The Demonic Heir

The Yongho Contest proceeded smoothly, but the atmosphere in Hanam grew increasingly tense day by day. It wasn't due to some hot-blooded orthodox martial artists causing trouble. It was the clash between the orthodox and unorthodox factions.

"Isn't that the uniform of the Black Forest Stronghold? What the hell is a cowardly unorthodox bastard doing here?"

"Heh heh! Well, if it isn't the orthodox pipsqueak whose leader's off screwing around in seclusion. What's up?"

"Bullshit! Wasn't that your unorthodox scheme!? Fine! I've got you now. I've never liked you unorthodox scum anyway!"

"Same here! You hypocritical orthodox pricks have been a thorn in my side forever. Bring it on! Let's throw down!"

An orthodox warrior and an unorthodox one broke into a fight at the inn. The lowly waiter, weak in martial prowess, trembled and prayed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the situation to calm down.

Unfortunately, there was no martial artist present to mediate the brawl. Neither the orthodox nor the unorthodox had any intention of ending it amicably.

"Kill the unorthodox scum!"

"Impale the orthodox bastards!"

The inn split instantly into orthodox and unorthodox sides. The cause of the fight? My doing.

The leak of the sex video featuring Abbot Gwaneum of Shaolin Temple had strained relations between the orthodox and unorthodox factions. Most orthodox folk believed it was some unorthodox plot.

'Abbot Gwaneum handled it well on the spot, but for such a massive scandal, the backlash against Shaolin seems surprisingly mild.'

Was Shaolin's PR that strong?

No. This outcome couldn't be achieved by Shaolin and the Murim Alliance alone.

Besides, there were factions within the Murim Alliance opposed to Shaolin. This incident would have been prime ammunition for them. Yet, things were eerily quiet inside the Alliance.

'Some other force must be aiding their PR efforts. Probably the Moon Shadow Divine Cult.'

Moon Shadow Divine Cult

They lurked in the shadows of the martial world, weaving schemes and casting dark clouds over the Central Plains. They had to be behind it.

'Their goal is clear: stoke conflict between the orthodox and unorthodox.'

The orthodox pointed fingers at the unorthodox as culprits, sharpening their blades against them. Falsely accused, the unorthodox bared their teeth at the orthodox in return. Already on bad terms, the two forces had now fully reverted to enmity over the incident.

Judging by the current state, the Moon Shadow Divine Cult's scheme had worked perfectly. Tensions between orthodox and unorthodox were fiercer than ever.

Bam!

An unorthodox warrior flipped a table. Food spilled everywhere as furniture shattered.

The innkeeper peeked out from the kitchen, face pale with worry, surveying the chaos. He had no power to calm it. If he did, he wouldn't be slinging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hash.

The inn's mood was a powder keg ready to blow. Getting caught in the crossfire could cost you your life.

"Noisy."

A man who had been quietly observing muttered in annoyance. He wore a black bamboo hat that obscured his face.

Yet his aura screamed anything but ordinary. In fact, he was a character mentioned in the original story. Among those in the inn, he was the only one.

'That's why I tracked him down.'

I'd bought info on him through the Beggars' Sect. There was scant data available, so it took time. The Beggars' Sect found him based solely on his appearance.

'No one beats the Beggars' Sect for tracking people. Beggars' eyes reach everywhere.'

Compared to rivals like the Hao Clan, their intel quality lagged, but for raw tracking, no one matched them.

The bamboo-hatted man stood up. He'd barely touched half his food.

I rose too. The fight was tilting toward the orthodox side. Spectating brawls is fun, but not my concern now.

I tailed him discreetly. I'm no pro at shadowing, but the crowds made hiding easy.

Leaving the inn, he poked into a small tool shop and a weaponsmith. Not buying—just browsing before moving on.

After scouting the streets, he headed to an isolated spot outside town.

A small hill appeared, devoid of people or homes. Suddenly, he spun around.

"Stop skulking like a shadow and show yourself."

He'd spotted my tail.

I was a bit surprised. I'd been careful, yet busted.

Well, I'm no assassin pro, so no big shock. Before revealing myself, I pulled out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an item.

Showing my bare face to this guy right now? Too risky. Luckily, I had the perfect item for hiding my identity.

I donned the Hidden Mask. Mine was lion-shaped. In the Soul Community world, they called me Leon Mask.

'This mask has persistent tracking abilities. Useful in many ways.'

Seeing my mask, he lifted his black bamboo hat and frowned.

"Human skin mask... no, a beast pelt mask?"

"Call it whatever."

"Fine. But that's not the point now. Why were you tailing me?"

Black energy oozed from his back. His presence screamed unorthodox—far from orthodox vibes.

"I want the treasure map you have."

Treasure Map

In wuxia terms, it led to legendary weapons, rare elixirs, or secret manuals of ultimate arts. Stuff that drove martial artists mad. Treasure map feuds were cliché central.

"...An assassin from the Three Elders? Nah, your tailing skills are too sloppy for that."

"Don't get it twisted. I'd rather off myself than work for that bald geezer."

"We're on the same page. But admitting you know of the Three Elders just makes you more suspicious."

The black energy swelled, enveloping me like a pressure tactic.

I didn't flinch.

"One more time: who are you? Dodge again, and you're an enemy."

"Harsh words, fitting for a Demonic Cult heir. Though fifth in line, so maybe not quite heir material?"

Shiiik!

The black energy lashed out, slicing where my throat had been.

I dodged by leaning back. No mercy in that strike—if unprepared, I'd be mute at best.

"Good. You're my enemy."

He said coldly.

"Hey, hear me out first."

"You want my treasure map. That's reason enough."

"Not stealing it from you. Besides, don't you need my help too? Can you even fully decipher that map?"

His hand paused. First time words got through.

"How much do you know?"

"Not everything. Just what I know."

His guard eased slightly—but not fully. No longer an instant foe, but thoughts could flip anytime.

He removed his bamboo hat. Short hair shook out—could pass for modern style.

His features beneath were sharply handsome, positively so. Mixed with exotic blood? The original mentioned something like that.

But his looks? Irrelevant. Guy's a dude.

"Demonic Cult prospective heir... low in the ranks as you said, but call me Ma-ro."

Ma-ro

Appears in the original, future Demonic Cult leader.

'And born under the Heavenly Disaster Star.'

Heavenly Disaster Star—the worst of the 36 Heavenly Stars, a genius born with calamity's energy. Think demonic talent incarnate.

'Current Cult Leader has it too. This heir does as well.'

Late novel has power creep with more such stars, but it's a terrifying passive. Boosts demonic arts comprehension insanely.

'Ma-ro hasn't fully awakened his yet. If he did, topping the heir ranks would be easy.'

The Three Elders know, so they check him. Original says daily poison in tea, nightly assassins.

Prospective heirs are still heirs. Assassinating one wouldn't fly in unorthodox circles—except the Demonic Cult.

'Might makes right there. And with Three Elders backing it, feasible.'

If a random grunt tried, the Leader would wipe their clan. He knows of the Elders' moves but lets it slide—a test for Ma-ro.

'Can't inherit if you can't handle this. Classic Demonic Cult brute mindset.'

Thus, Ma-ro's priority: raw power. It'd secure his spot and let him crush the Elders.

His current strength isn't negligible, but no match for entrenched elders head-on.

"Asking again: who are you? Keep that weird beast mask on, and I can't trust you."

Ma-ro pressed, but no dice.

Showing my face now? Huge risk. Demonic Cult guy.

"Drop the curiosity about my face. Not the priority."

"It's huge for me."

"You've got bigger issues. That treasure map—you can't crack it fully."

Info gap between us. Leverage it for control.

"...How do you know about the map?"

"Heard from my master."

I leaked a tidbit—fake, but unverifiable.

Original knowledge gives me an uncrossable edge over this canon character. I'll toy with him using it.

"Master? You don't mean... you're the Leader's disciple too?"

Leader's Disciple

Implies heir eligibility. His black energy flared. Before he struck, I spoke first.

"Relax. I have zero interest in the Cult. Words won't convince—watch."

I circulated qi, KHC-style. Azure internal energy cloaked my fist—potent, unlike his demonic vibe.

"That's..."

"As you see, I practice orthodox arts. You know as heir: Leader's legitimacy stems from prior Leader's discipleship and pure demonic arts. I've got orthodox taint—no legitimacy. Can't be Leader even if I wanted."

Demonic Cult has sneaky orthodox practitioners—for cover or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠analysis. Pragmatic Cult doesn't mind mixed arts—unlike orthodox.

But the Leader? Pure demonic arts only. Position for the ultimate demonic master.

My explanation landed; he withdrew his energy. Now, real talk could begin.