Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 109

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“Gack!”
He drives his blade into the throat of the approaching shadow and pushes forward. His movements are relentless, a demonstration that no one stands in his way.
“Die—cough!”
Some attack now in desperation and fear, but as the distance closes, it is the shadows themselves who fall. The ones dying.
Most of those using the Spirit Possession Technique are already dead.
If he counted the corpses scattered across the ground, there would easily be thirty.
Barely ten of them remained, and every last one trembled violently, their morale shattered.
What manner of being was this man before them?
How could he toy with them so effortlessly, despite their use of the Spirit Possession Technique?
Even more—in this darkness, where movement itself gave them their greatest advantage, they couldn’t even employ it properly before they died.
Crack!
He strikes the approaching man’s face with the flat of his blade. A sickening sound echoes as the skull shatters and the body collapses. This was no mere difference in strength.
Power. Inner force. Experience. Martial arts.
In every measure, they faced an opponent of an entirely different caliber.
Once they grasped that numbers alone could avail them nothing, fear became their only companion. And what deepened their terror most was that White Mask—expressionless, revealing nothing.
“P-please… spare me…! Aaaaaaah!”
One man could bear it no longer and turned to flee, his back to his executioner. There is no shame in fleeing fear when survival is possible.
One should live if one can.
This is the law of survival in the Jianghu, after all.
But as I said—only if survival is possible.
Namgung Cheon lightly flourished his blade.
Sword Aura extended from the tip, wrapping around the fleeing man.
Slice!
The body of the man running for his life split in two. Those who witnessed it widened their eyes and held their breath. That Sword Aura from moments before.
Was there anyone in this place who didn’t know it?
“C-could it be… could it possibly be…!”
“No, that can’t be! It can’t be! H-he was surely dead…!”
What he’d just displayed was unmistakably the Namgung Clan Swordsmanship.
With everyone except Namgung So-hye currently imprisoned, no one should be able to wield such techniques. And yet here stood a being who could deploy the Namgung Clan Swordsmanship and overwhelm them all with absolute power.
Only one name came to mind.
The Sword Emperor.
That weight of a name crushed down upon their consciousness.
“I will not spare a single one.”
The Sword Emperor spoke gravely.
They had toyed with his family, with the Namgung Clan itself, and he had no intention of letting them pass lightly. He would kill and kill again, play with them as he killed them, seize the one behind them, and prove that this world is hell.
“N-no… noooooo!”
“We… we were never told such a monster was coming!”
Men screamed from every corner and bolted for escape.
Some trampled their companions in a desperate bid for survival. Knowing defeat was certain, all that remained was the struggle to live.
But Namgung Cheon laughed softly.
Had he not just said it?
He would not spare a single one.
He pushed off the ground and launched himself forward.
In a single instant, his body extended toward the fleeing man’s head, blade singing through the air.
Crack!
Head and body parted as blood sprayed crimson in all directions. Namgung Cheon threw himself after the others, clinging to them like a tick.
Thud!
He slashed across another’s chest, felt the ribs shatter beneath the impact, then spun and unleashed a vicious flurry of blade-work.
Slice!
A body was sundered in two, its pieces scattering as they fell. Those who saw their comrades die before their eyes had no mind left—only their legs driving them forward with desperate strength.
If only they could escape this place.
If only they could escape this place!
They could live!
That thought consumed them.
Thud!
But Namgung Cheon had no intention of letting anyone live. He withdrew his blade and raced after the fleeing man. With a grotesque crack, the man’s head was driven into the wall, his entire body convulsing.
He was no longer among the living.

Namgung Yong, who had been sitting quietly in meditation, pricked up his ears at a sound drifting from nearby. The clash of blades echoed through the space, and soon the screams of men rent the air without ceasing.
“Wake up.”
Namgung Yong roused Namgung Gang first.
Namgung Gang rose with a disheveled look, clutching at his wounds. But he was not alone—the other members of the Namgung Clan scattered throughout the cave were opening their eyes one by one at the ominous sounds.
“What is it?”
“The suppression forces?”
“It doesn’t sound like it…”
Namgung Gang shook his head.
If it were a suppression force, it would surely have been far more chaotic. Though the sounds now were equally terrible, the cave was filled only with one-sided screams—no answering battle cries.
Whatever it was, something had begun.
“Stay alert.”
Namgung Yong checked his physical condition in case disaster struck. Though his Dantian was sealed, he could manage basic Self-Defense Technique well enough.
At least, against the sort of opponent it might work against.
Crash!
Then came the sound.
Much closer this time.
They all turned their gaze toward it, tension written in every eye.
“Aaagh! P-please! Save me!”
Several men bolted past their prison, fleeing without direction. Their faces had gone pale as death, as if they had witnessed something beyond comprehension.
In that very moment of watching them pass—
A figure wearing a white mask emerged from the darkness.
The moment he revealed himself, he set about killing without hesitation. He swung his blade to cleave skulls, lashed out with his feet to shatter bones, moved with absolute precision.
He ground the neck of one fallen man beneath his heel, then whipped his hand across the face of another fleeing figure, slamming him against the stone wall.
A massacre.
The cruelty of his technique was so savage that all who witnessed it could only hold their breath.
When every last man lay motionless, silence fell—not even a whimper remained.
Drip. Drip.
The masked man, drenched in blood, stood motionless for a moment as if catching his breath.
Had fear, unbidden, crept into his heart?
No one dared to speak first.
“Tch, I should have left one alive for questioning…”
The masked man sighed softly at the thought. Whatever he had been considering, his words sent another ripple of dread through the air.
But then—a few of them froze, recognition flashing across their faces.
That voice. They had heard it for so long.
No matter how grievously wounded, no matter that they had heard it only in this cave, that voice could never be forgotten.
Especially not by Namgung Yong, who had been closest to him, who had served him all these years.
He gripped the prison bars with both hands.
“Y-you can’t be—! Father!”
At those words, the members of the Namgung Clan gasped in shock.
Now that they looked closer, face hidden though it was behind the mask, that bearing, that speech—it was unmistakably the Sword Emperor.
Life flickered back into the eyes of those who had been gripped by terror.
The Sword Emperor had returned.
If he had come back, the fallen Namgung Clan could be rebuilt at any moment. Hope bloomed within them. Some wept.
All the sorrow they had endured came pouring out.
Clang!
At that moment—
Namgung Cheon thrust his blade forward, slicing through the bars.
A single casual stroke carved a gaping hole in what they had thought impenetrable. Namgung Yong was first to burst through.
“Father! Is it really you?! It must be you!”
Namgung Yong seized Namgung Cheon and cried out, though his father offered no reply. How desperately he had searched. He had thought him dead, had resolved to bury everything in his heart—those had been agonizing days of silent tears.
“S-sob… I… I lost your arm… I… I’m sorry…”
He grasped where that missing arm should have been and wept.
The weight of having failed to protect him crashed down upon him.
“What are you saying? I am one called the Gentleman Sword.”
“F-father? What… what are you saying now?”
Namgung Yong stared at the figure who denied him.
Though one arm was gone, this presence, this manner of speaking—he could never forget it. And the touch of that remaining right hand was unmistakably his father’s.
But the Gentleman Sword?
The members of the Namgung Clan opened their eyes wide in bewilderment.
“I… don’t you recognize me? Please, look. Father. I am First Elder Namgung Gyeon-joong.”
First Elder Namgung Gyeon-joong grasped Namgung Cheon’s right hand with trembling fingers.
Had he lost his memory? And yet that gaze in his eyes—it was unmistakably one of longing for them, wasn’t it?
“Ah, forgive me. I am one called Namgung Cheon. I happened to arrive here and rescue you all, it seems.”
Namgung Cheon closed his eyes gently and smiled.
Then he stroked Namgung Yong’s hair.
Everyone’s eyes widened at the sight. His words said one thing, but his actions were unmistakably declaring: I am Namgung Cheon. And I am alive, not dead.
“But Father…”
“Enough. I am not your father. Did I not say I am Namgung Cheon? Hehehehe.”
……
Namgung Yong and the members of the Namgung Clan understood what was being implied.
Namgung Cheon had no desire to return to the Namgung Clan. They could not fathom why, but if that was his will, they must respect it.
‘Father… devoted his entire life to the Namgung Clan.’
Namgung Yong could not fail to understand this.
Was the very title of Sword Emperor not an achievement born solely from the will to bring greater honor to the Namgung Clan? And yet everything painstakingly built over a lifetime had crumbled to dust in a single moment.
Had he grown disillusioned with the Martial World itself?
Namgung Yong bowed his head deeply.
He realized there was no point in trying to hold on.
The same understanding dawned on all of them.
“By the way… I understood you had a daughter. But I don’t see her anywhere?”
“…She seems to have escaped well.”
Hehehehe.
Namgung Cheon nodded repeatedly, as if to say yes, yes.
How could his granddaughter be easily captured? Raised as strictly as she had been, she would never fall into the hands of such small fry.
He smiled broadly.
Then he turned away.
“Where are you going, Father?”
“I still have legs, so I can go anywhere in the Central Plains.”
“…Will you not stay with us?”
“The bond between this old man and you all is not yet severed. We shall meet again someday—so do not wear such sorrow on your face.”
Namgung Cheon turned slightly to look back at Namgung Yong.
Without knowing when, Namgung Yong had followed him to this point and now knelt, bowing his head. Surely it was the weight of guilt—the knowledge that in a single moment, he had brought ruin to the Namgung Clan upon which Namgung Cheon had spent an entire lifetime building a foundation.
Nor was it only Namgung Yong.
Soon Namgung Gang too dropped to his knees, and all the members of the Namgung Clan present bowed their heads and sat as if begging forgiveness for their sins.
‘Ah… hehehehe.’
Namgung Cheon sighed.
All of this responsibility lay with him…
They need not carry any guilt.
“Rise now. Had the Sword Emperor been present at this place, he would have scolded you sharply. But you have done well. You have survived. That alone would have satisfied the Sword Emperor.”
“…Is that truly so? I…the Clan…”
“What has crumbled can be repaired, and what has been lost can be rebuilt. And if this is indeed a painful and difficult trial, then you need only strive to ensure you never face such trials again.”
Speaking gently, he stroked Namgung Yong’s hair once more. Namgung Yong felt that warm paternal touch again and closed his eyes, bowing his head.
“I have faith in you. You will not fall to ruin even without the Sword Emperor—remember that. And know also that the Sword Emperor will always be watching over you.”
Those words reached them like treasure beyond measure.
Namgung Yong smiled.
He smiled as he heard his father’s footsteps growing distant.
Yes, they had fallen, but they would rise again. It was true that too many had relied solely on the name of the Sword Emperor for far too long.
That is why this failure had come.
Namgung Yong took a small breath and rose to his feet.
“Elder, we shall leave this place and make for the Safe Haven. There we shall restore ourselves, and find Namgung So-hye… and we shall strike down those who have brought the Namgung Clan to this state.”
First Elder Namgung Gyeon-joong bowed deeply.
There was no Sword Emperor anymore.
They must place their trust and follow in the household lord—in this man before them. They all understood how difficult it would be to build everything anew from the ground up, yet already the eyes of all gathered here burned with fierce resolve.
“We hear and obey, Household Lord.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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