Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 69

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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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Namgung Cheon strolled through the streets of Ak-yang with Dan So-mi’s hand in his, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low to hide his face. No one recognized him as the Sword Emperor.
‘Why am I doing this?’
Namgung Cheon let out a quiet sigh.
Normally it was Dan Woo-hyun’s task to take Dan So-mi to and from the School.
But this morning, without warning, he’d been ordered to do it himself—and as a guest in the household, he had no choice but to comply.
Still, he didn’t mind it so much.
Dan So-mi felt like a granddaughter to him.
In fact, he doted on her far more than he had on Namgung So-hye when she was young.
She was such an affectionate, endearing child, and her every movement was so charming that he found himself giving her kisses—something he rarely did otherwise.
The only thing that bothered him was that he was doing this at Dan Woo-hyun’s behest.
“Well now, how is it? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes! I’m so happy being out with you, Grandfather!”
Dan So-mi nodded with a bright smile. It was common enough for her to tour Ak-yang with Dan Woo-hyun, but this was her first time with Namgung Cheon.
She was thoroughly delighted.
The old man and the girl began exploring the streets.
They visited the usual place where she bought sweets, then stopped at each of the scattered stalls they encountered, sampling things for lunch.
Only when both their bellies were pleasantly full did they finally stop eating.
“Ah… I’m absolutely stuffed.”
“…So am I.”
They settled down in a quiet spot away from the crowd and rubbed their stomachs. Having eaten so many different things, their bellies had swollen to the point of seeming ready to burst.
There didn’t seem to be room for anything more.
“Oh, I just remembered—there’s something fun over there!”
With that, Dan So-mi suddenly sprang to her feet and dragged Namgung Cheon toward a shop.
When they arrived at their destination, breathless from her eager pull, it was a mask shop.
A remarkable variety of strange masks lined the shelves.
“This is what you find amusing?”
Dan So-mi nodded enthusiastically.
She put on a mask shaped like a white tiger and let out a playful growl.
The sight was far from frightening—utterly adorable, in fact—and Namgung Cheon found himself smiling warmly.
“Here! Try this one!”
Soon Dan So-mi handed him a mask.
It was painted entirely white with no pattern or design whatsoever, and its lines were rather sharp-edged.
But the price was steep.
One silver coin, no less.
For something with no decoration at all, it seemed absurdly expensive.
He couldn’t imagine what it was supposed to be.
“What is this mask fashioned after?”
Namgung Cheon asked the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper smiled awkwardly and pointed to somewhere nearby.
“Do you see that place over there? It’s where they perform puppet theater…”
“I see it.”
“That’s the mask of the hero from their show. It’s quite famous among children. He’s called the Gunjageom—a legendary warrior.”
“The Gun… ja… geom?”
Such a grand epithet, reserved for a mere puppet play? Namgung Cheon found it mildly amusing and, unable to resist, tried on the mask. It fit better than he expected.
The mask was far more comfortable than its appearance suggested.
The fit was quite pleasant, actually.
When a child saw Namgung Cheon wearing it and cried out, “It’s the Gunjageom!”, the surrounding children turned to stare at him with wonder.
As Namgung Cheon moved to take off the mask, he caught sight of Dan So-mi’s face beside him, her eyes shining with hope.
One silver coin—he had money from Dan Woo-hyun, so it was no hardship, but wasn’t it excessive for just a mask?
“Grandfather, it suits you so well! Really!”
At those words, full of longing, Namgung Cheon felt cold sweat break out on his brow.
‘So this is why they say children’s commerce is the most profitable. Ha.’
Namgung Cheon shuddered before the merchants for the first time.

***

When Namgung Cheon returned to the Manor, he felt Dan Woo-hyun’s gaze upon him. From where he sat in the pavilion in the courtyard, passing the time at leisure, Dan Woo-hyun looked at him with a peculiar smile.
“So you went ahead and bought it for her.”
“Did you know?”
“That So-mi wanted it—well, that much was obvious.”
He didn’t show it on purpose, but it was written all over his face.
Every time he passed the puppet theater, every time he brushed past the mask vendors nearby, his eyes were drawn to those masks without fail.
But he’d deliberately refused to buy one.
Children’s toys changed with the seasons, after all, and he couldn’t bring himself to pay good silver for something made of cheap material.
That money could have bought So-mi better food, finer clothes.
Of course, it wasn’t truly about begrudging a single silver coin.
“I’m glad you got what you wanted.”
“Ah… no! So-mi doesn’t really like these things! It’s for Grandfather.”
So-mi fluttered her hands in denial and handed the mask to Namgung Cheon. She wasn’t entirely lying.
Despite how much she’d wanted it, she’d worn it and played with it the entire journey from Ak-yang to here.
But it hadn’t been that fun.
Putting on a mask didn’t make you strong like the Gunjageom, and with your face hidden like that, the suffocation was unbearable.
It was useless now.
Only a double hour had passed since she’d bought it.
Dan Woo-hyun smiled awkwardly, and Namgung Cheon cleared his throat. It was clear enough that So-mi had already tired of playing with the mask.
“Well… then So-mi will go inside and study.”
Patter-patter—
So-mi, her expression strained, hurried into the room.
She glanced back once or twice, clinging briefly to the thought of the mask, but now that she held it in her hands and understood its uselessness, she let go of the attachment easily.
“I’m beginning to truly understand how difficult it is to raise a child. Hehehehe.”
Namgung Cheon sat down beside Dan Woo-hyun with a hearty laugh.
He had raised children before, but in their early years nurses had done most of the caring, and as they grew, he’d only subjected them to harsh training—he’d never actually played with them like he did with So-mi.
So for Namgung Cheon, the time he spent with So-mi was something entirely new, an experience he was encountering for the first time.
Long ago, whenever he heard others complain about how exhausting child-rearing was, Namgung Cheon had never truly understood.
“Speaking of which… do you know anything about the San Gong Dok?”
Namgung Cheon finally broached the question he’d been carefully avoiding. Ever since losing in the initial match against Dan Woo-hyun, he’d felt an awkwardness in their interactions.
He’d been unable to properly bring up the subject until now.
But thanks to So-mi, the atmosphere had grown more relaxed, so he asked what he’d been curious about all along.
There was something mysteriously knowing about Dan Woo-hyun, which made him think the man might understand the San Gong Dok.
“You, someone who reaches the level of Sword Emperor, are asking me about that?”
“Hehe, this old man thought he knew most things worth knowing… but when something actually happens, you realize you don’t. And didn’t you yourself say that there’s no age or gender in learning? Perhaps you know something this old man doesn’t?”
“Haha.”
Dan Woo-hyun burst into laughter.
Using his own words against him like that—truly, a cunning old fox.
His strength might be unremarkable, but the years he’d lived through clearly hadn’t been wasted.
Dan Woo-hyun let out a small sigh and opened his mouth.
“The San Gong Dok… well, I know it well enough.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
The San Gong Dok first appeared in the Central Plains a thousand years ago.
It was back then, when he was slaughtering countless martial artists and displaying the power of the Thousand Kill Star.
Born from the desperate hope among so many martial artists that if only they could scatter that terrifying internal energy, they could kill Dan Woo-hyun—that’s what the San Gong Dok was.
“You mean you know about it well?”
“Of course. I’ve experienced it several times.”
“…?!”
Namgung Cheon stared at Dan Woo-hyun in shock.
When struck by the San Gong Dok, it was supposed to leave not a trace of internal energy behind.
Just as it had with Namgung Cheon. Yet Dan Woo-hyun still appeared to possess internal energy, which suggested he had some way to neutralize it.
Namgung Cheon’s heart suddenly began to race wildly.
The thought struck him that he might recover his full strength after all.
Gulp—!
He swallowed hard, his trembling hand reaching out to grasp Dan Woo-hyun’s. His eyes bored into the other man’s with desperate intensity.
“Tell me! How do you create the antidote?”
“An antidote?”
Dan Woo-hyun paused to think.
The formula for the San Gong Dok was fiendishly complex.
In fact, it was so secret that even Dan Woo-hyun didn’t fully understand how it was made, and though he’d captured and interrogated its creators one by one, each had known only part of the method, so he could never learn the whole.
Fundamentally, an antidote requires identifying the components of the poison or learning its formula, then creating something to overcome it.
But the San Gong Dok contained no such vulnerability.
A poison that disrupted Internal Energy alone was already absurd—how could it possibly destroy the very lifeblood one couldn’t even see?
Whoever created it must have possessed an extraordinary mind.
‘Well, it was their work, after all—hardly surprising.’
The San Gong Dok had been born from the Blood Demon Divine Cult.
At that time, Dan Woo-hyun and the Blood Demon Divine Cult were locked in a savage struggle, and from their perspective, they needed something—anything—to stop the Godly Swordsman.
And so the San Gong Dok was born.
Poisoned by it, Dan Woo-hyun had spent more than two months fleeing from them, brushing against death again and again.
He had faced countless perils in his lifetime, but never before had death loomed so near.
And yet he had overcome the San Gong Dok. How?
Everything created by man carried a flaw.
“Do you truly believe the San Gong Dok can disrupt all Internal Energy?”
“…In truth, it does seem so.”
“No. The San Gong Dok doesn’t disrupt the flow—it obstructs it, locks it in place.”
“…!”
“Which means your Internal Energy remains in your body exactly as it was, but because the San Gong Dok’s obstruction is so powerful, your power cannot overcome it.”
“Then… does that mean it can be remedied?”
Dan Woo-hyun nodded.
It was far from simple, but entirely achievable—provided one possessed sufficient resolve. If the Sword Sovereign could sustain such focus, recovery might come within months, or perhaps years.
“If a path meant to flow has been dammed, then one must bore a hole through that blockade. Even a needle’s width of opening would allow what lies within to break free and pour forth.”
Namgung Cheon could not fathom his meaning.
The San Gong Dok and Internal Energy were invisible things lodged within the body. To bore a hole through them—did that mean driving a blade through the Dantian itself?
Doing so would cost him not merely his power, but his life’s foundation.
This wasn’t a Zen riddle, and clearly the words held significance, yet Namgung Cheon’s mind could make no sense of them.
“If the meaning escapes you, think more carefully.”
He watched Dan Woo-hyun rise from his seat. No answer was forthcoming—only deeper confusion. Yet who was he to dismiss the words of one who had faced the San Gong Dok himself?
Namgung Cheon, cold sweat beading on his brow, sank into contemplation.
Crash—!
Just then, the main gate burst open without restraint.
“L-Lord Jang—!”
Jang Sam-tae came charging in, gasping for breath.
His hand clutched something as his voice rose, and both Namgung Cheon and Dan Woo-hyun’s brows furrowed at the commotion.

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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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