Ch 30
The wide-open gates of the Heavenly Demon Hall.
The deep blue hue that once lingered had vanished, replaced by gates glowing like molten lava. The intense heat radiated from the entrance, distorting the surrounding view.
Baekya, the Bright Seat Master, reacted with... reverence.
"I sincerely congratulate you on ascending to a new realm."
For the first time, the pale-faced man who always looked down on others bowed his head and performed a fist salute. Given their equal rank as first-class nobles, this gesture represented the highest praise.
"No need to go this far... Hahaha!"
Mao scratched the back of his head, flustered, then tilted his head in confusion.
Is this how it works? Jang I-seo mocked me as a fool.
Well, "fool" wasn’t the exact word. But a significant misunderstanding lingered.
Mao’s "More is Better" technique was an ultimate strike that explosively released all his internal energy at once. Yet to the Bright Seat Master, unaware of such an unorthodox method...
Chil Gongja has reached the pinnacle of martial arts!
A reasonable—if gravely mistaken—assumption.
Another small sun rises. This must be the power of the Heavenly Yang Body chosen by the Supreme One! The sect is blessed to have another worthy candidate for the Young Sect Leader.
The Bright Seat Master’s eyes widened until the whites nearly swallowed his pupils.
Creepy...
Mao, previously triumphant, flinched and stepped back—a reflex that only surfaced when he was in high spirits.
After a moment, the Bright Seat Master’s eyes normalized. He asked pointedly,
"Might I inquire when you attained this realm?"
"Uh... Today during the Yin hour? Or maybe the Zi hour?"
The Bright Seat Master tilted his head. An unconventional answer, yet achieving such heights at his age defied mortal limits.
"Today... you say?"
"Wait—no! This power was always mine. From the past. Four years ago, maybe?"
"So you’ve concealed this tremendous strength since age fifteen?!"
Skepticism seeped into the Seat Master’s gaze.
"Heh. Tremendous power? Say that again, Bright Seat Master."
Mao leaned forward with a lewd grin, hand cupping his ear. The Seat Master suppressed a grimace and coughed.
"Ahem. Many have opened these gates, but none caused energy to boil over like this. What else could it be?"
"Hehe... Correct. Tremendous power. My 'More is Better' technique—a martial art I created."
Absurd! Even the Great Prince Cheon Mugi couldn’t achieve this. Suspicion flooded the Seat Master’s eyes.
"Ah, fine—I had help! But it’s basically my doing. Hahaha!"
Of course. Someone aided him. No one could accomplish this alone. The Seat Master’s eyes sharpened.
"Who was it?"
"Hwit!"
Hwit? A Westerner? As the Seat Master frowned, Mao suddenly twisted sideways and slipped through the closing gate gap.
Boom!
The Heavenly Demon Hall’s gates sealed shut with a resonant crash.
"......"
The Bright Seat Master stood alone, eyes wide and unblinking.
Boom!
Mao slumped in relief inside the sealed hall.
"Phew... Almost got screwed."
Exhausting his energy with "More is Better" required at least 15 minutes to recover. Had the gates closed outside, he’d have missed breakfast and been forced back to the Seven Star Palace.
"Ugh, and we were having such a fun chat!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
He pounded the gates and yelled,
"Bright Seat Master! You there? Let’s continue next time! Start from 'tremendous power'! Don’t forget!"
He prayed his voice carried through.
Then—
[What’s this noise?]
A chilling, monotone voice echoed as if dousing him in ice water. Mao paled, trembling head to toe.
"Ch-Chunma... Father..."
Chunma Jin Wookwang.
Unmistakable.
[Enter.]
Meeting the Heavenly Demon felt akin to greeting a deity—a moment of profound significance in the Demon Sect. Mao tensely turned from the entrance.
Finally, the Heavenly Demon Hall’s grandeur unfolded before him.
Technically, this was Mao’s home—his adoptive father’s residence. Yet this was his first true visit.
Couldn’t exactly waltz in before.
He’d imagined a den of blood, bats, and corpses. Instead, he found elegance.
Though dim, the cavern’s high ceiling glittered with night pearls resembling the Milky Way, casting soft light. Pristine walls bore intricate murals. A crimson carpet ran down the center, flanked by lavish decorations evoking a Western palace.
This was the legendary Heavenly Demon Hall.
Gulp.
Mao stepped forward. After years, he’d finally meet his father properly.
He ignored branching paths, certain Chunma awaited at the hall’s end. By the time the entrance vanished from sight, he gasped.
Finally, the final destination came into view.
A room filled with bookshelves packed tightly on all sides, and in the center, a long wooden table large enough to seat more than ten people.
There he sat, at the very end of that table.
Pale, delicate skin and bright red lips.
A gaze so captivating it felt almost otherworldly.
A man of unparalleled beauty, appearing not a day over seventy save for his white hair.
The undisputed greatest of his era.
The Heavenly Demon, Jin Wookwang.
His adoptive father was sitting there.
“Heavenly Demon, revered by all under heaven! Seventh Prince Mao, I greet you, Father!”
As soon as Mao saw him, he immediately prostrated himself in a deep bow. Then, his body began to tremble uncontrollably. He was afraid. This wasn’t just because of the reputation the name “Heavenly Demon” carried.
From the moment he stepped into the room, his body felt as heavy as if he had plunged into deep water. His lungs burned as if half the air had vanished.
It wasn’t his mind but his instincts screaming at him.
Kneel. Serve.
If not, you die.
This was the demonic aura of the Heavenly Demon, seeping into his very marrow even as he stood motionless.
To make it worse, the eerie silence—where not a single chewing sound could be heard despite Jin Wookwang eating with chopsticks—threatened to unravel his sanity.
How could he not tremble?
“You’re late.”
A loaded remark. Was he late for today’s breakfast, or two years late in coming to the Heavenly Demon’s hall?
Regardless, only one response mattered now.
“F-forgive me! I’m late!”
As Mao pressed his forehead to the floor in apology, Jin Wookwang silently picked up a piece of meat, chewed, and swallowed before speaking.
“Sit.”
“Eh? Yes!”
Mao scrambled to the opposite end of the table. He stole sideways glances at Jin Wookwang.
He hasn’t changed at all. Exactly as he appeared during the Demon Sect incident.
While the Bright Star Baekya remained ageless, Jin Wookwang seemed frozen in time—youthful and radiant.
Opulent robes merging black and white in perfect harmony.
Eyes gleaming with detached intellect.
A face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Every detail matched their first meeting.
“Did you come alone?”
“Ah, well… I brought someone…”
“Let them enter.”
“Eh? Yes…”
Mao wet his parched lips and picked up his chopsticks. The meal before him was shockingly plain: meat, vegetables, broth. For all their father-son pretense, he realized how little he knew of the Heavenly Demon.
He’d imagined a deity feasting on ambrosia, not this humble spread. The dissonance unsettled him.
“Does it displease you?”
“N-no! It’s delicious!”
“You judge flavor without tasting?”
“I-I’ll eat properly!”
As Mao shoveled food into his mouth, Jin Wookwang watched with an amused smirk before resuming his meal.
Mao barely registered the taste—he chewed mechanically, desperate to fill the crushing silence.
Fifteen minutes later,
Jin Wookwang set down his utensils. Mao mirrored the action instantly.
The Heavenly Demon dabbed his lips with a white cloth.
“I never expected you to come in my lifetime.”
“My tardiness…”
“No matter. Had you not come today, our bond would’ve ended.”
Meaning their relationship hinged entirely on this meeting.
Mao forced a laugh, thumping his chest like he’d choked. Jin Wookwang continued,
“You couldn’t reach Manifestation alone. Did the Third Prince assist you?”
Unlike Baekya, the Heavenly Demon saw through him immediately—proof he knew Mao’s limits intimately.
“No.”
“Then you found a benefactor.”
Benefactor. The term from Jin Wookwang’s lips absurdly pleased him. Mao rubbed his philtrum.
“Someone new. Naggy, but… usually right.”
“Kill him.”
“What?”
Mao’s head snapped up. Jin Wookwang smiled sweetly, chin propped on his hand.
“Those who help the weak cling to their memory of you. As you rise, their expectations become chains. Eliminate them before they become footholds for your enemies.”
“But he’s—”
“Not now. But when the time comes—kill him.”
The casual cruelty shattered Mao’s naive assumptions.
Humanity? This is the Absolute Heavenly Demon. Their minds operated on fundamentally different planes.
“A gift, now that my child has come.”
Jin Wookwang flicked his fingers. A shrill shriiiiiek! pierced the air from behind.
The sound hurtled closer. Mao leapt up, spinning—
“What the—?!”
A sword streaked toward him like lightning.
Shriiiiiek!
A blade he knew too well.
The legendary Blue Dragon Sword, its broad surface engraved with a soaring dragon.
The sacred token he’d once received—and lost.
Now it flew at him with murderous intent.
Straight for his heart.
#Heavenly Demon Jin Wookwang (2)
