The Heavenly Demon's Dance
In the Cheonma Tomb, “O Great and Revered Heavenly Demon, here is your true divine blood.”
“This seat has already accomplished its revival. Moreover, even if that vessel harbors divine blood, why should I settle for something inferior when I possess a superior tool?”
“However, the one prepared for you—”
“Enough. Was this child precious to you?”
“She is my… my foolish daughter.”
But Cheonma shook his head.
“That cannot be. The acupoints are already those of a body that is not alive, so it is a demonic creature with dead blood flowing through its veins. How can you call it a human’s daughter? It is nothing more than an empty shell from which the soul has already departed.”
According to the Book of Rites, one of the Five Classics, a person’s composition consisted of the hun and po. The hun was the spirit and soul, therefore the mind. The po was the flesh and matter, therefore the body. Thus, when a person died, the hun ascended to the heavens, passed through the underworld, and entered the cycle of reincarnation, while the po fell to the earth with the corpse, decayed, and merged back into the world.
When the body died, the soul naturally departed. However, on very rare occasions, the reverse occurred—the soul died while the body remained, its heart still beating and lungs still breathing. But how long could a soulless body endure? Even if one poured in every ounce of breath with utmost devotion and mashed food into gruel to force it down the throat, it could not last beyond the forty-nine days it took for the soul to enter reincarnation and vanish completely.
Still, among jiangshi refiners there was a joke. What if, at the exact instant the soulless body drew its final breath on the forty-ninth day, a clerical error in the underworld allowed another soul to slip in? Could the dead then be reborn as the living?
It was a living corpse with dead blood flowing through it. Every poison in the world acted upon the blood, so what further harm could they do to blood that was already dead? The most difficult part of refining a jiangshi was the body being damaged by the toxicity of the medicines used. But if it could withstand even the deadliest toxins in existence without harm?
It was a joke carrying the earnest wishes of every jiangshi craftsman.
Cheonma did not know the details, but he could tell at a glance that the vitality in the blood had already died.
Yet Choe-ri-ong’s own state was far from normal.
“That’s right! My child was already dead, but later returned like this! Please, take pity on a father who has lost his child once…”
Cheonma let out a deep sigh.
“All my life I have refused even death itself to exist upon this earth. Everything has been for the sake of the Cult’s long-cherished wish—to slaughter every last one of those abominable oppressors of the Central Plains and achieve true liberation.”
“However—”
“Now that I possess such a body, there is nothing left to fear in this world. The time has come to fulfill that wish. And you would have me abandon this great cause for the sake of your petty personal feelings?”
“Even the body I prepared for you would have been sufficient.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“Please… I beg for your mercy.”
Cheonma glared at Choe-ri-ong through Cheong’s face. Since everything of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had originated from Cheonma, its cruelty was no exception.
“Is a mere connection from the human world that precious to you? Your heart has already abandoned the Cult. How can one who has turned their back on doctrine and law dare stand before the agent of both the Heavenly God and the Demon God with their head held high?”
He was called Cheonma because he was the incarnation of the Heavenly God Ahura Mazda and the Demon God Angra Mainyu. He was also the living embodiment of the God of Destruction who had cast aside the creative power of the heavenly deity to seize the power of the demon god in order to crush the oppressive rulers of the outdated Central Plains.
The wrath of this living god now turned toward the aged great demon.
Choe-ri-ong’s body trembled. Yet even then he shouted with fierce spirit.
“A mere connection from the human world? How can you say such a thing! You too are human! Martial arts is nothing more than an image that reproduces nature—how dare you call it divine power!”
The date on which the Demon God had prepared to destroy the world still lay hundreds of millions of years away at the end of eternity. Any end that arrived before then was not the will of God, and there was no reason for God to wish to destroy the insignificant Central Plains. Therefore, Cheonma was human. Nothing more than a human bundled together with hatred for the Central Plains. Since martial arts was a human tool that reproduced nature through imagery, was it not laughable to claim the role of agent by imitating the Demon God?
That was what Choe-ri-ong had said.
“Insolent!”
Cheonma raised a finger and pointed at Choe-ri-ong. He had already surpassed the Super Peak realm and achieved Body Reconstruction. The body was still young and had not yet undergone Youthful Restoration, but no one knew just how high Cheonma’s martial prowess had climbed. However, the pitch-black sword qi gathering at his fingertip already contained an absolute destructive power that could not be stopped by mere Harmonious Realm prowess.
It was the Cheonmaji—the infamous qi technique of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
Black death stretched out long from his fingertip. The straight line of qi shot forward in a single direction. Yet it did not head for Choe-ri-ong’s head. Suddenly, the finger that had swung to the right caused one of the prostrating demonic cultists to explode. Human remains flew in every direction.
Choe-ri-ong looked back and forth between Cheonma and the bloodstain left behind in the shape of the sun during an eclipse.
“……?”
Holding the mouse, Cheong muttered in utter disbelief.
What the hell. Suddenly shooting a laser beam? Is this even allowed in wuxia?
Of course, the Murim she had experienced firsthand was full of all kinds of bizarre phenomena. But even so, shooting lasers seemed a bit much, didn’t it? At the very least, it should imitate some kind of martial technique, right? Even her master had never simply flown through the air but always rode his sword, so one could at least argue it was similar to sword arts. If you stretched out a finger and a laser beam came out, was that a robot or a person? Or maybe a late-game monster like a lich or some other wizard-type creature.
In truth, this was the first time Cheong had ever controlled this game with a keyboard and mouse. The moment she created her character she had been thrown into Murim, so she had not enjoyed even a single second of the actual game. Naturally, she did not know the controls. While she had been pressing keys at random, the old man was about to die, so she had clicked wildly in a panic.
Fortunately, even though it was a game made by those primitive Chinese bastards, it at least respected the fundamental control scheme of right-clicking to target enemies. They were bastards who didn’t even follow international law. Still, the fact that the game interface followed international standards was almost admirable. Or perhaps it simply proved they were primitive Chinese bastards who considered plagiarism a virtue by copying a familiar UI outright.
Regardless, Cheong was a veteran gamer. Knowing the basic controls without needing the tutorial also meant she was an expert who could adapt quickly.
The black ray continued to tear through the air. Every time he stretched out his finger it scored a perfect hit, and another demonic cultist burst like a balloon. Even those middle-aged bosses who made their subordinates “burst with laughter” until their stomachs hurt had never physically exploded people, so this could be called a divine beast of a completely different caliber as a superior.
Cheonma roared.
“Y-you! What is this! Stop it this instant!”
But the body moved on its own. The legs suddenly began stepping through bizarre footwork, the knees providing rapid recoil, twisting the waist and swinging the arms. It was the dazzling dance moves of that bulletproof boy group from the Korean nation that had shaken both this world and another.
Then it suddenly stopped dancing, jumping forward and backward, side to side, front and back, shaking its body in a dizzying frenzy. This time it spun violently in place.
The demonic cultists pretended not to see their Heavenly Demon’s insane behavior, biting their lips and maintaining solemn expressions with all their might.
“You wench, stop it! I said stop! Behave yourself!”
Cheonma recalled the true qi embedded in his upper dantian. It seemed to be tightly wrapped around and protecting something. It had to be where the original owner’s soul was hiding.
Cheonma raised his Pacheon-magi. The demonic qi carrying the Demon God’s imagery—hideous shapes with eyes packed densely together—surged like a towering tidal wave, swallowing the blood points and boiling violently. A powerful enemy whose realm could not even be measured, a colossal current forged through countless lives, leveled its spear tip and charged.
In comparison, Cheong’s true qi was barely a handful.
Cheong’s true qi, regardless of yin or yang, justice or wickedness, clumped together as one in the face of crisis. They embraced each other tightly and raised a wall against the impact.
And then—
BANG!
Unfortunately, the difference in enlightenment was the difference in level. The gap between Cheong and Cheonma was simply too vast. Cheong’s true qi collapsed in a single blow. The Pacheon-magi forced its way through the breach.
BOOM!
Cheong, who had been holding the mouse and giggling, jumped in shock. Anyone would be startled if a strange man suddenly broke through the wall of their one-room apartment. A reflexive scream escaped at the same time.
“No! My deposit!”
The man who had broken through the wall scanned the room. His shoulders were broad and he wore nothing but shorts. His exposed upper body was so covered in scars that it was difficult to find an unmarked spot. Cheong, an ordinary citizen who would feel her legs go weak at the sight of mere tattoos, was looking at something far worse—marks from what looked like full-body slashing surgery.
Cheong shrank her neck into her shoulders and said, “Um… coming all the way here like this… isn’t it kind of a foul? Breaking down the wall and coming for a real-life PK just because I messed around a little is too much, don’t you think?”
“You look more servile than I expected. I thought that once the body’s control was taken, you would shine with a more dignified soul.”
“Hehe. Well, originally, when anonymous, everyone is a third-generation chaebol who graduated from Seoul University, reached Master rank, and slaps pro gamers around as a military-service-completed beautiful girl…”
“Hah. I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I can clearly tell you aren’t even worth dealing with.”
Cheong smiled awkwardly. “Of course. Please don’t mind me and continue what you were doing. I’ll just stay here quietly.”
Cheong could not finish her sentence. A person whose head had exploded could not continue speaking. The headless torso fell from the chair and rolled across the floor with a wet thud. Bright red blood spread across the yellow linoleum.
Cheonma lifted the corners of his mouth and closed his eyes. At the same time, Cheonma opened his eyes. He folded his fingers one by one, finally clenching them into a tight fist, and slowly turned his head. A gaze filled with rage turned toward Choe-ri-ong.
“Your daughter was quite impertinent.”
“Wh-what…”
“If she had not acted out, she could have at least kept her consciousness and watched the great cause unfold. This too must be the fault of a father who failed to educate her properly.”
As Choe-ri-ong’s expression stained with despair, Cheonma raised his finger once more. Pitch-black qi flowed from the fingertip, formed a spherical ring of energy, and a destructive straight line shot forward.
Choe-ri-ong simply closed his eyes with calm resignation.
It missed!