The Cult’s Move Toward the Central Plains
Ugh.
A stench like rotting garbage stabbed straight into his nose. He covered his face and looked down.
What the hell is this disgusting smell...?
His clothes were sticking to him, soaked through with the filth his body had expelled.
Even when he moved a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, that foul odor rushed up at him again.
His brow creased before he could stop it, wrinkling with pure discomfort.
“Hahaha!”
Then, a booming laugh burst out of him.
Air coursed through his body, wind kissed his skin, and even the loose strands of hair brushing his ears felt fresh in a way he had never experienced before. It was all unbearably invigorating.
Even the intermittent stabbing pain in his lower back was gone.
By mastering the verses of the secret manual and circulating his qi with greater precision, the proper effects had finally manifested.
The power of Muryeong Shingong far exceeded his expectations.
Just as he was smiling in satisfaction—
“Young Master, are you all right?”
“Hm?”
He turned at the sudden voice and found Yeon Hong looking at him with concern. For some reason, she was standing quite a distance away.
“How long have you been there?”
“Well... I came about half a shichen ago, but you seemed to be in the middle of training, so I waited.”
“Is that so? Then why are you standing so far away...?”
“C-cough.”
Yeon Hong kept clearing her throat. She was breathing only through her mouth, her lips moving faintly, and at that he understood why.
“Haha, when did I get this sweaty? I should probably wash up first. Where would be a good place to—”
As if she had been waiting for the question, her answer came at once.
“I’ve prepared bathwater inside.”
“No, no, that won’t do. If I went in like this, it’d be a disaster. I’d rather wash outside. Is there a stream or a well nearby, by any chance...?”
“That way! If you keep going down that little path, you’ll come to a creek.”
“A creek sounds perfect. Sorry, but could you also bring me a change of clothes...?”
Yeon Hong’s hurried hand pointed to the side of the platform where he had been sitting.
“Please take them with you!”
Somewhere along the way, she had already laid them out in neat layers: white garments stacked tidily together.
“You really are prepared for everything.”
“Please be careful on your way.”
At her look—clearly urging him to leave quickly—Cheon Sohyeon rose to his feet.
...It really is vile.
Even on the way to fetch his clothes, the horrifying stink still assaulted his nose, but the smile on his face never faded. It meant that just that much impurity had been driven out of his body.
All the better.
With a heart full of satisfaction, he gathered up the clothes and headed down the little path, past the rustling trees.
* * *
After that, he devoted himself entirely to Muryeong Shingong.
Wooooooong!
Muryeonggi roared hotly through his body in circulation. A vitality he had never known before surged up through him, beginning to fortify his flesh and bones.
Just to be sure, he drew his strength together in his jangsim, but as expected, nothing changed.
Am I still not there yet?
The manual had said that even at the first stage, Ilbaek, one could raise Sammae Jinhwa. If that was true, then he must not even have entered the realm of Ilbaek yet.
Then how should he describe his condition now?
If he were to judge by the author’s arrogance, it was probably a level too pitiful to even deserve a name.
So that was why he hadn’t bothered to write one down, then?
For a moment he felt a flare of anger at how he had ended up in such a mess, but he forced himself to stop caring. There were more urgent matters at hand.
What exactly is this demonic art?
The way it tightened the acupoints and embraced his limbs in a full, encompassing motion, the way it circulated energy and produced resilience and vitality—unexpectedly, it all felt familiar.
The problem was that the only martial arts he knew were Shaolin’s.
Had he truly gone mad? Of all things, now even demonic arts felt familiar?
What the hell.
After all, Buddhist martial arts should contain the subtle essence of breaking evil and revealing righteousness, pasa hyeonjeong, so why did this feel like nothing was being broken at all—instead, everything was full of wickedness?
In the end, it meant his impression was probably only an illusion, but he still couldn’t be sure that was all there was to it.
Whoosh!
He drew up the Muryeonggi and threw a punch into the air.
The force was so feeble it was almost laughable. And yet the intent behind it was identical to the boxing method he had trained all his life.
Before long, his breathing began to quicken. No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn’t understand it.
How the hell is this possible?
He was using Muryeong Shingong to perform Shaolin’s striking forms with no real difficulty.
At once, his mind began to churn in disorder.
They’re internal arts with different routes and qualities, so why? Is it because Shaolin’s martial arts are unrivaled under heaven, making them easy to use even through demonic energy? Or is this... the true power of Muryeong Shingong?
Was it because of Cheongol Jiche, that body constitution said to be so perfectly suited to the refinement of martial arts?
He racked his brain over the manual’s infuriatingly sparse explanation, but no answer came. If he could only give form to his qi, he might inspect it more closely, but in his current state that was impossible.
It was a little better than before, but still a complete wreck.
For now, is the only option to raise my level?
If he poured himself into training, the problems would be solved one way or another. The same was true of his damaged dantian.
Once he grew more accustomed to manipulating demonic energy, he would be able to examine the flow of power more carefully. And if he solidified his inner strength, he might smash through the wall of his dantian, or grind it to dust, and find a way forward that way.
Fortunately, Muryeong Shingong was an exceptional art that greatly enhanced the body’s perfection. If he devoted himself to it with all his heart, he could recover his strength before long.
“Right!”
There was no doubt that the bald senior disciples were running around the whole of Mount Song in a panic, as if a fireball had fallen from the sky. If he wanted to ease their worries, the best thing to do was raise his mastery of Muryeong Shingong as quickly as possible.
Abbott, please wait just a little longer. I’m coming!
He reaffirmed his goal and steadied his mind, sorting through his thoughts as he did.
And after more than half a month spent focusing on nothing but recovery, he could feel his internal injuries knitting together and his skills rising at a sharp pace.
Like a single spark spreading into the whole mountain, Muryeonggi blazed fiercely, burning away the impurities throughout his body.
Yeon Hong’s help had played a considerable part in stabilizing him so quickly, and so had the physician who was utterly obsessed with medicine.
“Young Master, please drink this medicinal broth.”
Sama Ryang entered the room and drew a large cloth bundle open, taking out a bowl of medicinal broth.
“Is that all medicine?”
“Yes, it is.”
“...Looks like I’m going to fill my stomach with medicine again today.”
“Haha, it will certainly help your recovery. It’s called Baegangtang, a broth especially effective at restoring the body’s vitality. It should be taken while it’s still warm.”
“Fine.”
He swallowed the hot broth at once.
A bitter medicinal scent tickled his nose, and the sharp taste slid over his tongue and down his esophagus.
Before long, his stomach and organs began to burn pleasantly, and, surprisingly enough, a vitality he had never felt before started surging through him.
“Oh? What is this? It seems pretty effective.”
“You noticed at once?!”
A peculiar light lit Sama Ryang’s eyes.
“Baegangtang is a medicinal broth I formulated myself, based on herbs recorded in ancient texts, with additional medicinal plants I gathered personally and blended in my own way. It has already received approval from the Medicine Hall. If a few more rare ingredients are added, I daresay it would be worthy of being called an elixir!”
Sama Ryang went on, spitting with enthusiasm as he spoke.
“If you’re interested, may I explain which ingredients were used?”
He wasn’t very interested, but the man looked so pleased with himself that he answered reluctantly.
“Sure, what did you—”
“First, I added a rare herb that grows only on Gohyun Peak in the Hundred Thousand Mountains!”
...I haven’t finished asking, you fool.
“Then there’s the shed skin of a demonic beast imbued with spiritual energy, dried for forty-nine days in a sunny basin, and most importantly, a baby less than a hundred days old—”
At those words, his expression darkened immediately.
“What?”
Noticing his displeasure, Sama Ryang looked flustered.
“I-is something the matter?”
Cheon Sohyeon glared at him with a deep scowl.
“You’re saying you put a newborn in it?”
A baby who couldn’t even walk yet, used as an ingredient in a medicinal broth? What kind of damn beasts were these, utterly devoid of humanity?
So he really was a demon, then—after committing such atrocious acts, he still had the nerve to talk about them so proudly. It was almost impossible to watch without grinding his teeth.
“Pardon?”
Sama Ryang scratched his head as though he had no idea what he was talking about.
“I think there’s been some misunderstanding. I would never do something so horrific to a human being...”
“Hm?”
So it wasn’t that.
With some embarrassment, he gave an awkward laugh.
“Haha, right. Of course not.”
Yes, of course. There had to be limits, at least some of them.
From what he had seen so far, even if this was the Demonic Cult, people still lived here like people. Yeon Hong was proof of that, and so was that deranged physician. In the end, they still observed the boundaries of being human.
For an organization with such a long history, some degree of common sense did remain.
“Then you mix in fingernails or hair, something like that?”
He asked that awkwardly while finishing the rest of the broth. Just as the bitter medicinal smell spread through the room, Sama Ryang bowed his head.
“We mix in human excrement.”
Puh-hup!
He spat out the broth he had been holding in his mouth.
You bastard...!
“Haha.”
Sama Ryang’s face was instantly smeared with the brown liquid, but he didn’t lose his smile.
“I understand that it may be distasteful, but this is a medical practice handed down from antiquity. It’s dried into powder, refined with demonic beast remains, and then decocted, so there’s no issue in consumption, and the efficacy is excellent. You needn’t worry.”
That’s not the problem, you bastard!
He was feeding people excrement without a second thought?!
Anger surged through him, along with the urge to discipline the man severely. Barely keeping his composure, he glared at Sama Ryang.
“...Tell me something. Just tell me this.”
“Yes? Please, speak freely.”
“The broth you’ve been making up until now—are all of them made like that?”
Thankfully, Sama Ryang shook his head.
“No, not at all. As I mentioned, Baegangtang is a broth I formulated in my own way...”
Sama Ryang caught his expression, cleared his throat, and worked his lips uncertainly.
“I apologize. From now on, I should explain the ingredients beforehand. May I take your pulse now?”
“...Go ahead.”
At any rate, he was a physician who took his care seriously, so Cheon Sohyeon let out a long sigh and held out his hand.
“Hm? What is this...?”
As he took the pulse, Sama Ryang suddenly widened his eyes.
“Oh! Congratulations, Young Master!”
“Why now?”
Sama Ryang beamed brightly as he spoke.
“The circulation through the Eight Extraordinary Meridians has become noticeably more active! And your innate true qi, which had suffered such severe damage, has also recovered and regained its flow. This is truly remarkable—congratulations!”
“...Right.”
Innate true qi was the root of life itself, something beyond the reach of medicine or acupuncture alone.
It seemed the effect of Muryeong Shingong had been substantial indeed.
“In truth, I set the minimum recovery period at five years. But to see such improvement already... I had the audacity to measure the descendant of the Cheon Family with the eyes of a mere commoner.”
It was less a matter of being a descendant of the Cheon Family and more that he, personally, made it possible, but he had no desire to correct the man and merely nodded along.
“Still, while it shouldn’t be enough to cause harm, I can clearly feel a notable concentration of fire qi throughout your body. Could it be a result of your martial art, Young Master?”
“That’s right. I’ve been focusing on breathing and circulation, and it looks like the effects are finally starting to show.”
Muryeong Shingong was a demonic art that dealt in extreme yang energy.
Like flames surging upward, the demonic qi rose and circulated violently through his body, leaving long trails along his acupoints as though marking a path behind it.
With each training session, demonic qi seeped further into his flesh and blood, so naturally he was growing farther and farther from Buddhist internal arts—but in exchange, the rank of his body itself was rising at a startling speed.
At this rate, it almost felt like he could sprint straight out of the Demonic Cult.
Once again, a bright smile spread across Sama Ryang’s face.
“That is truly a relief. At this rate of recovery, not only will you be well again before long, but you may even be able to take part in next year’s grand plan.”
“Hm? Grand plan?”
“Ah, forgive me. It seems you haven’t heard about it yet, since the matter was discussed while you were unconscious.”
Then, at Sama Ryang’s next words, he felt as if lightning had struck him—his whole body snapping instantly alert.
The Divine Cult has decided to advance into the Central Plains.
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