Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 123

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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 Gentleman’s Sword? Are you joking?”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun let out a snort of laughter.
The Gentleman’s Sword? He’d heard tales of such a thing before. Surely it was some hero from a puppet show? As the thought crossed his mind, a memory surfaced, and he fixed Namgung Cheon with a searching stare.
“You…… could it be…….”
“…….”
Man Hu-ryang’s words came back to him. He’d sent men to investigate and concluded they were agents of the Demonic Cult, yet now, standing face to face, the certainty of it crystallized with unmistakable clarity.
It was undoubtedly Namgung Cheon.
The man himself.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun cast his gaze to one side.
Beside the figure presumed to be Namgung Cheon stood another masked individual. The black mask fit the atmosphere well enough.
As though calling to mind someone else entirely.
He frowned.
Then who was the third?
He wore no mask, merely glancing about the surroundings with calculated ease. Mo Yong Hyuk-mun held no interest for him; his eyes drifted across the gathered faces until they came to rest on Man Hu-ryang’s guards.
What was he seeking?
An inexplicable dread settled over the gathering.
Then the black-masked figure spoke.
“Can you manage it, old man?”
“……Don’t concern yourself with me. I’d prefer none of them step forward.”
Sa Do-hak gave a quiet nod.
Fortunately, he wasn’t too late. He scanned the surroundings, committing the scene to memory, then allowed himself a thin smile. The Nine Schools and One House—that vaunted gathering—laid low by mere insects, unable to prevail against a handful of them.
Some were dead, true enough, but many still lived.
Their pathetic groans and whimpers were almost amusing.
‘So this is the state of the Orthodox Martial Alliance in this age?’
A great organization.
The very heart of the Orthodox Martial World had shattered from within. For the Demonic Cult, that alone was cause for celebration. He almost felt sorry for Namgung Cheon—the Orthodox Martial Alliance, it seemed, no longer existed.
‘The Eight Great Families have vanished from sight; they must have sensed the shifting winds and fled. They’re likely conspiring amongst themselves elsewhere, no doubt.’
If so, then the complete fragmentation of the Orthodox Martial World was now inevitable.
Sa Do-hak suppressed his inner satisfaction, allowing only the faintest smile to show.
Whatever transpired today brought no loss to the Demonic Cult. With iron discipline, Sa Do-hak held back the urge to dispatch orders to Dong Bang-gu at once—to prepare the forces to cross into the Central Plains.
As he entertained these thoughts,
Namgung Cheon’s voice cut through the air.
“That the Alliance Master would fall to such depths…… I cannot condone this in the name of the Gentleman’s Sword.”
“Hahaha! This is madness! You, who’ve always stood before me and tried to surpass me—to see you reduced to this!”
“…….”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s laughter rang out as he raised his hand. In that instant, Man Hu-ryang’s guards surged forward in a blur, rushing toward Namgung Cheon.
Their momentum erupted with terrible force.
“Be, be careful! They are……!”
Go Dam-jin cried out in warning.
He had felt their power firsthand.
Unconventional swordsmanship, uncanny body control, and strange techniques that suddenly amplified their strength—he knew they were no ordinary men and had to alert the others.
And yet.
Crack-crack-crack-crack!
It happened in a single, stunning instant.
Man Hu-ryang’s guards’ heads burst like ripe melons. Everyone present stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had occurred, staring numbly at the falling corpses.
“Do not interfere in a sacred contest.”
A voice sounded across the chamber.
It was Dan Woo-hyun, seated leisurely upon the steps, watching Namgung Cheon and Mo Yong Hyuk-mun with casual interest. In his palm lay several stone fragments—the instruments, surely, of that devastating strike that had claimed the lives of those men.
“Who…… who are they……!”
Go Dam-jin was not alone in his shock. The masters of the Nine Schools and One House, who had been unconscious, now stirred one by one, their minds registering that impossible blow.
How could they defeat an enemy they themselves could not overcome, dispatched with nothing more than pebbles cast from a distance?
And who was this one-armed masked figure now blocking Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s path?
Where had these masters come from?
Questions cascaded upon questions.
“You wretch…… how dare you……!”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun, having lost his subordinates, gnashed his teeth. Whatever subtle technique had been employed, the fact that these men—who had subdued the masters of the Nine Schools and One House—fell in a single blow spoke to formidable skill.
His killing intent surged forth.
Yet it was not Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s killing intent that blocked the way—it was Namgung Cheon himself.
He drew his blade smoothly and opened his mouth.
“Don’t forget: your opponent is me.”
“Have you lost your mind? Do you truly think you can defeat me with a single arm?”
“Of course.”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun gnashed his teeth.
The mask hid his face, yet the expression beneath it was unmistakable—the same composure he’d seen since childhood, an ease that declared, as plainly as words, your superiority over me is absolute.
A confidence that could never be overcome.
Crack!
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun ground his teeth and unleashed his momentum.
Sword Qi bloomed from his blade, and his power surged.
In that instant, Namgung Cheon dropped into a stance.
The moment he settled, Mo Yong Hyuk-mun vanished from sight—a speed the eye could not follow. Even Go Dam-jin saw nothing.
It was a different order of velocity than when his blade had been visible moments before.
Clang!
And yet—
It held.
A strike drawn with the speed of a death blow, and still Namgung Cheon deflected it with a casual sweep of his back arm, as though he had read every movement in advance.
As though he already knew.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s brow darkened. But such predictions were nothing—if his opponent truly was Namgung Cheon, reading his blade would be only natural.
In a flash, he twisted his sword path and shifted his footwork.
His blade curved with serpentine subtlety, diving for the ribs, and the power threaded through it was entirely transformed from before.
Clang!
Yet it was blocked again.
“Impossible—! He’s stopping a blade path like that—!”
“Who in the heavens is he?”
Those gathered near Go Dam-jin gasped, their wits scattered. They would never have stopped such a strike. Witnessing it made the swordsman’s caliber unmistakably clear.
But.
Shwooo—
He was driven backward.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s martial power had grown to a degree incomparable with Namgung Cheon’s. A direct clash would be defeat.
Namgung Cheon retreated, staggering once before regaining his balance.
The impact seemed so severe that he could neither block nor evade the blade that followed—or so it appeared.
Yet.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
He stopped each successive strike.
Driven backward, he held his ground against a blade wielded by one whose power exceeded his own, deflecting each blow.
The most shocked of all was Mo Yong Hyuk-mun himself.
‘Impossible! This can’t be!’
He felt it now.
The instant blade met blade, his opponent angled the edge and deflected it lightly, redirecting the impact’s trajectory as it flowed inward, then stepped backward with each strike, dissipating the force. It was the same principle as rolling one’s head back before a fist arrives.
Like flowing water around stone.
His opponent’s martial power fell short, yet the experience and technique were altogether different. This was the strength of the man once called the mightiest of the Orthodox Martial Alliance.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun ground his teeth harder.
“It cannot be! It cannot be! How long will you continue to stand in my path!”
He muttered through clenched teeth.
Though the sound was swallowed by the clash of blades and others could not hear clearly, his eyes burned with such bloodlust that Mo Yong Hyuk-mun seemed possessed by malice itself.
Namgung Cheon flowed his blade with calm precision.
And he regarded him with compassion.
“Do not show me such eyes! Spare me your pity! I am not so weak as to need your sympathy!”
“Your heart is already rotten. There is no turning back from it.”
“Always! Always the same! Only you are worthy, only you are right! You say my heart is rotten? Then what I see before me is equally rotten!”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun could not accept it.
A man who had lost an arm and been poisoned by Mountain Poison. For such a man to reach full strength in merely a year was impossible. Yet here he was, unable to overcome him, dragged along in defeat. How could he accept this?
Rage consumed him.
A fury that rose to the crown of his head would not subside.
Behind him, Mo Yong Kwan-cheon’s face grew ashen as he watched. To see the father he so revered faltering—what anguish that must bring.
“I will not lose!”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun raised his power to new heights.
He drew upon the Innate Qi he had stolen from countless women, and in a single breath his momentum transformed, his blade’s force deepening and surging forward.
“This… what is this?!”
Namgung Cheon could not hide his alarm either.
The aura was utterly transformed from moments before.
It was unmistakably drawing upon Innate Qi, yet how could Yin Qi flow from this man’s body with such overwhelming density?
His entire frame felt as though it might freeze solid.
He retreated swiftly, sweeping his blade to meet the attack.
Screech!
“Gaagh!”
Yet the blade cut through. From the moment Namgung Cheon began his defense, he realized the sword was descending faster still—it was not merely an outpouring of Yin Qi, but something like the Divine Strengthening Method, as though the man’s physical prowess itself had surged beyond measure.
And look at those eyes.
Those bloodshot eyes held nothing but the will to kill, to annihilate his opponent.
Clang!
When their blades met again, his own could not withstand Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s strength and shattered. But there was no time to be stunned.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s bloodshot eyes were still fixed on Namgung Cheon, and his blade descended to cleave through the warrior’s skull.
“Ugh!?”
In that moment, he thought: this is death.
“That will suffice.”
A voice cut through the air, shattering the thought.
No pain bloomed from his head. Stunned, Namgung Cheon’s gaze shifted—and there stood Dan Woo-hyun, as though he had been standing there all along.
What astonished him more still:
The very blade that Namgung Cheon himself could not stop—Dan Woo-hyun held it fast between thumb and forefinger.
“You… you……”
“Gaah…! What… who are you!?”
Namgung Cheon’s startled voice and Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s cry burst forth as one, the latter realizing his sword would not budge an inch. Shock was written plainly across both their faces.
“An entertaining spectacle, truly. But it ends here.”
With those words, Dan Woo-hyun twisted the blade held lightly between his fingers. The sword, torqued from its tip, bent like taffy drawn into a spiral—and then,
Crash-bang-bang-bang!
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun was hurled backward.
“Haaaack!”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun struck the wall and coughed blood.
He heaved with coughing for some time before his eyes fell upon the blade in his grip. The edge was bent like taffy—it would be useless now.
He surged to his feet, cast the ruined sword aside, and reached out his hand.
The blade held in Mo Yong Kwan-cheon’s grip was drawn free and seized in his own.
“What have you done?”
“Twisted the blade. Did you not see?”
“…Who are you?”
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s eyes slitted open.
This was no ordinary man.
He had felt it before, but now that he had truly received that force, the sensation was entirely different. If he allowed his guard to slip, he could fall to this one.
Fall?
How absurd.
He had not cultivated his power to be defeated by some mere upstart. He would kill them all. The Nine Schools and One House, Namgung Cheon—everyone who dared stand before him and bar his path would perish by his hand.
Mo Yong Hyuk-mun’s fury blazed upward.

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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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