A Night of Cravings Before the Heavenly Demon Tomb
It was the night before they would face the Cheonma Tomb at Pyeongsan Lake. More than kimchi stew, Seomun Cheong wanted cola. Even if it wasn’t cola, anything would do. She craved an ice-cold carbonated drink so badly she could almost feel it fizzing down her throat until it burned. But carbonation was probably impossible here… Her longing only grew sharper. Wishing for something that didn’t exist in this world was hardly a path to recovery.
She sat staring blankly at the campfire, lost in the flames, when a familiar voice broke the silence.
“The Jijon wishes to see you tonight.”
The kid she hadn’t seen in a while was still tiny. Seomun Cheong shook her head lazily. “Not interested…”
“The Jijon did not ask for your opinion. It would be wiser to follow quietly.”
“This bitch said she doesn’t want to,” Choe-ri-ong cut in, shutting Ji Seungju’s mouth.
“Jajeonmagun. The Jijon—”
“Isn’t it about time we stopped catering to that grown brat’s every whim? We’ve come this far—what can he possibly do now? Back in the Divine Cult, we bent over backward because he’d throw every kind of tantrum if he didn’t get his way.”
Ji Seungju let out a heavy sigh. “Damn it. Please, just help me out here. I’ve been stuck to that guy’s side for five years. Can’t you come with me and talk some sense into him, Jajeonmagun?”
It was an astonishingly disrespectful remark. Choe-ri-ong flinched. The truth was that every high-ranking member of the Divine Cult felt genuine gratitude toward Ji Seungju. The four characters for “arrogant and lawless” perfectly described the Jijon. This boy had been the one gently soothing him from the sidelines, preventing even worse outbursts.
“It’s not that I don’t understand your difficulties, my Brain, but look at her. The child is lost in heart demons and has been lying there like a three-day-rotted mountain goat carcass for days.”
Ji Seungju’s eyes widened. To him, Seomun Cheong was the insane woman who had smashed the heads of the Secret Pavilion assassins and giggled the whole time.
“That was heart demon possession?”
“Can’t you tell just by looking?”
“I thought it was a ploy to lower our guard. You saw the bloodshed during transport yourself, Jajeonmagun. It will serve as an excuse to the Jijon.”
Ji Seungju sighed deeply and turned away. He headed straight for the lavish tent, where the Jijon lay on his exclusive golden silk bed.
The Jijon, who had just finished a big, satisfied yawn, asked, “You came alone?”
“This unworthy one regrets to report that Seomun Cheong appears to be in the grip of heart demons. I confirmed it before returning.”
“That bitch?”
The Jijon smirked. “I saw her eyes before, you know. Do you have any idea what I saw in them?”
“I would be honored to hear your insight.”
“The world’s Secret Pavilion Master must have pathetically low cultivation if he still can’t read people. Allow this elder to enlighten you—I have never, in all my life, seen hatred that fierce.”
Ji Seungju recalled the sight of Seomun Cheong sprawled across blood and brain matter. Even now it sent shivers down his spine. The Jijon cackled at his reaction.
“She’s not the kind that breaks. That’s why breaking her is so much fun. I guarantee every bit of it was an act.”
“Then shall I summon her again?”
“Eh, forget it. She’s throwing a tantrum, so I’ll overlook it this once. Your failure too.”
Ji Seungju thought to himself that a second chance like this would never come again. He hid the thought perfectly and bowed deeply, bending like a sickle. “This one thanks you for your boundless mercy, oh Jijon.”
Viewed from the heights, the grand canyon of Pyeongsan Lake was simply a breathtaking vista that didn’t appear particularly complicated. But the moment anyone stepped into its winding crevices, they were thrown into confusion.
The sun barely reached the dim floor, making it nearly impossible to find one’s bearings. There were no straight paths; the twisting trail visible only a few zhang ahead would cause even seasoned travelers to lose their way before long.
Of course, for true masters it wasn’t dangerous terrain. Superhumans who could scale ten-zhang cliffs without effort could simply climb the walls, look at the sky, and find their way if they got lost.
That was why the entrance to the Cheonma Tomb was hidden beneath an overhanging cliff where sunlight never reached, buried in perpetual shadow. Located in the middle of the grand canyon, even if a lost wanderer found it they could never return to tell anyone. Masters who scaled the cliffs to escape had no reason to descend to the deep floor.
Only because the Demonic Cult had relied on Mucheon-daeje’s diary did they learn the Cheonma Tomb lay at Pyeongsan Lake. Otherwise, it was so remote they could have searched for a thousand years and never found it.
Held in Choe-ri-ong’s arms, Seomun Cheong stared at the entrance and thought, It’s shabbier than I expected… I thought it would be more majestic or something. Eh, whatever. Doesn’t matter.
A small stone gate—so narrow two grown men would have to squeeze shoulder to shoulder—lay almost flat against the cliff. It was easy to guess that stairs leading underground waited beyond it.
Realistically, who would put a massive, glittering golden door on a treasure vault? That only happened in adventure movies from her hometown. Real thieves hid their loot properly. It was the same reason the Heavenly Emperor’s tomb had been sealed in an unmarked stone chamber beneath a wild mountain.
Seomun Cheong put the Boksinjeok to her lips. She had painstakingly arranged an upbeat melody, but her heart wasn’t in it, so what flowed out was the original, mournful Cheonsim Hwaeum.
The song’s imagery was longing, perfectly matching her own heart. Even though it came from the instrument that produced the world’s most beautiful sound, and even though it was played by the worst demonic heads imaginable, the listeners could not escape the wave of emotion. Some even had tears glistening in their eyes as the particularly sorrowful flute music quietly ended.
Then—
Thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud…
Dull collision sounds echoed from the stone gate, growing more distant with each impact.
The Demonic Cult’s mechanism specialist tapped, prodded, and listened closely to the gate before looking up. “It appears the locking mechanism has been released.”
Seomun Cheong, already drained, felt even more deflated. With this atmosphere she had expected the door to open dramatically with a cool rumbling sound after the flute performance. Instead, it was just a lock falling and rolling away deep inside.
If the specialist had known the truth he would have jumped in shock. A door that unlocked with a specific sound was a heavenly artifact only Ban Chi could have created. Forcing it open might trigger unknown mechanisms, so a design that released so simply was actually the height of sophistication.
The expert pulled the ring on the stone gate. With some grunting it finally opened, revealing a pitch-black hole. They tossed in a lit torch. As expected, crude stairs leading downward appeared.
The vanguard—mechanism experts and tomb-raiding specialists—shouldered their gear and headed in first.
Seomun Cheong was caught off guard. Wait, hold on. If they go in first and find the Heavenly Demon Soul, I’m screwed…
In her mind, everyone was supposed to enter together, fighting strange traps and unknown monsters the whole way. At the end they would open a brilliant golden door, and a beam of light would pierce mysterious smoke to illuminate a resplendent treasure. Only then would the “miracle” of the lame girl suddenly standing up occur. She would seize the Heavenly Demon Soul, take hostages, escape, and smash it triumphantly for all to see.
That had been her plan.
But realistically, would the cult’s core members charge in without knowing what lay inside? This was exactly why video games were harmful. Nothing was more absurd than those games where you barged into someone’s house, looted chests right in front of the owner, and then casually chatted with them.
If you tried to understand the world through video games, this was the result.
If Seolgajik had known her plan beforehand, he would have given her a pitying look and told her to stop listening to storytellers and live in reality.
“Sigh. Old man, can you put me down for a second?”
“Careful now. Plant your feet.”
Choe-ri-ong lowered her with utmost care. He really was a devoted old man.
Seomun Cheong stood on her own two feet. She still felt zero motivation. But it was something she had to do.
Something I have to do… right?
Deep inside, someone protested. Why do I have to?
If I don’t stop the Demonic Cult, the Sinnyeo Sect will suffer, and good people in the Central Plains will get caught in the crossfire—
Why do I have to be the one to stop them?
Because I opened the door with the Boksinjeok—
Wouldn’t it have opened anyway even if it wasn’t me?
If you hadn’t stolen the Boksinjeok?
The Demonic Cult would have opened it themselves anyway.
Actually, since I already killed a ton of demonic heads, shouldn’t I get praised a hundred times over just for what I’ve done so far?
Huh? That’s right…
I’m already exhausted just breathing in this disgusting world I don’t even belong to…
Seomun Cheong’s shoulders slumped.
The Cheonma Tomb’s original name was the Samo Tomb. It was a secret cave Ban Chi had built out of longing for his dead wife—and his own final resting place. After finishing the mechanism formations inside, he had taken poison and ended his life.
The important point was that the Samo Tomb had been built after the Heavenly Emperor’s death.
If the Samo Tomb’s door opened?
It meant the Boksinjeok had been played.
And playing the Boksinjeok meant desecrating his beloved wife’s tomb.
He was a man who had missed his wife so much he took his own life. How could he possibly forgive the wretch who would dig up her grave?
Of course, he could never have predicted that a madman called Mucheon-daeje would later ignore the proper entrance, split the earth, pierce the ceiling, enter, and casually leave behind one precious item.
At Mucheon-daeje’s level, one could locate the cave with pure senses and carve a shortcut without touching the complicated mechanisms.
Regardless, Ban Chi’s rage began the moment the Samo Tomb opened. He had embedded a massive iron ball in the lock, designed to release only with vibrations of a specific pitch.
And now the lock had been released.
The iron ball fell, thudding down the stairs before rolling into a deeply grooved track. It rolled along the incline and struck other iron balls, sending them racing down grooves carved in different directions.
The number of rolling iron balls multiplied. They struck more balls, sending dozens, then hundreds, flowing through the split channels. Some pulled strings, others pushed rods, completing the final operation of the mechanisms—Ban Chi’s last formation.
It was the activation of his legacy: the Illusory Maze of No Return Formation.
Sniff sniff.
Seomun Cheong suddenly flared her nostrils.
“Kid?”
“Old man, don’t you smell that?”
“Smell? What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
She was dead serious. The scent that wrapped around the tip of her nose was so achingly familiar it brought tears to her eyes—the exact smell that used to hit her the moment she opened the front door of her family home in Seoul. Her mother’s cooking.
“Kimchi jjigae!”
Seomun Cheong shouted and bolted forward. She slipped straight through the entrance.
“Huh?”
“Eh?”
“Ehhh?”
Everyone froze at the miraculous sight.
To the Demonic Cult masters, Seomun Cheong was already their ideal and visual sanctuary. After the incredible flute performance that had held everyone’s attention, they now witnessed the lame girl (well, she was limping, but still) suddenly sprinting with perfect lightness skill.
Was this a dream or reality? And what in the world was kimchi jjigae, and why was she shouting for it so desperately while running?
They could only blink, rub their eyes, and stand there with mouths hanging open.
What snapped them back was the old man’s near-scream of astonishment.
“The Heavenly Demon Soul! No! Bangchae! Choe Bangchae! Come back!”
Choe-ri-ong chased after her with a voice like his guts were being torn apart.
“Kuhahaha! Yes! I knew it! I told you! As expected! If she’s my woman, she has to have this kind of flair!”
The Jijon burst out laughing maniacally as he ran.
“What are you all standing around for? Chase her!”
Ji Seungju roared. The Demonic Cult masters surged forward and poured into the Cheonma Tomb.