Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Dianes of Pasos Island
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Pasos Island.
The Sowing Festival.
Also known as the Demeter Festival, the event welcoming the busy farming season was grandly celebrated here on Pasos Island too.
Because of that, even at the Zeus Temple, during the Demeter Festival period, they would suspend the strict curfews and labor training duties, giving the children free time to enjoy the festival with the money they'd earned from their work.
But this year, it seemed there would be no such event.
"Clean it thoroughly, kids!"
"Isn't there dust piling up here? Make it sparkle!"
"Any kids who haven't washed yet, speak up now! If you're caught later, you won't even have bones left to pick!"
Like a military unit hearing their division commander was coming, the priests rolled up their sleeves and cleaned the temple. The children, too, had no time to enjoy the festival and had to bustle about with their hands busy.
"Hey, hey, Dianes. You hear that rumor?"
"What is it, Thalus?"
Whether Heavenly Demon in a past life or whatever, right now I was just one of the ordinary orphans, diligently working my hands.
Suddenly, a redheaded kid stuck to my side.
This guy's name was Thalus.
He loved bragging that he was the son of the War God Ares, and that self-obsession wasn't entirely empty—he had real talent for brawling.
When I first arrived at the temple, he tried jumping me with his gang to intimidate the newbie, but got turned into pulp.
After that, he changed his tune and occasionally came to me, boasting about this and that.
Claiming he was the son of Ares and a prince from some distant kingdom.
Saying his servants would soon come to fetch him.
He'd pick on me for being a rootless orphan, but honestly, no matter how much the little brat acted up, to me—who'd endured 21st-century gaming trash talk and thousands of years of wars in the Central Plains martial world—it was just cute.
"Alright, what is it this time?"
"Heh heh... You don't know either? Why everyone's so busy?"
This kid sneaked into the priests' quarters and eavesdropped again, huh?
Judging by his antics, he's more son of the thief god than the war god.
"What's the big deal that's got you so excited? If you're not gonna spill, quit bothering me and scram."
"Grr...! You'll regret talking to me like that later! Once Master Chiron arrives for this festival...!"
"Chiron?"
My time living as the Heavenly Demon in the Central Plains martial world had been far longer than my first life on Earth, but memories of that initial life on Earth hadn't faded from my mind.
And amid those distant recollections, the Greek-Roman mythology knowledge I'd glanced at often proved surprisingly useful at times like this.
Chiron.
A centaur of the half-human, half-horse race—unlike his kin, overflowing with scholarship and profound martial prowess, the teacher of countless heroes.
That kind of legend was coming here?
"Hmph! He's obviously coming to take me, the son of Ares! Just watch. Once I become a hero at the Chiron Academy, you arrogant punk..."
"Thanks for the premium intel."
I swiftly sealed Thalus's blood points, shutting his noisy mouth, then kicked his butt and turned my thoughts to Chiron.
A centaur, teacher to numerous heroes, blood kin to Cronus—the Titan king and god of time.
That was all I clearly remembered.
Had the myths ever mentioned that half-horse coming all the way here? I racked my brain, but nothing surfaced. I spaced out, my hands stopping, and got a needless flick on the forehead.
Thus, the day's work wrapped up roughly as the new moon rose in the night sky.
I quietly slipped out of the room where the other kids slept and grabbed my wooden sword.
The martial forms etched in my mind spanned righteous and demonic sects alike, but any technique benefited most from cultivation at dawn, when the world's energies were purest and most refined.
Especially in a child's body, with fewer impurities in meridians and blood vessels and bones still growing—this clear energy would accelerate recovering my past life's achievements, that much was obvious.
So I never skipped my dawn training, not even for a day.
"Honestly, way better than rolling in the Three Paths River in my past life..."
In my previous life, I'd died without knowing why, only to wake surrounded by twelve divine demons declaring they'd make me the Heavenly Demon of the era—they'd ground me to the bone.
Thanks to that, I'd shattered into the Heavenly Demon Realm in no time, but honestly, I'd rather build up slowly than repeat that grind.
"Let's see... Got everything?"
Aside from the wooden sword at my waist, there wasn't much to pack, but after a final check, I lightly activated my lightness skill and dashed into the forest.
Advanced techniques like Heavenly Demon Supremacy or Cloud-Chasing Zong were beyond my current internal energy and stamina.
So the footwork I used now was the Nether Phantom Wing Step used by the demonic assassins—shortened to Nether Phantom Step.
True to its name of "steps where ghosts flit about," it was stealthy and swift enough to rival even the assassin clan's steps without falling short.
It was high-level footwork that even a fifteen-year-old might doubt mastering.
But so what?
"I'm the Heavenly Demon."
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, with its thousands of years of history.
At its end, not as cult leader but as the Heavenly Demon Emperor, sovereign of the cult and heaven itself.
No matter that I'd become an orphan in another myth-world now—those insights and skills hadn't vanished.
Look at me even now. Barely a year since resuming demonic arts, yet my Nether Phantom Step was already as stealthy and swift as an elite cult assassin.
'Today, aim to raise Ghostless Heart Art to at least rank 3. For swordsmanship, since internal energy can't support Nine Oxen Sword Principles yet, Golden Bell Sword...'
The qi cultivation I was practicing now was the Ghostless Heart Art, stumbled upon while exploring ruins of the Forward March Sect in my past life.
Demonic arts advanced quickly by nature, but were unstable, with high risk of qi deviation.
In the cult back then, to stabilize that volatile early stage, reserve demons got Demon Pills, or seniors assisted their circulation.
But I was the Heavenly Demon.
Resuming demonic arts posed no such instability risks.
Yet another demonic trait hindered me.
The demonic qi unique to those who cultivated it.
No matter the demonic art—as long as it wasn't the subtle yin demonic arts of cult assassins—once proficiency transcended mediocrity, channeling qi would emit demonic qi, broadcasting your presence.
Simply emitting qi instilled awe and terror around you.
That was the teaching of asuras and yakshas from the hell-realms, the qualification of a true demon.
But in my current situation, scattering demonic qi everywhere would paint me as a monster or villain ripe for a witch hunt.
So I couldn't practice demonic arts outright.
Instead, there was a substitute: the Forward March Sect's Ghostless Heart Art.
To ignite demonic arts, you needed demonic qi; for orthodox schools' pure arts, righteous internal energy. But Ghostless Divine Art had no such limits.
A qi method compatible with demonic or orthodox martial arts alike.
Thus, Ghostless—Martial Spirit.
A qi art that embraced any martial art, demonic or divine.
Perfect for my situation.
"Hm? What's this?"
As I dashed on lightness skill, planning my training, something sharp sliced through my senses, hurtling toward me.
-Crunch!
I sensed the incoming object and swung my wooden sword from my back to deflect it.
"Urk?! What power!"
The deflected item was an arrow.
A silvery arrow gleaming faintly like it held moonlight.
It shredded my wooden sword like slow motion, flying on like a single work of art.
-Crack!
Passing me in an instant, it buried nearly halfway into a rock—yet the power didn't fade, as it hummed and vibrated.
"What the hell?"
I'd thought hunter's arrow, but the energy in it was extraordinary.
At a glance, it resembled the qi arrows used by those horse-faced fools from the Nine Factions, but purer.
And it carried a sense of rejection, repelling human energy.
No, not human—repelling a man's touch?
"Stay still."
-Hummm!
Yanking it with force—no, precisely, the energy in the arrow vibrated like a living thing, rejecting my hand.
The moonlight-like energy thrashed neurotically, as if ready to burrow into my meridians and twist them.
Refined yet feral.
"Qi with a will...?"
In my past life as Heavenly Demon, a qi feat only I in the Central Plains could achieve.
Not just wielding qi with will, but merging with it, infusing it with intent—bordering on creating life.
Someone who could perform such a trick existed?
-Whumm!
"I said stay still."
No matter that I'd become a frail kid—once, I'd shaped demon spirits from demonic qi alone to guard me, reaching the pinnacle of qi arts.
Subduing this arrow's qi was no issue.
I drew internal energy from my dantian and pushed it into the arrow; the moonlight energy thrashed wildly.
I considered dissipating it, but it felt wasteful somehow.
"Such pure energy..."
I was dying for more internal energy; tossing away such refined qi would be a shame.
"Come here, then."
Slowly wrapping the arrow's energy per Ghostless Divine Art principles, I drew it into my body.
True to its inclusive nature, the foreign qi yielded readily, shifting gradually into my meridians.
Once inside, it rampaged to disrupt my blood flow.
But that struggle was swiftly bound by my Star-Absorbing Demonic Art and dragged to a corner of my dantian.
"Whew... I'll digest this slowly later. Now, let's see."
The arrow in my hand, stripped of energy, no longer gleamed beautifully,
yet it still looked like moonlight melted and forged into an arrow—stunningly exquisite.
In my past as Heavenly Demon ruling the Ten Thousand Great Mountains like a god, countless rare tribute items had delighted my eyes and ears,
but this arrow ranked among the finest.
"...Truly divine craftsmanship."
As I admired the arrow, another familiar sharp energy targeted my back.
-Swoosh!
Perhaps annoyed I'd blocked the first, this arrow carried killing intent, pricking my skin like needles.
"Tch, so not a mistake, huh."
But a master who could infuse such power wouldn't miss their target.
-Clang!
I swiftly swung the arrow, precisely striking the incoming one.
"Ugh... Body still can't keep up..."
Maybe same material—no shatter like the wooden sword; a bit of internal energy let me parry.
But my immature body lacked strength; a bone cracked.
"Tch... A good night's sleep will heal this, but you wanna keep going?"
A presence emerged stealthily from the arrow's direction.
Likely the culprit who'd peppered me.
I circulated energy to stabilize the broken bone and aimed the arrow at the presence.
-Rustle!
"You don't seem ordinary... Why shoot arrows out of nowhere?"
As I infused the arrow with energy, wary, the figure in the forest shadows slowly revealed itself.
"Hmph...!"