92 - Heavenly Demon of the Huashan Sect

**Chapter 92** Following the lead of Hyeoncheong, Cheonhui, and Lee Dagyeong arrived at Dorimpyong, the training ground where the second-generation disciples practiced. "Hyaap! Hyaap!" The powerful sounds of discipline resounded from the grand training yard, mixed with the scent of perspiration carried by the breeze, suggesting it was still midday. "Hmm, they're doing well," commented Hyeoncheong with a sense of pride as he gazed upon the disciples, then turned to Cheonhui and inquired, "What do you think?" "Is this all the second-generation disciples?" Cheonhui’s expression hardened for the first time. It was understandable. From what he could see, there were barely a hundred people present in Dorimpyong. Maybe even fewer. "This isn't all of them," Hyeoncheong shook his head, confirming Cheonhui's suspicion. Cheonhui chuckled and asked, "Where are the rest of the second-generation disciples?" "The six who have become Plum Blossom Sword Masters are training separately at Samonpyong with the head of Muyeon Pavilion." “Ah, I see.” Cheonhui nodded, knowing he could trust someone of the Muyeon Pavilion’s caliber. He waited for more explanation, but when none followed, he prodded further. "Is that really all?" "That’s all there is," Hyeoncheong affirmed. "Is it really this few?" Cheonhui was slightly bewildered. Hyeoncheong appeared slightly embarrassed. "This is the remainder after many of the second-generation disciples descended the mountain." Cheonhui's face tightened. Even if the Huashan Sect was near collapse, it was still one of the Nine Great Clans. Less than a hundred people? He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "How many have received the 'doho' title?" Cheonhui inquired again. Hyeoncheong averted his gaze, "None." "This is disastrous," Cheonhui inadvertently muttered. When assessing the strength of a martial sect, sheer numbers were crucial. Typically, a sect was only considered a major power if it boasted at least two hundred members. "Yet, here they are, barely a hundred strong." The numbers were undeniably grim, bordering on alarming. "So few," he mused. "It barely distinguishes them from a small sect." Cheonhui’s brow furrowed at the thought. He had assumed the Huashan Sect was on the brink due to a devastating blow but hadn’t anticipated it to this extent. "Still, they must have some skill, having practiced martial arts for so long?" He assessed the second-generation disciples carefully. "All practicing Plum Blossom Qi Technique?" While the fundamental technique was the same, their individual skills branched into various paths—predominantly swordsmanship, with a scant few practicing fist and palm techniques. "Most are using the Sword of Three Immortals and Liuhe Swordsmanship, the male disciples wield Xuantian Swords, and the female ones carry Lady Swords…" His expression gradually turned more impassive. "Sloppy," he thought critically. Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Cheonhui examined the disciples focused on fist techniques. They adhered to the honest postures of the Xinyi Liuhe Quan. "Should I test them more rigorously?" At that moment, Hyeoncheong spoke up, "Do you sense something amiss?" "To aid them in training, I need to first gauge their capabilities," Cheonhui replied. "Don’t worry about that," Hyeoncheong remarked with a serene smile. Effortlessly, he pushed off from the ground, gliding three steps away as if floating on clouds, reaching the head seat of Dorimpyong. Seonun Hugobong! A rare footwork known only to a handful within the Huashan Sect. As Hyeoncheong made his appearance, the second-generation disciples watched in awe. "Everyone, halt your training for a moment," Hyeoncheong’s tranquil voice flowed across the space. Despite the calmness of the command, each disciple ceased their activity and stood upright. Hyeoncheong signaled to Cheonhui with a glance. Does he want me to come over? Instantly, Cheonhui melded into the scene, appearing next to Hyeoncheong with a seamless grace reminiscent of a shadow. "This is Senior Uncle Cheonhui?" The growing whispers among the disciples became louder. "Silence," Hyeoncheong’s voice, infused with inner strength, was laid low. "Today, Cheonhui will assist with your training." The announcement left the second-generation disciples in disbelief, yet anticipation quickly swept through them. During a past meeting of the Five Mountain Clans, Cheonhui's exceptional skills had sparked the revitalization of the Huashan Sect. "I wonder how he’ll instruct us?" "Perhaps we’ll witness his Plum Blossom Sword from the Five Mountain Meeting again!" "Ah! Senior Uncle Cheonhui!" With eyes shimmering with excitement, the disciples concentrated as Cheonhui stepped forward. "May I proceed as I wish?" Cheonhui queried. Hyeoncheong nodded. "As you please." Cheonhui leaped down from the platform, landing softly despite his large frame, and faced the disciples. “Then, all of you, come at me.” Everyone froze in shock. “Pardon?” "Don’t you know what a spar is?" Many stood bewildered at his sudden challenge when one disciple stepped forward with his arm raised. “May I go first?” asked Jang Il-woo, one of the prominent disciples, stepping up with confidence. "I don’t mind." "I am Jang Il-woo of the second generation," he announced, firmly gripping his White Lotus Sword as he fixed his stare on Cheonhui, preparing thoroughly. "Then, here I come," Jang Il-woo declared, charging forward. With a dull thud, he was sent flying upward, only to crash back down limply moments later. As the other second-generation disciples stared blankly at Jang Il-woo, who lay sprawled and unconscious, they heard a chilling voice. "I intended to observe each of you individually." "But that’s not necessary." In a flash, Cheonhui's form vanished as if a candle flame had been snuffed out. "Ugh!" "Agh!" Soon, cries echoed all around the training ground. "Tch," Cheonhui clicked his tongue as he stood amidst a sea of unconscious disciples. The majority were woefully lacking, with inner strength that was pitiful and martial arts skills that were excruciating to watch. "Thankfully, you held back," Hyeoncheong approached with caution. In less than an instant, Cheonhui had dispatched nearly a hundred disciples single-handedly. "What do you think?" Hyeoncheong inquired. "Are they truly second-generation disciples?" Cheonhui's brow furrowed in frustration. "They seem no more skilled than mere novices," he remarked, baffled by their lack of prowess. "Haha," Hyeoncheong chuckled softly. He had once felt the same facing the daunting responsibility of teaching these disciples. In the past, the second-generation disciples were at least supreme or nearing unsurpassed masters. Now, however, these second-generation disciples were akin to what the third-generation disciples used to be. ‘Perhaps this was inevitable. Both Hyondo and I, who should have been their mentors, chose seclusion over guidance...’ A pang of guilt struck Hyeoncheong’s heart. In the current generation of Hermit Sages, including himself, only nine remained. When the Huashan Sect faced its decline, the majority had either descended the mountain or left altogether. The number of disciples stood at nearly a hundred. However, the sect had a limited number of masters, making it challenging to provide detailed instruction to each second-generation disciple. “That’s why we need your help,” Hyeoncheong expressed his anticipation. Under Cheonhui’s tutelage, the swordsmen Jeokgeom and Seollan stood out among the Plum Blossom Sword Masters in the sect. Their skills and mindset were exceptional. Moreover, the head of the Muyeon Pavilion had commented that the first-generation disciples were rapidly progressing through Cheonhui’s training methods. “For now, they should cease learning additional swordsmanship or martial arts,” Cheonhui asserted firmly. For disciples like Jeokgeom and Seollan, who had a solid foundation, Cheonhui’s training was appropriate—focusing on footwork refinement and physical strengthening. But for these current disciples, ‘They’d likely collapse from exhaustion before they even executed half their techniques,’ he mused, deciding to voice his concerns. “There’s too much unnecessary movement due to their inadequate foundations in martial arts. It seems they lack internal strength and stamina as well. It’s best to focus on this first,” Cheonhui continued. Hyeoncheong nodded in agreement, sensing the same deficiencies. “It would be wise to shift the focus to horse stance training and breathing exercises, building their internal energy and stamina before teaching the appropriate martial techniques,” Cheonhui advised. “Horse stance and breathing exercises...,” Hyeoncheong stroked his beard thoughtfully, considering Cheonhui’s methods. “I understand emphasizing horse stance, given its effectiveness in building strength and muscle. However, they already practice breathing exercises twice daily for approximately two hours. Increasing that isn’t necessary.” “That’s it?” Cheonhui questioned incredulously. Practicing for merely two sessions a day was woefully insufficient. “To genuinely build their skills, they must reduce sleep in favor of more horse stance practice. When they tire, they should switch to breathing exercises, and once they’re recovered, return to horse stances. That’s how progress is made,” Cheonhui explained. “Without rest?” Hyeoncheong was taken aback by the intense regimen, though Cheonhui’s calm demeanor betrayed the strenuous nature of his proposed training. “To become stronger, they must be willing to strive with all they have, and that requires accepting such rigorous discipline,” Cheonhui remarked, casting a stern gaze at the yet-unconscious second-generation disciples. The path to mastering martial arts was straightforward: diligently and accurately understanding martial techniques and having fortune on one’s side. Fortunately, fortune was present. ‘After all, I am here,’ Cheonhui thought. With his expertise and comprehensive knowledge of prominent martial arts, his assistance was a blessing more potent than any stroke of luck. However, the challenge lay in the diligence aspect. That was the biggest hurdle of all. ‘While I can guide them on techniques, the rest depends on their will,’ Cheonhui thought, examining the unconscious disciples with a detached look. “In terms of internal strength techniques, if they had elixirs, it would certainly speed up the process…” Cheonhui noted casually, adding, “but it’s impossible to distribute enough to all the second-generation disciples. They’ll have to trade time for it instead.” “...Indeed,” Hyeoncheong’s tone grew solemn. Crafting elixirs was no easy feat. The renowned Jaesodan, the Huashan equivalent to the Taecangdan of the Wu Tang, was rarely ever produced—perhaps once a century if lucky. In the past, the sect possessed numerous elixirs, but currently only ten Mae Wha Dan remained for emergencies. They had been used up, ensuring the future of the Huashan Sect in the hands of Hyeon-gang and forty Plum Blossom Sword Masters who followed him. “Yet, inner strength is not everything. Combining internal cultivation with martial technique practice could be far more beneficial,” Hyeoncheong suggested thoughtfully. “Certainly, inner strength isn’t everything,” Cheonhui acknowledged. As Hyeoncheong prepared to speak further, Cheonhui continued, “But initially, it’s crucial. Internal cultivation forms the backbone for executing martial techniques, wouldn’t you agree?” Cheonhui shared the wisdom he had accrued over decades of experience. The foundation of martial arts was internal cultivation techniques—footwork, swordsmanship, and all other skills required solid internal energy as their basis. ‘There are exceptions, no doubt, but those arts are almost forgotten now,’ Cheonhui held back these thoughts and stated, “Moreover, the internal energy constructed through Plum Blossom Qi Technique is exceptional. Once accumulated, it should make learning additional martial arts easier.” “Indeed, Plum Blossom Qi Technique is outstanding,” Hyeoncheong’s face lit up with a smile. He was well aware of the merits of their sect’s fundamental practice. “Then we shall proceed as such.” “After reaching a certain level, we can then adapt the training to fit their individual talents and aptitudes,” Cheonhui suggested. “Talents and aptitudes?” Hyeoncheong’s eyes widened. Discovering these usually required multiple trials and errors. Yet, given Cheonhui’s confidence, it seemed like he had a method of identification. “Are you capable of determining that?” Hyeoncheong asked, still incredulous but already praising Cheonhui internally. “To some extent,” Cheonhui replied. Hyeoncheong, having witnessed Cheonhui’s capabilities firsthand, couldn’t help but express admiration. “Incredible.” “Once they show sufficient progress, I’ll proceed accordingly.” “Understood.” Hyeoncheong smiled, watching Cheonhui while recalling the still unconscious disciples. ‘Who knows how long it’ll take.’ As a technique belonging to the Daoist arts, the Plum Blossom Qi Technique carried little risk of inner deviation. On the flip side, accumulating internal energy proved arduous. ‘Having elixirs would make things easier,’ Cheonhui scratched his head, contemplating the simplest solution. Elixirs were expensive, but the more significant issue was their rarity. Obtaining enough for nearly a hundred disciples was akin to reaching for stars. “Should I perhaps try making some myself?” Cheonhui pondered with determination.