Surviving as a Slave in the Demonic Cult
Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. A single sect and religion nestled in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains. Known by various names like Sun-Moon Divine Cult, Demonic Cult, Bright Cult, they revere their leader, the Heavenly Demon, as a god.
They worship strength but don't bother the weak—in fact, they treat them well, which is why those fed up with the righteous sects' hypocrisy or the unorthodox sects' plundering often flock here. Of course, even among them, there are those who suffer exploitation and torment.
'Like me.'
Directly harming common folk is forbidden, but slaves are a different story. Those defeated in battles against the cult, their dantians shattered, become slaves—along with their children. I'm the child of such a slave, an orphan, forced into labor despite being kindergarten age.
Sure, after 15 years of labor, you're freed from slavery. But by then, you've missed the prime window to learn martial arts and end up living like an ordinary commoner.
'If you're gonna reincarnate me, at least give me some perks. An S-rank trait that's just four reincarnations of 30 years each? That's it?'
Sword Saint (S), letting you wield a sword with decades of mastery the moment you pick one up and unleash sword qi right away. Lord of Flames (S), firing off hellfire-level blasts instantly. Indestructible Diamond Body (S), immense mana (S)—traits that sound like pure dopamine just from their names, and here I am, slaving away.
"Yu-won. Go shovel the shit."
"Yes, sir."
Heading to the outhouse on the overseer's orders, the stench was utterly revolting. What the hell do these self-proclaimed martial artists eat? How can their shit smell this bad?
'Fuck this. I can't live like this.'
What's the point of enduring 30 years like this? Better to fake insanity and bash my head in—might make the rest of my life more meaningful. Or just die.
In Murim—especially the Demonic Cult—martial arts are everything. For a child to learn them here, you need to be born a demon's spawn or enter the Demonic Academy. Me, slaving all day without proper meals—passing the academy exam? Fat chance. Impossible.
Six months until the next Demonic Academy exam. To gain the strength to enter in that time, I need martial arts.
'Let's think.'
Passing the exam would end my slave life instantly. So, who to learn from? I kept pondering.
'If I'm gonna fake madness and bash my head, might as well aim for the top master. If I'm learning, it better be the strongest arts.'
Everyone from street dogs to beggars knows the strongest in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult: the pinnacle, the Heavenly Demon.
I'll go to the Heavenly Demon.
Of course, not right now. A slave approaching the Demon during training or duties in the daytime? Absurd. I have labor too. Night, after all duties end, is perfect.
Someone might wonder: can you even approach the Heavenly Demon's chambers at night? Simple answer.
'Yes.'
I've heard she dismisses everyone except one direct guard when she sleeps in her chambers. Daytime, the Heavenly Demon Guard sticks around for prestige, but not at night. The strongest in the cult is the Heavenly Demon herself—who'd sense an intruder first? The one direct guard is basically a chamberlain for midnight thirst or snacks.
Goal set, no more agonizing. I finished my duties diligently, ate, did my usual bodyweight exercises, and waited for nightfall.
A dusky night. Moonlight from the full moon overhead lit my path through the cult's streets. Even the pleasure houses had doused their lights—it was that late. I headed to the rear of the Heavenly Demon's palace.
Countless doubts assailed me. Is this right? What if she kills me without a word? Should I have just endured 15 years, grabbed some basic arts, and used them next life?
Thoughts spiraled negatively, my mind trying to compromise. This won't work.
Then, memories of my first life surfaced: days of contentment in ordinary routine. They flooded my mind, steeling my resolve.
'I don't want to live like that again.'
I'll grow strong. Change. Learn martial arts, enter the academy, climb higher, live flashily. To do that, convince the Heavenly Demon.
Gripping my pounding heart, steadying trembling legs, I reached the rear, 50 meters from her chambers. Can't go further—massive walls surround the palace. Step inside, and her direct guard ends me in one strike.
But if she's at the Manifest Realm as rumored, she'll hear me shout from here.
Clearing my throat, I bellowed like a madman.
"Please teach me martial arts! I can't live like this anymore!"
The die was cast. The quiet night amplified my voice—it reached her beyond the wall, 100%.
Chop my head off now, or pique her interest and learn at least a scrap—my future hinges on this moment.
"Aigoo. Was it you who called for me?"
A figure appeared without a sound. Silky black hair like fine silk, eyes black as embedded jewels, a curvaceous figure glimpsed through her uniform—a woman addressing me.
She felt chillingly cold, and indeed, a slight chill prickled my skin. True masters alter the air's temperature with their profound inner energy alone? First time meeting a real expert—utterly novel.
"Demonic Lord of All Under Heaven, Subjugator of Ten Thousand Demons! Kim Yu-won pays respects to the Heavenly Demon!"
I'd researched protocol. Dropping to one knee, head bowed, I greeted her.
"Enough formalities. You knew who I am, where this is, and still called me out—right?"
The chill intensified. Instinct screamed: fail to please her, and I die.
"Yes! I want to live!"
"Live?"
Doubt flickered on her face; the ambient cold eased. Success—planted curiosity. I pressed on.
"I'm the child of a slave captured by the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. Parents dead, no choice given—I've slaved away till now."
I met her gaze. She stared back, then spoke.
"Continue."
"It was unjust. Being doomed to slavery from birth. Pathetic, serving those no better than me. But the most despairing part? Know what it is?"
"What?"
"No sign this life can improve."
Her doubt deepened.
"Why? Aren't slaves freed at adulthood? Or instantly if they enter the Demonic Academy? Opportunities exist."
Rich kids are hopeless. They assume their privileges are natural, blind to others' lacks.
"If you just want to drift by, sure. But for success, a better life—in the cult, you must grow strong."
She nodded.
"Start martial arts at adulthood? Your meridians clogged with impurities, far behind those training from childhood."
"Hm... true enough."
She conceded.
"Demonic Academy? A slave's child might have martial parentage, basics to pass. But an orphan slave like me? Impossible."
"You're alive, though..."
Genius of geniuses, born with everything—her words irked me. Might die, but speak my piece.
"That's not living! No dreams for the future, just drifting without hope... that's not life, even if breathing."
Right. Not living—just a cog, a societal part.
"First to interrupt me, yell at me."
Lightning struck my mind. 'What have I done?'
Backtalk to the Heavenly Demon? Death wouldn't surprise.
"S-sorry..."
"Amusing. First to converse this long, stand firm on your views. I like it! I'll teach you martial arts."
Even a blind squirrel finds a nut—I won her favor. Ecstasy nearly drove me mad.
'Thank you!'
"Fuck!"
Uh...? Joy short-circuited mouth and mind.
"Cursing too... you're the first. Before arts, need to teach manners first."
She cracked her knuckles.
"W-wait...?"
"No worries. First time teaching, but I remember Father's methods perfectly."
Body-learning manners? Wanted to ask, but words failed. Her aura sealed my mouth.
"Fear not. When this ends, you'll remember proper respect for the Heavenly Demon. Then, proper martial arts."
'Arts sound great, but manners... can we skip?'
Then she beat etiquette into me mercilessly.