The Heavenly Demon Divine Art Reacts Strangely

The Heavenly Demon Divine Art reacted strangely. Everyone treated my post like some kind of forbidden abomination that shouldn't exist.

Since the gallery master hadn't said anything, there seemed to be some misunderstanding. I calmly left a reply.

Once again, a flood of sharp, hooked replies poured in.

Spending ten years in a hospital bed made me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠familiar with all sorts of things. I'd never read martial arts novels out of personal taste, but these days Heavenly Demons weren't limited to those books. From fantasy academy students to hunters, healers, Korean medicine doctors, blacksmiths, farmers, chefs, bakers, masseurs, and more. The Heavenly Demons of my world were true all-rounder workers who could do literally any job.

It seemed like a rather brutal conversation had passed without me noticing. lololol

Our inner intimacy shot up in one go. No wonder their speech felt more modern than you'd expect from people in a martial arts gallery. It must have been her influence. But the part that caught my attention was this: hundreds of years. That meant she was at least several hundred years old, right? At that point she wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an auntie or a grandma... she wasn't even a high school girl to begin with, was she? And yet her nickname was Kawaii High School Girl. That felt a bit...

A strong warning bell suddenly rang in my instincts. This was something I absolutely could not say out loud. I forcefully erased the storm of thoughts rushing through my mind.

The gallery master had posted. The comment section froze instantly. When I returned to the post list, there was a new orange-glowing post from the gallery master. It was even addressed to me. It didn't look like they were planning to kick me out. That was a relief.

The post itself was short and concise. Beneath the difficult-to-understand phrases was a single file attachment that I couldn't resist clicking.

I downloaded the file as if possessed. It opened naturally, pouring out black-and-white illustrations and neatly formatted text.

For some reason, the preface gave me an instinctive, intense feeling of rejection. Still, curiosity won out over that discomfort. Gulp. I swallowed dryly and scrolled down.

Each character slammed information directly into my brain.

“Ugh…!”

It hurt. My head felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of needles. It hurt. It hurt so much I couldn't even make a sound. I'd experienced plenty of pain before, but this was a whole new kind. The agony. The torment.

“Ughk.”

My back arched like a bow. Thanks to the waiting room's functions, I wouldn't die from shock, but the pain came through crystal clear. After what felt like hellish hours,

“Haa, haa!”

My reddened vision slowly returned to normal. I barely regained my senses and checked the gallery.

They were already treating my death as a foregone conclusion and holding a cyber funeral. I moved my fingers quickly.

Suddenly, the waiting room timer outside the gallery window caught my eye.

Before reading the Heavenly Demon Divine Art manual, there had been over twenty-three hours left. Now only about four hours remained. It seemed like once that time ran out, I'd be forcibly sent to the first floor. When I turned my gaze, I saw a single swirling door. To enter before then, I'd have to go through that storm-like gate of time and space.

Beside the gate of time and space, crude swords were displayed. Going in immediately was off the table, but recovering enough in four hours to walk around was realistically impossible. The only thing I could rely on was this unidentified martial art. Even though it was only the first stage—the Holy Fire part—the contents of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art manual were already in my head. The problem was...

Fortunately, the kind high school girl responded immediately. High school girls are always right. Long live high school girls.

Of course I had no idea.

Anyway, I was only using the gallery. There wasn't really anything to be careful about. A small question arose, but I didn't bother asking. I didn't have time to fool around right now.

The high school girl made it sound simple, but it wasn't simple for me at all.

“Ugh.”

Grunting, I forced myself into the lotus position.

She said a month. But I only had four hours. I deleted the concept of time from my mind. Didn't they say the more urgent something is, the more you should slow down? I closed my eyes. I recalled the high school girl's terribly drawn meridian diagram where I couldn't even tell arms from legs. Inhale. Exhale. As I focused on my breathing, a faintly alien sensation...

Breathing was familiar to me. My illness caused random bouts of extreme pain, and this bastard didn't even respond to narcotic painkillers. It was so vicious that even sleeping pills couldn't keep me down—it would wake me up like a ghost. In the end I gave up on solving it with medicine. Whenever a pain attack came, I would clutch the blanket and take deep breaths. It must have been an instinctive action. That's how people are. You can get used to joy, but you never get used to pain. There is no adaptation to pain. You can only alleviate it through other means. That was the truth I had learned while lying in that hospital bed.

I observed my breathing, following that itchy sensation. The moment the air traveled down my windpipe and reached the center of my chest, my heart flinched. Deep in my lungs, within the inhaled air, there was a tiny, faint spark.

Ah. So this is true qi.