Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: Hold On, This Can't Be Right
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-Thud thud
'Haa...'
I let out a quiet sigh as I gazed at the ominous buildings looming before me.
I really didn't want to come here.
Sure, I'd endured all sorts of hardships living as a fortune teller dismissed as a sorcerer peddling curses, but this place was one I truly dreaded.
Who would've thought I'd end up at the Demonic Cult of all places?
'I just wanted to live quietly...'
How did things turn out like this?
I'd read a few novels, but I'd never sent a 4,700-character rant to an author, never picked fights in the comments, and I didn't have some obscure web serial thousands of chapters long that only I read.
I didn't even read much wuxia—too many hanja characters.
'Not that I even know for sure if this is a novel world.'
It was just a bit of self-pity from someone who'd suddenly been tossed into the murim world.
If they were going to stick me in a possession story, why not a modern fantasy OP romp? I wanted to leech off a status screen too.
The body I'd possessed had no status screen or hidden treasures—in fact, it was below average in every way.
Small stature, frail build; in the murim world where a thug in an inn could lop your head off for looking at them wrong, there wasn't a single plus factor to help me survive.
To top it off, some accident had wrecked my dantian, so I couldn't even cultivate the basic Three Disasters Mind Method.
I'd come to this wuxia world, and I couldn't learn a single martial art? It was so heartbreaking that, ignoring my master's warnings, I'd memorized the incantations anyway—only to spew blood from every orifice. After that, I'd sworn off martial arts entirely.
If you asked how I'd survived this far with a weak body and no skills, it was all thanks to my master.
[Oh ho, what an intriguing brat. Not even a cultivator stalled at a bottleneck, yet your qi and blood are this twisted. Care to come with this old lady?]
Back in the early days post-possession, when I had nothing and was sucking my thumb in back alleys. When begging my life away barely bought me a few bowls of thin noodles—that's when I met her.
[I can't promise the world at your feet or all murim bowing to you, but I won't let you starve.]
Drying up day by day, rejecting thugs' offers to sell my body in their brothels... I accepted her proposal on the spot.
And after that...
'A lot happened.'
Too much to explain right now.
Lost in reminiscence with a complicated look in my eyes, a man who seemed like a martial artist approached.
"Are you that fortune teller?"
"If there's only one summoned by the Divine Cult today, then yes, that's me, sir."
I'd never seen the man before, but the emotion radiating from him was all too familiar.
Contempt. Disdain.
It stung at first, but now? Nothing.
'Let them despise me. I've survived this long with my skills.'
I could kneel.
Beg pathetically.
Lick their boots if needed. As long as I survived.
That's how I'd made it in this blood-soaked world.
But I couldn't voice that.
A sorcerer baring his true thoughts might as well quit living.
"Your cloak looks familiar. May I humbly ask your name, sir?"
"...I have no name to reveal to you."
"My apologies."
He dismissed me, but I wasn't curious about his name anyway.
In the Demonic Cult that worshipped strength, a guy sent to fetch a sorcerer like me probably wasn't some famous martial artist anyway.
The point was to plant the idea.
I'm servile.
I'm beneath your notice.
Most martial artists would look past me after that. A few weirdos aside.
The emotion from him was exactly that.
He clearly found me repulsive but had no choice.
"Before you follow, cover your eyes with this."
He handed me a cloth.
Ah, no peeking at the inner layout, huh?
I was curious about the Demonic Cult's insides, but refusing here was as good as offering my neck. I obediently tied it over my eyes.
"Done. Is this fine?"
"...Your Bloodstained Cloak covers your face, so pull it down for a moment."
"Forgive my impertinence, but that's difficult. A sorcerer's true face is his life itself."
"You dare enter our Divine Cult without a blindfold, outsider?"
-Shing
True to a martial artist, the sound of a sword drawn came after my refusal.
His aura screamed he was ready to slice through my Bloodstained Cloak—my mantle that wrapped my whole body.
"I stake the Sword Empress's honor on it."
"..."
"You must know she owes me her life. This is permission granted in exchange. If I'm caught without the blindfold, cut me down and demand recompense from her. Wouldn't that suit the Divine Cult nicely?"
The Sword Empress of Mount Hua Sect.
A boon and a curse from my perspective.
A casual reading I'd done for her had accidentally resolved a life-or-death issue, putting her in my debt.
But the rumors spread across the Central Plains, drawing even the Demonic Cult's interest.
For someone who just wanted a quiet life, it was disastrous.
Refusing an official invitation from the Demonic Cult? Who knows what they'd do.
"Well?"
"...Follow me."
He didn't say it, but my words pleased him.
I heard his footsteps start.
Hey, wait a sec.
"Blindfolded here—shouldn't you grab and lead me? I can't walk without sight or skills."
"..."
He sighed and gripped my arm, pulling me along.
As a martial artist, he knew bodies well—kept my balance perfect despite the blindness.
"Mind if I ask who's summoned me?"
"..."
Wow, no answer even for that.
At least tell me who wants the reading.
"You'll learn naturally once you're there."
"...Understood."
*Of course I will, dumbass?*
I thought it, but obviously didn't say it.
We walked for ages.
Blind, time blurred, but my aching feet said it was far.
The farther we went, the uneasier I got.
Deep inside meant high rank. Dangerous.
Finally, he stopped.
"We're here. You can remove the cloth."
I yanked it off quick.
Worried these lunatics might lock me in some deep dungeon, but no—it was luxurious.
Opulent interior, rare even after seeing countless places.
The Sword Empress's abode was humbly simple, befitting a Mount Hua Taoist.
"One warning: any rudeness before her, and my sword won't spare you."
Old news nowadays.
I cupped my fists in acknowledgment. He stood at the door.
"The fortune teller you requested, Cult Leader."
Ah, so the summoner was the Cult Leader.
Demonic Cult Leader means...
*Fuck, hold up.*
"Enter."
*No, fuck, hold up.*
The actual Cult Leader?
Heavenly Demon?
*No way, hold on, this can't be right.*
I figured maybe a division leader, elder at most—not the Heavenly Demon!
"..."
Head spinning, face paling as the door opened, revealing the room.
A woman in black uniform sat cross-legged, back to me.
"Well done, Black Wind Division Leader. You may go."
"Understood."
*This guy was a division leader? Thought he was a grunt.*
-Creak
He shoved me in and shut the door behind him.
Get it together, Dan Yuseong.
Even in a tiger's den, stay sharp and live.
Unless the tiger crushes hundreds with a flick—same difference.
"Nervous?"
My body rigid, the Heavenly Demon turned and spoke.
I'd heard, but she was stunning.
Prettiest in this world: my master and Sword Empress. Now one more.
"...This lowly fortune teller greets the Leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult."
"Ah, no need. I won't force the title on an outsider."
Is this kindness?
'Don't fall for it.'
Twenty years ago, she soloed 3,200 Blood Cultists in their war.
Pre-possession event, but monstrous feat.
And that was twenty years back—she's stronger now.
No wonder the Murim Alliance yaps about the Demonic Cult but never invades.
"Then... may I call you Heaven of the Divine Cult?"
Heaven of the Divine Cult.
Squeezed from my frantic brain in seconds—last survivor of countless options to avoid offending her.
"Heaven of the Divine Cult..."
She tapped her arm with a fingertip.
-Gulp
Tense for backlash,
"Not a bad ring to it."
'Phew.'
Relief as she spoke.