Twelve Cycles in a Single Night

Namgung Cheon looked down at the two swords in his hands—Changcheon and Mukhon.

My strength is still too meager to wield a sword properly.

The soul of the Heavenly Demon had awakened, but the vessel meant to contain it remained crude. Left as he was, his body would shatter beneath the sheer momentum of the blade before he ever completed a single swing.

I have to raise my realm.

He did not hesitate. He laid both swords on the table and settled back into a seated meditation.

His first objective was the Small Heavenly Circuit—opening the primary meridians and driving his internal energy through his entire body in twelve full cycles.

"Whew."

A long breath slipped from his lips, carrying with it an energy both pure and explosive, drawn up from his dantian. The original Namgung Cheon had never once performed a proper circulation, and so his meridians lay clogged thick with residue, like silt at the bottom of a river.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Here is where it begins.

He condensed the internal energy gathered in his dantian, then hurled it without hesitation at the first gate of the Small Heavenly Circuit—the Qihai point.

Thud!

The energy slammed into the barrier and rebounded violently, as though it had struck a wall. It was the helplessness of hurling an egg against solid rock. The Qihai point did not so much as stir.

But this was only the beginning.

Break.

Namgung Cheon did not give up. If once wouldn't do, then ten times; if ten times wouldn't, then a hundred. Relentlessly, he drove his energy into the same point, again and again.

Crrrack—

At last, a faint sound of fracture ran through the stubborn wall. As his energy pried its way through the gap, the entire sealed meridian shrieked as if convulsing.

"Ugh……"

A split second of searing pain swept through his whole body. His blood vessels swelled as if they would burst, and his muscles screamed. Had the original Namgung Cheon attempted this, a single try would have sent him spiraling into qi deviation.

But he was the Heavenly Demon.

Pain like this is nothing.

Pain was merely proof of being alive—and a wall to be surmounted. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Without pause, his internal energy began racing along the meridians.

The first cycle was pure hell. Every meridian point it crossed brought a fresh wave of agony, as though a blade were carving through flesh. The second cycle was more horrific still; the meridians left tattered by the first attempt now wailed as though they would tear apart entirely.

But the true crisis came with the third cycle.

Thud.

Like a lamp running dry of oil, the flow of his energy abruptly sluggish.

……I don't have enough internal energy.

For the first time, Namgung Cheon's brow knitted deeply. It was an unforeseen problem—the total reserve of energy stored in this body was even more pitiful than he'd estimated. Two reckless cycles had drained nearly everything.

If he stopped the circulation now, the meridians he had opened halfway would be shattered by the surging backflow. Qi deviation would follow as surely as fire burns. And yet breaking through the next meridian point with what little remained was all but impossible. He was caught between the blade and the abyss.

Not that there's no way.

From his past life, a secret art of the Demonic Cult surfaced in his mind—the Pain-Exchanging Origin Return Art, a diabolical technique that inflicted agony upon the body and converted its backlash into internal energy. A vicious demonic art born of a madness no sane mind would dare attempt.

But he did not hesitate.

Power gained without pain does not exist anyway.

He widened his consciousness across his entire body.

"Ugh."

A horrific pain, as if his flesh were being flayed away, closed in on him. But he did not stop.

Pain that cannot devour me becomes nothing more than kindling for my flame.

At last, the极限 agony transformed into a new spark within his dantian. The guttering flame of his internal energy roared back to life—rougher and far more explosive than before.

Using that flame of agony as his engine, he resumed the circulation. And when he reached the third cycle, the change finally began. As if by magic, the resistance weakened—the energy forged from burned pain had melted away every blocked meridian point.

The fourth cycle, the fifth…… With each revolution, his speed increased geometrically. His internal energy churned wildly through his body, beyond even his own awareness.

And then, the moment the twelfth cycle completed—

Hmmmmm—

His entire body hummed with a low resonance. The twelve cycles were complete. The Small Heavenly Circuit was achieved.

BOOM—!

A wave of qi burst from his body, rippling the very air of the room.

Namgung Cheon slowly opened his eyes. Through the door's seam, morning light was already bleeding in, staining the sky red. A single night. In that brief span of time, he had been reborn.

This body was no longer the frail, listless Namgung Cheon of the past. It had become a new vessel—one worthy of the Heavenly Demon's soul and the power that soul demanded.

This much should suffice, for now.

He rose to his feet. His movements carried a perfect balance unlike anything before, without a whisper of wasted motion.

Now it is time to claim what is mine.

Yesterday's Sword Selection had only been the beginning. He did not expect the old men of the clan to grant him his due of their own accord for that alone. And he had no intention of waiting. Waiting for what will never come is the business of fools.

Creeeak—

The door of his quarters opened, and Baek Heon, standing guard outside, jerked his head up in startlement.

"Young Master—you're awake? *Gasp*."

Baek Heon's breath caught in his throat. The presence radiating from his lord had changed once again. Where yesterday it had been like a sharpened blade, now it felt as though he were standing before a vast abyss that threatened to swallow everything whole.

Namgung Cheon gave a light nod and said a single line.

"Follow me. We go to the main hall."

Baek Heon asked nothing further. He simply bowed his head and fell in behind Namgung Cheon. And so Namgung Cheon turned his back on his modest quarters and began to walk—to seize what was rightfully his.

The council chamber of the main hall, where every grave matter of the Namgung Clan was decided. The highest seat at its head—the seat of the Clan Head—stood empty. And filling that vacancy was the matriarch, Jegal Hwa.

Entrusted with full authority by the Clan Head, she gazed with an unreadable expression at the seated elders, who were arranged in two wings to the left and right below her. In the taut atmosphere, no one spoke first; they merely toyed with their teacups.

It was the Tenth Elder, Namgung Baek, who broke the heavy silence. He rose slowly from his seat.

"As everyone here knows, the Third Young Master achieved the Sword Selection yesterday."

He swept his gaze across the seated elders as he continued.

"And the laws of our clan decree that the one who achieves the Sword Selection be granted fitting recompense."

At his words, the eyes of several elders wavered almost imperceptibly. A faint spark of interest lit the faces of the neutral elders in particular—those who belonged to no faction. Namgung Baek seized the opening and raised his voice.

"To guarantee one who displays great martial talent a fitting station and ample support so that his gift may unfold in full—that is the iron law of our Namgung Clan, as you all well know."

Anchored in law and iron rule, his argument came closer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to a declaration than a proposal. The moment he finished, silence settled over the chamber once more. It was difficult to argue against so plain a fact.

But the silence did not last.

"We understand your devotion, Tenth Elder. However, upholding the law and applying it are two separate matters."

It was the Seventh Elder, Namgung Do. He unhurriedly lifted his teacup and took a slow sip, deliberately dragging the flow of conversation.

"The law names a station and support—but to what exact degree, pray tell?"

He let his gaze drift leisurely across the assembly, lingering briefly on the elders who backed the Eldest Young Master, then spoke again.

"Surely we cannot rush to grant the Third Young Master—hardly finished with his Sword Selection—a station that would elevate him above the Eldest Young Master, the firstborn of the clan?"

The firstborn. At that single word from Namgung Do, the air in the chamber shifted almost imperceptibly. A few elders began stroking their beards and nodding along. Namgung Baek's face hardened for an instant.

Pausing a moment, Namgung Do stole a glance at Jegal Hwa before opening his mouth again.

"Which is why I can only hope I am mistaken in hearing the Tenth Elder's words as though he intends to sow the seeds of discord within our clan."

It was a masterful sleight of hand, twisting the entire point of the debate. No sooner had he finished than another elder of the Eldest Young Master's faction jumped in, as if he had been waiting for exactly that.

"Well said. We respect the spirit of the law, but its procedure and scale must be weighed with care. It has yet to be verified just how capable the Third Young Master is—or whether yesterday's Sword Selection was truly befitting of his talent."

Namgung Baek did not yield a single inch. His face flushed crimson with fury.

"Verification? What sophistry is this—questioning whether the Sword Selection was 'befitting'?"

Just as the fierce exchange raged back and forth, Namgung Do smiled with easy composure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and delivered the decisive blow.

"More to the point, Tenth Elder, here is what I truly wonder. Why is the Third Young Master—the very party entitled to the law's benefits—not present in this chamber, while you, Tenth Elder, step forward as though you were his proxy?"

"……"

Namgung Baek's face stiffened. Namgung Do did not miss the opening.

"If that claim truly reflects the Young Master's will, then would it not be the natural order of things for the Young Master himself to demand his rights? We have yet to hear a single word from the Young Master's own lips. I fear, Tenth Elder, that you are overstepping."

Namgung Baek was struck speechless. His proposal had been for Namgung Cheon's sake—but with the protagonist of the Sword Selection voicing no will of his own, his justification had withered. In an instant, the mood of the chamber tipped toward Namgung Do, and anxiety crept across Namgung Baek's face.

It was the very moment he opened his mouth, desperately trying to salvage the situation—

Grrrrk—

With the low grind of heavy wood, the tightly sealed doors of the council chamber swung open. As if on cue, every gaze turned toward the doorway.

A lone figure stood silhouetted against the dazzling morning sun. The one who stepped slowly out of the shadows was none other than the owner of this very debate—Namgung Cheon.

He surveyed the entire chamber with unhurried eyes. The varied expressions of the seated elders—and, at the head seat, the detached gaze of his mother as she watched over everything. He took it all in within a single breath.

At last, his gaze came to rest on Namgung Do, who had spoken of him mere moments ago. A faint smile touched Namgung Cheon's lips as he spoke.

"You said, Elder, that I should speak for myself."

His quiet voice rolled through the chamber.

"Then allow me to say it with my own mouth."

No part of this book may be used in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dreambooks.