A Skull-Shattering Wake-Up Call
Cheonma Tomb was the scene of a truly absurd tableau. An old man cradling a girl's corpse in his arms, gazing down at it. Beside him stood a woman raising a weapon high. Anyone would have rushed in to stop them on the spot. Add to that one infamous Great Demon Head and one highly respected Daoist elder, and Seomun Cheong would have had no excuse if a rain of blades had fallen upon her.
Except the Daoist elder was Seomun Cheong herself. This was why one shouldn't hold preconceptions about people.
Cheong stood with the Boksinjeok—now shaped like a ten-thousand-year cold iron club—raised high, locked in serious internal conflict. Ah. This was tricky. She had no idea how much force to use. The old man was completely defenseless. She couldn't gauge how hard to swing without cracking his skull. A full-power swing would be overkill, right? Start light. Brick-breaker level.
It was the infamous bomb packed to the brim with enough gunpowder to level an entire city district. The "brick breaker" descended in a straight line, a bombardment born of goodwill.
Thwack! The sound of bone meeting metal rang out. Choe-ri-ong's sparse hair and aged scalp offered no protection whatsoever. The crown of the head was called the Cheonryeonggae, the body's most vital pressure point and vital spot. Caught completely off guard, Choe-ri-ong's eyes rolled back. Still seated, he lost consciousness. His upper body pitched forward, and he collapsed with his forehead thudding against the floor, slumped in an awkward heap.
"Ack. Gramps, sorry. I put a bit too much into that. Well, at your age, isn't dying like this basically a good death?"
It had been meant as folk medicine to jolt someone awake with pain, but she'd knocked him out instead. This was why unlicensed physical therapy was dangerous.
Just then, the muffled sound of rain that had been filling her ears suddenly stopped. The dim stone chamber's interior unfolded in every direction. It was a vast, unobstructed space. Dozens of Demonic Cult experts wandered about with vacant expressions, holding torches and tracing large circles along the outer perimeter. Their gazes were fixed straight ahead, giving them an eerily inhuman air. Only one person was looking around: the kid, Ji Seungju, standing between the inner and outer circles, whipping his head back and forth.
This was what the formation looked like from the outside. Normally, when the illusion's master lost consciousness, the space should have filled with darkness during the transition to another illusion. But Daejeong Seongong—the principle of correct vision—had pierced through the false void. Out of respect for others' perspectives, it preserved their illusions, but when there was no illusion, it simply shattered the falsehood. It was a flaw even the greatest formation designer under heaven had never anticipated.
So this was what being caught in a formation looked like from outside. Kind of... idiotic.
Then Cheong spotted the treasure. At the exact center of the burial chamber, a triangular pyramid radiated a faint five-colored aura, practically screaming "I am the treasure!" It glowed on its own. And the sheer presence—it was overwhelming. An instinctive spiritual certainty told her: this was the Heavenly Demon Soul.
Wait. If so, then this was... an opportunity?
The moment Cheong took a step toward the center, the world changed again.
She stood before the gate of an unfamiliar house. A Demonic Cult expert was pounding on the door with an ecstatic expression, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Honey, I'm home! I told you I'd come back!"
-Gaga? Is that you?
"Yeah, it's me!"
-Gaga!
With a voice full of longing, light footsteps approached. The expert's mouth fell open, his face flushing with happiness and anticipation. Finally came the sound of the bolt being drawn. The door began to creak open—
Thwack!
The expert crumpled to the ground.
"Telling such a cliché story."
Cheong grumbled as she swung the Boksinjeok. The world collapsed, returning her to the inside of Cheonma Tomb. She now stood at the outermost circle. She'd wasted time looking around earlier. This time, she'd move fast.
Cheong kicked off the ground. The world changed once more.
Everywhere she looked, there were naked women. Among them stood a single man. Thwack! Now there were zero men. Back to Cheonma Tomb. Back to the outer circle.
After knocking out seven Demonic Cult experts—and smashing one skull just to be safe—Cheong reached a conclusion.
"Damn it. This isn't working."
Killing them wouldn't let her peek outside, and knocking them out only gave a brief window to escape the illusion. But taking even one step afterward pulled her right back in. Escape this way was impossible.
Still, it was enough. She now knew exactly where the Heavenly Demon Soul was. Once the formation vanished, she could dash straight for it. Who could possibly reach it before her? She'd take it hostage, create distance, then destroy it and run. Her master had said few in the world could match Cheong in lightness skill, so she was confident in her getaway.
Now all she needed was for the formation to be dispelled. If she could anticipate the exact moment it was released and prepare, success was practically guaranteed. That meant sticking close to whoever was dispelling it.
Find the kid and offer to help!
Cheong's scheming mind spun and reached its conclusion. She stepped back into the formation.
----
The plan had sounded good on paper. The problem was she had no idea where the kid was. She wandered through the illusions, hoping she'd run into him eventually. She found herself in the courtyard of some sunny manor. A familiar voice called out to her.
"So this wench doesn't even see her own father as a father anymore? There's not a single girl in this world who beats her own father. What a vicious little thing."
Choe-ri-ong had regained consciousness. As a Harmonious Realm master, he was far too strong to die from an attack that carried no qi, only weight. He rubbed his crown and glared. It clearly still hurt.
But "father"? Had he really woken up?
Cheong gave him a cheeky reply.
"What, still not awake? What's this 'father' nonsense? Get a grip. Or do I have to hit you again?"
Choe-ri-ong flinched. He rubbed his eyes like he'd seen something wrong, then sighed deeply upon seeing Cheong's face.
"What? Sighing the moment you see someone's face is off-limits. Want to get hit instead?"
"To think there's a brat who beats up old men. I knew you were a vicious wench, but still."
"This is why dementia is dangerous. Respecting elders turns into attacking elders. There's a saying that there's no gentleman in front of a madman, you know."
"......? Was there such a saying? Which sage said that?"
"Seomun Cheong."
Choe-ri-ong's face twisted. But since it sounded plausible enough, he didn't bother arguing.
"I thought you were a leg-crippled girl possessed by heart demons, but you're actually a swindler who's terrifyingly good at deceiving people."
"At first, the leg thing was real. The heart demon... Ah! So that's what it was. Anyway, I got over it just fine. Everyone was making such a fuss about how scary heart demons are, but it wasn't that big a deal."
The heart demon would have felt wronged hearing that. It had possessed more than enough power to torment someone into ruin, but who could have predicted a legendary formation would suddenly appear to interfere? Still, Choe-ri-ong roughly accepted it. Having experienced the formation himself, he knew that if there was a way out of the illusion, even longing could be overcome in an instant.
Choe-ri-ong's thoughts returned to the formation.
"It seems a nasty formation has been deployed. Yet you look perfectly fine."
"I thought something was off from the start. People who fall for cheap tricks like this are just weak. No backbone. That's all it is."
The formation would have felt wronged too. In truth, Cheong hadn't done anything right—it was Daejeong Seongong's Buddhist clarity constantly stirring her dantian to erase falsehoods. Even that had only been released after she'd stuffed herself with hometown food she'd been suppressing her craving for. On top of that, the Demonic Cult experts were also wronged. Come to think of it, Cheong's greatest talent was making someone feel wronged every time she opened her mouth.
"Anyway, good thing I ran into you, Gramps. That kid said he'd remove the formation? Push it away? Whatever. He asked me to help, but since I didn't know anything, he told me to figure it out myself."
Choe-ri-ong's expression brightened.
"That's the best news I've heard all day. So, where is the Secret Pavilion Master? I'll lend a hand."
"That's the problem—I don't know. I figured I'd find him if I wandered around."
"Tsk. You really never finish what you start."
"What? I felt sorry for you standing there getting rained on like an idiot, so I woke you up, and now you're lecturing me about finishing things? You haven't even started anything yourself."
"Ahem."
Choe-ri-ong seemed to have nothing to say. He pretended to clear his throat for no reason.
"Alright. Let's go, then."
"Yes. Let's go."
Choe-ri-ong answered, then stood there blankly staring at Cheong.
"What are you doing? I said let's go."
"Yes. We should go."
"Then why aren't you moving?"
"Ahem."
Another pointless throat-clearing. As Cheong watched the old man, wondering what on earth he was doing, he muttered in a small voice.
"You've been wandering inside the formation this whole time. Are your legs alright? Even if it was just an act, unused muscles might get strained if you push them too hard."
Cheong burst out laughing.
"If that's what you want, Gramps."
She spread her arms. Choe-ri-ong, with practiced ease, carefully scooped her up. Even after her identity as the limping beggar had been exposed to the world, Cheong had shamelessly become a passenger once more, riding her mount through the manor's main gate. Then a sudden thought occurred to her.
Wait. Whose illusion was this place? The illusion's master seemed perfectly fine, though. Well, what did it matter who the master was?