Chronicles of the Heavenly Demon

Chapter 160 – Deity Leaves the World (2)
Translated by : moonchildkhz

***

I ran a long distance without pause. 

There was no proper rest, nor any time for me to have sweet dreams. 

That is how I have been living so far. 

No, that is only how I believe I have been living. 

At this moment, Woon-seong denied all of it. 

I only brainwashed myself into believing that I lived that way. 

He asked himself: Have I really been living such a harsh life?

It didn’t take long for him to come to a conclusion. 

“I don’t know.”

But saying “I don’t know” was just an excuse. 

If you really lived such a harsh life, you would be able to honestly and straightforwardly answer: “Yes, that is how I lived.” 

“I don’t know” only meant one thing: I did not live like that. 

I don’t know when it started. 

Perhaps it had been right after he left the Cave of Latent Demons, or it may be after he became the Young Leader. 

No, maybe it was after he became a Semi-Divine Being and sat on the throne as Heavenly Demon. 

The moment when someone thinks they’re nearing the goal is the moment they let down their guard. 

Perhaps that was where his laziness had begun. 

Not good.

Woon-seong denied that way of life. 

If I have been idle, I have been living wrongly.

He should have been striving harder than anyone in order to achieve his goals.

It is not too late to correct course. 

Woon-seong gripped the spear. He then turned towards the strange puppet, which swung his sword. 

Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of swords seemed to rush towards Woon-seong in one tidal wave. 

In between them, dragons and tigers roamed, claws out. 

The power of the Brilliance of the Dragon-Tiger which transcended even light. 

And Woon-seong didn’t even know its name. 

However, it was clear that this swordsmanship before him aimed to go beyond the light in pursuit of extreme speed and ferocity. 

That conclusion was the result of looking at it with the eyes of a scholar. 

It was also the result of judging by the thoughts of a scholar. 

If so….

In order to catch up, Woon-seong also had to transcend light. 

When it came to combining such a skill, it was a step ahead of the Divine Arts of the Heavenly Demon, the Art of Six Seals and Destruction, and the Divine Spear of the Ending Night. 

If he could contain the utmost speed, he would be able to match that swordsmanship. 

Can I do it? Woon-seong wondered. 

He shook his head. 

Questioning himself meant that he had not shaken off that laziness inside his heart. 

Whether it could or could not be done was not important. 

In order to move forwards, it was more important to try. 

It was important to get over this wall. 

After that, the two would have to face each other no matter what. 

Boom, boom!

Boom, boom!

Woon-seong threw off the iron bracers binding him. His whole body was suddenly filled with a sense of freedom. 

Laziness included holding the best of himself back. 

Do it.

Woon-seong gripped his spear tighter. 

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

The White Night Spear trembled, as if responding to the will of its owner. 

At the same time, a white glow began to envelop the spear. 

The time captured by Woon-seong’s senses split into tens of millions of fractions. Time began to flow slower. 

At first it was just a little bit, but Woon-seong’s focus was terrifyingly doubled. Time slowed down more and more. 

In that bubble of time, Woon-seong scoured through all of the martial arts techniques in his mind. 

A crowd of people and places came to him, tens of thousands of words devoured by his mind in his two lifetimes. 

It was a mess, a raging river of knowledge. 

In it, Woon-seong’s spirit drifted about like a leaf thrown into the wind. 

But Woon-seong did not lose consciousness. 

Instead, he began to collect these thoughts together. 

The words and text began to run wild. It was like they were screaming “We can’t mix together” and rebelled against his control. 

Woon-seong gripped the White Night Spear with more strength, commanding them to group together. 

No, they can be mixed.

Woon-seong commanded once again. 

“Blend together!”

His command was short but powerful. 

It was an order issued by a man of the Semi-Divine Realm who had united his body and soul.

The texts responded to the command.

The countless words spinning around finally produced a single verse!

As soon as he read the verse, it seemed like lightning struck Woon-seong’s mind and something shattered inside his mind. 

— This is it!

At the same time, the slowed down time began to accelerate again, and Woon-seong’s spirit returned to his body.  

Boom!

What should I name it? 

Standing amongst the pouring blades of light, Woon-seong looked at the White Night Spear in his hand. 

A new skill lingered in his mind. 

It was clear as day to him. 

He had never used it before, but it was somehow familiar.

Perhaps that was because it was a technique combining skills he knew like the back of his hand. 

It was also likely because most of the technique was based on the Art of Six Seals and Destruction and the Divine Spear of the Ending Night, not the Divine Art of the Heavenly Demon. 

What was this technique to be called? 

A new skill could only be completed when it was given a name. 

Having been unable to name it before use, Flow of the Divine Dragon had been unintentionally made.

But this was different. 

Woon-seong wrestled with this question as the blades continued to fly towards him. 

At this time, he could see a bird flapping its wings in the distant sky. 

It was close to the sun. 

A bird that flew over the sun, shining with glorious brilliance. 

Faith.

A bird that had been given the name of a deity. 

Let’s do that.

Birds had large wings which allowed them to fly in places where even the sun did not shine. 

By the truest definition, the righteous heroes of old were the same. 

Birds that did not fly in ordinary winds, choosing to take off once a storm hit and crossing the vast Kumari sea during a typhoon. 

With such faith, you could fly to places where the light could not reach. 

Soon, Woon-seong had decided on a name. 

A Deity Leaves the World. 

Woon-seong moved his spear. 

A huge light flowed out of the White Night Spear, snapping and splitting into the shape of wings.

Woon-seong threw the White Night Spear straight forward. 

Faith had begun to spread its wings into the world. 

A bird had broken from its cage. 

A giant bird shot from the White Night Spear and pierced through the puppet’s body. 

Kuakuakuakau—!

The battle seemed to be over. 

However, those who were watching did not seem to easily recognize this. .

Regardless of faction, the soldiers were all squinting at the sky. They were all blinded and dumbfounded because that overwhelming light, which seemed to overturn the whole world, had been seared into their minds. 

The brilliance emanated from the Leader of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon. 

It was still reflected in their retinas. 

What the hell had that been?

What was that technique which was so fascinating?

Many people were curious. 

Some demonic arts were said to tempt people’s souls; they wondered if it was something like that. 

The first one to come to his senses was Gwan Tae-ryang. 

The Samsara Demonic Cavalry, who were pushing the remnants of the Beast Squad away, soon also came running towards Woon-seong. 

But sooner than them, there were others who judged and moved faster. 

“Spread the poison!”

“Release the poison!”

It was the Sichuan Tang Clan. 

At the most appropriate moment — when they thought Woon-seong would be the most exhausted — they made their appearance. 

They leapt into the battlefield, flying the green flag symbolizing the Sichuan Tang, and relentlessly releasing their poison.

“Glug!”

“Knng!”

The demonic soldiers who were poisoned fell, foaming and choking. 

It wasn’t just the demonic soldiers. 

In the midst of war, the Orthodox factions and the Demonic Cult were still entangled. Nevertheless, the Sichuan Tang continued to release poison without hesitation. 

One of Murim’s soldiers screamed in protest. “What the hell are you doing? How can you still say the Sichuan Tang is an orthodox faction?”

At that moment, someone’s hand pressed down on the soldier’s head. 

“Tsk, tsk.”

Someone clicked his tongue as if it were a pity and a monstrous poison seeped into the soldier’s head and into his whole body. 

“Cough! Cough!”

The soldier was a master of Murim and a sect leader in his own right, but he was unable to resist at all. 

The poison flowing in his own body was just that strong. 

The soldier collapsed into a puddle of blood, unable to withstand more than a few seconds. 

Neither brains nor bone, nothing was left behind. 

Even amongst the Sichuan Tang, there was only one master who was capable of this. 

“Tang Jin-ryong, the Saint of Immortal Poison.”

Woon-seong called out his name. 

Hearing it, Tang Jin-ryong walked through the blood, smiling in satisfaction. 

Tsst-tsst—

The ground was covered in toxic blood, but the man didn’t seem to mind. 

Tss—

He had turned his whole body into poison. He couldn’t be hurt by someone his own poison melted. 

“I didn’t know the Leader of the Demonic Cult knew my name. It is an honor,” Tang Jin-ryong said with a shrewd expression. 

Woon-seong slowly turned to look at him. “You’ve been waiting until now.”

“Yes.”

“Was sending in the Qingcheng and then that unknown thing to weaken my power?”

“You know very well. But don’t call him a thing, that was the Sword Emperor of Ice and Light.”

Several surrounding martial artists were surprised by the words ‘Sword Emperor of Ice and Light’. 

However, there was no change in Woon-seong’s expression. 

He had no interest in the name of the dead body. 

“You don’t have the courage to fight by yourselves, yet you call yourself orthodox. No matter how much I think about it, the unorthodox suits you better.”

“Then what about the Cult? Are you willing to accept me if I join the Demonic Cult?”

When Tang Jin-ryong asked this, the demonic soldiers in the area writhed with anger. It was as if they had been deeply insulted. 

The expression on their faces was of disbelief. 

“What are you talking about?!”

“No matter how much you call yourself a martial master, there are actions you can and cannot do! What do you mean you’re willing to surrender to the Demonic Cult after committing a massacre like this?!”

The Orthodox factions also shouted loudly at Tang Jin-ryong. 

However, there was no change in the old man’s expression. It was a face that said he was waiting for Woon-seong’s answer. 

Woon-seong blinked, his face blank. “You say things you don’t even believe. You have no intention of surrendering to our Cult, do you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Your acting was awkward.”

Tang Jin-ryong grinned. 

As Woon-seong had said, he and the Tang Clan had no intention of surrendering to the Demonic Cult at all. 

If they had planned to surrender in the first place, they would not have done this.

At this time, Woon-seong continued: “Of course, even if you truly surrender, our Cult will not accept you.”

Tang Jin-ryong’s eyebrows went up, but Woon-seong did not give him time to respond. 

“This Cult is not a gutter.”

Woon-seong waved his hand and shook it, like he had touched something nasty. 

“And piles of shit belong in the gutters.”

It seemed to be a signal, as something began to happen on the Demonic Cult’s side.