Chapter 95: Heavenly Demon Tomb

It was the night before they reached Serene Mountain Lake Gorge.

God, I want kimchi stew. No—cola. I want cola.

Hell, I’d settle for any ice-cold soda at this point.

I just want to chug it until it rips my throat open.

But no matter how she imagined it, carbonation just wasn’t going to happen in this world.

Qing’s homesickness only deepened.

Craving things that didn’t exist here—how was she supposed to feel better?

She sat silently, eyes fixed on the campfire, zoning out into the flames, when—

“The Supreme One wishes to see you tonight.”

The kid, who she hadn’t seen in a while, was still as small as ever.

Qing shook her head halfheartedly.

“Not interested…”

“The Supreme One did not request your opinion. It would be best if you followed quietly.”

“She said she doesn't want to go.”

Choi Leeong cut Ji Seungju off flatly.

“Purple Lightning Demonic Warlord. The Supreme One—”

“Isn’t it about time we stopped pampering that overgrown brat? What’s he gonna do now that we’re out here? Back in the cult, sure—we humored him because he’d throw tantrums when he didn’t get his way.”

Ji Seungju let out a long, bitter sigh.

“For fuck’s sake. Do me a solid, will you? I’ve been stuck next to that bastard for five goddamn years. If you’re so brave, how about you go and tell him no?”

It was shockingly disrespectful.

Choi Leeong flinched.

But the truth was, everyone in the upper ranks of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult owed Ji Seungju a debt of gratitude.

Because if you turned the phrase “unhinged tyrant” into a person, you’d get the Supreme One.

And the only reason the cult hadn’t burned to the ground in that time was because Ji Seungju had spent years gently coaxing that mad dog off a cliff every day.

“I know full well the trials of our Demonic Warlord, but just look at her. The girl’s so deep into a mental deviation, she’s got the energy of a goat corpse that’s been rotting in the sun for three days.”

Ji Seungju’s eyes widened.

To him, Qing was the insane woman who cracked skulls with a smile and giggled while standing on piles of corpses.

“That’s… mental deviation?”

“You seriously didn’t notice?”

“I thought she was faking it to lower our guard. You saw the massacre during the transfer, didn’t you? Well, I guess this’ll work as an excuse for the Supreme One.”

Ji Seungju let out another heavy sigh and turned around.

He walked straight toward the lavish tent—the one reserved for the Supreme One—and inside, laid out across a golden silk bed, was the Supreme himself.

Yawning wide and stretching like a spoiled cat, he asked:

“Came alone, huh?”

“I regret to report that Ximen Qing appears to be in a state of mental deviation. I confirmed it and returned.”

“That girl?”

The Supreme One grinned.

“I saw her eyes once, you know? Want to know what I saw in them?”

“I would humbly ask your insight.”

“You really are useless at reading people, aren’t you? Vice Pavilion Lord or not, you’ve got no depth. But me? I saw something rare—pure, unfiltered hatred. Never seen anything like it in my life.”

Ji Seungju remembered the image—Qing, lying on top of blood and brain matter, smiling like a lunatic.

Even now, it gave him goosebumps.

The Supreme One chuckled.

“She’s not the type to break. That’s what makes her fun. And I swear, all that crap she’s pulling now? Totally an act.”

“Shall I summon her again, then?”

“Eh. Let her sulk. I’ll let it slide—just this once. I’ll even overlook your little failure while I’m at it.”

Ji Seungju thought silently:

There won’t be a second chance.

But he didn’t say it. He simply bent at the waist, bowing deep like a scythe folding in on itself.

“Thank you for your boundless mercy, Supreme One.”

From the high ground above, the view of the Serene Lake Grand Canyon was breathtaking.

Honestly, it didn’t even look that complicated.

But once you stepped into the winding fissures of the canyon floor, that illusion vanished fast.

Sunlight barely reached the ground. Everything was dim. You couldn’t orient yourself.

There were no straight paths—just jagged, twisting trails where even a few jang[^approx. 3 meters] ahead, visibility was blocked by cliff walls. Before long, anyone walking down there would end up lost.

Of course, for high-level martial artists, this kind of terrain wasn’t exactly dangerous.

They were superhuman. Climbing ten-jang-high[^30 meters ~100 feet] cliffs was child’s play. If they really got turned around, they could just scale the canyon wall, look up at the sky, and figure out the way home.

That’s why the entrance to the Heavenly Demon Tomb was hidden in a crack beneath a sloping cliff wall—one that never saw sunlight, ever.

It sat dead center in the canyon, so even if someone wandering down below found it, they wouldn’t be able to make it back out alive to tell anyone.
And the experts who could escape had no reason to explore the deepest canyon floor in the first place.

Which meant the Demon Cult only found this place because of the Celestial Martial Emperor’s journal, which mentioned the Heavenly Demon Tomb was hidden within the Serene Mountain Lake.

If not for that?
You could search for a thousand years and never find it.

Qing, resting in Choi Leeong’s arms, stared at the tomb’s entrance and thought:

Wow. That’s... kind of underwhelming.

Was expecting… something more epic? Eh. Who cares.

A small stone gate, just wide enough for two grown men to enter shoulder to shoulder, leaned against the cliff as if slumped over.

It was easy to guess that a staircase led downward behind it—underground, obviously.

Realistically, who the hell puts a massive, flashy golden door on a treasure vault?

That kind of thing only happened in adventure movies. Back in Qing’s world, sure. But here?
If you were worried about looters, hiding it like this made perfect sense.

It was the same logic that led tombs of celestial queens to be sealed underground with no markers—just a stone chamber beneath a nameless hill.

Qing placed the Bokshinjeok flute to her lips.

There was a cheerful version she’d rearranged herself… but her heart wasn’t in it.

So what came out was the original: Heavenly Heart Harmony—melancholy, aching, raw.

The song’s intent was longing. And Qing was the embodiment of that now.
The result: the most exquisite sound in the world, carried by the world’s most beautiful instrument.

Even the Demon Cult’s most hardened monsters felt it.
A few of them even teared up, visibly moved.

Then, just as that deeply soulful melody faded away…

Thunk. Thunk… thunk thunk…

A dull series of impacts echoed from the stone gate, each one a little farther than the last, like something big was tumbling away inside.

One of the cult’s mechanics stepped forward, cautiously tapping, pressing, and listening around the stone gate. After a moment, he looked back and said:

“It seems the locking mechanism has been disengaged.”

Qing—already drained—felt her energy sag even further.

Seriously? All that buildup, and the door didn’t even open with a dramatic rumble?

So that was it. The lock dropped—rolled off somewhere deep inside—and… that was all.

If the trap expert had known, he probably would've jumped up in disbelief.

A lock that disengaged from a specific sound? That was a level of craftsmanship only achievable by a freakish genius—possibly half-crazed—an actual artisan of the highest tier.

Besides, forcing open a door like this would normally risk triggering god knows what kind of mechanisms.

A design like this, one that unlocked with something deceptively simple, was far more sophisticated.

The mechanic gripped the ring on the stone gate and, with a few strained grunts, managed to open it.

Behind it yawned a pitch-black hole.

They lit a torch and tossed it in. As expected, it landed on a rough stone staircase descending into the dark.

Then the advance team—composed of specialists in traps, tomb raiding, and engineering—hoisted their gear and started heading in first.

Qing blinked, caught off guard.

Wait. Hang on a sec.

If they go in and grab the Heavenly Demon Soul before I do… aren’t I just screwed?

In her mind, the whole party was supposed to enter together.
They’d face weird traps, freaky monsters, get absolutely wrecked, and somehow survive.

And then—finally—they’d open some grand, radiant golden gate and find the treasure bathed in a beam of light through mysterious smoke from gods-know-where.

That was when her fake limp would vanish, her miracle would happen, and she’d snatch the Heavenly Demon Soul.
Take hostages. Escape with a bang.

That was Qing’s plan.

But realistically? What kind of high-ranking cult operatives would blindly charge into a mystery dungeon without a clue?

This—this is why video games rot your brain.

Where else could you walk into someone’s house, open every drawer in front of them, pocket their shit, and then strike up a friendly chat like nothing happened?

Try to understand the world through video games, and this is what happens.

If that bastard Seol Ganom had known about Qing’s plan, he would’ve sighed and stared at her with those disappointed “I raised you better than this” eyes, muttering something about touching grass and reading fewer forum posts.

“Haaah. Grandpa, can you put me down for a sec?”

“Careful now. Step gently.”

Choi Leeong eased her down with exaggerated care.

He was… absurdly devoted.

Qing’s feet touched the ground.

She still didn’t feel like doing anything.

But… it had to be done.

Right?

Does it?

A voice deep inside her asked.

Why do you have to?

Because… if I don’t stop the Demon Cult, the Divine Maiden Sect, and maybe even innocent people in the Central Plains…

Why’s that my job?

Because I opened the door with the Bokshinjeok—

You think that door wasn’t gonna open anyway if you didn’t?

If I hadn’t taken the Bokshinjeok—

They’d have used it themselves. You just got there first.

And didn’t you already kill a whole bunch of cultists? Shouldn’t you be getting medals right now?

Right…

Just breathing in this miserable, unfamiliar place is hard enough...

Qing’s shoulders slumped.

The original name of the Heavenly Demon Tomb was Samo Neung—the Tomb of Longing.

Ban Chi had built it mourning his wife, a hidden sanctuary that doubled as his own future grave.

After finishing the final installation of his intricate trap system inside, Ban Chi had taken poison and ended his life.

The important thing was this: Samo Neung was constructed after the death of the Celestial Queen.

So what did it mean if the tomb had been opened?

It meant someone had played the Bokshinjeok and triggered the lock.

And playing the Bokshinjeok meant…

Someone had violated the resting place of the woman Ban Chi had died longing for.

A man who had killed himself for his wife would never forgive anyone who dared disturb her grave.

Of course, no one could’ve predicted that the Celestial Martial Emperor would one day ignore the perfectly fine entrance, split the ground open, punch a hole through the ceiling, drop in, leave a single precious artifact, and vanish again.

But then again, if you’re someone on Celestial Martial Emperor’s level, you can just use energy-sensing to locate the tomb and drill your way past the entire mechanism without triggering a thing.

Still, Ban Chi’s rage would be set off the moment the front door was opened.

He had embedded a massive iron sphere inside the sound-triggered locking mechanism—one that would drop the moment the correct vibration was played.

And now…
The mechanism had been triggered.

The sphere dropped—thunk thunk thunk—bouncing down the stairs and settling into a deep groove in the stone floor.

The groove was sloped. The sphere started rolling.

As it rolled, it knocked into other iron spheres, which then split off, rolling down alternate grooves carved into the floor.

More and more spheres began to roll.

Dozens. Then hundreds.

Each new ball hit another, triggering chains, pushing rods, pulling levers—until Ban Chi’s final masterpiece, his ultimate mechanism, was fully activated.

His last will and testament.

The Illusory Maze of No Return Formation
…had begun.

Sniff sniff.

Qing’s nose twitched suddenly.

“You alright, girl?”

“Grandpa. Don’t you smell that?”

“Smell what? Why are you suddenly talking about smells—”

Qing was dead serious.

There it was. That scent. So familiar, so deep in her bones it could’ve cracked her heart wide open.
It was the smell that used to hit her when she opened the front door of her old home in Seoul.

Mom’s cooking.

“Kimchi stew!”

Qing screamed—screamed—and bolted.

She darted straight into the tomb’s entrance.

“Wait—”
“Wha—”
“WHAT—!?”

Everyone was frozen in place.

Qing was already the object of obsession for half the Demon Cult—their personal vision of perfection and emotional comfort wrapped into one woman.

And now, after giving them the performance of a lifetime on the flute, the same girl they thought was a cripple had just exploded forward using lightness arts.

Was this a dream? What the hell was kimchi stew? Why was she shouting it like her life depended on it?

All anyone could do was stare, mouths hanging open, blinking at the dust she’d left behind.

The silence shattered when the old man shrieked—a sound closer to a sobbing scream.

“Heavenly Demon Soul! No! Bangchae! Choi Bangchae! Come back!”

Choi Leeong howled after her, tearing off in pursuit.

“Khhah! See!? I told you! I knew this would happen! If she’s my woman, she better have this kind of flavor!”

The Supreme One burst out laughing, then took off running after them.

“What are you all doing!? After them, now!”

Ji Seungju bellowed, and the Demon Cult’s top warriors surged into the tomb, rushing in a flood behind her.