Chapter 153
Chapter 153
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Taking Charge of New Students (1)
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“What great fortune.”
This was Flame Light Blade Demon Ma Gil-sang’s assessment upon receiving word of the White Cat Parade.
Dokgo Yul, standing beside him, nodded in agreement.
“Just as we anticipated. Now that we’ve swept away the tension, they won’t be caught flat-footed like before.”
“Your foresight is truly remarkable.”
Ma Gil-sang regarded Dokgo Yul with fresh admiration.
“The sects, thrown into panic by the demons’ emergence, have begun to unite.”
Merely spreading tales of the young students’ heroics far and wide had noticeably shifted the attitudes of the once-passive sects.
“Fear stems from ignorance. With fear dispelled, ambition will rush in to fill the void.”
“Haha. Is that how it is?”
The words came easily, but Ma Gil-sang knew better.
“It’s not just that simple.”
In truth, a major factor was that they now knew effective ways to subdue the demons.
How could he fail to recognize that it was all thanks to Dokgo Yul’s tireless efforts from the shadows?
“Without you, countless others would still shrink from facing demons.”
Demonic energy.
An aura perilously akin to death, instilling terror in all living things through sheer presence alone.
And the bizarre martial arts of unknown origin, which ensnared the mind and paralyzed the limbs—utterly fearsome.
Their ability to confront these irregular entities stemmed from no other cause.
Dokgo Yul had revealed the key to countering demons.
“How did you learn the demons’ weaknesses?”
Dokgo Yul replied calmly to the gaze laced with awe.
“Likely from my days wandering the jianghu, where I crossed paths with more than a few demons.”
“...You speak as though you’ve encountered quite a number of them.”
Flame Light Blade Demon Ma Gil-sang voiced his candid astonishment.
Even for him, who prided himself on vast experience, battling demons was an exceedingly rare occurrence.
“It’s hardly something to boast about.”
“Haha. That sounds just like you. Encounters with demons are never pleasant, after all.”
“In any case, facing them this time, I sensed something off. These ones seemed different from ordinary demonic energy.”
“Demonic energy... different?”
“Martial arts have always drawn in the energies of heaven and earth through breath, refining them via inner cultivation for use.”
Righteous sects harnessed bright energies.
Demonic arts stockpiled dark energies in the dantian—that was the key distinction.
“That much I know.”
Yin and yang. Light and shadow.
Seemingly polar opposites with nothing in common, yet they intertwined to form all creation, governing the natural order of myriad beings.
It was a notion that echoed certain Taoist principles.
“Demonic arts, cultivated through peculiar methods, can’t compare to orthodox martial traditions—but they remain a branch of martial arts all the same.”
“Ordinary folk would gasp in horror at such words.”
Acknowledging demonic arts as legitimate martial arts was no small concession for a righteous warrior.
“Yet I concur. The higher the realm, the more one vaguely perceives it.”
Ma Gil-sang, by contrast, accepted the truth without resistance.
As one ascended realms, the lines between black and white blurred.
Dokgo Yul pressed on with his explanation.
“These foes we faced, however, were another matter. They rampaged as if burning their very life force—like marionettes with severed strings.”
As if someone had twisted them into that state.
Ma Gil-sang’s eyes darkened.
“The Heaven-Defying Society. Their handiwork?”
“The most probable culprit.”
“Hmm.”
Having pieced it together in an instant, Ma Gil-sang shook his head slowly.
‘Recruiting the Lone Eye Divine Sword was the finest decision of my life.’
He had nearly stirred up the wrong nest.
These recent marauders were once renowned experts from the unorthodox paths.
That was why some had suspected the Iron Chain Alliance.
‘Prodding the Iron Chain Alliance further would have spelled disaster.’
Patting his chest in relief, Ma Gil-sang sought one final confirmation.
“Your words ring true, don’t they? About the demonic energy.”
Ah, not a matter of doubt or disbelief.
“I simply need certainty.”
Dokgo Yul nodded.
“Absolutely certain. I heard it straight from one who had cultivated demonic arts.”
“Directly from a demon?”
“Among those I met, he ranked as one of the strongest. Pure luck on my part. Had he not spared me intact, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Incredible. Hard to credit.”
Dokgo Yul, the Lone Eye Divine Sword who once scourged the world under that nameless title.
Even if long past, such radiant talent couldn’t be concealed.
For a demon to release a righteous prodigy radiating pure energy without harm went beyond mere fortune.
“No. Perhaps the lunatic simply slipped up.”
“Doubtful. Even steeped in the most vicious demonic arts, his mind burned clearer than anyone’s.”
“Such a figure couldn’t exist...”
No.
Suddenly, Ma Gil-sang dredged up an ancient memory.
The unparalleled being who exuded the most savage aura imaginable, yet bore the refined air of a transcendent immortal.
‘Heavenly Demon Divine Cult Leader Gal Pung-baek.’
The cult’s sovereign, commanding with singular presence.
‘The memory’s faded with time, but...’
Reviving the dusty recollection, Ma Gil-sang stated firmly.
“You must have encountered a demon of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.”
“That seems to be the case.”
“After the cult fractured into two factions, none have surfaced in the world again—or so I’ve heard.”
In truth, the cult had slumbered for over a century.
Dokgo Yul responded.
“Even teacups spill water now and then. How much more so with human affairs?”
“Fair enough. Nowhere does ‘absolute’ fit less than the jianghu.”
“He called those with pitch-black pupils trash who’d ingested filth worse than demonic arts. He shared several ways to counter them.”
“Including the weaknesses you passed along?”
“Precisely.”
Solitude.
The method entailed implanting solitude in the mind to obliterate reason, then pitting the resulting life-burning monstrosities against foes.
“Examine the heads of the fallen, and you’ll find traces of solitude.”
“Hmm. Understood.”
With irrefutable proof in hand, there was no cause to dally further.
“Very well. Now that we know who’s pulling the strings, countermeasures are next.”
Summing up, Ma Gil-sang yanked free the great blade embedded in the floor.
Puk.
Pasususuk.
The blade-spitted lump of charred human shape crumbled into dust.
This was the end of the maniac who had massacred two villages mere days ago and slain the officials in pursuit.
Whiiik!
Swinging the blade through empty air to shake off the ashes, Ma Gil-sang clicked his tongue.
“Thanks to you, we know how to handle them. One burden lifted.”
Ma Gil-sang spoke in a voice thick with fatigue.
Seizing the opening, Dokgo Yul cut in.
“Your master awaits at Shao Ho. Withdraw and rest.”
“Shao Ho? Is there really need to trek all the way there?”
Anywhere but Shao Ho would suit better.
Ma Gil-sang chuckled as he added,
“A truly formidable figure is due to arrive. Rest would turn to torment.”
“No need to go that far to Shao Ho.”
For one of the Ten Great Fugitives of the Jianghu—the Flame Light Blade Demon himself—to yield a step...
Intrigued, Dokgo Yul inquired,
“Just who might this be...?”
“Someone all but peerless with the sword in this world.”
That person was—
Dokgo Yul’s eyes clouded with bewilderment at the words that followed.
The White Cat Parade’s triumph rolled on.
Long queues formed daily before the Myo Jin Sect gates.
People laughed without a care, chattering and reveling.
Amid the festivities, luminaries of the jianghu stepped forth with speeches, and officials proclaimed the demise of Silver Moon Bandit Gon Ya-pyeong. Word spread like wildfire.
“The Murim Alliance lives up to its name. I worried for nothing.”
“Demons? Even the young students lopped off their heads.”
“Enough of that—let’s savor the night!”
Silver Moon Bandit Gon Ya-pyeong’s ill fame proved a boon.
High officials, long terrorized by raids on their storehouses, raised toasts to his death and showered gratitude upon Wang Wu and the Myo Jin Sect for spearheading his downfall.
Fueled by fortune and orchestration, the event burgeoned into an unprecedented spectacle.
Ere long, the White Cat Parade approached its midpoint.
Myo Jin Sect’s administrative office.
A modest tray of refreshments sat before them as the instructors’ meeting dragged into its umpteenth hour.
“Senior Instructor, funds have arrived from twelve merchant houses in Shao Ho.”
“Thirty nearby sects have dispatched three hundred disciples. Incorporated into support squads at once.”
“Officials under the North Gate Captain are cracking down on black path sects.”
“The bounty on Silver Moon Bandit is considerable. If you’d sponsor...”
The instructors clutched their stacks of drab documents, faces etched with exhaustion.
A full week of all-nighters.
The frantic expansion of the event had ensnared them all in grueling overtime.
“Then... finally...”
At the close of the half-day marathon, the Deliberation Instructor raised the last item.
“On the closing ceremony. Namely, who will deliver the address...”
Jang Cheol-sim, listening, rubbed his shadowed jaw.
“...Competition will be fierce.”
“The most spotlighted role—no helping it.”
To lead the closing at an event attended by all Shao Ho’s sects?
tantamount to declaring paramount influence in Shao Ho.
“We aimed for the largest sect’s elder, but snags abound.”
“Gripes over shares, prestige, and such.”
“Just as the Senior Instructor says. Sect size feels too worldly, inviting scorn; age order too stodgy, same result.”
Either way, a torrent of abuse loomed inevitable.
A glance toward Myo Gwang, idly stroking a cat in the corner, yielded nothing.
“Haha. If I volunteered, it’d only stir more trouble.”
True enough.
Myo Gwang already drew envy for favoritism from Wang Wu and Divine Martial Academy.
Hand him the closing speech too, sans age or fame?
‘Some backroom deal, no doubt.’
The insults would fly.
Besides, tradition held for speeches by sect outsiders.
“Elder Wang Wu.”
“Ho ho. Didn’t we agree to leave Shao Ho matters to its sects?”
Indeed. He had said as much.
‘Why on earth did I...?’
Conventionally sound.
Yet after near a tenday of sleepless nights, buried in papers for catnaps, indifference had set in.
Overwork was a fearsome beast, capable of corrupting even a Qingcheng Sect stalwart’s rigid principles.
“Even the successor role poses issues.”
Sect size?
Age?
Prestige?
They had bickered over criteria for nearly an hour.
Taking pity on the fray, Wang Wu intervened.
“Senior Instructor, no need to agonize.”
Twenty bloodshot pairs of eyes swiveled toward him. Wang Wu cleared his throat.
“If need be, leverage my name.”
“Elder! We couldn’t possibly.”
“What recourse against petty jianghu squabblers fouling the Academy’s fine talents over trifling glory?”
Use my name freely.
“Claim I selected the speaker—no one will object.”
Choose at ease.
I’ll shoulder the fallout.
At these words, tears welled in bloodshot eyes.
“Elder Wang.”
“A true elder.”
“The jianghu’s still worth it.”
The prideful Silver Hall instructors brimmed with emotion, one and all.
The end of endless overtime glimmered near—that amplified the感動.
“Thus conclude all items requiring resolution.”
Rest at last?
All exhaled in relief—until the Deliberation Instructor appended, apologetic,
“Ahem. One final announcement.”
No. Anything but!
As inward screams echoed,
The Deliberation Instructor—now fully devilish—squeezed shut his eyes against his comrades’ pleas and declared,
“Regarding the Nangong Family’s request to expand closing ceremony attendees...”
Damn it all!
The instructors hurled their documents in unison.