Chronicles of the Reincarnated Demon God

Chapter 9: Let’s Have a Duel, You Little Shit

Swish! Swish!

An enormous spider descended from the roof of the pavilion where Namgung Sanyeong resided.

‘No matter what, I must gather information about the sorcerer and return to the Young Lord!’

The spider’s mind held only the singular thought of achieving a meritorious deed.

How much longer could he endure this wretched, insect-like existence? With each passing moment, he felt his human dignity eroding, his intelligence and reason regressing. To halt this decline, he needed to catch the Lesser Heavenly Demon’s attention. He knew full well that the Lesser Heavenly Demon never forgave betrayal, yet he had nowhere else to turn but to his mercy.

‘If possible… I might even be able to ask for my daughter’s whereabouts!’

The spider shook his head, recalling the circumstances that forced him to participate in the betrayal.

Focus. He had to find the sorcerer, no matter the cost. Only then could he hope for even a meager reward.

‘She’s… with someone.’

The giant spider narrowed his eight eyes, fixating on Namgung Sanyeong.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar woman.

At first, he suspected she might be the sorcerer, but her resemblance to Namgung Sanyeong revealed her to be her daughter.

Thousand Leaves Fairy, Tang Gyu-jin.

He remembered her for her peculiar background—being both heir to the Nine Dragons Branch and a disciple of the Qingcheng Sect.

From a young age, she possessed an inexplicable talent, so much so that Tang Hosan’s close friend, Grandmaster Wooho, took her as his student. Although not formally listed in the sect’s registry, the Thousand Leaves Fairy was renowned even within the Divine Cult as one of the Qingcheng sect’s foremost female martial artists.

However, the primary reason the giant spider remembered Tang Gyu-jin was that she was the only one in this branch, which was filled with human rejects who treated ‘Tang Un-hwi’ with kindness. Of course, even that became meaningless when she departed for the Qingcheng sect.

‘Still, she looks gentler than her vicious mother and younger brother.’

However, being Namgung Sanyeong’s offspring meant appearances couldn’t be trusted. The giant spider strained his ears, wondering what scheme they were concocting.

Namgung Sanyeong’s shrill voice pierced the air.

“Are you saying you are determined to drive a dagger through your mother’s heart?!”

“It can’t compare to the daggers Mother has driven into Un-hwi’s heart.”

“How dare you, born of my own flesh and blood-”

Un-hwi?

The Lesser Heavenly Demon was clearly the topic of their conversation, but instead of plotting, the mother and daughter seemed locked in a heated, intensely emotional conflict.

And quite a neurotic one at that.

What exactly was going on here?

The giant spider could only blink his eight eyes in confusion.

* * *

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The long staff in my hands left countless shadows in the air as it moved rapidly.

The Scattered Flower Staff Technique. A foundational martial art taught to novice warriors of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

Traditionally, the staff was considered the fundamental form of all weapons—the spear, sword, saber, axe, whip, and more. For someone aspiring to master the sword, it was an essential weapon to master.

Dark marks blossomed on the straw dummy’s limbs, each strike landing precisely on pre-determined points.

Swoosh!

And finally, as the finishing upward strike landed.

Crack! Thud-

The dummy’s head fell askew and dropped to the ground.

“Whew-”

I exhaled deeply while securing the staff.

Training solely with physical strength, without channelling internal energy, had drenched my clothes in sweat.

And then.

Whoosh-

As I circulated my internal energy to relieve fatigue, I felt something stirring in my Dantian.

Throb!

My internal energy began to coalesce, forming essence (精).

The second manifestation of Yang energy (陽光二現).

A realm where the internal energy condensed in the Dantian begins to manifest its unique properties, thus influencing my physical body.

Within the realm of accomplishment of the Poison Dragon Heart Technique,  I was nearing the Ghost Dragon (鬼龍) stage, where the poison would begin to exude outwardly. Soon, I will be able to imbue weapons with poison through internal energy.

This sense of achievement in gradually ascending through the stages was indescribable.

I could understand why martial artists couldn’t forget this euphoria and remained devoted to martial arts even in their old age.

And the thrill of winning a bet was no less intense.

“Five nyang.”

I held out my hand toward Tang Gon, who was watching me with a distorted expression.

“Damn it! Here it is!”

A money pouch dropped onto my palm with a thud.

Hehehe. Judging by the weight, it was exactly five nyang.

He could have tried something like dealing from the bottom of the deck, but the fact that he didn’t show this uncle was quite conscientious, surprisingly.

“Cheer up. How can a martial arts instructor frown like that instead of congratulating his cute disciple’s achievement?”

“How can a so-called disciple keep extorting money from their respected martial arts instructor’s pocket! I’m really broke now, I tell you!”

“Then why do you keep suggesting we make bets?”

“Because I’m frustrated! That’s why! Don’t I need to win sometimes, too?!”

Now, he’s even abandoning his previously impeccable manners and venting his frustrations.

This is why gambling is dangerous, folks. Never get addicted. It changes people like this.

Ten days had passed since I began learning martial arts from Tang Gon.

During that time, I had steadily fleeced Tang Gon, and now I was moving on to the introductory techniques of the main Eighteen Classical Weapons.

Martial arts is vast. The complexity and vastness of the basic movement techniques and unarmed combat are nearly infinite. Yet, here I was, trying to master weapon techniques when I’d barely taken my first steps.

Tang Gon strongly opposed it at first. He said it would be too much to train with weapons when there were still many secret techniques and poison arts to learn.

But with my stubborn insistence—he fell for it right away when I taunted, “Are you scared?”—he finally started teaching me one by one.

On the condition of wagers, of course. Something about needing to fleece me this time around.

And the results were as clear as day.

“No, didn’t you say yesterday was your first time holding a staff?”

“Did I?”

“Consider yourself a dead meat if I catch you cheating.”

“How dare you speak to the Young Master with such disrespect!”

“If you don’t like it, go whine to Madam about it.” Having been thoroughly cleaned out, Tang Gon resorted to sheer bravado.

“Let me make this simple. It might be quite awkward to say it myself, but I’m a genius when it comes to Mad Wind Squad martial arts. You think I can’t handle basic introductory techniques?”

“That’s because Mad Wind martial arts are a culmination of the Tang Clan’s techniques! Having grown up surrounded by Tang Clan martial arts, you’d naturally grasp the ‘flow’ and learn the forms more easily. But the Eighteen Weapons have entirely different origins—”

Tang Gon launched into a lengthy tirade of complaints before sighing. “Ugh, What’s the point of saying all this? I got cleaned out again today anyway.”

“That’s why I lowered the stakes to practically nothing. Where else will you find such a thoughtful disciple who even worries about his instructor’s financial situation?”

“That ‘nothing’ is half my monthly salary!”

Sensing his impending explosion, I swiftly changed the subject. “Anyway, my foot keeps turning to the right in the second movement. How should I use my hips here?”

“…You’re so infuriating. How did I end up getting strung along by you?! Argh!”

If Tang Gon had one virtue quality, it was that despite his grumbling, he never skimped on his teaching.

Thanks to that, I could learn martial arts at a rapid pace.

Until now, my knowledge of martial arts was purely theoretical, gleaned from memorizing the Demonic Heavenly Martial Arts Compendium. This training bridged the gap between theory and practice, thus rapidly honing my skills.

I continued practicing the Scattered Flower Staff Technique for a while longer, clarifying doubts and asking questions before finally concluding the lesson.

***

After six hours of rigorous training, our destination was always the same.

“Welcome back, Young Master! Come in, come in!”

“There you go. You won’t find a more loyal customer than me.”

“Of course, of course. Please, have your usual seat. Food and drinks…?”

“Same as yesterday.”

“Right away! Boys, what are you waiting for?! Attend to the Young Master!”

This was our tenth consecutive day visiting the Cheongpung Inn. Thanks to our extravagant orders of food and drink, the owner never failed to greet us with a deep bow.

“Could it be that you own this inn, Young Master?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

I was especially enjoying some ten-year-aged wine today when Tang Gon, who had been glaring at his cup like he wanted to murder it, came out with this strange question.

“Or perhaps you have shares in it?”

“No, nothing like that. As if the Madam would ever grant me such a thing.”

“…Then why do you come here every day? There are plenty of other inns.”

Why indeed? I was waiting for someone.

But looking around, there was no one.

Ten days, ten failures.

Were there no members of the Order of the Demonic Divine Flame in this area?

There was definitely a secret branch in Nine Dragons County… Or had they all perished or been injured during the rebellion?

Not knowing the reason filled my mind with anxiety, but I kept leaving the symbol consistently while trying not to show it.

Hoping that someday, even just one person will discover these symbols.

“What? Don’t like the alcohol?”

“Nonsense. It’s delicious. But, um! No, nothing. I don’t dislike alcohol either.”

The reason Tang Gon grumbled yet continued to join me was the expensive alcohol I bought him, far exceeding the amount I won from him.

How else could a mere retainer enjoy such luxurious food and drink every day? It was all thanks to me.

Of course, I had no such disposable income.

So, where did the money come from?

Where else?

It was all charged to Madam’s account. She’d have a heart attack when the bill arrived next month.

Serves her right for messing with me. Ha!

“By the way, have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

“The First Miss returned this afternoon.”

“…My sister?”

“Yes.” A strange feeling washed over me.

Tang Gyu-jin.

I never met her, but ‘Tang Un-hwi’s’ residual memories held a strong impression of her.

The sole source of comfort in this fucked up family.

Tang Gyujin had frequently sent letters to ‘Tang Un-hwi.’ How are you? Are you comfortable? Is your training progressing well? The weather is lovely; why not go for a walk? Each letter overflowed with concern and worry. They arrived consistently, even during my confinement, but I never replied.

Because I saw no need to maintain the pretense of being ‘Tang Un-hwi.’

The issue was whether Tang Gyu-jin would maintain her goodwill toward ‘Tang Un-hwi’ in the future, even if she showed it now.

I was about to make my move against Namgung Sanyeong.

Would Tang Gyujin still side with ‘Tang Un-hwi’ then?

Doubtful. She’d likely support her own mother.

“Her return must have caused some commotion.”

Still, I hoped to maintain a decent relationship with Tang Gyu-jin for Tang Unhwi’s sake, even if the odds seemed slim.

Clink! I set my cup down after a light toast with Tang Gon.

“Shall we get going?”

“You’re really going through with it?”

“Yep.”

“The manor will be in chaos.”

“You sound a little too cheerful for someone expressing concern.”

“Oh, am I? My mistake.” Tang Gon tried to suppress his grin but failed miserably.

He was probably relishing the prospect of the ensuing spectacle. There was nothing like watching a good fight from the sidelines, and he’d have a front-row seat.

With my physical conditioning complete and the Dark Venerable’s visit imminent, I was ready to ignite a glorious inferno.

***

“Y-you want me to deliver this to the Red Pavilion?” Hyeong-sam’s pupils dilated wildly as he received the letter I handed him. The Red Pavilion was Third Young Master Tang Yu-chang’s residence. Sending him there was like throwing him into a tiger’s den.

“Why? You don’t want to? Should I send someone else?”

“N-no, sir! I will deliver Young Master’s message without fail!”

“Good. And just so you know, if I hear you even breathed a word of this to anyone else, you’re dead.”

“U-understood!” Geez, no need to shout. My ears were ringing.

As I patted Hyeong-sam’s shoulder, sending him on his way, beads of sweat, or perhaps tears, welled up on his face.

The envelope bore a simple inscription:

—To Tang Yu-chang.

Let’s have a duel, you little shit.