Chapter 536: Traces of a Past Life (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 536: Traces of a Past Life (6)
The Chinese communication soldier’s face drained of color.
Just moments ago, following Wang Wiryong’s orders, he had requested a communication link with the Korean Empire. The reply he received? Wait. The meeting is not over.
Under normal circumstances, this was standard procedure. An unscheduled call meant waiting in line. The problem, however, was the notoriously fiery temper of Wang Wiryong, the self-proclaimed Emperor of China.
'How on earth am I supposed to tell him to wait?'
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, consumed by anxiety.
The Korean Empire’s audacity to make a great nation wait was guaranteed to provoke Wang Wiryong’s wrath. Terrified that the sparks of the Emperor's rage would catch him on fire, the soldier—looking more like a walking corpse than a man—cautiously reported the situation.
However.
"Bwahahaha! To tell me to wait. He certainly is a bold one."
Wang Wiryong burst into booming laughter.
The soldier’s fears hadn't been entirely unfounded. Had Wang Wiryong not suspected Roman Dmitry’s secret, he would have exploded in fury, vowing to never forgive the Korean Empire. But things were different now. Roman Dmitry might be a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult. If that slim possibility held true, then this belligerent attitude was only natural.
The Heavenly Demon Cult never compromised.
Their radical, aggressive nature was a trait carved into their very bones since ancient times.
'Just as Xiao Long recognized Roman Dmitry's martial arts, someone of Roman's caliber couldn't possibly have failed to realize that Xiao Long is a true martial artist. Yet, he still acts this way. He must indeed be a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult. Otherwise, he would never dare behave so arrogantly toward China.'
His heart pounded in his chest.
Wang Wiryong had always been curious. The lineage of the Heavenly Demon Cult had been severed, and he was the only one who had struggled desperately to revive it. His efforts had finally borne fruit ten years ago. Although he couldn't perfectly recreate its past glory, he had still managed to complete a new Heavenly Demon Sword Technique.
He had stared at the ancient sword marks on the murals until his eyes bled. Empowered by the formidable strength manifesting from the tip of his blade, Wang Wiryong had stepped out into the world, utterly confident that he had no rivals left beneath the heavens.
Back then, China had been divided.
During that chaotic era—when the nation was torn into dozens of factions and warlords styled themselves as kings—Wang Wiryong had brought them all to their knees with nothing but a single sword. Descendants of the Murim like Xiao Long, and powerful figures who had awakened as Hunters—people overflowing with their own pride and ambition—were all forced to accept reality the moment they faced him. Deeming him an insurmountable wall, they had crowned Wang Wiryong as their Emperor.
Perhaps that was why he always felt a lingering thirst.
The history of the Heavenly Demon Cult was supposedly forged through blood and struggle, yet he had never once encountered an opponent worthy of being called a rival.
'Roman Dmitry is strong. Even I cannot guarantee that I could cleanly block the strike that blew away the Vampire Lord. But the former Heavenly Demons overcame such adversities to finally be revered as the sky of the Heavenly Demon Cult. Perhaps this is a trial bestowed upon me by the heavens before my conquest of the continent.'
The new Heavenly Demon Sword Technique.
He wanted to test it in real combat.
If he could defeat a fellow descendant, he could finally dispel the lingering anxiety that his Heavenly Demon Sword Technique was not genuine. Wang Wiryong believed in himself. From the moment he inherited the will of the Cult to the moment he ascended the imperial throne, his confidence had always been forged through relentless, blood-sweating effort.
Wang Wiryong spoke.
"I will wait. Connect the line the moment South Korea is ready."
"T-Thank you!"
The communication soldier gasped in shock. Stunned by the unexpectedly merciful response, he hurriedly bowed his head and fled the room.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, the communication line was finally connected.
After a brief exchange of formalities, Wang Wiryong made it clear he was not an enemy before diving into the main topic.
"At the 1st International Conference, most nations, led by Russia, demanded South Korea's punishment. I did not agree. South Korea simply did what had to be done. If the nation could not be protected under President Kim Jeong-tae's regime, then naturally, a new leader had to take his place. That is why, although I initially dispatched troops to assist South Korea, I withdrew them upon learning the truth about Kim Jeong-tae."
It was a clever spin.
His original intention had been to turn South Korea into a vassal state, but there was no reason to reveal his true motives now. Noticeably, he did not refer to them as the "Korean Empire." Building a friendly relationship with Roman Dmitry was one thing, but acknowledging him as a fellow Emperor was a completely different matter.
"China's stance will remain the same at the 2nd International Conference. We will support South Korea."
"Does that mean you expect something in return?" Roman asked.
"You could interpret it that way. We do not desire material wealth in exchange for our assistance. Rather, China wishes to forge a friendly relationship with South Korea moving forward. Give me that single promise, and I will gladly pledge our support."
It was just like the United States—an offer of alliance.
However, while the US had fully acknowledged the Korean Empire, China's proposal carried a strange, underlying tension. Wang Wiryong could not hide his competitive spirit.
Is he truly a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult? If so, who is stronger between Roman Dmitry and me?
His mind was entirely consumed by the man on the screen. His eyes burned with desire. In his estimation, this was an offer that could not be refused. He planned to reel Roman Dmitry in step-by-step.
Creak.
Roman Dmitry leaned back in his chair.
His posture on the monitor was far from polite. Tilting his chin up, he spoke coldly.
"What are you plotting?"
"Exactly what I said. China desires cooperation with South Korea."
"And that is precisely the problem. If you truly intended to accept the Korean Empire, you wouldn't be calling us 'South Korea.' Wang Wiryong. Countless rumors about you circulate throughout the world. While they may not paint a perfect picture, your past actions clearly demonstrate the path you walk. A man who unified China and ascended to the throne of Emperor on his own. One who openly speaks of continental conquest, greedily eyeing the territories of other nations, and who recently intervened in the Korean Empire's civil war. Your goodwill is poison. If you believed I would meekly swallow it, you are either a fool, or you are looking down on me."
[...]
A crack formed in Wang Wiryong's composed expression.
The condescending tone, combined with such aggressive remarks, crossed the line of what he could tolerate.
"So, are you saying you reject China's proposal?"
He clung to his reason until the very end. He had to endure. Until he uncovered the truth about Roman Dmitry, he didn't want to needlessly burn this bridge.
However...
"I refuse. From the moment I ascended to the throne of Emperor, it was decided that there can be no two emperors under the same sky. I promise you this: if you do not step down from your throne, we will soon meet on the battlefield."
* * *
It was an explicit declaration of war.
Friendly negotiations were officially over. The moment he heard Roman refuse to recognize him as Emperor, Wang Wiryong's face twisted into a fierce scowl.
"Arrogant bastard. How dare you reject my goodwill."
China was a global superpower. It possessed enough national strength to vie for global hegemony with the United States, and Wang Wiryong himself was absolutely confident that no human alive could rival him. The goodwill he had shown Roman Dmitry was born out of respect for true martial arts. If he won their eventual duel, he would take Roman under his wing; if he lost, he would serve under him. He had believed there was no reason to sour relations before their inevitable, fierce clash.
But denying his very existence as Emperor was a completely different matter.
Wang Wiryong no longer bothered to hide his rage.
"Do you know why I defended you? It wasn't because I feared your strength. I have inherited the legacy of the Heavenly Demon Cult. I breathed new life into the forgotten Heavenly Demon Sword Technique, and when I saw you fight the Vampire Lord, I recognized that we share the same roots. That was why. The hand I extended to you was a gesture of goodwill to confirm that possibility."
The Murim.
He had openly revealed its existence. While the leaders of the great powers knew the truth, ordinary people believed that the 'Murim' was a fantasy realm existing in another dimension. That was false. The martial arts that people acquired today originated from this very world, and Wang Wiryong was a man who had mastered true martial arts—not the fake, system-assisted skills learned by Hunters.
He projected his overwhelming aura through the screen. Now that he had revealed his identity, he needed to firmly imprint his dominance upon Roman Dmitry.
"Roman Dmitry. The fate of South Korea hangs on your next words. If it is not the answer I want, I will not only demand your nation's punishment at the 2nd International Conference, but I will personally lead the vanguard to crush you. Coveting my position as the Emperor of a great nation deserves a punishment far worse than mere death."
There was only one fact left to confirm.
"Are you truly a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult?"
* * *
There was no one else in the room watching the communication with Wang Wiryong. Once the prior meeting ended, the Korean leadership had withdrawn, leaving Roman Dmitry to take the call alone.
Are you truly a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult?
At that final question, Roman Dmitry's expression turned ice-cold.
Ever since starting his new life, he had wondered about the Murim, which had vanished without a trace from history. Back when he ruled the Murim, it possessed a force so mighty that not even the Imperial Emperor dared to look down on it. Yet, in the modern era, the Murim had been so utterly erased that not a single record remained. It had always lingered as a burning question in his mind.
And now, Wang Wiryong was claiming to be a descendant of the Heavenly Demon Cult.
At this very moment, he felt no joy. No warmth. No sense of kinship. His heart grew freezing cold. Instead, all he felt was a quiet, brewing anger.
"Are you telling me the Murim fell even though the Heavenly Demon Cult existed?" Roman asked.
"Just answer my question!"
"The Heavenly Demon Cult I remember was not weak. So why did it perish?"
"You bastard..."
Wang Wiryong seethed with rage. He despised Roman Dmitry's tone. Believing Roman was insulting the history of his sect, Wang Wiryong roared, "How dare an ignorant bastard like you speak of the Heavenly Demon Cult! The Cult did not perish! When the Imperial Court enacted a policy to exterminate all martial artists and brought down the entire Murim, my ancestors preserved the lineage of the Heavenly Demon Cult until the bitter end! And yet, what? The Heavenly Demon Cult you remember wasn't weak? Who the hell are you to say such things?! The descendants of the Cult, myself included, have struggled desperately to carry on the will of Lord Heavenly Demon Baek Joong-hyuk! Since you were not there during those dark times, no matter who you are, you have no right to criticize us!"
Roman had struck a deep nerve. The word 'perish' felt like a complete denial of centuries of blood and struggle.
"Roman Dmitry! Reveal your identity! If you have no connection to the Murim, I will take your head for daring to mock the Heavenly Demon Cult! But if you are indeed a descendant, bow your head and beg forgiveness from the one who preserved your lineage! I am the sole legitimate successor of the Heavenly Demon Cult in this world!"
The more Wang Wiryong spoke, the colder Roman Dmitry's face became.
It wasn't Wang Wiryong's arrogant shouting that angered him. What Roman Dmitry could not forgive was the fact that his Heavenly Demon Cult had been reduced to rats clinging to survival in the shadows. Not a single trace of their former glory remained in the world. Even if Wang Wiryong had eventually unified China and ascended to the throne of Emperor, the 'Heavenly Demon Cult' created by Baek Joong-hyuk was never so weak that it had to live in hiding.
His absence? That shouldn't have mattered.
Beneath him had stood countless powerhouses—beings whose strength could not even be measured by the pathetic standards of this current era.
Therefore...
"I will ask you one last time," Roman said softly. "Why is someone like you leading the Heavenly Demon Cult?"
It was a chilling question.
Wang Wiryong's expression twitched. Something was terribly wrong.
Roman Dmitry was displaying genuine, sovereign anger. Judging by his words, he knew the Heavenly Demon Cult all too well—far beyond what a mere descendant should know. As his thoughts reached this point, Wang Wiryong could not hide the tremor in his eyes.
For a long time, the Heavenly Demon Cult had lost its foundation. He had believed he alone carried on its will, but for the first time, he felt a creeping dread that there were things he did not know. Otherwise, Roman could never have looked at him—the absolute leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult—and called him 'someone like you.'
He swallowed hard. A terrifying, impossible thought crossed his mind. What if the man on the screen was not a mere descendant, but a highly significant figure from the Cult's forgotten past?
"...Who on earth are you?" Wang Wiryong asked cautiously.
Roman did not hesitate. To the descendant who had carried the broken legacy of his fallen cult, Roman Dmitry saw no reason to hide his true identity.
"I am the Heavenly Demon, Baek Joong-hyuk."
At those words, like black ink bleeding into rice paper, Wang Wiryong's face was stained with absolute shock and horror.