Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: The Mad Flame Little Demon's Resolve
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A certain region in the western part of Shin River.
As the sun began to set, the disciples of the Mad Flame Sect finished their grueling training.
"That's enough for today."
"Huuu..."
The sect leader's declaration brought sighs of relief from the disciples, their chests heaving with heavy breaths.
They had trained without rest for half a day straight, so their exhaustion was only natural.
But one among them stood apart.
The young sect leader, Cho Juseong, had already sat cross-legged and was circulating his qi right after training ended, wasting not a single moment.
The other disciples shook their heads with wry expressions as they watched him.
Soon after, as everyone dispersed to end the day's routine...
"Sect Leader, I have something to discuss."
Cho Juseong approached the sect leader and spoke.
The disciples' gazes briefly focused on them, but they quickly scattered from the training ground when the sect leader glanced their way.
Now alone, the sect leader fixed his eyes on him.
"Speak."
"Please permit my participation in the Demonic Martial God Tournament."
It had come at last.
The sect leader closed his eyes at Cho Juseong's request.
The Demonic Martial God Tournament.
The martial contest revived after centuries.
A place where any demon of the world could participate, challenging the strong to test their limits.
Everywhere he went, it was the only topic.
Travelers on the streets, diners in inns—all chattered noisily about the Demonic Martial God Tournament.
As the cult's grandest event that no one could ignore, it was no surprise the young sect leader brought it up.
But.
"Do you know what participating in the Demonic Martial God Tournament entails?"
"Of course. I know full well that it doesn't guarantee participants' lives."
"Then you know how difficult it is to enter. Only our cult's top experts, confident enough for life-or-death duels, will step forward."
Worry laced the sect leader's cold tone.
But the young sect leader's resolve was firm.
"Hardships are the nourishment for growth. And I've faced countless warriors to earn the overly grand title of Mad Flame Little Demon. I don't think I'll lag behind the others, and I want to challenge even greater foes."
"..."
"Life-or-death duels and facing masters don't scare me. What frightens me is boiling blood in my veins while watching from afar. So please, Sect Leader, grant me permission to participate."
Cho Juseong stared at him with fervent eyes.
Various thoughts swirled in the sect leader's mind as he met that gaze.
And in time, his conclusion was clear.
If he didn't go to the Demonic Martial God Tournament, who from the Mad Flame Sect could?
The sect leader nodded, conveying his approval.
"Raise our Mad Flame Sect's name high."
"Yes!"
No sooner had permission been granted than Cho Juseong packed and left the village.
But there was a snag.
So many people flocking to Heavenly Mountain from all over Shin River meant it took him far longer than expected to arrive.
Thus, on the eve of the Demonic Martial God Tournament, he finally reached Heavenly Mountain and headed straight to the outer city to find lodging.
However.
"Here for the Demonic Martial God Tournament too?"
"No rooms left."
"Sorry, try somewhere else."
Every inn he visited was packed, with not a single room available.
He wandered the crowded streets.
"Finally, the tournament starts tomorrow..."
"So many exciting contenders—who will stand out...?"
"Rumors say even young clan heirs from the Seven Great Demon Clans might join..."
"One candy for a coin! Cheap!"
"Luxurious silk garments from beyond the borders. Come look, even if you don't buy!"
Passing the noisy crowds and hawkers, he headed to the outskirts of the outer city.
A remote spot that usually saw one or two guests a day was now overflowing.
"Any rooms left?"
"Lucky you. One left."
Fortune smiled; he snagged the last room.
After a simple meal, he retired to his room.
No bed, just musty bedding on a hard floor.
But a room was a room.
It wouldn't hinder his tournament participation anyway.
Thus, Cho Juseong took his final rest, inspecting his body.
And the next morning.
Waking to faint sunlight, he ate a light breakfast and left the inn early.
The day of the Demonic Martial God Tournament had dawned.
The arena lay in the northern outer city, quite a distance, so he departed at dawn.
A time when streets were usually empty.
Yet paths ahead teemed with people heading the same way; empty stretches were rare.
"Quite the crowd."
Not all were warriors.
Spectators had come to watch too.
He followed the flow to the northern outer city, the vast arena on the plains.
As he drew near, its immense scale came into view.
"Whoa..."
He couldn't help but gasp at first sight.
A circular coliseum that could hold tens of thousands.
Just looking up at it inspired awe—the largest structure he'd ever seen.
His eyes sparkling, Cho Juseong approached, the crowds thickening.
Excited murmurs filled the air, like tourists at a landmark.
"That swordsman with burns on his lips—isn't that the Fire-Repelling Demon Sword?"
"He cut off all outside contact and secluded himself, yet here for the tournament...!"
"That's Bu Gye Cheon of Blood Wind Block!"
"Wasn't he supposed to be in the Central Plains?"
"Heard the news and returned."
Names Cho Juseong knew well.
And more followed.
"Poison Sickle Spear, Hegemonic Killing Fist, Threefold Fire Ghost..."
"All entering the Demonic Martial God Tournament?"
"High masters everywhere you look."
Ignoring the buzz, Cho Juseong steeled himself and pressed on.
His fame might pale, but his skills wouldn't.
Victory was for the arena to decide.
No need to yield beforehand.
Thud.
Weaving through the throng with renewed focus, he finally entered the arena.
"Ooh...!"
He marveled at the vast interior, eyes darting everywhere.
A central stage ringed by tiered seats for clear views—already packed.
Yet he nimbly found a spot with a good view of the stage.
'That's where the duels will happen.'
Covered in expensive azure steel stone, it was massive—like a battlefield, not a stage.
Just gazing at it set his blood aflame.
The wait for the start wasn't long.
A middle-aged man soon strode to the stage's center.
Black eyepatch over one eye, emotionless face, hard gaze sweeping the crowd.
Muscles like carved stone bulged under his uniform as he halted.
"Who is that...?"
"No way!"
As eyes widened and murmurs grew, he spoke in a deep, steady voice.
"Focus."
The thick timbre cut through chatter like a blade.
"I am Seok Mae, captain of the cult's Protector Squad, the Heavenly Will Dominion Squad."
"Seok Mae, the Wicked Spawned Mid Demon!"
His introduction rounded eyes like rabbits'.
"I will oversee this Demonic Martial God Tournament. Cooperate for smooth proceedings."
His stiff delivery was enough.
"Wicked Spawned Mid Demon as host."
"Even the great Gu Clan has courted him for years, but he sticks to the Protectors."
"And none of the Seven Great Demon Clans haven't tried recruiting him."
"Yet he belongs to no faction."
"Mm, trustworthy."
Seok Mae was cold and impartial, beholden to none—a fair arbiter.
The crowd accepted him readily.
"Before we begin, the tournament rules. This one runs over seven days and nights, unlike before."
Murmurs rose.
"Different format?"
"Seven days and nights?"
They perked up at the changes.
"Rules are simple. Anyone who wants to fight ascends the stage. Then a challenger follows."
Unlike centuries ago.
But this sparked more excitement, drawing nods of approval.
"All duels are life-or-death, no quarter given until one yields defeat."
Anyone demonic could enter.
A place to rise to fame.
But the path was brutal.
To weed out the unprepared, every bout was mortal combat.
And declaring defeat wounded pride deeper than any blade.
Thus, open to all yet entered only by the worthy—true elites who never conceded defeat lightly.
"That's the explanation."
Brief but sufficient.
The rest they'd see for themselves.
"Before the main event, a word from the Cult Leader."
Silence fell.
'Cult Leader?'
'He's here?'
Gazes scanned frantically, halting at the front VIP seat.
A young cult leader sat there, aura both icy and gentle.
Just seated on his throne, gazing at the demons.
That stillness exuded otherworldly presence, drawing all eyes.
Seeing him made it real—they were at the Demonic Martial God Tournament.
In the hush, they awaited his words.
Soon, he rose slowly.
Sweeping the arena left to right, he spoke.
"Demons of our cult."
His resonant voice, laced with profound qi, overwhelmed tens of thousands, reaching every ear crystal-clear without falter.
The faithful lost themselves in his divine might.
"You all came here with one shared purpose."
Hyeok Mulin turned to the left stands.
"Those without backing to rise."
Then to the right.
"Those denied chances to show their prowess."
Silence deepened.
Finally, facing front.
"Defeat the strong."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"And prove your strength."