Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 62

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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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“Hmm… He’s gone?”
“Yes, sir. There’s no trace of him whatsoever.”
Sa Do-hak—the man called the pinnacle of the current Demonic Cult.
He sat upon the Heavenly Demon’s Throne, gazing down at his surroundings with an indifferent expression.
Whether from exasperation or something else, he drew in a sharp breath, then frowned before breaking into a thin smile.
“Does it seem he’s fled?”
“Given the circumstances… that appears most likely.”
Dong Bang-gu, the Demonic Cult’s second-in-command, swallowed inwardly.
The loyalty of the Demonic Cult’s followers was incomparably fierce compared to any other faction.
Having been raised from childhood under constant tests of devotion to the Heavenly Demon, their indoctrination was thorough and absolute.
Yet could one trust every single one of them? The answer was no.
A few had occasionally betrayed the Cult’s trust.
Though his true identity remained obscured, the infamously ruthless Leader of the Hukdo Society was himself one such defector who had fled the Demonic Cult.
Which was why Sa Do-hak suspected this might be another case of the same.
If something had been obtained from the Martial God’s Secret Manual, its value would defy all imagination.
“A signal flare was sent confirming success, they say. But when no further contact came and we went to check the location, we found only corpses bearing Gu Hwang’s Sword Mark—no sign of him remained.”
“How intriguing.”
Slurp—
Sa Do-hak moistened his throat with tea, attempting to dispel the unease.
A subordinate’s betrayal would shake his authority.
Especially one he had trusted enough to entrust with the Martial God’s Secret Manual, and whose loyalty had been exceptional—news of this within the Cult would cause considerable upheaval.
Yet Sa Do-hak paid no mind to such concerns, his gaze fixed intently on something before him.
It was a massive painting.
Though rendered in ink alone, the landscape appeared vivid as if witnessed firsthand, revealing the meticulous effort of a master painter determined not to overlook even the smallest pebble.
The Demonic Cult’s finest painter had rendered every detail of the scene.
Sa Do-hak examined it carefully, then nodded.
“Hunt him down. He must be caught before he leaves Hunan.”
“I obey!”
Clang—!
Dong Bang-gu’s deep voice rang out like a bell.
As Sa Do-hak watched him turn and vanish into the darkness, something flickered across his mind, and he smiled faintly, stroking his lips.
“So there’s a hidden master in Hunan, unknown even to me…”
The painting was precise.
With nothing overlooked, Sa Do-hak could perceive the scene as clearly as if standing there himself.
The marks on the corpses, the way they lay, even the smallest traces scattered about the grounds.
Synthesizing these details, it was clear that Gu Hwang’s disappearance was not because he had coveted the prize from the Martial God’s Secret Manual, but because someone had slain him.
Several faces flashed through his mind.
He shook his head and smiled broadly.
“So the hidden master lurking in Hunan… it was you all along.”
Based on the traces, an overwhelming force had crushed everything in its path. At minimum, someone of equal standing to Sa Do-hak himself, or perhaps slightly below.
The mere thought set his blood afire, unbearable in its intensity.
For this reason, he had not revealed to Dong Bang-gu that Gu Hwang had not fled, but rather that a hidden master existed.

***

Namgung Cheon, the current leader of the Murim Alliance and one of the Five Emperors—the Sword Emperor—was savoring a long-awaited respite.
With his fishing rod dipped into the vast waters of Dongting Lake and a straw hat pulled low to escape the blazing sun, he looked no different from any common village elder one might encounter anywhere.
“You seem to enjoy fishing.”
“Ha, in my youth, certainly. There were days I’d sit holding a fishing rod all day without tiring of it. I can scarcely remember the last time I could fish in such peace.”
He murmured these words while watching Dan Woo-hyun, who sat beside him with his own rod extended into the water. His expression had grown infinitely gentle.
Save for his thoughtless youth, he possessed almost no memory of such serene moments.
In his early twenties, he had drawn his blade so as not to be outpaced by other masters of his generation. By thirty, he wielded it to amplify his clan’s renown.
Year after year had passed in this manner until he arrived at his present position, yet when he looked back, nothing remained that was truly for himself.
He had elevated his clan’s name and claimed the highest seat among the Righteous Faction. But nothing he had done was for his own sake.
“If only things had gone well with this matter, it might have ended quite beautifully.”
Namgung Cheon gazed at Dan Woo-hyun.
Expressionless, yet somehow resembling him in a way he could not quite place.
An atmosphere, you might call it? Or perhaps an aura?
It felt strangely hollow, and yet that very emptiness made it somehow more endearing.
But unlike Namgung Cheon, Dan Woo-hyun drew vitality from somewhere.
“Look, look! I caught another one!”
A small fish clutched in his hand, he smiled brightly. That clear, innocent laugh seemed to lift the mood of the whole place.
Watching the child, Dan Woo-hyun’s lips curved into a gentle smile.
In that moment, Namgung Cheon could not hide his astonishment.
Since arriving here, he had never once seen Dan Woo-hyun smile with such genuine warmth.
So his eyes, wide with shock, could not tear themselves away from that face.
“Well done. Next time, try to catch something bigger.”
“Yes! I bet So-mi wins this time too!”
“Ha, then I’ll catch something your size, and I’ll be the winner.”
“Then So-mi will catch something bigger! And bigger! And even bigger!”
Dan Woo-hyun burst into laughter at the child’s adorable outcry.
Then, slowly, he reached out and stroked So-mi’s cheek and hair. Watching that natural gesture, Namgung Cheon felt his heart grow warm.
‘Come to think of it, I’ve never shown him anything like that.’
He had raised his son, the current Clan Head Namgung Yong, with an iron hand.
He had even forced his grandson Namgung Kang, and his granddaughter Namgung So-hye, to walk the path he himself had chosen.
Compared to the Dan Woo-hyun he saw now, the difference could not have been greater.
‘It has all been in vain.’
Namgung Cheon gazed at Dan So-mi’s pure, spotless smile and understood.
That the pursuit of strength, the chase after wealth and renown, paled beside the simple joy of watching a loved one laugh—that alone could make one feel as though they possessed the entire world.
Dan Woo-hyun had neither possessions nor fame compared to Namgung Cheon, yet he seemed to have seized something far greater than the Sword Emperor himself had ever held.
And that filled Namgung Cheon with profound envy.
“When you stand still, it helps to look at other things. The harder you struggle to overcome something, the more impossible it becomes.”
……
At Dan Woo-hyun’s offhand murmur, Namgung Cheon’s expression went blank, as if struck by a hammer.
It sounded as though the words were directed at him—at someone who stood frozen and could not move.
‘The harder you struggle, the more impossible it becomes?’
The words fit perfectly.
Namgung Cheon had tried countless times to break through the wall, yet each time he had tasted only bitter defeat.
‘Who in the world is this man?’
Namgung Cheon stared intently at Dan Woo-hyun.
“Heh, you are truly amusing. Today, this old man has truly awakened.”
“I’m grateful you see it that way.”
Dan Woo-hyun cast the fishing rod out again and turned his head.
He could see Namgung So-hye rushing toward them from behind.
Watching her approach, Namgung Cheon was astonished once more.
‘He sensed her coming before I did?’
The title of Five Emperors was not something one could obtain easily. Among the Righteous Faction, Namgung Cheon, who bore the title of Sword Emperor, stood as the strongest.
Yet even before Namgung Cheon could grasp her presence, Dan Woo-hyun had already turned to acknowledge Namgung So-hye’s approach.
This meant his senses surpassed even Namgung Cheon’s own.
‘This is absurd!’
Namgung Cheon felt his mind reel and swallowed hard.
Where had such a man suddenly appeared from?
He kept revealing capabilities that went far beyond the assumption that he was merely a mysterious person.
“Grandfather!”
“What is it that you make such a fuss?”
“General Jegal Un has been ambushed and is on the brink of death!”
“What…… What did you say?!”
Namgung Cheon shot to his feet.
A fierce killing intent swept outward in all directions, palpable and terrible.
Jegal Un, the general he cherished most in the Murim Alliance, was dying?
This was no time for leisure and rest.
He had to learn what had happened.
“Prepare yourself. We leave for the branch immediately.”
“Understood!”
Namgung So-hye rushed into the manor with urgency.
Though time pressed, there were things that could not be left behind. Clothing mattered little, but one could not abandon one’s blade.
“What devil has done this!”
Dan Woo-hyun watched Namgung Cheon, who was burning with anger.
Around him, the wind swelled and churned visibly.
This was the fury and killing intent he gave off.
But what troubled Dan Woo-hyun far more was the faint wind of death seeping through.
That wind signified Namgung Cheon’s approaching death.
What truly unsettled Dan Woo-hyun now was not that alone—the threadlike wind that flowed weakly, curling and coiling back, drifted toward him.
It meant that the bond between Namgung Cheon and Dan Woo-hyun had not yet been severed.
Dan Woo-hyun did not believe everything the wind revealed.
After all, to be human is to think and act by one’s own will.
“You may court calamity.”
“Heh heh, you speak of this old man?”
Yet Namgung Cheon paid no heed to those words. Though he had tempered his nature far more than before, that did not make him any less the Sword Emperor.
“For a martial master, death always looms near. Pride and vanity are the very things that hasten it.”
“Heh heh, I thank you for the counsel, but this old man has no intention of dying easily, nor does he harbor such vanity.”
“I see.”
Dan Woo-hyun said nothing further.
Just then, sensing the strange atmosphere, Dan So-mi hugged close to him, and he patted her back soothingly while gazing out toward Dongting Lake.
A faint wind brushed past Dan Woo-hyun once more.
At that moment, Namgung So-hye, having gathered her things, came rushing over breathlessly. Given the considerable distance from here to the branch, they would need to enter Ak-yang and borrow horses to make the journey.
“It was a pleasant place to rest. If not for all this trouble, it would have been better still…….”
A hint of regret crossed Namgung Cheon’s face.
He had been enjoying rare, peaceful rest, and yet again he felt the old truth—that life rarely unfolds as one wishes.
He turned away, his mouth tightened with bitterness.
Then Dan Woo-hyun’s voice rose softly into the air.
“Come again someday……. If breath still fills your body.”
At these cryptic words, Namgung Cheon turned to look back.
Yet even studying Dan Woo-hyun’s expression as he gazed toward Dongting Lake, he could discern no clear meaning.
Namgung Cheon turned away. Now was not the time for such musings.
“Let us make haste!”

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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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