The Heavenly Demon Copies Martial Arts
—Crack…
Dying embers scattered on the autumn wind. Staring at the charred remains of the mill that the thunderbolt bomb had reduced to rubble, Il-ho spoke.
“This will do nicely. We will begin the cleanup at once.”
“Do it.”
At my brief reply he wasted no time signaling the remaining four Killing Stars. Their movements were seamless. The Nine Killing Stars had always operated independently, often deep inside hostile territory; disposal of this sort was second nature to them.
—Thud, thud.
They formed a line, scooping the bodies strewn across the ground as if they were sacks of grain and tossing them onward. The man at the end of the chain piled scorched timber in the center of the mill’s ashes and heaved the corpses onto the pyre.
…
The unorthodox band that had once dominated this region before converting to the Moyong Clan had never stood a chance against the Nine Killing Stars. Most of the corpses littering the clearing had died in a single stroke, their forms still relatively intact.
—Caw, caw.
Crows glided down, already eyeing the dead. In the very middle of them, Cha Ryu-ja’s body still knelt.
To the last he had thrashed and cursed, refusing to die, spitting endless insults at me and the Nine Killing Stars. His corpse was the most savagely mutilated of all—hands clasped as though offering sacrifice to the heavens, a spear driven clean through from mouth to throat.
As expected. This is precisely the way of the Heavenly Demon Cult.
Mumyeong’s voice was brief.
To those who resist, a wretched death; to those who submit, a clean one. Judging by their methods, these men are among the purest demonic practitioners I have ever seen.
Such praise from Mumyeong was rare. The black dog that watched from my shadow regarded his descendants with something almost like nostalgia. I answered dryly.
“Blood always runs thicker, doesn’t it? Who else would the ghost of the Heavenly Demon Cult favor?”
Host, you have experienced their methods yourself, have you not?
“…Of course. Not one of my better memories.”
Early on, during a punitive trial at Cheonsubaekryeonsa, I had mixed with a merchant caravan and run straight into the Heavenly Demon Cult forces led by the Flame Wolf King. Even then the demonic practitioners maximized terror by slaughtering the defiant in the most brutal fashion while simply executing those who offered no resistance, crushing any will to fight.
The Nine Killing Stars—nicknamed “the dogs that hunt Guardians”—could have toyed with Cha Ryu-ja one-on-one. Yet Il-ho and the others never let emotion dictate their response; they maintained perfect coordinated assault. In the end Cha Ryu-ja died with all four limbs pinned, carved apart by blades swinging from the front.
Hard to believe I once stood against creatures like these.
The first time I met the Nine Killing Stars, Il-ho had restrained Gu-ho from killing me on the spot and actively mediated. Had they simply rabbit-hunted me with coordinated strikes the way they did Cha Ryu-ja today, I would have died without question. Suddenly I felt how thin the wire had been between life and death throughout my entire existence.
“As ordered, the cleanup is complete, my lord.”
Beyond the rising flames, Il-ho and the remaining four stood in perfect ranks. I looked down. On the ground lay the black mask Cha Ryu-ja had worn, jaw exposed, together with the shattered chain and sickle.
—Clink.
I picked them up. I severed the sickle from the chain and discarded the blade, keeping only the mask and the chain, then faced the five men.
“We’re changing locations. We need to talk.”
“Uh… excuse me… um…”
The waiter eyed our table.
“Will you… not be ordering food?”
Il-ho glanced sideways at me. I sat chin in hand, lost in thought. He quickly fished something from his robes and pressed it into the waiter’s palm.
“Food later. This is a deposit. Don’t interrupt us—just bring tea first.”
The Killing Star beside him added curtly,
“The tea for our lord must be the finest this inn has. Otherwise we kill you.”
“Hic!”
The waiter’s face went paper-white. My eyebrow twitched.
“What?”
“Hey.”
Il-ho shot the speaker a sharp look. The man who had spoken stared at me, realized his mistake, thought for a beat, then turned back to the waiter.
“That’s just a joke from my hometown in the northwest. Don’t take it seriously. The tea…”
He stole another glance at me.
“…would be appreciated.”
“…Y-yes…!”
The waiter vanished like his tail was on fire. I sighed, looking at the five black-clad figures seated around the round table, staring at me with unblinking intensity. Normally they would have worn full masks; under my order not to create an awkward atmosphere they had simply pulled the masks down and wound black scarves up to their noses. People still stole glances, of course, but they had obeyed my command faithfully enough.
I surveyed the room.
“Well… everything you’ve said so far, earlier included, hangs together.”
This was one of the districts under the Wi Family’s influence. By rights it should have been slaughtered like every other place. Yet there was not a single trace of massacre; the horrors I had seen elsewhere felt almost like hallucinations.
Demonic practitioners of the Heavenly Demon Cult had protected ordinary people.
My own identity was hazy, but I had been born and rooted in orthodox territory. Witnessing this with my own eyes still felt nearly impossible. The entire value system I had carried until now seemed to shake. And then they went one step further.
“Since our lord does not drink, from this day forward we too will not let a single drop of liquor pass our lips, even during rest periods.”
Il-ho’s eyes shone above the black collar he had drawn high under his nose in place of a mask. I said,
“There’s no need to go that far.”
“There is every need.”
His voice was clear.
“The sight of our lord refusing even a drop of wine and seeking only advancement—that is the conduct a martial artist must follow! We too wish to purify ourselves by following our lord through this rotten jianghu. Please permit it.”
“…It wasn’t that grand a reason.”
These men—said to stand at the absolute peak even within the Heavenly Demon Cult—were swearing unconditional loyalty to me. Ever since the Dark Martial Tournament, Mumyeong had hammered home the necessity of a power base. No matter how peerless a man’s martial arts, without a foundation to support him he would simply be hunted down; that was the law of the jianghu.
Nothing they had said so far had proven false, yet I still did not trust them easily. I did not trust them completely.
Even so, this moment could become the starting point of a force I had never possessed until now. I looked at Il-ho.
“Why go this far to serve me as lord?”
He glanced at the others. They nodded and spoke over one another.
“We believe our lord already knows the answer.”
“Our cult long ago abandoned the principle of strength above all and rots in factional strife. Fresh blood is needed. It is not only us. Countless comrades scattered across the land share the same thought.”
“To put it precisely, we yearn for the traditional Heavenly Demon Cult of the old jianghu days—before the Orthodox-Demonic Great War.”
“Having beheld with our own eyes the one who will become the true First Heavenly Demon of this age—whose line was broken—we believe a single living reality holds more weight than a hundred eloquent speeches.”
They had already made their decision. Further questions felt pointless.
In a sense, to those who pursue the pure essence of the Heavenly Demon Cult, the Black Thunder is also the greatest symbol of the cult’s legitimacy. And then there is the law of the strong…
Mumyeong observed.
“Very well, then.”
I studied the man before me. Suddenly I wanted to know what the very apex of the Heavenly Demon Cult’s demonic practitioners—those the orthodox sects called evil spirits, who swarmed like black rats—actually looked like.
“Your name is Il-ho?”
“Yes.”
“Judging by your voice… you don’t sound particularly old.”
“Sharp as ever, my lord.”
Il-ho sounded admiring. We were already in the farthest corner of the inn, and no one wandered near a table ringed by men in black, yet he still lowered his voice carefully.
“Our bloodlines are different, yet we were all born on the same day, at the same hour. In the year we turned six, those of highest talent were selected. The chosen inherit every secret art and demonic technique from the previous generation of Nine Killing Stars, then adapt and refine them.”
Building from absolute nothing and adding one’s own achievements atop the results already forged by predecessors would produce completely different outcomes. I said,
“Similar to Guardians who inherit through the precious gems.”
“Yes. Since we were created specifically to counter Guardians, the system is comparable. Of course, the vast majority of the demonic qi accumulated by the previous generation is lost during succession.”
“Take the scarf down. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen your face.”
Il-ho hesitated.
“…If I do that, my face will be exposed… Is that all right?”
I sighed.
“If I’m taking you in, doesn’t that mean a fresh start? Abandoning every past identity?”
“That is correct.”
I gestured with indifferent fingers.
“Then there’s no reason to hesitate. Depending on circumstances you may have to walk forever without masks from now on. You can’t change the nature of the energy inside you, but the lives you live from this day forward will be completely different.”
Understanding dawned on Il-ho’s face.
“As you command.”
Without further delay he lowered the scarf.
—Whoosh.
Sharp, handsome features. A single knife scar ran beneath one eye, yet it sat in harmony rather than marring the face. Because they had always worn masks, their skin was almost pure white. The slight furrow between the brows only sharpened his presence.
“…Oh my.”
A young lady chatting as she left the room stared blankly and nearly tripped over her own feet.
…
I kept silent, then gestured toward the entire group.
“All of you. Scarves down. Now.”
“As you command.”
Every member of the Nine Killing Stars before me lowered their scarves.
—Gasp.
The innkeeper behind the counter dropped his jaw.
—Crash.
A serving girl carrying wine bottles walked straight into a pillar without taking her eyes off them.
I waved a hand.
“Immediately. Cover them again.”
“…? As you command.”
In unison they yanked the scarves back up over their faces. I remained silent. They watched me, every muscle tense. I touched the teacup in front of me. Looked at the floor. Looked at the ceiling. Studied the grain of the wooden boards for a long moment. Looked back at the table. Then muttered under my breath,
“…The only path left for me, day or night, is martial arts alone.”
“My lord?”
Il-ho spoke carefully. I answered gruffly.
“What.”
“May we take that to mean you will accept us?”
…
I thought it over, then nodded and opened my mouth.
“My nature is what it is, so I won’t trust easily…”
Tense air filled the space between us. I continued,
“But I’ll try to trust you.”
Every face brightened. Il-ho spoke.
“Then, according to the doctrine of the Demonic Path Name Bestowal, we ask that our lord personally bestow a name upon each of us.”
“Demonic Path Name Bestowal?”
He nodded.
“Yes. An ancient teaching of the Heavenly Demon Cult: the one who becomes master personally grants names to those who will serve as his hands and feet.”
I frowned.
“Don’t you already have names? You, for instance—Il-ho.”
He shook his head.
“We operated solely under the collective title of Nine Killing Stars; we had no individual names that encompassed us. In the eyes of our superiors we were literally hunting dogs.”
Suddenly I saw them clearly. Their eyes trembled, however faintly. Martial prowess and firm resolve aside, they were still human.
They were about to cast away everything they had ever lived and begin anew. They were making a decision that would rewrite their entire lives. If they felt not even the slightest anxiety standing before such a vast choice, that would be a lie. They were uneasy—yet to the very end their actions remained resolute. I could feel their determination never to look back.
Names hold power.
Asking me to bestow them was, I realized, the final period they wished to place on that path. I said,
“I have a question.”
“Ask anything, my lord—the sole next Heavenly Demon we of the jianghu have acknowledged.”
For a moment their faces overlapped with my own: the abandoned bastard who had wandered alone. When I had resolved to start over, when I began learning martial arts and walking toward my dream, not a single soul in this world had cheered me on. The Central Plains were full of people, yet I could swear there had not been even one. Instead they had pointed and laughed, calling me a clueless child who did not know reality. I spoke.
“It’s nothing much.”
I parted dry lips.
“You said earlier your bloodlines are all different. Do any of you have parents or family? Or even memories of them?”
The question seemed to catch them off guard. Men who always maintained blade-sharp composure simply looked at one another. After a moment Il-ho answered slowly.
“…One of two cases. Either we never had them from the beginning, or the parting ended in a separation worse than never having them at all.”
…
I muttered without meaning to.
“…Same as me.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
I nodded.
“There are five of you total?”
Everyone nodded. Over their shoulders I could see four paintings of the Four Gentlemen hanging on the inn wall. Starting from the right I pointed to each man in turn.
“From this moment your names, beginning with the one on the right, are Mae, Ran, Guk, and Juk—Plum, Orchid, Chrysanthemum, and Bamboo.”
The faces of the newly named Killing Stars lit up. They clasped their fists in salute.
“At last we have names…”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The man farthest left—Il-ho—pointed at himself in mild panic.
“My lord, I still have no name…”
“You get a separate one. You were the representative of this group, after all.”
I thought for a brief moment, then spoke.
“You are Hwi. From now on, Hwi.”
Il-ho tilted his head.
“Hwi…? Why Hwi?”
“No special reason. It just came to me.”
I leaned back in the chair.
“Even if it’s only you lot… I hoped you might live as if sunlight were shining on the road ahead.”
…
Hwi rolled the name over his tongue, staring at me. I scratched the back of my head.
“And separate from taking you in, we have to part ways for now. There’s somewhere I must go in a hurry, and I can’t bring you with me.”
“What?”
All five, Hwi included, stared at me in shock.
“What do you mean by that?”
“From now on we will go wherever our lord goes, without exception.”
“Do you still not trust us? We are absolutely certain we can keep any secret.”
Ran—who earlier had earned a glare from Il-ho for his rough words to the waiter—cried out,
“Of course such a thing would never happen, but even if you were secretly meeting the Alliance Leader’s daughter or a female Guardian, we would shield you so thoroughly that neither the Lower Gate nor the Beggars’ Gang would notice!”
…
I stared at Ran for a long moment.
“…Of course such a thing would never happen?”
“My lord?”
Ran looked back at me with clear, innocent eyes. The quick-witted Hwi yanked him by the scruff and bowed his head.
“Forgive us, my lord. Because we have lived only on the martial path, in places that require independent action rather than organizational cooperation, we lack silver tongues and occasionally commit unintended discourtesies…”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed.
“This matter I must handle alone. Besides, we’ll meet again within a month. In the meantime there is something you must do for me.”
“A mission?”
“Yes.”
I spoke clearly.
“Earlier you said there are demonic practitioners who share your thoughts—people who feel disillusioned with the Heavenly Demon Cult in its current chaos and long for the old jianghu-era cult, scattered everywhere.”
…!
They understood at once what I intended. I looked at each of them in turn.
“I need them. Every last one.”