Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 120

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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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The crowd gathered before the inn began to shuffle backward, retreating step by step.
Kwon Mu-jin alone would have been manageable, but with Ma Jang-gang, known as the Twilight King, standing alongside him, and now Muho joining their side as well, they recognized there was no move left to make.
The three men who had stepped forward at Dan Woo-hyun’s command stood silently before the inn, their mouths sealed as they watched the scene unfold.
The fervent bloodlust that had churned moments before had vanished entirely.
Ma Jang-gang, who had harbored thoughts of impressing Dan Woo-hyun, let out a long, deflated sigh with noticeably weakened resolve.
“I appreciate the help, but it wasn’t necessary.”
At those words, the Shaolin monks turned and fixed their gaze upon him. The sharp intensity in their eyes was enough to make even a man called the Twilight King shrink back.
He trembled slightly.
Muho watched this and snorted through his nose.
“A curious company indeed. The Twilight King and the Dual Blade Master? As for the one beside them—I cannot say. But I find it difficult to believe these two share any close connection.”
“Did you come to capture us?”
Kwon Mu-jin’s hand drifted to his sword hilt.
Even Shaolin held no fear for him. From the moment he set foot on this land of Honam, a clash with them had been within the realm of expectation.
But Muho shook his head without hesitation.
“As I said, I merely stepped in because I dislike disturbances before the Murim Alliance. The Dual Blade Master is of the Heterodox Sect, yes, but I understood him to be one who upholds the Orthodox Way.”
Muho’s words trailed off as he studied Kwon Mu-jin intently.
Rumors of the man’s death had spread far and wide. Yet the Kwon Mu-jin standing before him bore no wounds—he seemed entirely unscathed.
And to be traveling with the Twilight King and his company?
Perhaps…
‘The rumors that he escaped from Demonic Emperor Castle may hold truth after all.’
The tale that Kwon Mu-jin, the Dual Blade Master, had fled Demonic Emperor Castle and subsequently been hunted and killed by Ma Dok-jin now seemed to carry a measure of credibility.
Of course, there remained other troubling pieces.
Why would a man who had hidden himself for nearly a year suddenly reveal himself in Honam at precisely this moment, where the Murim Alliance held sway?
If word of his survival reached the Heterodox Sect, they would scarcely remain idle.
Muho sighed as his thoughts reached this impasse.
When answers would not come, it was best to let them go.
“I suspect there is little chance of that, but this place is guarded by both the Murim Alliance and Shaolin. If you harbor thoughts of causing trouble, I would advise you to abandon them.”
He spoke with finality, raising his staff.
It was a light gesture of retrieval, yet it conveyed both his resolve and his formidable strength.
As Muho turned to leave, the Shaolin monks cast glances at the Twilight King and Kwon Mu-jin once more before following in his wake.
“Arrogant bastards.”
“Ha ha ha.”
Jang Sam-tae muttered quietly.
Knowing they were Shaolin monks, he dared not speak loudly. He feared the consequences of picking a quarrel with someone merely trying to leave in peace.
No matter how much martial arts he had learned from Sa Do-hak and Dan Woo-hyun, Shaolin remained one of the pillars of the Martial World—a force he wished to avoid provoking.
“That said, he’s a formidable man. If we were to fight properly, victory or defeat might be difficult to judge.”
Kwon Mu-jin watched Muho disappear with keen interest. The aura radiating from him differed in quality from that of ordinary Late-stage Masters.
He wondered if perhaps the man might rival Namgung So-hye.
‘No—he may well stand even higher.’
The greatest among Late-stage Masters.
The Late-stage Master most likely to ascend to Sword Master in the future.
That was the title Namgung So-hye bore. Of course, the assessment of those who knew her—Kwon Mu-jin, Jang Sam-tae, and Dan Woo-hyun—differed sharply from public opinion. Yet there was no denying her strength.
Still, Kwon Mu-jin found himself wondering if perhaps this Muho dwelt in an even loftier realm.
‘This is why one must never relax their guard against the Orthodox Way’s martial world.’
He smiled to himself with a low chuckle.
Truly, what did one call the Thousand-Year Shaolin?
Kwon Mu-jin’s fighting spirit kindled all the brighter.

“An amusing fellow, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed! He certainly possessed a martial presence capable of commanding attention. It was difficult to believe he was merely a Late-stage Master.”
Kwon Mu-jin, having returned to the inn, murmured these words with barely contained excitement. How could his heart not surge, having encountered one who stirred his fighting spirit after so long?
“Muho of Shaolin—he’s counted among the candidates for the next Abbot. He has every right to be formidable.”
Namgung Cheon nodded with a pleased expression.
This was a young man he had kept his eye on among the Late-stage Masters. Because of this, his growth pleased Namgung Cheon all the more. Watching the finest Late-stage Masters of the current era transform day by day, the landscape of the Martial World seemed bound to grow far more interesting going forward.
“Still, he’s just a Buddhist monk when it comes down to it.”
Sa Do-hak snorted derisively while picking at his nostril.
Muho certainly seemed to possess considerable skill, but compared to the Late-stage Masters of the Demonic Cult, there remained certain inadequacies in his prowess.
This happened because the Orthodox Faction and the Demonic Cult viewed the Late-stage Masters differently.
“No killing intent, no killing intent. Without it, how can there even be—”
“Ha, must a monk carry killing intent?”
Dan Woo-hyun found this amusing and turned the question back on him.
Certainly, from what he could see, Muho had no killing intent. Instead, he possessed a Martial Presence that rivaled that of any warrior he’d encountered.
“Killing intent is what you need when you’re striking someone down or taking their life. That’s how you overwhelm your opponent! You know this as well as I do, don’t you?”
Sa Do-hak fixed his gaze on Dan Woo-hyun.
Having experienced Dan Woo-hyun’s killing intent firsthand, he knew better than anyone how thick it was, how it sapped the strength from an opponent.
The higher a warrior’s realm, the more useful killing intent becomes. To shatter an opponent’s will without throwing a single technique—this was a principle that proved invaluable in combat.
What people commonly called Heart is Kill was itself an application of killing intent.
“Listen well, all of you. Killing intent is the resolve to end a life. I will kill you. When you first meet your opponent and are overwhelmed by this momentum, you lose the ability to read their next move, and your own response grows sluggish. Do you understand?”
Kwon Mu-jin and Jang Sam-tae listened intently, nodding in agreement.
They understood this too.
Suppressing your opponent’s Martial Presence is the foundation of combat. This is why morale matters in war, why the difference between those whose spirits are high and those whose are low determines the outcome.
“You speak truth.”
“Right? I don’t say things that are wrong. Ha ha ha!”
Sa Do-hak burst into boisterous laughter and clapped his hands. Dan Woo-hyun himself had vouched for the words. If that was the case, then his thinking was sound, and the path he had walked was likewise correct.
Yet on the other hand.
‘Who does this man think he is, stepping forward like that?’
Ma Jang-gang watched the scene with a flat expression. The white mask and the black mask—he had seen them before, but facing them this way made them seem all the more strange.
Moreover, though he knew of killing intent and Martial Presence and such matters, if anyone should be teaching them, it ought to be Dan Woo-hyun. That this man had rushed forward first, opened his mouth, and laughed irked him greatly.
“What’s your grievance?”
“It’s nothing, but surely that Shaolin monk from before was remarkable, wasn’t he?”
“So?”
“So? From what I, the Vagrant King Ma Jang-gang, witnessed, he was far more impressive than you, Elder.”
Ma Jang-gang shrugged his shoulders and let out a scoff.
Though he was merely at the lowest rung of the Baekdae Masters, having his name inscribed there was enough to earn the respect of others.
Because of this, Ma Jang-gang felt no sense of inadequacy among those gathered here—save for Dan Woo-hyun—and believed most of them occupied a lower realm than himself.
And so he had voiced his opinion freely.
At once, startled glances flickered throughout the room.
Behind his mask, the eyes of the old man called the Gentleman Swordsman widened visibly.
Beside him, both Kwon Mu-jin and Jang Sam-tae stared at Ma Jang-gang with ashen faces. In contrast, Dan Woo-hyun’s eyes gleamed with interest, and he smiled.
‘What? I didn’t say anything wrong. Why are they looking at me like that?’
Ma Jang-gang felt an inexplicable sense of dread.
It was partly because of the stares being leveled at him, but chiefly because Sa Do-hak’s eyes, visible between the slits of his black mask, had flashed like lightning for just an instant.
“Ahem. Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten lunch yet. I’ll go feed So-mi and be back shortly.”
“I… I’ll go with you.”
As Namgung Cheon rose from his seat, Kwon Mu-jin hastily followed. He knew that staying would only give him a front-row seat to disaster.
The wisest course was to slip away before any sparks fell upon him.
With a sharp sound, the door closed, and Namgung Cheon, Dan So-mi, and Kwon Mu-jin departed. Jang Sam-tae, unable to follow in time, felt cold sweat trickle down his face.
Unable to hold it in any longer, he finally spoke.
“Sir, if that’s what you’re saying, then so be it—why must you pick at every little thing?”
“Pick? Do you not know who I am, to speak such words? I am Ma Jang-gang, the Vagrant King! My name is inscribed among the Baekdae Masters!”
He struck his chest repeatedly, as if this were his greatest pride. He seemed like a man with nothing else to boast of.
Jang Sam-tae let out an exasperated laugh and shook his head.
“This obsession with ‘Vagrant King’—what need does he have to keep dragging it up?”
“What, what did you say?”
“What!”
As their voices grew louder, Dan Woo-hyun watched the two of them with great amusement in his eyes. Jang Sam-tae truly never changed, not then, not now.
To his eyes, Jang Sam-tae seemed fearless of everything except Dan Woo-hyun, Namgung Cheon, and Sa Do-hak. In truth, he was weak enough to rank among the lower echelons not just of Jang Won, but of the entire Martial World of the Central Plains.
And yet he possessed such audacity.
There was no way to let it pass without laughter.
At that moment, Sa Do-hak quietly rose from his seat.
Standing, he grasped the back of his neck, which felt stiff.
“Vagrant King? Did you say Vagrant King?”
“Indeed! I am the king of vagrants! I am Ma Jang-gang, the Vagrant King. I came here because there is one person I wish to serve—not to bow beneath any of you!”
“Ha. This fellow certainly has a way with words.”
Sa Do-hak laughed in bewilderment.
How should he handle this? he seemed to wonder, as he regarded Ma Jang-gang for a long moment in silence. His eyes narrowed dangerously, gleaming with a savage light.
Then he turned to look at Dan Woo-hyun.
It’s as if they were conversing with a single glance, their eyes locked in silent understanding.
The moment Dan Woo-hyun’s nod became visible.
Crack!
“Ugh!”
Ma Jang-gang saw stars.
He had no idea what had happened. Blood streamed from his nose in a torrent, and a wave of searing pain crashed through him like a storm surge.
Seeing him grab his face in confusion, Sa Do-hak opened his mouth with a cold smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“I see men like you often enough. My disciples are like that, you see—so convinced of their own strength they forget others might be strong too.”
“I… what…?”
Crack!
Light flashed across his vision again.
Sa Do-hak’s fist, swung almost casually, struck him across the face once more.
His head snapped back violently and he stumbled, losing his footing. Yet strangely, though he’d expected distance to open between them, Sa Do-hak seemed only to draw closer.
“For men like you, a beating is the only cure. Ha!”
Sa Do-hak let out a cold laugh and rolled up his sleeves.
The look on his face was that of a man who had broken dozens like this before.

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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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