The Path of Radiant Ascension
Dragged off by the martial artists, I was brought before an instructor.
After taking a thorough scolding, I headed out to the plaza. I had jabbed the bastard's eye with a brush, sure, but I hadn't killed him — so a lecture was as far as it went.
He checked my realm and decided to let it slide.
I was currently at the ninth stage of Ipsik.
My true realm was the tenth stage of Ogi, but with Mi-ryeong's help I had sealed my body with a magical restriction. Hiding my strength halfway would have gotten me found out for certain, so I went all the way and locked it down completely.
Ipsik ninth stage at twenty-one — that's top-tier talent. The kind of prospect you don't want to lose.
That was why the instructor had settled for a scolding and moved on.
No matter the faction, talent was precious, and everyone wanted talent for themselves.
Entering the plaza, I quietly surveyed my surroundings. Everyone lined up there was a new recruit who had entered the Ipmaso today. They stood frozen in silence, reading the atmosphere.
I felt a prickle between my shoulder blades.
The instructors are watching me.
Making sure I didn't cause any more trouble. They wore black robes cinched with crimson sashes.
I had no intention of causing a scene right this second. But I would have to stir things up now and then. The Yeom Gu-seok I was playing was the type who got into trouble constantly.
About seven hundred, give or take.
Not many.
Considering the filthy size of this world's population, it was a very small number. And half of them would die without ever graduating from the Ipmaso.
The Ipmaso isn't the only way into the Heavenly Demon Cult, after all.
Those without connections, those who wanted to test themselves, those hungry for advancement — those were the ones who enrolled. The Ipmaso's reputation was so infamous that simply graduating was as good as a guaranteed path to promotion.
A middle-aged man in red robes appeared. He strode boldly through the ranks of recruits and took his place at the front of the plaza.
Half his face was buried under a beard, and he quietly swept his gaze across the crowd. His eyes were sharp enough to call a tiger to mind.
"Welcome. I am Bae Taek-ju, Director of the Ipmaso. I hold full authority over this facility."
"……"
The plaza was silent. Bae Taek-ju grinned as if the recruits' silence pleased him.
"Number One, step forward."
Without preamble, Bae Taek-ju called Number One. From among the recruits, a man with a rigidly frozen expression walked up to stand before him.
Bae Taek-ju placed a hand on the crown of the fidgeting Number One's head.
"…Middle-Middle. Group Two."
An instructor approached and handed Number One a training uniform and a number tag. Following the instructor's directions, Number One moved to the area marked by a flag reading Group Two.
"Number Two, step forward."
Bae Taek-ju called Number Two.
"Lower-Middle. Group Three."
Classification based on each recruit's martial realm. It meant everyone here would be taught according to their level.
It was rational. Everyone gathered here had started from a different point; treating them all the same would have been the real unfairness.
Most of them are getting dumped into Group Three.
Group Three was where the mediocre rabble collected. Well, the talented ones would climb up on their own.
"Number Eighty-Eight!"
Before I knew it, Bae Taek-ju had called Number Eighty-Eight.
I focused and watched the man walking forward. A handsome face. That blank expression belonged to none other than the Possessed Heavenly Demon.
One look at the face and there's no doubt. Good — he got Number Eighty-Eight, just like in the original.
Cheon Yu-un.
The protagonist of Woke Up as the Heavenly Demon. I called him the Possessed Heavenly Demon.
Right now, Cheon Yu-un would have concluded that he had been possessed into the body of a villain from a wuxia novel called Heavenly Martial Divine Lord. The Path of Radiant Ascension had nudged the world's backdrop a little toward xianxia, but the fundamental plot still followed Heavenly Martial Divine Lord.
Young Heavenly Demon Cheon Yu-un.
He wasn't the Heavenly Demon yet.
He was the Heavenly Demon's son — the man who would become the Heavenly Demon later.
This bastard won't be as easy as Shin Jong-woo, the Heavenly Demon of another world. He's not stupid, either. He's already built himself a foundation called Mokjilyeon.
So why would someone that thorough enroll in the Ipmaso?
To acquire talent. Through the wuxia novel Heavenly Martial Divine Lord, he already knew most of the gifted people in this world.
And among them is Yeom Gu-seok — the man I killed and whose identity I took.
Cheon Yu-un knew about Yeom Gu-seok, but not his face. He only knew him from the novel.
The moment he sees the red demon tattoo on my back, he'll be certain I'm Yeom Gu-seok.
Everything was proceeding exactly as I had planned.
"…Highest. Group One."
Bae Taek-ju said, looking at Cheon Yu-un. As Director of the Ipmaso, he already knew Cheon Yu-un's true identity.
He thinks Cheon Yu-un came here to prove his own worth. That's what he believes.
I quietly looked around.
There were quite a few people with striking appearances. The type who looked, at a glance, like they came from prestigious families. In truth, they were the children of Heavenly Demon Cult executives. They had entered the Ipmaso to curry favor with Cheon Yu-un, the future Heavenly Demon.
"Number One Hundred Twenty-Three!"
Bae Taek-ju called me.
I strode up and stood before him without hesitation. Bae Taek-ju regarded me with a peculiar look. Word of the trouble I'd caused the moment I arrived at the Ipmaso had clearly reached him. He stretched out a hand and set it on my head.
Some old bastard groping the top of my skull… feels fucking disgusting.
Through the Baihui point, Bae Taek-ju's energy flowed in. I didn't resist. His energy vanished just as quickly. I tensed a little. There was no reason it should happen, but if he somehow saw through to my true strength, the whole plan would unravel.
"Highest. Group One."
Fortunately, nothing of the sort occurred. I took what I was given and moved to Group One. Group One still had fewer than ten people. Once this tedious sorting was finished, maybe a hundred or so would end up here.
"Number One Hundred Twenty-Three."
Cheon Yu-un spoke to me. I looked at him with a crooked, sidelong stare. The moment he stepped up beside me, every instructor's gaze locked onto us.
"…What."
"No need to be so wary. I only came over to exchange greetings."
"Do I look like I need to exchange greetings with the likes of you?"
"We're in the same group. We ought to get along from here on."
"……Consider this a warning. Don't get ahead of yourself."
After a brief snarl, I turned my head and ignored Cheon Yu-un. Of course, that was part of the plan as well.
"Number Five Hundred Sixty-Seven. Highest. Group One."
Every eye turned toward Number Five Hundred Sixty-Seven.
Number Five Hundred Sixty-Seven was a woman. And not just any woman — a beauty so striking it made your eyes go wide. Long black hair, skin white as snow, features as if sculpted by a master artisan. Even with that blank expression, her beauty was impossible to hide.
The Possessed Heavenly Demon's heroine. Daughter of the Sword Demon — Yeon Ye-ha.
Cheon Yu-un's and Yeon Ye-ha's eyes met. There was no reaction whatsoever. There had never been any point of contact between them. I licked my lips as I watched the line of Yeon Ye-ha's back.
The sorting finally ended.
Director Bae Taek-ju laid out the rules of the Ipmaso and then disappeared. Don't talk back to instructors. Don't fight among yourselves. Rules of that sort.
Group One, Group Two, and Group Three each followed their instructors in different directions.
Toward the dormitories where we would spend the next year. The lodgings differed by group. Group Three would be assigned the most dilapidated quarters imaginable, while Group One got rooms on par with a high-class inn.
The strong reign.
The Heavenly Demon Cult only treated the strong with respect. Not just the dorms — in every convenience, Group One would receive the finest treatment. Groups Two and Three would claw their way toward Group One, and those already in Group One would fight not to be demoted.
"Men use this building. Women use that one. I trust none of you will do anything stupid."
Men and women parted ways. The men sighed with regret and walked toward their dormitory.
"Assemble in front of the dormitory in half a shichen. If you're even a little late for assembly…. You can look forward to it."
The instructor smiled coldly, laying on the weight of authority. Most of the others tensed up.
I was assigned a room.
One person per room — that part I liked.
After that, for a full week, under the pretense of "mental education," we were run ragged. I seriously considered assassinating the instructor.
"Number One Hundred Twenty-Three. Step forward."
The instructor called me.
I walked up to him. He tossed a sword at me as if throwing it.
"Sparring. Take it and assume your stance."
"We're sparring with live steel?"
"Is a martial artist of the Heavenly Demon Cult afraid of a live-blade spar?"
"Hardly."
"I am an instructor. Use honorifics, you insolent bastard."
Open hostility radiated from him. I glanced around. The other instructors showed no interest in intervening.
Using a spar as a pretext to cripple me?
If I were crippled, I'd have no choice but to leave the Ipmaso.
The one whose eye I jabbed with a brush on the first day. Did he put this guy up to it? Or is this one of his friends?
The details didn't matter much.
But I had no intention of letting someone who meant me harm walk away clean.
The moment I took up the sword, the instructor grinned.
"From this moment, we begin a spar as close to real combat as it gets. Keep your eyes wide open and watch carefully."
He stepped forward with footwork, closing the distance in a single stride. His blade came down from above — a clean, honest strike.
He planned to play along for the early exchanges, then cripple me the moment the timing was right.
Amateurish.
I parried the instructor's blade and, using Charna, slipped straight into his guard.
"Wh— what?!"
Startled by my speed, the instructor swept his palm through the air. Heat bloomed wherever his hand passed.
A heat-yang palm technique?
His palm never reached me. My sword had already punched through his gut first.
"Ghk…!"
The instructor's hand shot toward my throat. I could feel the will to kill in it.
This much I can dodge easily enough.
I deliberately didn't dodge. I raised my left arm instead. The palm that had been aiming for my neck clamped onto my forearm. Sizzle. Cloth burned. Skin seared. Gritting through the pain, I drove a kick into his body.
The instructor shuddered and tried to rise, but the other instructors stepped in and pulled us apart.
"Enough! This is a spar. Both of you went too far! Take them both to the infirmary! Keep them under watch. If anything happens… none of you will be spared either."
At the words of a senior-looking instructor, the others nodded and moved with swift efficiency.
I curled the corner of my mouth as I watched them haul the bastard toward the infirmary. The tip of my blade had pierced his dantian with perfect precision.
The dantian is the body's center and the core of martial arts. Through it, inner energy is gathered. Shatter the dantian and there is nowhere left in the body to store that energy. Special physiques or special arts might be exceptions — but if that bastard had been special, he wouldn't have been stuck working as an instructor here.
Even a divine physician couldn't fix that. His life as a martial artist is finished. Heh.
He and I would never cross paths again.
I'll take some heat for this too… but I'm the victim here. And besides…
I glanced over my shoulder. Number Eighty-Eight. Young Heavenly Demon Cheon Yu-un was watching me, eyes gleaming. He had started to take an interest. He would investigate me, and he would learn that I was Yeom Gu-seok.
Heh. Things are going nicely.