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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Resignation Denied
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A solemn atmosphere hung over one of the halls.
Dozens of disciples were busily immersed in their writing there.
And at the innermost depth sat Sima Geuk, the scribe and Great Military Strategist, conducting the final review of all the documents they had prepared.
His processing speed was unrivaled, but the documents piled up faster than he could handle, filling his desk to the brim.
Sima Geuk, with deep creases under his eyes like shadowed valleys, set down his brush for a moment and gently rubbed his eyelids.
"Hoo... For some reason, I'm especially tired today."
But it wasn't just today.
Lately, his fatigue had noticeably spiked.
And the cause was easy to guess.
It started a few days ago, when Deputy Military Strategist Mo Seol had reported to him privately.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
―The Cult Leader has notified his wife of a divorce.
Those words alone froze Sima Geuk's mind.
Regaining his senses with effort, he shot a cold glare.
―Don't spout such nonsense.
―It's not nonsense. It's fact.
―Are you certain?
―Yes. I stake my head on it.
Sima Geuk's face, which had been about to reprimand him, turned ashen.
What kind of absurd talk was this?
For a Cult Leader who had become the Heavenly Demon through marriage into his wife's clan, what would remain if he discarded that clan?
It was far too sudden.
He knew their marriage was more formal than affectionate, but he'd heard nothing of any discord.
If something had changed, he might have predicted it, but there had been no warning signs from the Cult Leader at all.
'He must have lost his mind.'
A rash choice from the young Cult Leader, unable to endure the pressure.
In Sima Geuk's eyes, the consequences of that decision were already crystal clear.
'A storm of blood will blow soon enough.'
The impending catastrophe would devour the entire cult.
Refusing to be caught in that hell, Sima Geuk made a simple decision.
Swoosh—swish—swoosh—
He dashed off his resignation letter in one go, folded it neatly, and handed it to Mo Seol.
―Deliver this to the Cult Leader.
If he'd had even a slight connection with the Cult Leader, he might have offered advice to save his life, but they weren't close enough for such talk.
'It's merely hastening the inevitable.'
He had planned to resign in a month or two anyway, even without this mess.
Hyeok Mulin.
He had never liked him from the start.
Even if the martial world showed signs of peace, becoming the Heavenly Demon through a political marriage—what nonsense was that?
He had no inaction, no talent, no future—nothing.
Better to retire early and return to his family than serve under such a Cult Leader.
"Yes, he must have submitted his resignation with those very feelings..."
Four days had already passed, but no reply came despite his waiting.
Sima Geuk glared at innocent Mo Seol, but he was absorbed in his work, with nothing new to report.
Staring at him blankly, Sima Geuk soon turned away and picked up his brush again.
"It must have gotten lost somewhere along the way."
The Cult Leader probably hadn't noticed it, buried under piles of documents to review.
Scribble scribble—he wrote another resignation letter, stood, and approached Mo Seol.
"Deputy Strategist, deliver it once more. This time, place it somewhere conspicuous."
"Pardon? Yes, understood."
Mo Seol took the resignation and left the hall.
But even after waiting several more days, no reply came.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sima Geuk irritably slammed his brush on the desk, his lips twisting.
"Fine, let's see who wins this game."
He wrote another in one breath and handed it to Mo Seol again.
Still no reply.
He sent another.
No reply.
Another.
No reply.
Another.
No rep—
"Deputy Strategist. This time, deliver it directly to the Cult Leader yourself, no matter what. And get a definite answer right there."
Unable to endure any longer, Sima Geuk grabbed Mo Seol's shoulder and issued the special order.
An hour later, Mo Seol returned with a bright face.
In his hand was a single letter.
'Finally, a reply!'
Sima Geuk, beaming, snatched it and unfolded it at once.
But in that instant, he froze in place like a stone statue.
[Denied]
It was a curt message, but its meaning was clear.
Sima Geuk's hand trembled as his unexpected rejection sank in.
"...This won't do. I have to go myself."
Clutching the letter tightly, he spun on his heel.
His emotionally charged footsteps headed unmistakably toward one place.
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The sky was awash in a brilliant orange glow of sunset.
Beneath it, Hyeok Mulin's fluid swordplay, like a dance of blades, was bathed in deep sunset hues.
West to north.
North to east.
East to south.
South to west.
The square traced by his sword path gradually narrowed.
It morphed into a near-perfect circle, shrinking smaller until it converged to a single point.
Slashing and thrusting.
Different in meaning, yet one in essence.
Slash, thrust, thrust, slash.
The two motions Hyeok Mulin repeated unified into one.
Unable to distinguish slash from thrust with the naked eye, he raised his sword high overhead.
Whoosh!
In that moment, his eyes flashed as he brought the sword down.
It clearly slashed empty air, the sound of parting atmosphere ringing out.
Yet his final stance had somehow resolved into a full-arm thrust.
"Hoo..."
Catching his breath, Hyeok Mulin gazed at the blade.
'Even knowing it, I still don't understand.'
No matter how many days he trained, he couldn't grasp the limits of this Pure Soul Divine Demon Art.
Normally, one could at least gauge the end of a martial art's potential, but this inner art defied any such boundary.
One thing was certain: compared to before, activating his inner energy was smoother, and its power steadily grew.
'If only I could keep swinging forever.'
Releasing his grip on the sword hilt, Hyeok Mulin let out a wistful voice.
"That's enough for today."
He had entered the Heavenly Martial Hall at dawn for training, and now six hours had passed.
For more practice, rest was needed now.
"You've worked hard."
At that moment, Jang Wi appeared opportunely, offering a towel politely with both hands.
Hyeok Mulin fixed him with a steady gaze.
Jang Wi, current Left Protector of the cult.
A veteran known for showing no mercy in combat, his hands forever stained in blood.
But setting aside such rumors,
'In my past life, he was the only one who ever treated me as the true Heavenly Demon.'
Jang Wi was the patriarch of the Shinwon Jang Clan, loyal servants of the Heavenly Demon lineage.
Even beyond that heritage, he alone had supported the mere puppet Hyeok Mulin until the bitter end.
'I wasn't lonely when he was around.'
However, when Hyeok Mulin ascended as Cult Leader, Jang Wi was already advanced in years.
He passed from old age in less than a decade, leaving no one by Hyeok Mulin's side afterward.
'I still don't understand why.'
The Shinwon Jang Clan's service to the Heavenly Demon was mere tradition, with no binding oaths or constraints.
Abandoning a powerless Heavenly Demon would draw no blame, yet Jang Wi had silently stood by and served him faithfully.
"Thank you."
A faint smile touched Hyeok Mulin's lips as he placed a hand on Jang Wi's shoulder, then took the towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
Watching this, Jang Wi slowly spoke.
"You seem... different somehow."
"Half a year is plenty of time for change."
"I see."
Nodding, Jang Wi recalled their first meeting.
The young man who had relinquished his Hyeok Clan patriarchy for the Great Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's ascension ceremony wore a constant shadow on his face.
As if foreseeing his own bleak future.
In truth, after the ceremony, he became a listless Heavenly Demon, tossed about by the Seven Great Demon Clans' influences.
'That's why it was just simple pity.'
Though the object he was bound to serve and support, Jang Wi had looked upon him with compassion.
But around three months after ascension, something shifted completely.
The Cult Leader suddenly declared divorce, issued his first order to Jang Wi, and headed to the Heavenly Demon Secret Vault.
Two weeks later, he emerged with an aura utterly transformed—though what exactly, Jang Wi couldn't pinpoint.
'Intriguing.'
Once merely an object of pity, nothing more or less.
Now, unbeknownst to himself, Jang Wi found his gaze drawn, following at his side.
"Left Protector."
Hyeok Mulin's voice snapped Jang Wi from his thoughts.
"Yes."
Hyeok Mulin, walking ahead, paused and said,
"From here on, you can look forward to it."
Jang Wi's eyes widened at the firm conviction in that clear voice.
Gazing at Hyeok Mulin's back for a moment, he soon bowed deeply.
Resuming his steps, Hyeok Mulin opened the main gate to leave the Heavenly Martial Hall.
Clunk—
And there, he came face-to-face with a middle-aged man standing opposite.
"Cult Leader, it's been a while. I hope you've been well."
Sima Geuk, veins bulging faintly on his forehead, continued with twitching lips.
"I've come regarding a matter needing your permission."
Hyeok Mulin smirked in response.
"Very well, let's hear it."
Great Strategist.
If you desire it, I can permit anything.
Anything except your resignation, that is.