Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - Chapter 91

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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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Early morning.
Namgung Cheon was circulating his Qi in the training grounds. Jang Sam-tae and Gwon Mu-jin watched him with eyes that had shifted—that gleamed with something new.
The air itself felt different.
The morning air that had hung listless mere days before now seemed to pivot around him like a lodestone. And though no wind blew, Namgung Cheon’s robes billowed.
It was uncanny.
They had never seen such a thing, not even from Dan Woo-hyun.
“Is that…the Sword Emperor?”
Gwon Mu-jin murmured the words.
You could feel it.
It was nothing but Qi circulation, yet the force, the pressure of it—despite his internal energy having been restored mere days ago—sent tremors through the body like witnessing the Sword Emperor of old. The awe refused to fade.
“One wrong word now and we’re done for, aren’t we?”
Jang Sam-tae, too, muttered while a cold sweat slicked his palms.
The atmosphere today was altogether different from any other morning.
Presently, Namgung Cheon’s eyes opened, slow and deliberate.
Whoooosh—!
Wind erupted outward.
A fierce gale swept through the entire training grounds in a single, overwhelming surge.
Even Gwon Mu-jin and Jang Sam-tae, who stood at a considerable distance, staggered under the force of that tremendous pressure.
“Ah, so this is the first time you’ve shown us your Qi circulation.”
“Bah, what’s the fuss? I do it sometimes myself.”
“You insolent fool! Are you truly comparing yourself to me?”
“We’re all human, aren’t we?”
Namgung Cheon and Gwon Mu-jin both drew a sharp breath.
Surely only Jang Sam-tae possessed the audacity to speak thus before the legendary Sword Emperor. He trembled like a mouse before Dan Woo-hyun, yet before this man he spewed such recklessness—his nerve was outrageous.
To speak so before the Sword Emperor, who had only just detoxified himself and was gradually recovering his strength.
“Madman.”
Gwon Mu-jin shook his head slowly, muttering.
“But who were those wretches who brought you to this, sir?”
“Ah, who indeed. I’ve accumulated quite a number of enemies, you see.”
If one were to name every person he could recall, the list would exceed twenty. And if one added all those whose names had slipped from memory, surely it would climb well beyond a hundred.
Some were men of renown, others reclusive masters dwelling in obscurity.
From childhood to this day, through all his years of drawing the blade in the name of righteousness and justice, it would be unnatural indeed if enemies had not accumulated.
“Surely those dogs can barely make a move now? The poison is detoxified, and your strength returns….”
“I’ve not yet recovered my full strength. And more troubling still—their identities remain unknown.”
It gave much to ponder.
Who could manipulate the correspondence of the Murim Alliance? Who possessed the cunning to orchestrate such an elaborate scheme? Only a select few came to mind.
Those called the Five Emperors.
Yet Namgung Cheon shook his head shortly after.
Each stands at the pinnacle in their respective realm. They would not conceive such a petty scheme, and had they truly sought his death, they would have come with blade drawn from the start.
“Should we not uncover their identity soon?”
“Ah yes, we must. Though who they are remains a mystery….”
Namgung Cheon gazed quietly upward at the sky.
The force that toppled the Sword Emperor of all under heaven.
The thought that such a being walked beneath the same sky set his teeth on edge. Rage clawed at him—an urge to hunt them down and tear their bodies limb from limb. Yet the ancient saying went: a gentleman’s vengeance is not late even after ten years.
His strength was not yet fully restored, and besides, this estate held considerable interest. For now, he harbored no desire to shatter this tranquility.
He would simply wait, and observe the current.
As that thought crossed his mind and his eyes began to close.
Bang—!
Somewhere in the distance, the earth shook.
“What was that sound?”
Startled, they whirled toward the source, confusion written across their faces.

Dan Woo-hyun had simply come out for an early morning walk.
Nothing more than that.
There was no premonition of ill wind, no sense of pursuit, nothing of the sort. Dan Woo-hyun was genuinely nothing more than taking a walk in the early dawn.
Though he had wandered quite far, it seemed.
He’d been walking leisurely for about half an hour, it seemed.
The manor had long since disappeared from view, and if he continued down this path a little further, Ak-yang would reveal itself.
But Dan Woo-hyun stopped abruptly before reaching it.
Beside him stretched the vast expanse of Dongjeong Lake. The lake from the manor’s front was pleasant enough to behold, but this distant vantage offered its own irresistible allure.
Still, one view was much like another. Did the water care how far he’d wandered?
It was merely a matter of mood.
Savoring the crisp sensation he hadn’t experienced in ages, Dan Woo-hyun drew a deep breath and smiled with genuine pleasure. It had been a mistake not to bring Dan So-mi along.
Scenery like this ought to be witnessed together.
As he entertained these thoughts, Dan Woo-hyun’s head turned suddenly.
Someone was approaching.
“Hmm?”
The presence he felt from afar was not one or two, but many.
They were converging in clusters, and their direction seemed aimed precisely at where Dan Woo-hyun stood—or rather, more directly toward the manor.
What could it be?
The Red Circle Gang?
No.
For such a group, the sensation felt distinctly unpleasant.
Dan Woo-hyun’s brow furrowed slightly. His pleasant morning was being spoiled.
He remained where he stood and waited. After a quarter hour passed, masked figures began to emerge from the bright morning light, one after another.
Upon seeing Dan Woo-hyun, they started in alarm and twisted away.
They hadn’t anticipated encountering anyone.
“You there! Who are you!”
“That’s what I’d like to know—”
His counterpart drew a sword without warning.
Watching these men bristle with the intent to strike without so much as a civil exchange, Dan Woo-hyun scowled. The Central Plains had apparently become a place where steel was drawn before words could pass.
“Are you from the manor over there!”
The man demanded.
True enough—there was no other habitation worth noting in this vicinity besides Dan Woo-hyun’s estate. Ak-yang lay nearby, but it was inconceivable that its people would venture this far at such an early hour.
When Dan Woo-hyun gave a slight nod, the masked warriors exchanged glances. That alone betrayed their ill intent.
As the sound of drawn blades echoed from all sides, Dan Woo-hyun exhaled softly.
‘So they mean to rush me, then. How typical.’
The pleasant expression on Dan Woo-hyun’s face gradually hardened. Unlike moments before, a heavy presence now pressed down upon the air.
Then.
“Wretches! You dare prey upon an unarmed man!”
A booming voice rang out.
Dan Woo-hyun turned in surprise.
A black-robed figure came soaring through the air.
Notably, he wore no mask—the mark of someone who carried righteousness in his actions.
Dan Woo-hyun watched the unfolding scene with interest.
When the man landed with a violent “Thud!”, the masked ones flinched.
“Who are you!”
“Ha ha ha! Small fry like you need not know!”
“Crazy old fool! Do you wish to die!”
From Dan Woo-hyun’s perspective, the man hardly looked old enough to warrant such an epithet.
The masked warriors no longer paid Dan Woo-hyun any heed, exchanging heated words amongst themselves.
“What’s this? Have these insignificant creatures truly lost their minds and courted death!”
“Gah! Strike now!”
At last, the battle commenced.
Dan Woo-hyun stepped back a pace from the fray.
Further words were pointless between them, and the masked ones, apparently having no intention of leaving anyone alive, wielded their blades without hesitation.
Dan Woo-hyun settled casually onto a nearby rock and observed them—all the while chewing dried meat jerky extracted from his robes.
There was nothing in the world more entertaining than watching a fight. To prove this point, Dan Woo-hyun’s eyes gleamed with delight as he followed their movements.
Clang-clang-clang!
The metallic ring of clashing steel echoed repeatedly.
The masked warriors numbered around twenty, while the black-robed master stood alone.
Though overwhelmingly outnumbered, the black-robed master was clearly a formidable expert. Yet the twenty could not be dismissed as weak either—they had all reached what was called the Peak.
Swoosh!
One down—
The black-robed master’s hands were merciless.
He seized an incoming blade barehanded, wrenched it aside, then swung his own sword in a wide arc that cleaved through his opponent’s skull. He hurled the corpse toward the others and pressed forward again, beating down all who came within reach.
Thud-thud-thud!
Not content with mere fists, he wielded a blade as well.
Crunch-crunch.
Dan Woo-hyun chewed on dried meat jerky as he pondered.
Truly, there was no fighting style more crude and unrefined than this.
Yet for all its monotony, it was devastatingly fast.
The masked men collapsed one after another without ever glimpsing the depth of the Black-Clad Master’s martial prowess—his strikes were so economical, so devoid of wasted motion, that they revealed nothing of his true strength.
‘A formidable master indeed.’
Dan Woo-hyun had never seen anything like it before.
It was the complete opposite of the Sword Emperor. Namgung Cheon, by nature, observed propriety and discipline in all his movements—he refused to deviate from the warrior’s code.
This masked man before him, by contrast, employed methods so crude they scarcely deserved to be called martial arts. His aim seemed to be victory alone, not the honor bound to the warrior’s way.
“Hahahaha!”
And still he laughed.
Smeared head to toe in crimson blood, he beat his opponents down.
If that were the case, why did he bother drawing the blade in the first place?
Wasn’t it just in his way?
Dan Woo-hyun had never witnessed such a pointless display of combat in his life. And yet he had to admit—the sheer destructive power and capability on display were undeniable.
Finally, the Black-Clad Master, without pausing to catch a single breath, dispatched twenty skilled fighters in the blink of an eye.
He had appeared without warning, intending to kill, only to find his would-be victims dead at his own hands instead. Twenty corpses, no time for questions—Dan Woo-hyun found himself in an awkward position with nowhere to turn.
As Dan Woo-hyun scratched his cheek and regarded the Black-Clad Master before him, the man burst into wild laughter.
“Kyahahaha! None in all the world can match this body! Surely I am supreme under heaven!”
Clang-clang!
His voice rang out loud and clear, echoing across the grounds.
Dan Woo-hyun sighed as he watched the man wallow in the depths of self-infatuation. He had no desire to entangle himself with types like this.
As that thought crossed his mind, he rose to his feet.
“Wait!”
The Black-Clad Master lunged toward Dan Woo-hyun with savage speed.
He extended his hand.
His fingers stretched with the cunning precision of a golden monkey, reaching for Dan Woo-hyun’s shoulder. Though there was no killing intent, Dan Woo-hyun’s expression hardened.
He sidestepped lightly, and the man’s eyes widened in shock. It was clear he had never imagined his prey would evade him—the disappointment struck him hard.
This time, his hand came more deliberately, threaded with internal energy—unmistakably a technique meant to ensnare.
But that was all.
Dan Woo-hyun’s hand shot out suddenly, tapping the man’s face in rapid succession.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
As the man flew backward, Dan Woo-hyun swept his disheveled hair from his forehead.
His expression remained composed, yet his eyes burned sharper than ever before.

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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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