The Heavenly Demon Arrives: The Abyss (4)
“…Wait, you’re seriously saying this isn’t a hack? If this isn’t a hack, then what the hell is it?”
“No! Why are we even talking about my physicals right now?!”
While Myeong-yun was playing Narak, another VTuber was also challenging the same abyss.
Her name was Dang So-cheong, the self-proclaimed beloved daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan and a martial arts concept virtual YouTuber.
Since she played under the banner of the Sichuan Tang Clan, her knowledge of poisons was encyclopedic, and among VTubers her physical reflexes were actually quite respectable.
One of her favorite games was Narak. She had poured over a thousand hours into it—she was dead serious about the game.
Today, while grinding a new poison arts build, she took a short break and one of Myeong-yun’s clips popped into her stream.
Normally, mentioning another streamer was against the unwritten rules, but in Dang So-cheong’s broadcast, Narak clips were an exception.
“I have pretty decent physicals too, you know? I’ve cleared Narak with no deaths before.”
“Ugh, of course my poison bugs would say something so pretty!!”
Dang So-cheong laughed while audibly grinding her teeth.
When her face twisted with irritation, the chat’s energy died down. She let out a long sigh and replayed Myeong-yun’s clip.
“But seriously, how did he do that? I’ve never seen Dokgo Kun appear on the first floor before. He usually shows up from floor three and above… Is there some special condition?”
Otherwise it made no sense.
Dang So-cheong replayed the clip over and over, debating with her viewers.
How could Myeong-yun pull off such a performance in Narak? What build was he running?
She had already seen the viral God of War Arena footage, so she knew his physical ability was monstrous. But being able to replicate that level of play in a game full of unpredictable variables was an entirely different matter.
And this phenomenon wasn’t limited to Dang So-cheong’s stream.
It was happening across countless VTuber and streamer broadcasts.
A massive rookie.
A nuclear bomb in the virtual streaming scene.
The Heavenly Demon’s Dominating Steps were slowly revealing themselves to the internet world.
▶Whoa, he’s not even picking traits
▶That’s hardcore. Straight savage!!
▶I heard there was a crazy person (P) here so I came
Myeong-yun’s live viewer count had already climbed to fourteen thousand.
His YouTube subscriber count was skyrocketing along with it, and video views kept climbing.
It was clear his explosive growth still hadn’t slowed down.
“The moment this seat chooses a trait, it will determine the direction of my path. It seems better to simply have none at all.”
Separate from equipment and martial arts, Narak allowed players to select a trait every time they cleared a floor.
Traits were chosen based on the player’s playstyle and determined their karma.
Once a trait was selected, the story branched into countless paths on the scales of good and evil.
Myeong-yun had chosen not to pick any.
“Those who walk the demonic path must never be bound. Do not exist beneath the heavens—become the heavens themselves.”
Myeong-yun watched his viewers twist his words however they pleased and couldn’t help but smile.
In his past life as the Heavenly Demon, every single word he spoke had been treated like divine revelation.
The Heavenly Demon Cult had been filled with followers who would have gladly died if he commanded it.
These new kind of believers somehow felt… refreshing.
“Very well. Let us continue.”
Myeong-yun stormed toward the boss room on the second floor like an unstoppable force.
He had encountered a neutral NPC along the way, but since the merchant only sold martial arts manuals and weapons, he ignored them.
Every time the viewers gasped in awe at his physical prowess, another room was cleared in the blink of an eye.
It almost made the game feel too easy.
And so, the opponent waiting for him at the end of the second floor was once again a martial artist from the murim.
A warrior in pure white robes embroidered with plum blossom patterns, wielding a straight sword in one hand.
The faint pinkish aura flowing from him made Myeong-yun speak.
“Mount Hua, I see.”
10,000 won
Mount Hua’s Greatest Disciple: Ah! That’s the Great Disciple of Mount Hua, Cheong-gyeong! One of the random bosses that appears from floor 4 and above! The Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique will never forgive the Demonic Cult!!!
“My thanks for the explanation. Join the Heavenly Demon Cult.”
The moment Myeong-yun took a single step forward, Cheong-gyeong—who had drawn his sword—stared at him.
Killing intent burned in his eyes, and blood dripped from the tip of his blade. It looked like he had just finished carving through a crowd of people.
“Who are you?”
Cheong-gyeong was an AI-equipped boss.
Depending on the player’s previous records, the encounter would branch into either a spar or a fight to the death.
If the player had taken the righteous path, it would be a spar. If they had taken the demonic or evil path, it would be a deathmatch.
Viewers who had played Narak before focused hard on this moment.
They wanted to see how the boss would react to Myeong-yun, who had taken neither route and was closer to ‘complete neutral.’
However, Myeong-yun’s answer was…
“You dare ask who this seat is? A mere junior who has yet to even reach my shadow.”
It was pure, unfiltered elder arrogance.
Myeong-yun had been the Heavenly Demon. A living legend revered by all in the murim.
Every senior who had once stood above him had been sent to ascension by his own hand. Therefore, the entire murim were his juniors.
“It seems even the prestigious righteous sect of Mount Hua has fallen. You cannot even recognize a senior of the murim.”
No matter what the chat said, Myeong-yun continued to push his character. Or rather, since he had always been the Heavenly Demon to begin with, this was simply natural.
Giving a junior or two a light scolding was perfectly reasonable.
“Is this how your sect leader and elders taught you? First, state your name properly.”
At Myeong-yun’s words, Cheong-gyeong gave him a quick once-over, then reluctantly sheathed his sword, clasped his hands, and spoke.
“…This one is called Cheong-gyeong, Great Disciple of Mount Hua. May I ask for Senior’s honored name?”
Since he couldn’t sense any demonic energy, he must have concluded that Myeong-yun was neither from the Demonic Cult nor the evil path. His tone was polite.
He probably assumed the stranger was some reclusive elder from a righteous sect.
Myeong-yun answered.
“This seat is the Heavenly Demon.”
“……?”
At the words “Heavenly Demon,” Cheong-gyeong seemed to be struggling with how to respond.
Because Myeong-yun hadn’t chosen any traits, no demonic aura could be felt. So he had ruled out the Demonic Cult.
But then the man suddenly declared himself the Heavenly Demon. Even the AI seemed genuinely stunned—Cheong-gyeong’s expression showed clear confusion for the first time.
“Heavenly… Demon?”
“Indeed.”
“The Heavenly Demon?”
“How many times must this seat repeat himself? Are you truly this slow-witted?”
But soon, the confusion on Cheong-gyeong’s face twisted into something demonic and murderous.
He stomped hard on the ground, then shot toward Myeong-yun like lightning, thrusting his sword forward.
“A dog of the Demonic Cult! You crawled into the abyss to die by your own feet!”
As expected of a prestigious righteous sect—especially one from the Daoist line—Cheong-gyeong reacted with extreme hostility at the mere mention of the Demonic Cult.
His sword spun in a whirlwind, leaving countless afterimages.
Following them came pale pink sword energy faintly stained with blood, scattering like flower petals.
What Cheong-gyeong had unleashed was the Mount Hua Sect’s Plum Blossom Sword Technique.
It truly deserved to be called the pinnacle of illusory swordplay that could bewilder the eyes.
Real strikes and feints mixed together—it was a technique that made first-time opponents feel like they were hitting a wall.
The craftsmanship is quite decent.
The visual effects were similar to those of Mount Hua from his previous life.
The sword path itself was completely different… but Myeong-yun had never expected to feel such nostalgia again in this way.
He first stepped back and observed Cheong-gyeong carefully.
He wanted to understand exactly how the man drew his plum blossoms with that blade.
“Hmm.”
From just a single exchange, Myeong-yun had already figured out how to counter Cheong-gyeong.
It was nothing more than a derivative created by the game’s imagination, but it was still the sword of Mount Hua.
“I shall teach all of you as well. The proper way to face the sword of Mount Hua.”
The viewers’ lukewarm reactions despite being offered a strategy made Myeong-yun tilt his head in confusion.
He had assumed they were struggling against this enemy, so they would be happy to learn how to beat it.
“Listen well. First, avoid the real strikes and close the distance.”
As he explained Cheong-gyeong’s weakness, Myeong-yun accurately identified the real strikes among the countless afterimages and stepped inside.
Once he was close, he pressed his palm against Cheong-gyeong’s chest and continued.
“Then push.”
Thud.
A close-range thrust of concentrated inner force—Inch Force (Cunjing).
To the viewers it looked like nothing more than a light shove.
But Cheong-gyeong was sent sliding backward with tremendous force, gasping for breath.
“Do not be fooled by the swords before your eyes. No matter how masterful Mount Hua’s illusory swordplay may be, the vital points they aim for to kill you are limited.”
“Why do you all find this so difficult? This seat truly cannot understand…”
Myeong-yun felt a touch of bitterness.
He had just taught them how to face every swordsman of Mount Hua.
Perhaps it was because the viewers were not martial artists themselves.
Well, I suppose I’ll just have to make them get used to it gradually.
His goal was to rebuild the murim inside this virtual world.
If virtual martial artists gathered and recreated the Central Plains murim, that too would be a joyous thing.
To achieve that, he would need to turn his viewers into martial artists.
By showing them various martial arts and guiding them to find their own paths…
Having reminded himself once again of why he had stepped into this virtual world, Myeong-yun decided to focus on the matter at hand.
He clasped his hands behind his back once more and spoke to Cheong-gyeong.
“Come. As your senior, this seat shall teach you a lesson.”