Do you know what happens when you spend over half a day slashing at a scarecrow with a sword?
You get blisters on your hands.
"...Pfft."
I wrapped bandages around my hands. Moving them stung, but that kind of pain was nothing.
When even taking a single step made my entire body feel like it was shattering, how could I care about sothing as trivial as blisters?
I kept moving my feet. Each step was unsteady, my form a ss. Were my strikes at least smooth?
Not at all. Even hitting empty air produced a faint whistling sound, and each strike ca with a bonus of searing pain.
And yet, for so reason, I couldn’t help but laugh.
I was improving. The first swing had been unbearable, but by the second, I could endure it a little longer.
The faint sound of air being torn had grown from a mosquito’s buzz to sothing resembling a gentle breeze.
Though I groaned in agony every night, I could feel it—I was getting better.
One grueling step at a ti.
I stepped away from the scarecrow I’d been striking with my sword. Calming my breath, I closed my eyes.
Heavenly Tribulation.
It was still digging into my body, refusing to let draw even a single thread of energy. Instead of helping, it gifted only pain.
But I didn’t mind. Though the pain hadn’t dulled, I could endure it. In fact, I was grateful to the Heavenly Tribulation for the changes it brought into my life.
Back then, I had swung my sword endlessly without any progress.
But now?
Even if it was just a sliver, I could see myself changing.
I could lift sothing heavier than I could the day before, even if only slightly.
For the first ti in my despair-ridden life, an opportunity had appeared.
A proper teacher. A proper path.
It was as if a faint light had pierced the suffocating darkness.
"...Pfft."
I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
I was genuinely grateful—to the Heavenly Demon, to my fate.
When had I last felt such liberation?
I would build and build, stacking my efforts one on top of the other.
Eventually, I would reach my goal. Even if it took until I was old and frail, it didn’t matter.
This was the first ambition I’d ever held.
The first ti I had truly resolved myself.
I would beco a martial artist like the Heavenly Demon.
Even if it was an unattainable dream...
My struggle would remain etched in my soul.
"Jeok Woon."
A voice called out, and I turned my head.
The black-cloaked figure appeared silently, staring at .
I had never seen her face beneath that hood, but the coldness in her voice whenever she called my na made it clear—she loathed to her core.
Even so, I willingly bowed my head to her.
What wouldn’t I endure to gain strength?
After all, I was already the Heavenly Demon’s dog.
Until I could stand as her equal, I would play along as much as I needed.
"Yes."
"I told you to put down the sword, didn’t I?"
"My apologies."
"...Tch."
The cloaked figure—Ilma—stepped closer, standing before .
"You’re not at the stage where you can wield a sword. First, you need to train your body. Only when your body is properly strengthened will you be worthy of holding a sword.
"If you place a heavy wooden staff on a blade of grass, it will break. You are that blade of grass. A sword to you now is nothing more than that heavy staff."
She tapped the scarecrow with her hand. A crimson aura surged, swirling around it.
"You can’t use internal energy right now. The only thing you can train is your external body. This state will persist until the Heavenly Tribulation fully takes root.
"Your job until then is to lay the foundation. Don’t even dream of touching a sword until your pathetic body is at least presentable. Using it now would only harm you."
"I understand."
"You’re not listening at all. Stop staring at my hand, you pervert. Just because your long-suppressed instincts have exploded doesn’t an you’ve suddenly beco a crazed training maniac.
"It’s a matter of your nature. You’ve always been a lunatic, suppressing it with rationality. But whatever your nature may be, when I speak, don’t focus on my hand, focus on my words.
"If you keep getting distracted, I’ll break your neck next ti."
"My apologies, Ilma. I will focus on your words."
"...Why do I dislike you so much?"
With a swift motion, the scarecrow’s neck snapped.
It happened so fast I barely registered Ilma’s movent.
"You can’t even imitate this right now. So do you think I’m showing you this just to mock you?"
"...Wasn’t that your intent?"
I received a swift kick to my shin. Ilma growled.
"Don’t get cocky just because you’ve picked up a few things. It’s only been two months. Do you think you’re my disciple or sothing?
"If it weren’t for the Sect Leader’s orders, I’d have ground you up and fed you to the dogs."
"Wouldn’t that be redundant? I’m a dog myself, and dogs don’t eat dog at. I certainly wouldn’t."
"......"
I couldn’t see her face beneath the dangling talisman, but her murderous glare was palpable.
Still, I had no intention of changing my tone. She couldn’t kill . She had to train .
And...
I felt free.
When had I last experienced such liberation? I was living in a way that felt entirely true to myself.
The nature I had buried to protect my family.
The resentnt from years of forced labor without so much as a change in expression.
Even making jokes brought joy. The simple act of learning martial arts lifted my spirits to such heights that nothing felt like misfortune.
Ilma was sharp and strict. But at the sa ti, she grumbled as she ticulously guided .
She was a good person.
Of course, that didn’t change the fact that she was a dangerous one.
"Jeok Woon, focus on my words. If you lose focus again, I’ll break your bones. In a month, you’ll be entering the Blood Demon Unit. That place is full of people capable of what you just saw."
"What does the Blood Demon Unit do?"
"It’s a perfect place to grind you down. Normally, they train, but when duty calls, they leave for the Demonic Valley. It’s not an easy place. You’ll struggle just to find enough to eat."
"And my work as a spy...?"
"We’ve found a replacent. Your role will be handled. Or what, are you still clinging to the Moorim Alliance?"
I felt the sharpness of her gaze. I shook my head.
There was no need to lie. During my ti with the righteous factions, I hadn’t a single good mory to take away.
This side was far better.
Here, I was being taught things that would nourish and build my strength.
"I am the Sect Leader’s dog."
"...At least you know your place. Jeok Woon, you’d better focus on your training.
"The Blood Demon Unit operates in pairs. Anyti a mber dies, they’re imdiately replaced. The unit always maintains a roster of thirty. And every month, more than ten die."
"Why do they die?"
"Usually on missions. But the second most common cause of death..."
Ilma kicked the fallen scarecrow’s severed neck.
"...is at the hands of comrades who despise useless allies.
"You’re not even third-rate right now. If you want to survive, train yourself to at least second-rate. That’s the only way you’ll make it."
***
The Nine Heavens Blood Demon Art consisted of nine forms.
Nine heavens pierced by demonic techniques.
Ilma had her reasons for calling the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Art a beast’s martial art. It focused primarily on destroying one’s enemies, often at the cost of the practitioner’s own body.
A style built on the principle of Yukchamgoltan—sacrificing flesh to cut through bone—made it an exceedingly dangerous art for its user.
The first form alone required reckless, thoughtless movents that disregarded one’s own safety. Thus, it demanded an extraordinarily robust physique.
Even if one endured a single attack, the body had to remain intact. While losing half the flesh on one’s arm might be acceptable, losing the bone as well was not.
Pain. This martial art inherently required bone-crushing pain to master.
Ironically, however, no matter how severe that pain, it was still less than the agony inflicted by the Heavenly Tribulation.
"...Ha!"
And so, I laughed freely as I hurled myself into hell. I pushed my body to its absolute limits, eating the food Ilma provided to rebuild and strengthen myself.
Each day was like a trip through hell. But I endured.
Growing accustod to pain didn’t an I enjoyed it, but I could brainwash myself into liking it.
My progress increased. It kept increasing. The days when Ilma clicked her tongue at beca fewer.
I mastered the first form of the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Art: Ghost Hand, First Demon. To perfect even its simplest applications, I poured in relentless effort, pushing through bone-deep agony.
Apart from al tis, my hands were always in motion. Striking, thrusting, slicing through empty air.
I awoke each day standing on my hands and spent hours beneath a waterfall to soothe the blood rushing to my head.
Every night before sleeping, I ditated, observing the Heavenly Tribulation that had taken root in . Yet, no matter how closely I watched, it refused to move. Gathering or circulating energy was still impossible.
One month.
If I counted the days since my arrival, it had been three months.
A long ti, yet it felt incredibly short to . The days Ilma brought out her clubs to train my bones, however, felt interminably long.
"This is the fastest thod. Don’t worry, no scars will remain. Since you’re a venomous snake, you can endure it, right?"
I had to adjust my earlier judgnt of Ilma as a "good person."
She was utterly insane.
My battered body cycled through destruction and regeneration. Amidst it all, I felt the Heavenly Tribulation gradually taking root.
What would happen once it fully settled?
Each morning, my body felt a little lighter. The relentless pain had beco so normal that I no longer bit my tongue or tore at my thighs to endure it.
Far from being dulled, my senses had sharpened. Each passing day, as the Heavenly Tribulation settled further, I felt myself growing stronger.
Second-rate martial artist.
On the last day, when I demonstrated the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Art, I confird that I had surpassed a boundary I hadn’t been able to cross even with over ten years of effort.
"You barely made the target."
For the first ti, Ilma’s voice sounded almost kind.
"The influence of the Heavenly Tribulation. It’s fortunate. Your body has stabilized faster than expected. But don’t get your hopes up. If you aim to walk a long path, the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Art will beco a poison. Early progress is rapid, but the further you go, the slower it gets. That’s the hallmark of demonic arts—easy to learn, but incredibly difficult to master.
"If you fail to reach a certain stage within the ti limit, the demonic nature will consu you."
"Are you worried about ?"
"Shut your mouth. If you’ve got ti to run your mouth, you’d better spend it struggling harder. I’d rather not bury a dog I’ve gone to the trouble of raising."
Ilma took to a place called the Demonic Valley. As I stood at the edge of a sheer cliff, peering into the abyss, I turned to face her.
"Am I officially part of the Blood Demon Unit now?"
"If you survive."
"So this is what it ans to be the Sect Leader’s dog?"
"The Blood Demon Unit, the Sect Leader’s dog? Tch. If anything, they’re more like ants. Assigning you here is a way to toughen you up before you beco a dog.
"The Blood Demon Unit is one of the lowest ranks within the sect. While I personally trained them, they’re still a disposable force."
Ilma gestured with her chin.
"From now on, you’re Number Thirty. Forget the na Jeok Woon for the ti being. When the Sect Leader calls for you, you’ll leave this place to beco her dog. If she never calls, you’ll remain here as part of the Blood Demon Unit for the rest of your life."
"...Understood."
I looked down into the bottomless chasm below. Taking a deep breath, I glanced back at Ilma.
"Ilma."
"What?"
"May I ask your na?"
"What are you scheming?"
"Since coming here, you’re the first person I’ve ford a aningful connection with."
The Eight Demons of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
Despite their infamy, their nas were largely unknown. They were referred to by their numbers, and only a handful within the sect knew their actual nas.
That was why I wanted to know.
"I want to know as Jeok Woon, not as Number Thirty."
Ilma scoffed, lightly tapping my back with her foot.
"Ilma is Ilma. I have no other na. I am the Sect Leader’s sword, not your teacher, your friend, or your lover."
Her tone was as sharp as ever, but there was a faint softness at the edges of her words.
"But when the day cos that you beco the Sect Leader’s dog, as your handler, I might teach you then."
"I’ll do my best."
"Get lost. Whatever you do down there, don’t expect my help. Drop any foolish hopes and disappear already."
With a push of her foot, Ilma sent stumbling forward into the Demonic Valley.
Endless stone steps stretched before . As I descended, I pulled the black hood Ilma had given tightly over my head.
It was identical to hers, complete with a talisman hanging over the front. Despite seeming like it might obscure my vision, the talisman sohow made everything in front of startlingly clear.
So this was the renowned "sorcery" of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
The hood felt slightly stifling at first, but I quickly adjusted. The dim vision soon beca comfortable.
My feet touched the ground. After descending for over two hours, I reached the bottom, where a single torch flickered.
"Number Thirty."
The voice was soft, belonging to a small figure.
It was a woman’s voice, though I couldn’t discern much beyond that.
Beneath the torchlight, she wore the sa black hood as . I could only tell that she was petite and, strangely enough...
"Follow ."
...terrifyingly strong.
Even with Ilma, I couldn’t gauge her strength. The sa was true of this woman.
A serene stillness surrounded her, a presence unreadable to soone of my level. She was both a sword and sothing beyond a sword to .
Second-rate.
At my level, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend her.
Silently, I followed behind her.
Beyond the torchlight, the Demonic Valley revealed itself. Beneath the cliff, a suffocating labyrinth of jagged rocks stretched out, interspersed with strange flora and fauna I had never seen before.
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