sang Gan’s eyes went wide.
*Hoo-uk.*
A subtle aura spread out, causing the two men’s postures to stiffen involuntarily.
The young man, Seo Ryang, walked over.
“My apologies. My body is a bit stiff, so I’m having trouble controlling my aura. I hope you understand.”
“N-Not at all, sir!”
“I’m going to see the Cult Leader right away, so please send word ahead.”
“Yes, sir!”
A moment later, as he watched the carriage enter the gate, Lee Sung glanced at Sang Gan.
Sang Gan’s face was a sight to behold. He stared blankly at the receding carriage, looking as if he’d been bewitched by a fox.
“How about that?”
Lee Sung grinned like a mischievous boy.
“The First Young Master isn’t the only one who’s reached the Pinnacle of Demonic Arts, is he?”
* * *
“With that, I have reported everything compiled over the last ten days.”
“Good work.”
Ho Yoseong let out a soft sigh. His eyes were sunken, as if he hadn’t slept well for days.
Lee Cheonsang flicked his index finger.
*Woong.*
A bundle of medicinal herbs flew from somewhere and landed in front of Ho Yoseong.
“Oh? What is this, Cult Leader?”
“They say it’s good for fatigue.”
“Haha, you are truly the only one who thinks of me, Cult Leader.”
“So you can gather your strength and work even harder.”
…So it wasn’t a gift to be accepted with pure gratitude.
Ho Yoseong tucked the herbs into his robes and began to get up.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me…”
“How has the Secret Pavilion been lately?”
Though it was a sudden question, Ho Yoseong answered with a smile.
“It’s fine. The budget is ample, and the new recruits are sharp. It’s running smoothly.”
“That is a relief.”
*Hmm, what’s this?*
Ho Yoseong was inwardly puzzled. He knew Lee Cheonsang sometimes asked unexpected questions, but he had never asked about the Secret Pavilion before.
The Secret Pavilion was an intelligence organization within the Office of the Grand Marshal, responsible for gathering and analyzing information not only within the Cult but from all over the martial world. Though part of the Office of the Grand Marshal, its nature allowed it to operate independently at times.
“This first half of the year, the Secret Pavilion’s performance evaluation was excellent.”
“Ah, yes.”
“It’s time to turn their attention outside the Cult.”
“…Pardon?”
Lee Cheonsang silently filled his cup.
Ho Yoseong’s eyes deepened.
‘Turn their attention outside? In that case…’
After briefly organizing his thoughts, he spoke again.
“Do you mean for us to look into the state of the martial world more actively?”
“That is correct.”
This was more than just telling them to pay more attention. He was ordering even the agents in charge of internal affairs to be reassigned to external matters.
“I understand. However, may I ask the reason?”
Lee Cheonsang drained his cup before speaking.
“I simply felt it was about time.”
The reason wasn’t clear. It was a gut feeling.
Ho Yoseong bowed his head.
“As of this moment, I will shift ninety percent of the Secret Pavilion’s eyes outside the Cult.”
“Do so.”
It would have been better to know the reason, but it didn’t matter if he didn’t. Lee Cheonsang’s intuition was second to none in the world. If he had such a feeling, it was certain that a significant event was about to unfold.
Ho Yoseong rose from his seat and was about to bid farewell to Lee Cheonsang to leave the grand hall when.
‘…’
As if recalling something, he paused in thought for a moment, then spoke in a slightly heavier tone.
“It is now late summer. Autumn will soon be upon us.”
“Indeed.”
“Every division must be incredibly busy preparing for the second half of the year, I imagine?”
“They would be.”
“The ones with the most leisure must be the successor candidates.”
Lee Cheonsang refilled his cup without a word.
Ho Yoseong asked.
“Are you planning to set the stage in earnest?”
“The stage is not for me to set. It is for them to build themselves.”
“Of course, that is so, but.”
“The one who is meant to rise will do so by any means, and the one who is meant to fall will fall no matter what.”
“Still, it seems you intend to create as fair a stage as possible.”
“There is no such thing as fairness in this world.”
As Ho Yoseong quietly looked at Lee Cheonsang, he eventually bowed deeply.
“I shall take my leave now.”
“Very well.”
Just then, a cultist’s voice came from outside the hall’s doors.
“Cult Leader. The Third Young Master requests an audience.”
Ho Yoseong’s eyes widened.
‘Already?’
Lee Cheonsang said.
“Let him in.”
*Rumble!*
The doors to the grand hall opened, and Seo Ryang walked in.
Seo Ryang looked at Ho Yoseong with an expression of surprise.
“You two were in the middle of a conversation. Should I wait outside?”
“My business with the Grand Marshal is concluded.”
“Ah, I’ve come at a good time, then.”
Ho Yoseong bowed his head and passed him. As they were in the grand hall of the Palace of the Demonic God, they couldn’t chat idly. He conveyed his words with a nod.
Seo Ryang nodded back, then paused. Ho Yoseong’s gaze was unusual.
‘That look seems to say I should come over for a cup of tea.’
And so, Ho Yoseong left, leaving only Seo Ryang and Lee Cheonsang.
“I have returned.”
“Sit.”
“Ah, yes.”
Seo Ryang plopped down right where he stood.
It was an act devoid of any semblance of etiquette. But neither Seo Ryang, who sat so casually, nor the stoic Lee Cheonsang seemed to mind.
Seo Ryang bowed his head and let out a sigh.
“I almost died for real this time.”
“It is the path you chose.”
“If you put it that way, I have nothing to say, but…”
His face showed his exhaustion. Lee Cheonsang’s eyes gleamed.
“Your internal injuries have yet to heal.”
“They’re lasting longer than I thought.”
“That is because they are not simple internal injuries.”
Seo Ryang looked up at Lee Cheonsang with a puzzled expression.
“Are there simple and complex types of internal injuries?”
“You did not know?”
“…?”
Seo Ryang scratched his head.
The journey from Yunnan to the Cult’s headquarters had been utterly exhausting. Deciding to rest properly once he arrived, he had pushed the carriage on with few breaks.
Naturally, he had focused on healing his internal injuries throughout the journey. Having reached the Pinnacle of Demonic Arts, his state was not bound by posture or external stimuli, allowing him to tend to his inner self without sitting in a meditative position.
But even so, his injuries had not fully healed. While his recovery rate was excellent, a turbid energy constantly surged within him, meaning there was ultimately no significant improvement.
An internal injury that neither the Nine Hells Demonic Art nor the Unhindered Arts could quell.
In the end, he had to arrive here in that uncomfortable state.
Lee Cheonsang, who had been looking down at Seo Ryang, rose from his seat.
“Would you care for a drink?”
Offering a drink to someone whose injuries hadn’t even healed—what indifference.
Seo Ryang grumbled as he got up.
“I hope it’s good liquor.”
As he said this, Seo Ryang thought about how much he had changed.
He had never imagined he would become bold enough to grumble at the Heavenly Demon of his era. Thinking back, he felt he had come a long way.
‘If I had lived without dying, I’d be past sixty by now.’
Then again, what did age have to do with a person changing? The world looked so different at forty than it did at thirty.
A short while later, the two sat facing each other at a table in a pavilion.
‘This is refreshing.’
The climate of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, stretching across Guangdong and Guangxi, was quite humid and hot.
But perhaps because of his unexpectedly long stay in Yunnan, the air felt incredibly fresh. In that fresh air, even his seething internal injuries seemed to calm down a little.
“Take this.”
“Yes.”
The fragrance of the liquor being poured was exquisite.
Ever since his body had become immune to alcohol, he hadn’t particularly enjoyed drinking, except when with Lee Cheonsang. He felt there was no point in drinking if he couldn’t get drunk.
But today, for some reason, he felt he might be able to. He wanted to, as well.
“Thank…”
“Before you drink.”
“Yes?”
“Tend to your injuries. Right now.”
Draining the cup by himself, he spoke bluntly.
“I will not have you drink this precious liquor in such a pathetic state. If you continue to show such incompetence, unable to heal a trivial injury, I will cast you out immediately.”
…Ah, why is he being like this again?