Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 114

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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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When early morning broke, Ma Jang-gang and his party set out first. With the need to look after Dan So-mi, the delayed group had no choice but to eat breakfast hurriedly and climb back into the carriage.
“But isn’t that really frightening? It even haunted my dreams. That story.”
“You mean the Mok-nae-i?”
“Yes!”
Jang Sam-tae shuddered as he answered.
Those who had been attacked seemed to be drained of something until they became Mok-nae-i. The more he thought about it, the more his neck bristled with cold.
Not even a clean death—how agonizing must that be?
“Does such a martial art actually exist?”
Jang Sam-tae, perched on the carriage seat, turned his head to ask. The cart had already begun its journey, and the rattling made his voice somewhat louder than intended.
It was loud enough for everyone inside the carriage and even Kwon Mu-jin beside it to hear clearly.
Every eye turned toward Dan Woo-hyun.
“It does.”
“Isn’t it the sort of thing the Yin-Yang Twin Demons use? Absorbing someone’s internal energy through the Forced Intercourse Technique?”
Sa Do-hak furrowed his brow as he spoke.
The Yin-Yang Twin Demons were famous throughout the Central Plains. These heterodox sect monsters forced intercourse on everyone from children to adults and drained their internal energy in the process.
Though it was a vicious form of energy theft, it was not powerful enough to reduce someone to a Mok-nae-i—which felt different from what they were dealing with now.
“It is a form of demonic art.”
“Dem… demonic art? There is no such martial art in the Demonic Sect!”
Sa Do-hak’s voice rose sharply.
In the Central Plains, demonic art meant martial techniques that flowed from the Demonic Sect. Since all their roots lay there, even Sa Do-hak, who stood at their apex, should have known of such a thing.
But this was the first he’d heard of it.
A martial art that transformed people into Mok-nae-i?
“I see… so it doesn’t exist.”
Dan Woo-hyun let out a small, involuntary laugh.
‘It doesn’t exist… doesn’t exist.’
Here it was, existing right now, and yet they knew nothing of it. That meant this martial art had not existed until now, had never been known to anyone.
And now it had appeared in this reality.
“It is a demonic art that absorbs the opponent’s internal energy. The Suck Demon Technique, as it was called—the cursed art of Huk-Poong Shin-Ma, who died after fighting the Heavenly Demon for three days and nights.”
“Thr… three days and nights against that figure? I’ve never heard such a thing before…”
“You wouldn’t have.”
Dan Woo-hyun recalled the past.
It was Huk-Poong Shin-Ma who had originally sought to unify the forces of the Demonic Sect. The one called the Lang Wang, revered and upheld as an idol by the current cultists—the Heavenly Demon—was his right hand, his trusted instrument.
But Huk-Poong Shin-Ma’s temperament was brutally savage, and as he mastered more of his cursed arts, the Heavenly Demon Cheon Mu-gwang made moves to eliminate him.
When Huk-Poong Shin-Ma sensed the betrayal, he struck, crippling half of his body, and through a chance meeting with Dan Woo-hyun, the man they were now speaking of—the Heavenly Demon, the one called the Lang Wang, Cheon Mu-gwang—gained a fortuitous encounter.
“It’s remarkable that such a being exists at all… but something feels wrong. These unknown martial arts keep appearing one after another.”
Namgung Cheon also furrowed his brow and spoke.
One could reasonably assume that a single person might have stumbled upon such techniques through sheer chance and fortunate circumstance. But with new ones appearing continuously like this, it felt as though someone was orchestrating it all.
With that thought, he quietly regarded Dan Woo-hyun.
After staring out the window for a long time, Dan Woo-hyun opened his mouth.
“Stop the carriage.”
At the sudden command, Jang Sam-tae showed no alarm and brought the carriage to a gentle halt. He looked around to see if something was amiss, but sensed nothing in particular.
“Father?”
Rustle.
Dan So-mi, who had been sleeping on Dan Woo-hyun’s lap, opened her eyes with tousled hair. Her somewhat dazed expression was endearing in an indefinable way.
Dan Woo-hyun smiled and stroked her hair.
“I have something to verify. Go on ahead to Ha-nam. I’ll meet you at an inn near the Murim Alliance.”
“Wha… what are you planning to do alone?”
“I have something to confirm.”
At Dan Woo-hyun’s words, spoken with narrowed eyes, Namgung Cheon found himself at a loss.
He was resolute.
It felt as though no argument whatsoever could shake his will.
Sa Do-hak seemed to feel the same, keeping his mouth shut.
Instead, Kwon Mu-jin rose from his seat.
“I will accompany you.”
“No. You stay with Sam-tae and never leave So-mi’s side.”
“…If that is your command.”
Kwon Mu-jin bowed deeply.
He says nothing more. Dan Woo-hyun is a man who values Dan So-mi’s life far above his own.
In that sense, entrusting his own life now was no different.
He cannot betray that trust.
“Where are you going?”
“Ha, don’t worry. Stay here and play. I’ll catch up soon.”
Dan So-mi looked up at Dan Woo-hyun with somewhat anxious eyes. Though Jang Sam-tae was at her side, and Kwon Mu-jin and others were there as well, the place where Dan So-mi felt most at ease was nowhere but beside Dan Woo-hyun.
Knowing this, Dan Woo-hyun pinched So-mi’s cheek.
“If you see something nice, ask for it. If there’s something delicious, eat it. I’ll be back soon enough, so you should have fun until then.”
“Hehe, I understand. Then So-mi will stay right next to you adults.”
At her laughter, Dan Woo-hyun nodded.
Still a child who listens well.
“Will it take long?”
“I don’t think so. Shouldn’t take too long.”
He turned with a quiet laugh and walked away.
There was no point in talking further—it would only waste time. As he turned without hesitation and walked away, Dan So-mi, who had been watching his back for some time, took hold of Jang Sam-tae’s hand.
“Let’s go!”
“Ah, yes… okay.”
Jang Sam-tae nodded awkwardly, managing an uneasy smile.

***

“Huff… huff!”
Ma Jang-gang had begun to run.
Covered entirely in blood, he ran for his life alone, casting aside the title of Lang Wang and the weight of the Way he carried—forgetting everything for the sake of survival.
He did not want to die.
He would not allow it to happen.
This thought pressed down heavily on his mind.
‘What… what in the world are they!’
The encounter had been purely by chance.
After parting ways with that group early in the morning, while wandering through the mountains, he came across them. The mere sight of their demon masks was enough to confirm they were the group he had been searching for.
Until that moment, he had underestimated his opponents far too greatly.
The title of Lang Wang.
The skill to rank among the hundred greatest masters.
Such words had blinded his ears entirely.
And now he had learned the lesson once more.
Reality is always cruel and unforgiving.
All of his subordinates who had come with him lay dead. The sight of them becoming Mok-nae-i before his eyes still lingered, refusing to fade from view.
Though he reached out a hand of salvation to those who begged for their lives, it often availed them nothing—he could only watch as they died.
Nothing worked.
Nothing at all.
The martial techniques he had been so confident in his opponents were deflecting and blocking with such ease, as if he were nothing but a third-rate fighter, and they toyed with him.
That had become terror.
Thwack!
“Gahhh!”
Searing pain shot through his back as he tumbled to the ground.
His entire body drenched in cold sweat, covered head to toe in dirt and soil, his trembling eyes shaking with fear turned to fix on one point.
They were there.
They were drawing closer.
Twenty ghosts.
They stood silent, looking down at Ma Jang-gang.
Their eyes held no emotion.
It was as though corpses were standing upright.
Yet they moved with full vitality, and their strength transcended all imagination.
“What… what the hell are you! What is this!”
Ma Jang-gang scrambled to his feet, shouting.
He gnashed his teeth, fixing a glare upon the Twenty Ghosts.
But still no answer came, and they extended the touch of death ever closer.
Thwack!
In that instant.
The head of one of the Twenty Ghosts approaching him flew clean away.
It was so swift and satisfying that the eye could barely follow it.
A crisp, melon-splitting crack split the air, and one of the Twenty Ghosts—a body that had seemed so formidable—crumpled as though it had never existed.
What?
What in the heavens just happened?
The other advancing Twenty Ghosts froze mid-step.
Their heads turned toward the direction something had flown from.
Turned? But Ma Jang-gang couldn’t even tell which way it had come from.
Just how much larger a monster had appeared?
“The Twenty Ghosts, you say? I wondered how formidable you lot were—and here you are, mere corpses.”
Footsteps. Deliberate. Heavy.
Those footfalls rang in Ma Jang-gang’s ears louder than any sound in his entire life. The rustle of undergrowth parting, the approaching steps, the voice carried on the wind.
The moment the figure emerged and Ma Jang-gang saw his face, he trembled—gazing up with eyes that could not find words.
Light fell upon him.
Toward the man who had stepped into view.
It was magnificent, like beholding a hero from a cherished dream. A halo seemed to shine behind his shoulders, and the faint smile playing at his lips held a beauty that was almost otherworldly.
“Y-you are…”
“If you cannot move, rest here for now. I’ll handle things myself.”
Those words carried an indescribable grace.
A manner of speech that swept away even the anxiety that had lodged in his chest. There was a steadiness to it, as though a hundred ghosts—no, a thousand—could fill this place and this man’s composure would never waver.
A chill ran through his entire body.
Simply watching that man awoke a strength within him.
“And another thing—you’re cultivating the Suck Demon Technique and you’re already a corpse? Whoever’s behind this knows their craft.”
The man took another step forward.
What was this Suck Demon Technique? And what did he mean by a corpse?
Though he was uttering things Ma Jang-gang didn’t comprehend, he grasped instinctively that no questions would be entertained.
Ma Jang-gang simply held his breath, watching as events unfolded before him.
Then.
Two of the Twenty Ghosts charged forward.
They bore a ferocity utterly different from when they’d engaged Ma Jang-gang and his men—their eyes blazed with murderous intent so intense it could be felt from a distance.
As though this had been their true purpose from the start.
“Not a single one escapes.”
Yet the man muttered firmly and took a slight step forward. Ma Jang-gang wondered: was this the beginning posture of some martial art?
Bang!
With a thunderous crash, the earth suddenly split and shuddered beneath them. Fragments erupted in all directions, raining down on the Twenty Ghosts as though possessed by malice itself.
This was no human martial art. Not by any measure.

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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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