The Heavenly Demon Teaches (3)

Seol-ah’s talent was one thing, but her persistence was truly impressive. I had already known this from the days she would pull all-nighters obsessing over martial arts, yet watching her struggle right before my eyes drove the point home even more clearly. Controlling the wildly rampaging Heavenly Demon Divine Art was no easy task. And if the body in question wasn’t a fresh one just stepping into the art but already belonged to a warrior who had reached the Transcendence Realm, the difficulty multiplied.

Back then, this seat had already been at the stage of quarreling with others over who deserved the title of the strongest under heaven. Just how vast was the internal energy within this body, and how ferocious must it have been? To defy such energy and properly execute Mount Hua’s techniques was essentially begging the Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s qi to devour me whole.

Resisting someone who presses a blade to your throat with the intent to kill you, only to be slain by them, then awakening once more to oppose that same person—how could any of that be easy? Therefore, I would not have scolded Seol-ah even if she had collapsed after roughly thirty minutes. I would have forced her back to her feet, of course.

Yet Seol-ah did not crumble. From the very first day, she gritted her teeth and endured, successfully lasting the full three hours I had initially demanded. She couldn’t follow through on her initial boast that she would continue beyond three hours, but simply lasting that long was an achievement in itself. I would wager that, for a modern person, it qualified as a superhuman feat.

“You’ve worked hard. You may go rest.”

“...Yes.”

Moreover, her efforts weren’t focused solely on blind endurance. Although her progress was slow, Seol-ah was steadily improving based on my guidance.

Let’s take it easy. This isn’t the Murim, after all. There’s no point in rushing.

Recently, Seol-ah had been enjoying deep, restful sleep every night. It wasn’t that she slept because she wanted to. Whenever her sparring sessions with Hwaryeong ended, she would be so mentally drained—as if she had pulled several all-nighters—that she had no choice but to collapse into bed. What’s more, after training with Hwaryeong, the nightmares that once tormented her stopped visiting altogether. Lately, Seol-ah could wake up each morning feeling genuinely refreshed.

At first this new routine felt awkward, but as one day became two, and nearly a full week of the same daily schedule passed, even that unfamiliarity had become comfortable.

Then, exactly one week after Seol-ah began receiving Hwaryeong’s teachings to master the Heavenly Demon Divine Art—

“...Oh?!”

Seol-ah succeeded in controlling the qi of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art while executing Mount Hua’s martial techniques. It was a success that came only after hundreds—thousands—of failures, so fragile that it was uncertain whether she could replicate it. Still, she had properly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unleashed the technique.

After her success, Seol-ah stared quietly at her own hand before turning her gaze toward Hwaryeong. It was as if she were asking for her evaluation.

Hwaryeong, seated on a boulder and puffing on her long pipe, let out a soft chuckle.

“Are you hoping for praise?”

...Ah. I see. To Lady Hwaryeong, what I had done must not have seemed particularly impressive. Given her own talent, she probably still found it frustrating.

As Seol-ah wilted and fidgeted, laughter slipped from Hwaryeong’s lips.

“It wasn’t a reproach. You did well. It seems you’ve caught onto the feeling somewhat.”

“I’m still… not entirely sure.”

“That’s fine. You simply need to continue until the feeling becomes clear.”

Hearing Hwaryeong’s voice—free of any urgency or worry—Seol-ah looked up at her face and smiled in return.

“Understood.”

“Now then. There’s no time to rest. Execute the technique once more.”

Not long ago, Han Seo-woo had finished a vacation that could be considered either short or long and returned to the team dorms. Why does this place feel more like home than the expensive house I bought? He unpacked his luggage in the room where he would once again repeat the cycle of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sleeping and eating for the next several months, then loosened up his body lightly before heading toward the practice room lined with VR capsules.

He needed to inform his master that he would have difficulty logging in for a while. He would undoubtedly receive a barrage of scolding—how could a disciple abandon his seat like this, did he not understand how blessed he was to receive teachings from the Heavenly Demon, or perhaps it would be better if he simply left his seat empty for the rest of his life—but it could not be helped.

To him, the world of Hwaryong Muin was incredibly important, but his profession as a pro gamer was equally precious. Besides, it wasn’t as if he were on the brutally tight schedule of a world championship contender. It felt unfair to sacrifice his rest just to visit his master only to be met with complaints.

“Seo-woo hyung. You’re back?”

“Yeah. That’s right. Taemin-ah. You returned early, huh?”

“What would I even do at home? I came back early to play some games.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t use that in actual matches!”

Han Seo-woo had been about to jokingly complain that the “game” they played in the practice room was a dating sim when a voice from deeper inside made him shut his mouth.

“That’s Coach Young-soo, right?”

“Yep.”

“Why’s he like that?”

“The meta for the hidden characters shifted a lot recently because of that streamer named Hwaryeong, right? I think there’s been a lot of discussion because of it.”

The concept of martial principles that Hwaryeong had presented didn’t only influence ordinary gamers who watched her streams. The question of whether learning and applying those principles might prove stronger than conventional playstyles had been raised, and there was no way professional gamers would ignore it. Thinking that successful implementation could give them an edge over rival teams, various Apis organizations had begun experimenting with the concept.

However, the conclusions each team reached were different. Some viewed it as a viable new meta for real matches, while others argued it was too dependent on the unique traits of a single internet streamer and couldn’t be universally applied. The interpretation of the meta had split between organizations.

“In that climate, XLG Gaming’s Lee Hyun-jin applied martial principles in a recent overseas tournament and took first place.”

“Hyun-jin did?”

Lee Hyun-jin was one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the junior gamers Han Seo-woo knew. He was also the one who had once explained the concept of martial principles that he had learned from his master. When I explained it, the guy let it go in one ear and out the other. So why did he immediately accept it the moment Lady Hwaryeong explained the same thing? I don’t understand.

“I think I know why.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Anyway, because of that, more people are saying martial principles can be used in real matches. But it seems Coach Young-soo has a different opinion.”

Coach Young-soo’s stance was clear: martial principles were only suitable for those with the matching talent and could not be the correct answer for everyone. Introducing it recklessly might ruin perfectly capable pro gamers, so it should not be adopted blindly. He was fiercely opposing the director’s suggestion to implement martial principles within the team.

“I explained martial principles to Coach Young-soo before, too.”

“That’s exactly why he’s reacting like this. That day you explained it so terribly that he concluded it was something that couldn’t be applied to everyone.”

Han Seo-woo had never once hidden information about martial principles from others. He had been confident that even if they learned it, he would still be stronger. Yet not a single person who heard his explanation had gone on to research it. Not even the coach of his own professional team. At the time he had simply thought his explanation must have lacked nutritional value, but now that the situation had developed this way, even someone as dense as Han Seo-woo could sense that something had gone wrong.

“Was my explanation really that bad?”

“Yes. Before I watched Lady Hwaryeong’s broadcast, I also thought you were just spouting nonsense.”

“Hey.”

“But it’s the truth! What do you want me to do about it!”

After listening to Taemin, Seo-woo pressed his lips tightly together. When it came to handling hidden characters, martial principles were undoubtedly the correct path. His master—the strongest being in Hwaryong Muin, the Heavenly Demon—had declared it so. How could martial principles be wrong? Therefore, accepting them was the right choice if possible.

However, because of Han Seo-woo’s poor explanation, Coach Young-soo did not believe martial principles could be an absolute answer. He thought they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could be correct for certain individuals but not a universal solution.

“The other coaches on our team share similar opinions with Coach Young-soo.”

“...For real?”

“Yes. The director wants to adopt martial principles, but all the coaches are opposing it with everything they have.”

How am I supposed to fix this? Should I explain it to the other coaches again…? But if the whole problem started because I explained it poorly, would explaining it again even help? What should I do? Isn’t there some kind of solution? Some appropriate answer… Ah. Lady Hwaryeong.

After her first successful execution of the technique, Seol-ah gradually increased the number of times she performed it. Starting at once per day, then twice. Three times. Eventually it reached four, then five. As the number of successful executions grew with time, it was clear she had begun to grasp the sensation.

In the future, she would even be able to execute Mount Hua’s techniques with the Heavenly Demon’s body. When that time came, this seat would have her spar. The difference between handling martial arts while focusing alone and wielding them while gritting one’s teeth in combat against another person was like night and day.

When that moment arrived, just as this seat had rolled Harin and Dang So-il, I would call Seol-ah over and roll her alongside them. While this seat was thinking such thoughts, a message arrived from someone else. The sender was not particularly close to me. After all, it had come from the disciple of Baek Hwaryeong within Hwaryong Muin.

The content essentially stated that Baek Hwaryeong had expressed satisfaction with how he had silenced the Blood Cult forces near the Divine Cult’s territory, and had therefore promised additional rewards. The additional note telling him to visit the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult later was a bonus.

In this seat’s opinion, talk of “additional rewards” was unlikely to amount to anything significant. What could Baek Hwaryeong possibly give me now? Since she would surely be aware of that fact, it would be better to interpret the message as him having a separate request. He must have spouted nonsense about rewards because he didn’t want to show his pathetic side to his own disciple.

If she needs something, then she should come to me. Who is she to summon this seat? Having lost to me even when I did not use my full power, he should quietly accept the position of the weak and learn humility.

Aah. Of course she would grumble and complain at Han Seo-woo out of annoyance, but what could be done? Among a disciple’s duties was also the task of soothing his master’s mood.