Chapter 11: My Rotten Nose is Vibrating
The Heavenly Demon.
A literal translation would be something like "demon bestowed by the heavens."
In most wuxia tales, the Heavenly Demon was depicted as the world's strongest being—and because of that, they often ended up as the protagonist's ultimate rival.
Consequently, they were portrayed as utter scumbags more often than not.
'Of course, not in this world.'
The Heavenly Demon in Murim Returner was a satirical twist on the cliché. Their martial prowess was still top-tier. But were they viciously evil? Not really.
They were just about average for the murim. The type to kill bandits on the spot if they crossed paths on the road, but nothing more petty than that.
Even that made them practically a saintly gentleman compared to the "righteous faction's hypocrites."
But Un Yeop Ja had no way of knowing any of this.
The limit of his ability was that it only worked on the "truth" as the target believed it.
When I called the Heavenly Demon a "scumbag," the Heavenly Demon in my mind wasn't the current one from Murim Returner—it was the countless others I'd read about in different stories.
"If it's from afar, might I ask where exactly you hail from?"
Un Yeop Ja inquired.
He had no choice; the people of this murim were hypersensitive to so-called "outer realm" factions.
The North Sea Ice Palace, the Southern Barbaric Beast Palace, the Little Thunderclap Temple of Tianzhu, and so on.
These outer forces were treated like potential terrorists in modern terms—utterly shunned.
Of course, the most reviled among them was the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
"I come from the East. I was heading west on a mission."
The world of Murim Returner was a fictional oriental land, not a direct copy of Earth's map.
So I couldn't pinpoint a specific place. Vaguely saying "the East" was the safest bet.
Naming an actual location might lead to endless questions about where that was.
The East, in this world's lore, was where Taoists went to cultivate and ascend— it had a good image.
Korea could be considered part of the East, so it wasn't entirely a lie.
Un Yeop Ja blinked as he gauged the truth of my words. Veins faintly bulged in his eyes.
Using what amounted to a cheat ability clearly strained his body.
As if hitting his limit, the strange energy in his eyes faded.
Un Yeop Ja quickly cupped his fists in apology.
"From the East? Forgive my rudeness. We've had reports of Demonic Cult lackeys stirring in the murim lately, so I overreacted a bit."
Un Yeop Ja wasn't a bad guy. If anything, he was almost naively pure.
Once he deemed you trustworthy, he'd spill all the context like that.
Even though late-stage disciples were usually twisted and vicious.
Was this the power of the upright Kunlun Sect?
"No offense taken. That said... Demonic Cult lackeys?"
"Yes."
Un Yeop Ja sighed.
"Have you heard of the Black Shadow Corps?"
"...Yes, I've heard the name. The Demonic Cult's elite force, right?"
"Sichuan intelligence spotted a group in black clothes moving about. A carrier pigeon brought the report this morning."
'You really screwed us over.'
I grumbled at Pa Cheon. He had nothing to say, apparently—just trembled once.
"The Murim Alliance suspects the Demonic Cult might be stirring again. They're on high alert."
"Hahaha, with the Sword Saint steadfastly guarding the murim, what could they possibly do?"
Un Yeop Ja smiled warmly at my words.
"Exactly. The Sword Saint—he's the ideal we martial artists should all aspire to, a true paragon."
Yeah, no.
I wanted to say it, but seeing Un Yeop Ja's innocent smile, I could only sigh inwardly.
Sword Saint Meng Wi-hak.
This man, revered across righteous and demonic alike for his transcendent martial arts, was famed for his fairness and loyalty.
In truth, he was the epitome of righteous hypocrisy.
A villain among villains, yet the world saw him as the murim's protector.
"Since fate brought us together, may I escort you? Please, let me make up for my rudeness."
[The road ahead is long. Best to return quickly.]
Pa Cheon sounded reluctant. Makes sense—for a die-hard Cultist to his bones, a righteous sect disciple like Un Yeop Ja would be distasteful.
But I saw it differently.
This was an opportunity.
Un Yeop Ja was a promising talent of renowned Kunlun. In the novel's late-game war arcs, he'd grow into a sect representative powerhouse.
Building rapport now meant insurance for vouching my identity later—and top-tier insurance at that.
"How could I refuse such kindness? Hahaha."
"Wonderful. There's a fine inn just ahead in Taeryeong County."
"My thanks. Care to ride in the carriage?"
"Ah, I'd love to, but..."
Un Yeop Ja rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick black bracelets on both forearms.
"Training weights made of wrought iron. A horse probably couldn't handle it. About sixty kilos per arm."
"..."
"Oh, and the same on both ankles. Hahaha!"
A hundred jin was roughly sixty kilos—240 kilos total. And he walked around so casually with that on? So brightly?
Strange. The novel never mentioned this.
Well, that's probably how he reaches Super Peak so young.
Martial artists are all freaks, every last one.
"Follow this path to the main road; half a day's ride by carriage. I'll report to the sect elders first, then meet you at Cheonghwa Inn."
"And you, Daoist?"
"I prefer my own two feet. See you in half a day!"
Un Yeop Ja cupped his fists and kicked off the ground. His foot sank deep into the firm earth, launching him skyward like a bird.
Flap!
His robes billowed as he flipped midair, kicking off invisible steps to leap higher.
In moments, he shrank to a black dot and vanished.
"...Cloud Dragon Great Eight Forms."
Kunlun's peerless technique, inspired by dragons frolicking freely among the clouds.
A plane couldn't do better.
Leaping through the sky with 240 kilos of iron? That earned the title "Taoist."
Without those weights, even Sa Wol couldn't win.
Even within the same realm, skill gaps were vast.
More importantly...
"What is this?"
"Mocking the Sovereign means summary execution, even for a Division Commander."
Sa Wol held a blade to my throat.
I swore inwardly in shock—I hadn't even noticed her draw it. Good thing my face stayed blank.
Tak Horak behind her had his spear out too, looking utterly confused.
They'd overheard my whisper despite my caution—masters like them.
"Just a lone Kunlun warrior. No need for slaughter when a false Heavenly Demon act suffices. Why tarnish the Sovereign?"
Martial artists embodied the strong prey on the weak. Bow to the mighty, bare teeth at the feeble.
It rang especially true for Cultists idolizing the strong.
Here, I had to go hard. Make them never dare bare teeth at me.
"Can't even read the room."
"Pardon?"
"That was Un Yeop Ja, disciple of Kunlun's First Sword. He's mastered over ninety percent of Cloud Dragon Great Eight Forms. Faster than an eagle—think you two could catch him?"
"But Commander has Flying Sword!"
"Of course."
I floated Pa Cheon into the air.
"But this is Kunlun territory. If he sheds those iron restraints and flees, exposing the Black Shadow Corps—and they learn I wield Flying Sword too—what then?"
Sa Wol and Tak Horak fell silent.
"The murim dogs gnashing their teeth at us Cultists would weave a dragnet. I guarantee it."
I glared coldly at them.
"I live. You die."
"..."
"To save my subordinates, I'd deny the Sovereign a hundred times over."
Sa Wol and Tak Horak were speechless. Tak Horak teared up, moved to the brink. Sa Wol seemed lost—probably thinking, 'What's with this guy?'
[Shameless as they come.]
'Shamelessness is survival.'
And one more thing.
"Un Yeop Ja was born with the innate gift to discern truth from lies in speech. Mind your words around him."
"So that's why you lied... But how did you evade his power, Commander?"
I snorted at Tak Horak's question.
"Just be stronger than it."
"...As expected!"
Tak Horak nodded vigorously in awe, tears now dripping.
Easy to handle. Barely a footnote in the novel, but he lived and breathed the Cult's might-makes-right creed.
The taciturn Sa Wol merely dipped her head slightly.
And so, we drove the carriage toward Taeryeong County.
Taeryeong County was more distinctive than I'd imagined.
A gateway to the Western Regions, it teemed with people in bizarre attire.
Cheonghwa Inn sat right in the heart of it all.
"Welcome!"
The waiter greeted us cheerfully.
I stood with hands behind my back as Tak Horak handled stabling the horses and securing rooms.
This must be why conglomerate chairmen have secretaries.
Money was no issue—overflowing, even. The Sado Family topped wealth among the Six Demonic Clans.
"Sa Wol, Tak Horak. You two wait downstairs."
"Yes."
"Yes, my lord!"
Better to keep them out of Un Yeop Ja's sight entirely.
I was led to the top floor. Spiraling stairs opened to the fifth level, overlooking Taeryeong County.
A few tables suggested a VIP area.
"Ah."
I couldn't help but sigh.
It was because of the group seated across from where I'd sit.
Five young martial artists: four men, one woman, all sword-bearing.
As I ascended, the woman's gaze followed me. Then the men chattering beside her turned their eyes my way too.
Sado Hwan's handsome face drew stares wherever I went.
That was the problem.
Jealous sparks flew in the men's eyes.
Murim Returner was ruled by clichés.
Inn encounters to avoid: one, a bamboo-hatted figure silently guzzling in the corner.
Two, a cackling elder flashing missing front teeth—"kekeke" or "huhuhu."
Three, a group of young male-female martial artists.
The last was deadlier with fewer women.
Nine times out of ten, they'd pick a fight to reclaim the woman's attention.
Just like now.
One man shot up and strode toward me.
The classic "bulging Sun Meridian"—second- or first-rate peak.
Weaker than a standard Black Shadow trooper, but enough to throw weight around in a place like Taeryeong.
His garb screamed local lord's son—boosting his swagger.
He sized me up head to toe, like appraising goods.
Then he smirked.
"New face. Not from Taeryeong, huh?"
His rude half-formal tone grated.
Starting trouble with a stranger defied common sense, but in cliché-ridden Murim Returner, it was par for the course.
Should've clocked it when Un Yeop Ja suggested the inn. Or at least come with him.
Kunlun's prestige would've kept these small fries away.
"How dare you ignore So In-gyeol, young master of Somyeongjang?"
My silence turned his face beet red.
I had my dilemmas. Couldn't just wait for Un Yeop Ja forever.
Calling Sa Wol was risky—her Demonic Cult arts screamed her affiliation. Tak Horak's fiery temper was worse.
Can't reveal Flying Sword either.'
Even Un Yeop Ja would re-scrutinize my background. Worse, draw the entire murim's gaze—trouble inevitable.
Like using an ox-cleaver for a chicken.
Then, inspiration struck.
I had an unused gadget, perfect for this.
I drew the black ox hair whisk from my belt and lightly flicked it a few times.
"My rotten nose is vibrating."
"...What?"
"Every time you open your mouth, my rotten nose vibrates."
"You bastard!"
So In-gyeol reached for his sword.
I channeled inner energy to my eyes and warned.
"Draw that, and you die."
He flinched meeting my gaze but bared his teeth, emboldened by his friends.
"Try it then!"
So In-gyeol drew.
And the next instant—
"Gahk—!"
He spewed blood and collapsed.