Dear Sisters
To turn the Patriarch's Pavilion into his own personal pleasure palace, one would need to become the Patriarch himself. But that would take far too long. Even if he were recognized for his talent and named the Young Patriarch, the pavilion would still strictly remain the domain of the head of the clan. 'In this life, I shall indulge in incest.'
Incest. It was a violation of the heavenly laws for those sharing the same blood to entwine their bodies, but to Tang Hwi, it was not even a taboo. Having repeated the cycle of reincarnation several times, had he not already shared his body with his own descendants? Once, he had even sired offspring as the Patriarch of the Namgung Clan, only to find in his next life that his betrothed was a direct descendant of that very same clan. To him, who placed more weight on the soul and the cycle of reincarnation than on material concerns, he felt not the slightest resistance toward incest. Thus, by conquering his mother, the Patriarch, and his sisters through such intimacy, he could seize control of the Patriarch's Pavilion from a young age.
His father was a chueseo—a matrilocal husband—who had no real ties to his own family, making him a man easy enough to crush. It was an act of moral depravity to steal a mother from her own husband, but Tang Hwi felt no guilt. It was not that he was incapable of feeling sin; it was simply that his father was such trash that he felt no remorse in taking what was his. As the younger brother of the Namgung Clan's leader, he had lost the struggle for the succession and been sold off like a piece of property to become a son-in-law of another of the Five Great Clans. He was a pathetic man who maintained only the bare minimum of his duties. He harbored such an inferiority complex toward his wife, Tang Suryeon, that even after siring three children, he lived without a shred of affection for them. If not for Tang Suryeon's beauty, which could put the moon and flowers to shame, he would have likely claimed his duty was done after the first child and never shared a bed with her again. Instead, he spent his time outside, wasting money on debauchery and living a life of luxury.
If his father, Namgung Bu-ryun, had been a sincere man devoted to his family, Tang Hwi would never have devised such a plan. He would never have even conceived of the goal to turn the Patriarch's Pavilion into a harem.
"First, let us begin with Body Refinement."
His current body was riddled with too much takgi—impure energy—accumulated throughout his life, perhaps due to a lack of talent. This grime, built up within his meridians like stubborn filth, would hinder his cultivation and lower the output of his internal energy. Usually, one would judge it impossible to cleanse without the aid of some legendary medicinal herb, given how narrow his meridians were and how pervasive the impurities had become. But what if one used Demonic Qi, which feeds upon such impurities?
'Who knew that the enlightenment I gained in the Demonic Cult would be of such great help in a later life?'
The martial arts of the Heavenly Demonic Cult were Demonic Arts, notorious for easily leading one into Qi Deviation. While it was certain that they devoured all impurities and turned them into one's own strength to grow rapidly, the turbulent, swirling energy was also prone to driving the practitioner into a Heart Demon. However, what if one were to burn the Holy Fire, the essence of the Demonic Arts, within one's own body? The Holy Fire, which is said to suppress all evil, was the ultimate peak of the arts created by the First Heavenly Demon to encompass all demonic power, and it possessed the efficacy to effectively incinerate takgi.
'I shall use the Holy Fire of the Heavenly Demonic Divine Art to burn my insides clean. And with the fuel created from that burning, I shall attempt the metamorphosis.'
He converted the nature of the internal energy stored in his Dantian into Demonic Qi. Since it was a fundamental art that possessed the advantage of being able to transform into any property, the substitution was instantaneous. The problem was what followed.
"Guh-hup."
As he operated the Heavenly Demonic Divine Art, he scorched the inside of his meridians with the Holy Fire. While he would not suffer actual physical injury, the pain of the impurities being incinerated was an agony so extreme that an ordinary person would never have endured it. It would not have been strange for him to vomit blood and fall into Qi Deviation, wandering the gates of death. If others had tasted this pain, they would have suspected they had been poisoned. This was no joke; in some of his past lives, Tang Hwi had failed because he could not bear it, leading to Qi Deviation and death.
'I truly never wanted to experience the seven-orifice bleeding again.'
But knowing well that great rewards awaited those who endured, Tang Hwi held on. *Crackle. Pop.* The sound of sparks flying echoed from within. As the takgi was burned away, the remnants turned into pure, refined energy that settled within his body. *Crack. Snap.*
"Ugh."
His bones began to shatter and reassemble. He was not merely piercing his middle and upper Dantian; he was replacing his very vessel entirely. Usually, Body Refinement involved unifying the three Dantian—upper, middle, and lower—to strengthen them, and using that as a base to change the constitution of the rest of the body. But the artificial metamorphosis Tang Hwi was performing was akin to discarding his old vessel and replacing it with a brand-new, top-of-the-line model.
Even amidst pain more severe than the Bun-geun-chak-gol—a torture technique used to pull apart muscles and bones—Tang Hwi simply let out a groan and endured in silence. How much time had passed? A meal's time? Or perhaps an hour? When Tang Hwi opened his eyes again, there was no visible change other than the fact that his clothes had been weathered away by the torrent of Qi. Normally, one would expect the body's waste to be expelled during Body Refinement, but he had used the Holy Fire to utilize even the energy of those impurities to create pure Demonic Qi for his transformation.
He swung his arms wide a few times and wore a satisfied expression. "Hoo. Now that is what I call effective."
He threw a punch into the air. *Whoosh!* If it had felt like wearing heavy, water-soaked clothes until just a moment ago, now it felt as light as if he were wearing an inner garment made of Thousand-Silk. Not only had his physical abilities improved across the board, but his meridians had also become thick and resilient. His internal energy now moved as naturally as his own limbs, and his body had finally acquired the foundation to support that output. It was artificial, but he had achieved a Heavenly Martial Body. Even the most renowned experts under the heavens would have had to worry about their jaws if they had seen this sight. They would have had to check if their jaws, dropped in disbelief, were still attached. That was how much of an achievement Tang Hwi’s feat was—something no one in history had ever attempted.
"Hoo. Now, the vessel is finally complete."
He was ready to master the unique martial arts he had used in several of his past lives. The condition to master them was simple: one needed a Heavenly Martial Body. Anything less, and the body would be insufficient as a vessel to contain the power. The unique martial art he had drafted while a member of the Demonic Cult and perfected over several lifetimes was truly both a Demonic Art and a Divine Art.
The Heavenly Demonic Dragon Scale Dance. A masterpiece created by weaving together the Heavenly Demonic Divine Art used by the Cult Leader, the Imperial Yellow Dragon Divine Art used by the Murim Alliance Leader, and the Yin-Yang Divine Art of the Wudang Sect. By rotating two types of energy simultaneously through the Yin-Yang principle, he forced one to circulate in reverse, causing them to collide and explode throughout his meridians. The explosive power created in that manner was pure Demonic Qi itself. It was an energy that allowed for rapid accumulation of internal power while guaranteeing immense destructive force.
'Pure Demonic Qi is no different from the martial arts of the Orthodox sects, yet its efficacy is similar to poison arts.'
It appeared to be an Orthodox martial art, but because of the essence of Demonic Qi, any injury inflicted by this energy would result in severe internal damage, as if one had been struck by a potent poison.
He trembled. The more he practiced, the more his body spasmed, but Tang Hwi endured. The sun rises for those who persevere, and tomorrow always comes. Had he been practicing for two hours? It seemed it was time for a meal, as signs of life began to increase in the vast Patriarch's Pavilion. Sensing them with his heightened senses after the Body Refinement, Tang Hwi stopped his practice.
"Is it mealtime already?"
The Patriarch's Pavilion of the Sichuan Tang Clan was a place where only the Patriarch, his spouse, and their children resided. However, there were naturally designated times for the maids to enter to attend to household chores. Those times were the Myo hour (5–7 AM) for breakfast, the O hour (11 AM–1 PM) for lunch, and the Yu hour (5–7 PM) for dinner. They would spend an hour cleaning and preparing meals, and delivering reports to the Patriarch. Thus, a maid would be coming soon. She would report that it was time to eat, and only after he answered would she turn back. If he did not answer until the end, it was their duty to report to the Patriarch before leaving the pavilion. It was truly typical of the center of the closed-off Tang Clan. There was no communication, but if they needed something, they could just leave the pavilion and go to the Inner Court to speak, so they likely never felt the need to fix this bad habit.
'Well, to reach the center of our family, the Patriarch's Pavilion, one would have to pass through the Tang Clan Tower, which is filled with all sorts of poisons and hidden weapons, and then break through to the Inner Court.'
Having never felt a threat, this bad habit remained uncorrected. But the funny thing was that this very habit was of great help to him now. Time passed. *Knock, knock.*
"Young Master. It is the Yu hour. Shall I bring the meal?"
"Eat here—... Ah. No."
Tang Hwi, who had been about to speak out of habit at the question from outside the door, changed his words. "Today, I wish to eat with my sister. Ask her if she would like to share a meal with me."
"...Yes. Understood."
Would his sister, Tang Ga-hui, accept his offer to dine? 'She will likely refuse. My sister has been in seclusion ever since that incident.'
A short while later, the result he heard from the returning maid was, as expected, a refusal. But Tang Hwi was relaxed. They were family living in the same house. What if he were to make the offer at every single meal? Time was on his side.