Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 82

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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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Something wasn’t right.
Hu Ja-ryung frowned at the thought. The men who should have been driven out of the Manor by Hyun Seung Yu Yak-jung were still there, while the one who was supposed to collect payment and handle matters had vanished without a trace.
At first, he’d assumed the man had simply gone somewhere for a few days. But ten days had passed with no word, and now doubt gnawed at him—had something gone wrong?
‘How did it come to this?’
Hu Ja-ryung found himself retracing his own footsteps.
He’d come to Ak-yang to search for the Secret Legacy of the Martial God. To verify that legend, he’d needed to comb through the area around Dongting Lake methodically, and that was why he’d acquired the Manor.
Needed it?
No.
If he’d simply pitched a tent nearby from the start, enough time would have passed by now to uncover something.
So why hadn’t he?
Pride. Pure pride.
What was a mere Manor to him?
It was the estate owner’s bold, shameless demeanor that had grated on him—initially, his plan had been nothing more than simple harassment.
But as things hadn’t gone according to plan, he’d found himself fixating on it entirely, grinding his teeth at every setback they caused him.
And now, Yu Yak-jung had disappeared.
“My… Sect Leader!”
As he brooded with furrowed brows, a voice suddenly cut through the silence. Startled, Hu Ja-ryung turned naturally and opened his mouth.
“What is it?”
“A t-terrible thing has happened! A c-corpse has been found at the foot of the cliffs on Aknok Mountain……”
“And?”
“It… it’s said to be Yu Yak-jung!”
“What… what did you say!”
“The body has been taken to the Provincial Office. Though it’s too decomposed to identify by appearance alone, based on the clothing and the name tablet, there’s no doubt!”
Hu Ja-ryung’s eyes flew wide open in shock.
The certainty with which this was being stated made it seem unmistakably true. But why had he suddenly turned up dead?
At that moment, Hu Ja-ryung’s teeth clenched.
‘Those bastards…!’
It had to be them.
The day after he’d said he was leaving the Manor, those men were still there, and Yu Yak-jung had disappeared. There was no one else it could be.
Everything had gone wrong again.
Hu Ja-ryung shot to his feet, prepared himself, and headed for the Provincial Office.
‘Idiots! You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.’
It was truly unfortunate that Yu Yak-jung was dead.
Yet now an opportunity had emerged to wipe out those fools who’d repeatedly reduced his plans to nothing.
With Hyun-ryung gone, a little manipulation of those men would make seizing the Manor child’s play.
When he arrived at the Provincial Office, the area was already in complete disarray.
Crowds had gathered all around, buzzing with gossip. Several Constables, apparently having witnessed something they shouldn’t have, sat crumpled in one corner with ashen faces, retching violently.
As Hu Ja-ryung tried to enter the Provincial Office, the Constables blocked his path.
“What brings you here?”
“I heard Hyun Seung was dead. Is that true?”
“…Yes, it is.”
For a moment, the Constable stared at Hu Ja-ryung intently, then recognition dawned on his face. This was the Sect Leader of Punggeommun, the one who’d been traveling with Hyun Seung.
In an instant, the Constable’s expression hardened.
“I know exactly who killed him.”
“What are you talking about? Hyun Seung took his own life.”
“What? That makes no sense! How could a perfectly healthy man do such a thing!”
“That’s already the conclusion we’ve reached.”
“A c-conclusion? But there’s clearly someone who murdered Hyun Seung!”
“Well, do you have any evidence that this person killed him or didn’t?”
……
“You think we’re just sitting around doing nothing? We’re busy—now move along.”
Hu Ja-ryung’s face flushed crimson.
Mere Constables. Men he could strike down with a thought whenever he pleased. This one before him certainly knew who he was, yet his tone and manner betrayed no deference whatsoever.
Hu Ja-ryung’s expression darkened, viewing this as an affront to Punggeommun itself.
“Do you know who I am……”
“What’s all this commotion?”
As Hu Ja-ryung moved to intimidate the Constable, a sudden voice made him frown and turn his head. There stood a figure somehow familiar, and as memory stirred, he soon recognized who it was.
Hyun-ryung!
Hu Ja-ryung’s gaze briefly met Hong Won-chang’s as he stepped into the Provincial Office.
He possessed neither sharp eyes nor exceptional martial prowess.
He was merely an ordinary man, yet why did this strange sensation arise the moment one beheld him?
“Ah, Lord Hyun-ryung, you’ve arrived? This fellow keeps spouting nonsense, claiming he’s discovered the murderer of Hyun Seung.”
“Hmm? The murderer of Hyun Seung? And who might that be? I’d like to know as well.”
Hong Won-chang regarded Hu Ja-ryung with an expression of keen interest.
There was no malice in that gaze whatsoever, yet Hu Ja-ryung felt oddly pressured by it.
Hu Ja-ryung frowned imperceptibly and opened his mouth.
“You’re aware of the manor west of Dongting Lake, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“The people there are the culprits.”
Upon hearing this, Hong Won-chang fell silent for a moment, swallowing something back. The constables beside him wore expressions of obvious bewilderment, and Hu Ja-ryung knew the reason better than anyone.
That manor’s backing was none other than this Hyun-ryung himself.
“As the Sect Leader of Punggeommun, which guards Ak-yang, I have no intention of overlooking this matter. It seems Lord Hyun-ryung has failed to grasp the situation properly, and so I intend to report it to the royal administration. Would that be acceptable?”
Hu Ja-ryung applied subtle pressure to Hong Won-chang.
After all, he was merely a magistrate of Ak-yang. No matter how much favor he enjoyed from the royal court and the imperial household, if matters were stated this clearly, he would have to abandon those people for the sake of his future.
Hu Ja-ryung gazed at Hong Won-chang with a satisfied expression.
‘Well then, what will you do? If you lead the constables to the manor right now, I might just forgive you.’
It was at that very moment when Hu Ja-ryung harbored such thoughts.
Hong Won-chang let out a dry cough and slowly approached him. Hu Ja-ryung, who possessed martial prowess sufficient to counter any threat, watched Hong Won-chang’s unhurried approach without concern.
“I’ve heard all about the matters of recent days. You’ve indeed stirred up quite the spectacle. But hear me well.”
Hong Won-chang murmured softly, drawing his lips close to Hu Ja-ryung’s ear. From his mouth came words Hu Ja-ryung had never anticipated.
“It is I who holds the hilt of the sword, not you. If you wish to live in peace, withdraw your hand from the manor’s affairs. That place is not for someone of your station to meddle with.”
In that instant, Hu Ja-ryung’s face flushed crimson with rage.
Yet Hong Won-chang paid him no mind, straightening his posture before tapping Hu Ja-ryung’s shoulder dismissively. That gesture—as though addressing an inferior—made Hu Ja-ryung grit his teeth.
As Hong Won-chang turned his back and entered the Provincial Office, Hu Ja-ryung too spun sharply and walked away.
Hong Won-chang’s words still echoed in his ears, refusing to fade.
‘What is so special about that wretched manor that he shields it so fiercely?’
He had never experienced such treatment before. Even during his time in Hubei, though his name was not widely known, he had held a position no mere magistrate could dismiss.
This situation struck him as profoundly shameful.
Then he would show them.
He would demonstrate the power of Punggeommun.
He would prove that the blood spilled in his dominion over Ak-yang was no fabrication.
He vowed to make them realize that it was he, Hu Ja-ryung himself, who truly held the sword’s hilt—not some mere magistrate.
As Hu Ja-ryung ground his teeth and turned away, his disciple beside him lowered his head.
“Gather the disciples. Today we will obliterate that manor, leaving not a single stone of its foundation intact.”
“Yes, Master.”

Whissssh—!
A swarm of figures rushed rapidly toward the manor.
Each bore a sword in hand and radiated killing intent without restraint, their presence unmistakably ominous.
By nature, martial artists—especially those of righteous sects affiliated with the Murim Alliance—were forbidden from raising their hands against those ignorant of martial arts.
But what did such prohibitions matter?
The strong subdued the weak; that was the law. It was an instinct passed down since ancient times, and it was precisely for this reason that people strove so relentlessly to gain power.
Moreover, was it not absurd to possess strength and refuse to wield it?
“There—leave not a single one alive!”
“Yes!”
At Sect Leader Hu Ja-ryung’s command, his disciples nodded in assent.
This was not their first time taking lives. Thus they advanced toward the manor with practiced efficiency.
As they drew closer, their killing intent erupted like a volcano.
The instant they prepared to vault over the wall and breach the interior—
Crack—!
A stone came flying from nowhere, striking one man’s head with brutal force. His body fell helplessly to the ground.
He lived—groaning faintly—but seemed unlikely to wield a sword again.
Startled by the sudden turn of events, those who had been scaling the wall froze.
Moments later, another sharp sound—’Thwack!’—came from within, followed by a small cry and a heavy silence.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d be coming?”
“Heh, well, this is something….”
At that very moment, the sound of hoofbeats reached them—but the noise came not from beyond the wall ahead, but from behind them.
Stones flew from inside the compound, yet there were people at their backs?
Hu Ja-ryung’s alarm was unmistakable.
“Who are you bastards?”
“That’s precisely what we’d like to know. What brings masked intruders to scale someone else’s walls on such a godforsaken night?”
Hu Ja-ryung’s gaze settled on the old man who had spoken.
By his voice alone, there was no mistaking he was elderly. Even in the moonlight, his hands were visibly covered in wrinkles.
He wondered if this might be the same old man in the horsehair hat he’d glimpsed at the manor before.
Yet the old man seemed unwilling to show his face, wearing a mask instead—the sort of thing that had become fashionable among children lately, apparently called the Gunja Geom mask.
“An elder with peculiar tastes, I see.”
“No elder, this.”
“What?”
Hu Ja-ryung faltered at the unexpected denial.
The voice, the wrinkled hands, and the snow-white beard visible between the edges of the mask—all unmistakably belonged to an old man.
Yet the man claimed to be no elder, leaving Hu Ja-ryung momentarily dumbfounded.
One-armed—or so it seemed from the way his sleeve fluttered empty—the old man gripped a sword and stepped forward.
Hu Ja-ryung looked at the elder, Namgung Cheon, as one might regard a madman.
Sensing the younger man’s thoughts, the old man lifted his blade slightly and spoke.
“This old one is… called the Gunja Geom.”
At those words, Hu Ja-ryung and his disciples burst into laughter.
The epithet “Gunja Geom” had been common in ages past, but for some time now, no one used it anymore.
It had fallen into disuse after becoming a character’s alias in old tales, then later an object of longing for children.
Hu Ja-ryung twisted his expression and muttered.
“A senile old fool, nothing more.”

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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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