Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 83

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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 closed his eyes tight as he looked at the men before him.
It couldn’t be. Those who bore the name of the Murim Alliance, who walked the Righteous Path—they could never commit such an act.
Namgung Cheon suddenly recalled a conversation he’d had with Dan Woo-hyun.

‘What if those bastards come with swords drawn?’
‘Hah, that’s unlikely. No matter their shortcomings, they are still among those who bear responsibility for one of the pillars of the Murim Alliance. They couldn’t possibly do something so shameless.’

Dan Woo-hyun had scoffed.
Kwon Mu-jin beside him had worn a strange smile as well.
Namgung Cheon hadn’t liked that at all.
Punggeommun.
To Namgung Cheon, who had been the leader of the Murim Alliance, it was nothing more than a minor sect he scarcely remembered by name—but since they were registered with the Murim Alliance and walked the path of righteousness, he had believed in his heart that they would not overstep their bounds.

‘Should those men come, this old one will stand against them.’
‘Without an arm and without Internal Energy?’
‘Hah, what do you take Namgung Cheon for?’

Namgung Cheon had been confident.
Not confident that he could defeat them with only one arm and no Internal Energy—confident, rather, that they would not commit recklessness.
Only a few months ago, he had been the leader of the Murim Alliance. If he would not trust those who belonged to the Alliance, who then would?
Yet now, looking upon these men before his eyes, his sense of betrayal was beyond words.
The swords they gripped, the killing intent they radiated, the gleam in their eyes—seeing it all, he sensed this was far from the first time such deeds had been done.
That alone was enough to kindle his fury.
‘It is all my fault.’
The leader of the Murim Alliance. The Sword Emperor.
Namgung Cheon, who had stood at a height above all others, had been utterly blind to what transpired beneath him. He had merely nodded at the reports he received.
And so he had lived all this while with nothing but the belief that those of the Righteous Path were different from the Evil Path, that they did not act like the demonic sects.
But he had been wrong.
Dan Woo-hyun’s words burrowed into his mind.

“Human nature knows neither righteousness nor evil. Depending on the heart, even those of the Evil Path may walk the Righteous Way, and even those of the Righteous Path may walk the evil way.”

Those words were true.
Dan Woo-hyun and Kwon Mu-jin saw through human nature more clearly than anyone.
‘To realize this only now, at an age when death draws near…’
And Namgung Cheon understood.
That beyond these men before him, there were still many places where others wore the name of the Murim Alliance and tarnished it.
‘If that is the case…’
Namgung Cheon gripped his sword and let out a soft sigh.
“I shall teach you all the Way of the Gentleman.”
“Pahahaha! Old man! You’ve watched the Puppet Theater so much you’ve become its hero, spouting such nonsense!”
One of the Punggeommun disciples burst into loud laughter.
What Namgung Cheon had said was a famous line from the Puppet Theater’s protagonist, the Gentleman Swordsman, spoken to those who committed wicked deeds—a saying well-known even among children.
One disciple drew his sword and charged forward.
They had to kill everyone anyway. Though Hu Ja-ryung’s order hadn’t come down yet, their task would amount to much the same.
So he charged forward without hesitation, swinging his blade.
An old one-armed man was all—surely killing someone like that would be easier than eating rice cakes while lying down.
Clang!
“Huh?”
But something strange happened.
The sword of the disciple, which had come down to sever the old man’s remaining right arm in a single stroke, bounced away with startling lightness.
Before the man could even react, the old man’s blade had pierced into his abdomen.
Thud!
“Gaaaaah!”
“Fear not. I did not strike a vital acupoint. But you’ll find it difficult to move about for some time.”
Namgung Cheon withdrew his sword and murmured, regarding the man who had collapsed.
Namgung Cheon possessed no Internal Energy. Moreover, the left arm he favored had been severed.
But what did any of that matter?
For months he had bled and sweated, gripping the sword with his right arm, learning to wield it. Now that it had grown familiar, whatever technique he deployed flowed out naturally.
No Internal Energy, yet the Sword Emperor remained the Sword Emperor.
One of the supreme masters whom no one could match—by virtue of experience alone.
Weakened though he was compared to his past, he retained enough strength to dispatch Punggeommun with ease.
“No… that’s impossible!”
“This mad old fool!”
Thud-thud-thud—
The disciples rushed toward Namgung Cheon. One had fallen; vengeance was their due.
They came at him with eyes ablaze, killing intent rolling off them in waves. It was the resolve of men who would tear him limb from limb.
And yet Namgung Cheon’s movements were anything but ordinary.
One might have questioned whether this was truly a man who had lost his Internal Energy and an arm—so deftly did he evade and deflect the incoming blades, probing for openings.
His swordsmanship was masterful too, carefully avoiding the vital acupoints.
Scrape—scrape—
“Aaaargh!”
“Noooo!”
Cries of agony followed in succession.
None could stand against the furious Gentleman Sword’s blade. The disciples of Punggeommun fell helplessly to the ground, their pitiful forms laid bare.
“Uggh… this is insane…!”
Hu Ja-ryung could not hide his shock.
Watching his disciples fall one by one, he could not contain his rage.
When he first saw the old man’s technique, he had thought him merely competent. Now he knew better.
He was formidable.
Yet Hu Ja-ryung felt no fear.
Instead of dread, fury at this old Gentleman Sword welled up within him, and killing intent rose like heat shimmer from his body.
Hu Ja-ryung infused his blade with Internal Energy and charged forward. He launched a surprise attack at the Gentleman Sword, whose blade was still piercing through one of the remaining disciples, and struck with all his might.
The moment Namgung Cheon sensed Hu Ja-ryung’s momentum, he swung his sword.
Clang—!
But he was a fraction too slow.
And when their blades met, a violent surge of Internal Energy transmitted through the sword and shook his entire body. It was a force of a different caliber from the disciples sprawled on the ground.
“Heh, heh… well now.”
“Do you really think slashing down a few disciples makes you strong?”
Hu Ja-ryung raised his sword with supreme confidence.
He had felt his strike land. He could be certain now—the old man had no Internal Energy.
The certainty that victory was his own made Hu Ja-ryung smile all the wider.
“Old man, you have some skill, but this is where it ends!”
Hu Ja-ryung laughed and charged.
Namgung Cheon’s swordsmanship was refined and swift. But without Internal Energy, his movements were sluggish.
It might have worked on disciples, but against Hu Ja-ryung, already risen to the rank of Peak-level Master, it was futile.
‘So this is the difference in caliber,’ Hu Ja-ryung thought with a sneer.
He laughed coldly and swung his blade forward. The edge drove through like a flash of lightning.
Slash-slash-slash-slash-shriek!
Namgung Cheon could not defend against it. No matter how perfectly his fundamentals remained, the gulf between a swordsman with Internal Energy and one without was simply too vast.
Blood sprayed from his entire body. Yet despite the grievous wounds, Namgung Cheon uttered not a sound. As the Sword Emperor, he had endured far worse countless times before.
But his body was another matter.
The instant he stepped back, his legs suddenly went weak.
“Hah… heh, heh. Even this old man has grown old.”
“Damn it, why did you have to step up?”
At Jang Sam-tae’s words, Namgung Cheon simply laughed.
The sight of him drenched in blood displeased Jang Sam-tae, and he clenched his fists, about to step forward.
“No, no. Let me handle this.”
“Well, what a stubborn old codger. Are you truly up to it?”
“Old codger? You’d better watch your mouth, or you’ll catch another blow.”
……
Namgung Cheon stretched his body slowly. Then, his expression turning grave in a way it had not before, he fixed his gaze on Hu Ja-ryung. He drew a short breath—a gathering of strength—and settled himself into stillness.
And then, something stirred in his heart. It was a thrill he had not felt since the day he reached the rank of Sword Emperor—a quickening he thought long dead.
“Still… a martial artist.”
Namgung Cheon murmured, laughing quietly again.
All this time, he had believed himself transcendent. No matter what opponent stood before him, he felt neither the hunger for Martial Arts that had burned in him as a child nor any desire to overcome them.
He had long since recognized that he had already reached the highest place.
Yet that forgotten emotion stirred back to life within him, and his Haoran-ji-gi surged with power.
Behind the mask, his face shone with unmistakable delight.
“Come now. Again.”
“Ha ha! This old man truly courts death!”

Clang—clang-clang-clang!
Inside the manor.
There, Dan Woo-hyun sipped his wine unhurriedly, gazing up at the moonlight. In his arms, little Dan So-mi slept soundly.
The sound of clashing blades reached them, yet she stirred not at all—which made him wonder if perhaps her vital acupoints had been sealed.
Her expression remained remarkably serene.
“Are you certain about this? Facing a Peak-level Master without any Internal Energy at all—that’s gambling with your life.”
Kwon Mu-jin could not understand Dan Woo-hyun.
Leaving Namgung Cheon to fight on freely was tantamount to courting death. If everyone truly lacked Internal Energy, Namgung Cheon’s victory would be assured. By technique alone, Kwon Mu-jin himself still could not best Namgung Cheon.
But the difference that Internal Energy makes is absolute. And when the opponent is a Peak-level Master, the outcome becomes a certainty.
Not even the Sword Emperor could hope to win under such circumstances.
That was why Kwon Mu-jin found it so strange that Dan Woo-hyun still had not entered the fray.
“Do you know what separates those who reach the heights from those who do not?”
“Hard work, surely?”
Kwon Mu-jin had clawed his way to his present station through blood and sweat. His voice was firm, as though he could accept nothing else as truth.
Yet Dan Woo-hyun smiled faintly and shook his head.
It struck Kwon Mu-jin as deeply unsettling.
“Instinct.”
“In… stinct…?”
“Yes. The ability to find the way forward instinctively in any circumstance. The path to victory, or the righteous path. That is the instinct possessed only by those born as warriors of genius.”
“Such a thing truly exists?”
“It does. Though I suspect you’d rather not admit it.”
Kwon Mu-jin’s fists clenched tight.
He did not wish to accept it.
Much less that such instinct was the birthright of geniuses alone.
He had never felt it himself, and that made him all the more reluctant to acknowledge its existence.
In the moment his teeth grated together—
“Gaaaahhh!”
Hu Ja-ryung’s shriek snapped Kwon Mu-jin back to awareness. His eyes flew wide as he turned his gaze toward the wall.
He had naturally assumed Hu Ja-ryung would be victorious.
“That—that is exactly what instinct looks like.”
“…!”
Kwon Mu-jin found himself utterly speechless.

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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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