Episode 13 – I’ll Do Whatever It Takes to Survive
Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
A martial art permitted only to the one who holds the title of Heavenly Demon, the supreme of the one hundred thousand members of the Heavenly Demon Cult.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Art was an overwhelmingly powerful martial technique, incomparable to any other.
It didn’t consider defense.
It was solely focused on overwhelming and crushing the opponent through sheer force.
So if one were to ask, “Then if someone becomes the Heavenly Demon and masters this art, are they invincible?”—the answer would be no.
If that were the case, the title of Heavenly Demon wouldn’t need to be passed down.
The truth is, if one were to fully master the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, they could ascend to the position of the strongest under heaven, just as the first Heavenly Demon did.
However, the Heavenly Demons after the first did not use the art as their primary martial technique.
Those who challenged for the position of Heavenly Demon were usually already at the pinnacle of the Transcendent Peak realm.
Their martial arts were already complete, and so while they might begin learning the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, they would rarely commit to it fully.
Just like how mixing too many beautiful colors results in a muddy mess, no matter how powerful the Heavenly Demon Divine Art was, blending it with other techniques could actually degrade one’s martial realm.
Thus, while every Heavenly Demon acknowledged the strength of the art, they never made it their core technique.
That is why the Heavenly Demon was the strongest, but not invincible.
“The current Heavenly Demon is based in ice arts anyway...”
That said, the Heavenly Demon Divine Art wasn’t useless.
It functioned more as a symbol than a practical technique—something used during rituals or ceremonies, like an ornamental sword.
For example, one of the Heavenly Demon Cult’s greatest festivals, the Flame Rite, involved igniting the Sacred Fire, and the martial art used to handle that flame was the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
“Sado Hwan had learned the first half of it.”
The art was divided into two parts:
The first half covered internal energy cultivation.
The second half taught combat forms exclusive to the Heavenly Demon.
Sado Hwan had learned the first half—the internal energy aspect.
How that happened is a tale that goes back a hundred years.
A century ago, there was the Heavenly Demon Blood Massacre.
At that time, the Heavenly Demon died in the martial world without naming a successor or leaving any heirs.
As a result, the Heavenly Demon Divine Art was lost.
Through a series of coincidences, the Sado clan ended up acquiring the first half of it.
“So all the later Heavenly Demons only learned the second half, without any heart technique (internal energy method).”
The Sado clan waited until the art had faded from everyone's memory.
Fortunately, the Heavenly Demon Blood Massacre was a taboo subject even within the cult, and as decades passed, people stopped caring.
That was when the Sado clan came up with a mad idea:
“If only the Heavenly Demon can learn the Divine Art...
then what if we learned the Divine Art first and became the Heavenly Demon?”
That was why Sado Hwan—rather, Skybreaker—was taught the incomplete art.
“And that’s also the reason he became crippled.”
When Skybreaker began learning the art, he was only five years old.
The overwhelming power of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art was too much for a child to handle. He was destined to die from internal rupture.
But life is mysterious.
To survive, his body underwent a dramatic change on its own.
He didn’t die—but in return, he was cursed with Jeolmaek, the severing of meridians.
It made him unable to become a true martial artist.
“That’s why even though people called him a genius, he ended up like that.”
Despite that, Skybreaker had immense trust in his family—especially the elder brother he admired.
He had forgotten that the cause of all his suffering came from them.
Traumatized too young, his memories had faded.
Of course, there was a way to fix this body’s Jeolmaek.
And the method was simple, even obvious.
Even Mujin, the protagonist of Return of the Murim, had guessed it.
“Just learn the second half of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.”
If the cause of the meridian rupture was the art, then perhaps the cure lay in completing it.
It was still a hypothesis, but if one mastered the complete art, the imbalance between internal energy and martial forms would be resolved—perhaps even curing the condition and allowing one to rise as a true powerhouse.
The problem, of course, was...
“The meaning of learning the second half itself is the issue.”
Even if Sado Hwan had learned the first half by chance, the art was originally meant only for the Heavenly Demon.
So mastering the full Heavenly Demon Divine Art was equivalent to claiming the throne of the Heavenly Demon.
“There’s no way I could do that.”
Only the strongest among the 100,000 members of the cult could hold that title.
And I wasn’t even born into the cult, nor a true martial artist.
I was just Kim Dong-yun, an ordinary guy from the modern world who got dragged here.
In reality, I’d probably lose even to a third-rate thug with a knife.
So how could I become the Heavenly Demon?
Besides, the current Heavenly Demon was a monster of monsters, someone reaching far beyond the Transcendent Peak.
Later in the novel, even while gravely injured, he fought the Sword Saint to a draw.
To claim his position, I’d have to defeat him. In other words, my chances were practically zero.
“Honestly, finding the Heavenly Saint, Cheongi-ja, would be more realistic.”
Though the Heavenly Saint roamed the martial world without a fixed location, he would appear during major events going forward.
And I knew when and where those events would happen—my head was filled with them.
If the timing worked out, meeting him wasn’t impossible.
“Still, where the hell is Yun Yeopja?”
He said we’d meet again in half a day, so he should’ve been here long ago.
There’s no way someone like Yun Yeopja—the future top swordsman of Kunlun—would lie.
Just then, Tak Horak came up the stairs.
“Lord—no, Young Master.”
He handed me a letter.
“A message arrived at the inn for you. I received it and brought it up.”
It was written in graceful script—clearly Yun Yeopja’s handwriting.
Skipping the seasonal greetings, the point was: something came up, and he’d be delayed by a few days.
“Hmm...”
“If he’s going to be late for days, shouldn’t we just return? The cult likely wants you back.”
Tak Horak wasn’t wrong.
News had probably already reached the cult about my accident in the cave.
The proper course would be to return immediately.
“But I need more time.”
I’d managed to fool Dok So-gong and even Saweol, both Peak realm experts.
But the cult was full of Transcendent Peak monsters running around like wild beasts.
Since I had made the Black Shadow Corps believe I was one too, rumors were bound to spread.
That would bring tons of attention.
If I wanted to properly play the role of Sado Hwan, I needed to be more prepared.
“Actually, this might be a good thing.”
“We wait.”
“Huh? But why keep your word to a mere Kunlun martial artist?”
“Yun Yeopja is no mere Kunlun disciple. He will one day become one of their key figures. Everything he sees and hears will influence Kunlun’s future direction. That information is invaluable to the cult.”
“Ah... Of course, Lord.”
Tak Horak’s eyes widened in awe.
It wasn’t that everyone but the protagonist had low intelligence.
It’s just that the cultists were so entrenched in the logic of strength that many of the lower-rank warriors were just... simple-minded.
Tak Horak seemed to be one of them.
“We’ll stay in Taeryeong for now.”
“Yes, Lord. What about the Seo and Baek families?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We can’t let those who insulted you live. Tonight, I’ll wipe out both clans.”
I barely stopped myself from calling him a lunatic out loud.
With his bright, clear eyes, was he one of those “pure-eyed madmen” I’d heard about?
Had I triggered his loyalty too much, to the point it broke his brain?
This wasn’t right.
According to Return of the Murim, Tak Horak wasn’t like this.
He was the suspicious type, always doubting the protagonist. And more of a henchman for villains than a main character.
“How can a person change this much just from me taking over the body?”
“Forget it. Don’t draw unnecessary attention.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Go arrange a room.”
“Yes, Lord.”
Tak Horak withdrew.
Seriously, the characters in Return of the Murim were anything but ordinary.
A while later, Tak Horak returned with the innkeeper. Apparently, a detached annex was available, and we moved there.
It was spacious, with a small courtyard—perfect for solo movement.
“Leave. I’ll be training.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Come back in the morning.”
Saweol and Tak Horak bowed and left the annex.
For martial artists, training was a private affair.
Unless it was a public spar, watching someone train was considered taboo, like stealing their greatest secret.
For me, it was a relief. Unlike Skybreaker, I had zero knowledge of martial forms.
Once I confirmed I was alone, Skybreaker floated out of the sheath into the air.
Tilting toward me like a person meeting my eyes, he spoke.
[Training? What’s gotten into you now?]
“After what happened earlier, I realized—I look like an easy mark.”
[Well, anyone would think that, the way you just tossed your sword aside.]
“...You’re not wrong.”
Even in the military, once you were issued a weapon, you kept it close at all times.
Same logic here.
“That’s why I need you to teach me swordsmanship, Skybreaker.”
He had corrected my posture in the cave once. And it had been surprisingly effective.
He couldn’t use internal energy, but he knew martial forms well.
People assume flashy and complex forms mean you’re a master, after all.
Skybreaker had trained obsessively in external techniques for that very reason.
[Swordsmanship, huh... Monster, you’re too late to start. Demon Cult warriors start wielding swords at age seven or eight.]
“I’m not trying to learn every technique. I just want to draw my sword convincingly.”
[What are you even saying?]
“If I try to learn everything now, I’ll just look like a clown.
Better to master one impressive move and bluff my way through it. Sword-drawing alone is enough.”
Skybreaker trembled. He was probably furious.
Though only half a martial artist, he was dead serious about martial arts.
My words were almost an insult.
Nobody likes seeing their passion treated so lightly.
But so what?
I was pretending to be him to survive.
Fooling others with what I’m best at—that’s where I excel.
[You! What do you think martial arts are?! Martial arts are a way to—]
“—to protect yourself.”
I cut him off.
“I’ve decided to become you, Skybreaker. If I mess up and show some sloppy martial art, our whole plan is finished. Is that what you want?”
[...]
“I’ll do whatever it takes to survive. Even if people curse me and spit at me for it. If you can’t accept that, you’ll stay a sword forever.”
Skybreaker finally calmed down, letting out a long sigh.
[...I understand what you’re saying. But I’ll warn you—do not disgrace the Sado family’s name.]
I neither agreed nor denied. He clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.
But I couldn’t give a firm answer.
Sado Clan, House of Asura.
A den of villains.
Skybreaker approached with a resigned tone.
[First, hold me.]
I picked him up.
[Sword-drawing isn’t as easy as it sounds. To draw it properly, you must first be able to swing as you intend. Remember what happened in the cave?]
I nodded.
[Then try swinging.]
I closed my eyes and focused. I recalled the feeling—that single thread of hope in that hot, humid cave.
With all my strength, I swung the sword down.
[Impossible...?!]
Skybreaker let out a cry of disbelief.