Chapter 101: Heavenly Demon Tomb

“O’ Great Heavenly Demon Supreme, here is your true Divine Bloodline vessel!”

“I have already descended,” the Heavenly Demon replied, voice cool and sharp within Qing’s body. “Besides, even if that carries the Divine Bloodline, why would I choose an inferior tool when I already possess a superior one?”

“However, this body was prepared specifically for y—”

“Enough.” The Heavenly Demon cut him off. “Tell me, was this child… precious to you?”

“She is… my inadequate daughter,” Choi Leeong choked out.

But the Heavenly Demon merely shook her head. “Impossible. Its energy points are no longer those of the living. It’s nothing but a demonic entity animated by dead blood. How can you call it a human daughter? The soul has already departed; only the empty physical shell remains.”

According to ancient texts like the Book of Rites [^(One of the Five Classics of Chinese traditional culture, detailing social forms, administration, and ceremony.)], the human being is composed of two souls: the Hun and the Po. The Hun is the spiritual soul, the mind, which ascends to heaven upon death, passes through the afterlife, and enters the cycle of reincarnation. The Po is the corporeal soul, the physical body, which returns to the earth, decays, and merges back into the world.

Normally, when the body dies, the spiritual soul departs. But in rare cases, the reverse occurs: the spirit perishes, yet the body lives on, heart beating, lungs breathing. Such a soulless vessel, however, cannot last. Even with the most devoted care, feeding it pureed sustenance, breathing life into it—it inevitably expires after forty-nine days, the time it takes for the departed Hun soul to fully transition into reincarnation.

There was, however, a dark piece of lore, almost a hopeful jest, whispered among Necromancers. What if, at the precise moment the soulless body finally expires on that forty-ninth day, a mistake in the underworld allowed a different soul to slip in? Could the dead be reborn as a living corpse, animated by a new spirit but still possessing dead blood? Such a being, immune to poisons that targeted the living bloodstream, would be the ultimate prize. The original difficulty in creating refined Jiangshi, after all, was the potent toxins damaging the vessel itself. A body immune to such corruption? That was the Necromancer’s dream.

The Heavenly Demon didn’t know the specifics of this morbid lore, but observing the corpse Choi Leeong held, she could clearly sense the utter absence of life, the dead spirituality within its blood.

Choi Leeong, however, was far beyond rational thought.

“That’s right!” he pleaded desperately. “My child died, but she returned like this! Please, take pity on a father who has already suffered the loss of his child once…”

The Heavenly Demon let out a long sigh, tinged with impatience. “My entire existence, spanning lifetimes, defying even death itself, has been dedicated solely to the cult’s sacred mission: to slaughter those despicable oppressors ruling the Central Plains and bring about true liberation.”

“But—”

“Now, possessing this magnificent vessel, I fear nothing in the world. The time to fulfill our destiny has finally arrived. And you ask me to abandon this great cause for your petty, personal sentiment?”

“The body I prepared is surely sufficient for—”

“Do you truly believe that?” the Heavenly Demon’s voice dropped, laced with menace.

“Please… I beg you, show mercy.”

Using Qing’s face, the Heavenly Demon glared down at Choi Leeong. Everything about the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult—its power, its doctrine, its cruelty—originated from its founder. Mercy was not forthcoming.

“Is a mere bond from the fleeting human world so precious? Your heart has already strayed from the Divine Cult. How dare you, who have turned your back on our laws and tenets, stand with head held high before the avatar of the Heavenly God Ahura Mazda and the Demon God Angra Mainyu[^Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu are opposing deities from Zoroastrianism—Ahura Mazda represents light, order, and creation, while Angra Mainyu embodies darkness, chaos, and destruction.]?”

She was called the Heavenly Demon precisely because she was the incarnation of both—a destructive god who abandoned the Heavenly God’s creation to wield the Demon God’s power, all to shatter the stagnant tyranny of the Central Plains.

The living god’s fury now focused entirely on the old, broken demonic leader.

Choi Leeong trembled under the weight of that pressure. But even then, a spark of defiance flared within him.

“Mere human bonds?!” he roared back, voice cracking. “How can you say such a thing! You are human too! What you wield is just martial arts intertwined with mental imagery—a human craft mimicking nature! How dare you claim that as divine power!”

He was arguing theology with a god. The Demon God Angra Mainyu’s foretold end of the world was still eons away, at the very end of eternity. Any apocalypse before then wasn't divine will, he argued, and why would true gods concern themselves with the insignificant Central Plains anyway? Therefore, the Heavenly Demon was merely human—a powerful one, yes, but still just human, twisted by an obsessive hatred for the Central Plains. Her power, derived from martial arts that used imagery to manipulate natural forces, was just a human tool, a pale imitation. Calling herself a divine agent was laughable.

“Insolent!”

The Heavenly Demon raised a finger, pointing it directly at Choi Leeong. Having surpassed the Transcendent Realm and completed the Overhaul Rebirth, her true level of martial might was unfathomable, even if this young body hadn’t yet undergone age regression. The pitch-black energy aura gathering at her fingertip pulsed with absolute destruction, a power far beyond anything a ‘mere’ Profound Realm master like Choi Leeong could ever hope to block.

The Heavenly Demon Finger—an infamous energy projection technique from the Heavenly Divine Art.

Black death coalesced, ready to lance out. The destructive energy prepared to shoot straight forward—but it never aimed for Choi Leeong’s head.

Instead, the finger suddenly flicked to the right.

A kneeling cultist, who had been prostrating himself nearby, simply… exploded.

Gore and body parts splattered across the stone floor.

Choi Leeong stared, bewildered, from the Heavenly Demon’s pointing finger to the grisly bloodstain left behind—oddly shaped, like the sun during a total eclipse.

“…?”

Qing, hand frozen on the mouse, muttered in sheer disbelief. “What the actual fuck? Suddenly shooting laser beams? Since when is wuxia allowed to do that?”

Sure, the martial arts world she’d experienced firsthand was full of ridiculously over-the-top stuff. But even so, laser beams felt like crossing a line. Shouldn't there at least be some pretense of martial arts? Even her master, who could fly, always rode her sword—at least you could squint and call that swordsmanship-adjacent. But just pointing a finger and shooting a laser? That wasn't a martial artist; that was a robot. Or maybe a lich, some kind of endgame magic-user monster.

This was, she realized, actually her first time controlling this game with a keyboard and mouse. She’d been dumped straight into the martial arts world right after character creation, never getting even a second of actual gameplay. Naturally, she didn't know any of the controls. She’d just been mashing buttons earlier, and when she saw the old man about to die, she’d started clicking frantically.

Fortunately, even this shitty game made by uncivilized devs adhered to the fundamental gaming law: right-click to target enemy. These pricks ignore international law, but they follow international UI standards? Or maybe they just plagiarized a familiar interface like the uncivilized, copycat bastards they are. Whatever. Point was, Qing was a seasoned gamer. Basic controls? She could adapt on the fly, no tutorial needed.

Black beams of energy repeatedly sliced through the air. Every time Qing—or rather, the entity controlling Qing’s body—pointed a finger, pop. Another Demon Cultist exploded with perfect accuracy. She was racking up kills faster than a middle-aged manager with a repertoire of terrible dad jokes, though at least those guys only metaphorically killed the mood. This was literal, physical exploding. Truly a godly move, befitting a superior being.

“Wh-what are you doing!” the Heavenly Demon shrieked internally. “Stop this immediately!”

But the body wasn’t listening. Suddenly, her legs were moving in strange, complex footwork patterns. Knees bounced with rapid rhythm, waist twisting, arms swinging in a dazzling, intricate dance—eerily reminiscent of a certain globally famous, bulletproof K-pop boy group [^(Likely a reference to BTS)]. Then the dance abruptly stopped, replaced by chaotic jumps—forward, back, side-to-side, front-front, side-side-side—before she started spinning furiously in place.

The surrounding Demon Cult members desperately pretended not to see their newly descended god busting a move like a lunatic, maintaining expressions of solemn reverence through gritted teeth.

“You wench, stop it! I SAID STOP! Behave yourself—!”

The Heavenly Demon suddenly remembered the cluster of other energies huddled in the upper energy center—the ones that seemed to be fiercely guarding something. It must be the original owner’s soul fragment, hiding there!

Enraged, she roused the Sky-Rending Demonic Energy. A tsunami of pure malice, visualized as a hideous wave covered in blinking eyes, surged through the body’s energy pathways, boiling violently. A colossal force, honed over countless lifetimes, charged like an unstoppable spear aimed at the small pocket of resistance.

Compared to that, Qing’s remnant energies were pitifully small. Orthodox and unorthodox, Yin and Yang—all her disparate true energies instinctively united in the face of annihilation. They clung together desperately, throwing up a wall against the coming impact.

And then—BANG!

Unfortunately, a difference in enlightenment was a difference in fundamental level. The gap between Qing and the ancient Heavenly Demon was simply too vast.

Qing’s makeshift defenses shattered in an instant. The Sky-Rending Demonic Energy flooded the breach, overwhelming everything.

BOOM!

Back in the dingy apartment, Qing, who’d been giggling as she clicked the mouse, yelped in shock. Anyone would be startled to see a menacing figure suddenly burst through their wall.

A reflexive scream tore from her throat. “NO! MY SECURITY DEPOSIT!”

The man who’d just demolished her drywall scanned the small room. Broad-shouldered, wearing only shorts, his upper body was a horrific tapestry of scars – it was harder to find unmarked skin than marked. Qing, who got intimidated just by tattoos, felt her blood run cold. This wasn't ink; this was evidence of full-body mutilation.

She instinctively tried to shrink down. “Uh, hey, coming all the way here… isn’t that, like, kinda cheating? Seriously? Breaking through my wall to come for an IRL fight just ‘cause I messed with you in-game? That’s going too far, man!”

“You are more pathetic than I anticipated,” the figure sneered. It was the Heavenly Demon, somehow projecting itself here. “Losing control of your body… I expected the soul within to possess more defiance, more dignity.”

“Heheh,” Qing stammered, trying for a disarming grin. “Well, you know how it is online… anonymously, everyone’s secretly a third-gen chaebol heir who graduated Seoul National University, smacks pro gamers around for fun, and is a cute girl who’s completed her mandatory military service…”

“Hah. I have no idea what nonsense you’re spouting,” the Heavenly Demon interrupted, voice dripping with contempt, “but I can clearly see you’re not even worth dealing with.”

Qing forced an awkward smile. “Right, right! Absolutely. Don’t mind little old me, please, just continue whatever you were doing. I’ll just stay here quietl—”

She never finished the sentence.

People generally can't keep talking after their heads explode.

Splat.

Qing’s headless body slumped bonelessly from the office chair, hitting the cheap yellow linoleum floor with a wet thud. Bright red blood began to spread in a rapidly widening pool.

The Heavenly Demon smirked and closed its eyes in the apartment.

Simultaneously, back in the tomb, the Heavenly Demon opened her eyes—Qing’s eyes.

Fingers slowly curled, one by one, until they formed a tight fist. The head turned, slow and deliberate.

A gaze filled with cold fury landed on Choi Leeong.

“Your little daughter,” she said, voice dangerously soft, “was quite defiant.”

“Wh-What…” Choi Leeong stammered, face pale.

“If she hadn’t acted up, her consciousness might have been allowed to linger, to witness the dawn of our great cause. This failure… must also be the father’s fault. You failed to educate her properly.”

As utter despair washed over Choi Leeong’s face, the Heavenly Demon raised her hand again, fingers extending. Pitch-black energy gathered, coalescing into a destructive sphere at her fingertip, ready to unleash another devastating beam.

Choi Leeong simply closed his eyes, resigned.

Then…

It Missed!