Chapter 328

The Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path, who had founded the demonic lineage from which the Demonic Eight Divisions originated, had learned his demonic arts from an extraordinary master.

The Grand Patriarch had never formally entered into a master-disciple relationship with that person.

And because the extraordinary master had never revealed either name or identity, the surviving records referred to that figure only as “that person.”

The Grand Patriarch had heard from “that person” that martial arts born from personal insights had been left somewhere beneath the heavens. His final command therefore stated that, should someone connected to those arts ever appear, that person was to be honored as sovereign.

The instruction itself was exceedingly vague.

Worse still, the records did not even preserve the names of those martial arts.

For generations, the grandmasters of the Demonic Eight Divisions had therefore treated the matter as little more than an obscure tradition.

Yet now, in their own lifetime, someone had appeared who seemed to match the very connection described in the Grand Patriarch’s final teachings.

How could the Demonic Venerables not be shaken?

No Yu-gak, the Myriad-Calamity Demon Venerable, once again broke the silence.

“I know perfectly well that all of you are disappointed inside. A cherished ambition our sects pursued for centuries may have become meaningless overnight. This old man feels like a dog that chased a chicken only to end up staring at the roof after it flew away. It makes my blood boil too.”

No Yu-gak swept his gaze across the other Venerables before continuing.

“But think about the reality we are facing. Are we truly in any position to dream of producing the Sovereign of the Eight Divisions?”

The Venerables’ expressions darkened.

With traitors corrupted by evil influence controlling their sects, even the continued survival of the Demonic Eight Divisions was far from certain.

“This old man cannot help wondering whether that child’s arrival here was the will of the Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path in the underworld. Perhaps he could not bear to watch the Demonic Eight Divisions perish, so he guided here the child connected to ‘that person.’”

Gu Jagi, the Netherworld Demon Venerable of Northern Underworld Hall, spoke in a gloomy voice.

“Myriad-Calamity Demon Venerable, everything you said is reasonable, so I have no wish to argue with it. But we still cannot be certain that the three demonic arts that child obtained truly were the insights left behind by ‘that person.’”

Gi Gwayeong, the Taoist-Immortal Demon Venerable of Blood Immortal Tower, supported Gu Jagi.

“This old man agrees with the Netherworld Demon Venerable. We have heard only their underlying principles. It would be unwise to suffer for a hasty conclusion.”

Yeong Ho-sin, the Yama Demon Venerable of the Asura Gate, also spoke.

“What troubles this old man is that the child belongs to a Taoist-immortal line. A Taoist becoming the Sovereign of the Eight Divisions sounds absurd, does it not?”

No Yu-gak found it pathetic that, even in their present circumstances, the others still could not let go of their attachment to the position of Sovereign of the Eight Divisions.

He wanted to bark at them once again to face reality.

But he had no desire to waste mental strength on something so pointless, so he merely gave a bitter smile.

“Let us leave it at that. Time will prove the truth one way or another.”

No Yu-gak nodded, then looked toward the Yama Demon Venerable.

“However, I must object to what you said about him being a Taoist. Do not forget that the Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path once lived as a monk at Shaolin.”

Before meeting “that person,” the Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path had been a Shaolin monk.

Even the fact that he had taken eight disciples had been inspired by the Eight Legions of Heavenly Dragons, guardians of the Buddhist Dharma.

Yeong Ho-sin readily nodded.

“Myriad-Calamity Demon Venerable, it seems this old man worried too much. Whether it is a spear or a saber hardly matters so long as it kills the tiger.”

That remark neatly expressed the path pursued by the original demonic lineage from which the Demonic Eight Divisions had descended.

The Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path had resolved that, if it meant protecting the people beneath the heavens, there was no reason even demonic arts could not be practiced.

With that conviction, he had left Shaolin.

Just as the Eight Legions of Heavenly Dragons, beings of otherworldly origin, had become protectors of the Dharma.

Of course, after splitting away from that original lineage, the Demonic Eight Divisions had degenerated into demonic sects that followed the rule of the strong.

Even so, among their grandmasters there had always remained a longing for the original demonic path pursued by their lineage.

To reach the realm of transcending demonic nature, one first had to awaken to the true meaning of the demonic path.

In any case, Yeong Ho-sin’s ready apology left No Yu-gak feeling oddly deflated, and he fell silent.

“......”

Just as the cavern was about to sink into silence again, Jo So-hong, the Blood-Haired Demon Venerable, spoke.

“Whether or not that child truly obtained the insights of ‘that person,’ there is no denying that he is the closest thing we have ever seen to the destiny of the Sovereign of the Eight Divisions.”

“...?”

“...?”

“...?”

The Venerables, No Yu-gak among them, all turned toward Jo So-hong.

“Why are you staring at me like that? Surely every one of you already knows it in your heart.”

Jo So-hong gave them a bitter smile before continuing.

“As the Myriad-Calamity Demon Venerable put it, did that child not strip every one of us bare? Never once in history has a single person obtained all eight unique martial arts of the Demonic Eight Divisions. Which means the Grand Patriarch’s final command has, in effect, already been fulfilled through that child.”

Gu Jagi once again objected in his somber voice.

“Blood-Haired Demon Venerable, the outcome may be so, but the Grand Patriarch’s instruction was that the eight lines transmit their teachings to a common inheritor.”

Jo So-hong’s brow tightened slightly.

“Did we Eight Demonic Venerables not transmit our teachings to that child as a common inheritor?”

“...!”

Gu Jagi stiffened.

Jin Gwanho, the Ghost-Hand Demon Venerable, who had remained an observer since relinquishing his role as presiding elder, finally spoke.

“The Blood-Haired Demon Venerable is not wrong. Before entering meditative passing, we left behind the martial formulas of our unique arts. In doing so, one could say that we had already transmitted our teachings across time to a future inheritor. Taoist Kwak reading all eight sets of those martial formulas is therefore little different from all of us choosing him as our common inheritor and passing our teachings to him.”

One by one, the Venerables began nodding.

Jin Gwanho continued calmly.

“Having returned to life and now finding ourselves face-to-face with that inheritor may understandably be confusing. But this old man believes this situation is instead a stroke of heaven’s fortune.”

He swept his gaze across the curious faces around him.

“Had we not fallen into such desperate circumstances, would all eight unique martial arts of the Demonic Eight Divisions ever have been transmitted to a single person?”

There was no denying it.

For centuries, each of the Demonic Eight Divisions had coveted the unique martial arts of the other seven while never willingly surrendering its own.

No Yu-gak spoke in a rumbling voice.

“Whether this is heaven’s fortune or the protection of the Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path, the fact remains that Taoist Kwak came here through some profound connection.”

The Blood-Haired Demon Venerable nodded.

“Indeed. If that child truly is destined to become the Sovereign of the Eight Divisions, then he will eventually reconstruct the Grand Patriarch’s absolute demonic art. We can simply watch and see.”

Among the Demonic Eight Divisions, the Gathering Demons Division and the Myriad-Calamity Demon Palace occupied positions comparable to the Heavenly Deva and Dragon among the Eight Legions of Heavenly Dragons, and had always wielded the greatest influence.

For that very reason, the Gathering Demons Division and the Myriad-Calamity Demon Palace had been bitter rivals for generations.

Yet when the Blood-Haired Demon Venerable and the Myriad-Calamity Demon Venerable spoke with one voice like this, the others began nodding as well.

There was still something unsettling about the possibility of having to honor a Taoist of Mount Wudang as the Sovereign of the Eight Divisions.

But that was something to worry about only after Kwak Yeon actually reconstructed the Grand Patriarch’s absolute demonic art.

And more importantly, with the Demonic Eight Divisions currently facing possible destruction, it was hardly the most urgent concern.

*****

“Well, I’ll be damned. Live long enough and you really do see everything.”

Yang Man-ri, a squad leader of the Martial Alliance’s Goncheon Corps, tilted his head as he stared at the table overflowing with food.

“To think our Corps Commander, stingiest man under heaven, would ever treat us to a feast like this.”

Across from him sat Goncheon Corps warrior Lee Jeon-sim, who frowned slightly.

“Squad Leader Yang, I’m surprised too, but I can’t say it makes me feel entirely good.”

“Hm? What are you talking about with a feast like this sitting in front of us? Especially when it’s all free.”

“That’s because these aren’t normal circumstances.”

“......”

“I don’t like being fed this well right before we march off to fight.”

Not long after leaving the Martial Alliance’s Outer Fortress, the Goncheon Corps had halted its march in front of a wine house some distance from the market district.

Goncheon Corps Commander Geum Yulcheok had prepared a banquet there at his own expense to encourage his men.

“We mobilized in such haste that none of you had time to fill your stomachs properly. I rented this wine house and had hot food prepared. Eat your fill, recover your strength, and then we march.”

At Geum Yulcheok’s words, the Goncheon Corps warriors had erupted in cheers.

Yang Man-ri was grateful that Corps Commander Geum had spent a considerable sum to rent out the entire wine house.

So the uneasy expression on his junior’s face annoyed him.

“Why are you twisting something good into something bad? The Corps Commander is trying to encourage us to eat well and keep our strength up for the march.”

“I’m trying to think of it that way too, but somehow...”

Lee Jeon-sim trailed off uneasily.

Yang Man-ri leaned closer.

“Somehow what?”

“Never mind.”

“You’re a grown man. Why swallow your words halfway through? Either say what you mean or don’t start talking.”

Stung by the taunt from his squad leader and senior, Lee Jeon-sam snapped,

“It looks like a funeral offering.”

“What? A funeral offering?”

Yang Man-ri’s face twisted.

“Warrior Lee! What kind of cursed nonsense is that? Everyone is already anxious enough as it is...”

They were supposedly being sent only to support the Martial Alliance campaign force from the rear.

Even so, there was no guarantee they would avoid battle with the Demonic Eight Divisions entirely.

“That’s why I said I wasn’t going to say it. But Senior Yang—no, Squad Leader Yang—kept needling me until I did.”

When his junior fired back, Yang Man-ri grew even more irritated.

“You said it with your own mouth, and now you blame me? Spit three times this instant and take back that ill-omened nonsense.”

“Ptoo! Ptoo! Ptoo!”

Following the order of his senior and squad leader, Lee Jeon-sam mimed spitting three times, then rose from his seat.

“Warrior Lee, where are you going?”

“To take a piss.”

“The Corps Commander will be seated any moment. Hold it.”

“Squad Leader Yang, enough with acting like my senior. You only joined the Alliance a few months before I did.”

Lee Jeon-sam raised his voice, causing several Goncheon Corps warriors at the surrounding tables to turn and look.

Uncomfortable under their attention, Yang Man-ri softened his tone.

“Warrior Lee, just make it quick.”

Lee Jeon-sam stalked off toward the privy without answering.

Yang Man-ri clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk. With that temper, no wonder he fails the squad-leader selection every time.”

He looked over the warriors in his squad.

“Still, Warrior Lee has a good heart underneath it all. You all know that, right?”

“We know.”

“Of course.”

Watching his men nod, Yang Man-ri turned toward Mae Cheong-o, the warrior sitting at the very end of the table.

“Rookie, why do you look so gloomy?”

Mae Cheong-o lowered his eyes slightly.

“...It’s nothing.”

“Is it because of what Warrior Lee said earlier? If so, forget it. Even if we do end up fighting, this squad leader will make sure the youngest stays safe. You just stick behind me no matter what.”

“Squad Leader, thank you for always looking out for me. And... I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? Looking after the youngest is a Martial Alliance tradition.”

Yang Man-ri looked pleased by Mae Cheong-o’s respectful answer.

“When you become a squad leader someday, you can do the same.”

“......”

Seeing Mae Cheong-o bow his head without his usual reply, Yang Man-ri felt a flicker of puzzlement.

Then he dismissed it.

The kid was probably just nervous about his first deployment.

At that moment, Yang Man-ri spotted Goncheon Corps Commander Geum Yulcheok approaching the seat reserved for him at the center of the wine house.

The Corps Commander’s already here. Damn it, how long is Warrior Lee planning to piss?

As Yang Man-ri grumbled inwardly, Geum Yulcheok’s booming voice rang throughout the wine house.

“Every member of the corps, without exception, fill your cup!”

The Goncheon Corps warriors had been staring hungrily at the wine jars before them and waiting eagerly for this moment.

At once, they filled their cups.

“Raise your cups! This drink is a toast for a safe deployment. Not a single drop is to remain.”

At the Corps Commander’s shout, the warriors raised their cups high and answered as one.

“Yes, sir!”

Geum Yulcheok nodded in satisfaction, then gave the lead cry.

“Righteous Heaven, Fight to the Death!”

The Goncheon Corps warriors roared back in unison.

“Righteous Heaven, Fight to the Death!”

Then they drained their cups clean.

Yang Man-ri emptied his own in one satisfying swallow and set the cup down.

“Ahh!”

He savored the fierce burn of the strong liquor sliding down his throat.

Then his eyes happened to meet Mae Cheong-o’s.

“...?”

Something was wrong.

Not merely that Mae Cheong-o’s expression had grown darker.

A moment later, Yang Man-ri realized what it was.

Huh?

Mae Cheong-o’s cup was still filled to the brim.

He didn’t drink a single drop.

Why?