I Became the Namgung Clan’s Omnipotent Item-Powered Martial God - Chapter 18

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 18
Episode 18 – Please Protect Me
#1
The Chief Steward regarded Namgung Mu, who had appeared suddenly, and let out a hollow laugh.
He’d already guessed what wind had blown to make him move about so busily.
To show emotion before the Family Head would normally be terribly rude, but it didn’t matter.
The two of them were intimate enough for that.
The Chief Steward adjusted his spectacles and asked.
“I hadn’t expected you to come in person, Family Head.”
“Surely a father ought to see to his son’s allowance himself.”
“Ha, you must be quite pleased with him.”
“I’m simply keeping my word.”
Of course he was.
The Chief Steward merely smiled and nodded.
In truth, he himself had been quite astonished.
That the young master would display such tremendous skill from the Squad Leader Selection Tournament onward.
Was he truly the same man who had suffered from Jeolmaek?
“Was he a Sleeping Dragon all along, or has he been Enduring Hardship?”
“That, even I cannot say.”
“Is that so? I had thought it was your will, Family Head. You seem quite troubled these days.”
“It is the truth.”
So even the Family Head did not know…….
The Chief Steward nodded.
The fierce power struggle between the Family Head and the Council of Elders had been an ongoing problem for quite some time.
The Elders invoked his youth as their complaint; the Family Head accused the Council of overstepping their bounds.
The Chief Steward, who observed all financial matters with an objective eye, knew well.
The Elders wanted to wrest even the slightest portion of the Family Head’s authority.
‘In such circumstances, what will the Family Head do…….’
He claimed not to know, but would the other Elders think the same?
In the Chief Steward’s own assessment, the fourth young master, Namgung Yeon, was a secret weapon.
How else could he have emerged so brilliantly at such a perfectly opportune moment?
“So, what amount of allowance were you considering?”
“Ten gold pieces or so—something modest, perhaps.”
“Hmm. At that rate, he could even build himself a residence and live comfortably.”
What did ten gold pieces amount to?
Put simply, it was enough to build a small village in the mountains.
In an urban area, one could purchase a modest manor.
Given the fine performance he has shown, surely such a sum is not unreasonable.
“The rivals will have no complaints, then.”
“I think it appropriate.”
An ordinary commoner hearing that sum would have cried out in protest that it was far from modest.
But to these men, it was little more than pocket change.
This was the stage where the next Family Head would be chosen.
If such an investment was not made for talent of this caliber, what hope was there?
“Then I shall make the arrangements.”
“I am grateful.”
“The checks against Yeon will grow quite severe now.”
…….
Namgung Mu held the same thought.
He had displayed such martial prowess so openly.
The father-in-law, the Former Family Head of the Tang Clan, had even laughed with delight—ha ha ha!
What could that hearty laugh possibly mean?
‘Can he pull it off?’
Worry pressed forward, but he did not voice it.
Three months.
He’d heard that traveling about on his own, the boy had accomplished much.
It was Namgung Yeon himself who had made his name spread through Market Street and these compounds.
‘If he can achieve that much through his own strength, he won’t disappoint.’
Namgung Mu stirred from his reverie and spoke to the Chief Steward.
He would have someone deliver it, since he couldn’t do so himself.
Now that he thought about it, wasn’t the child called Ho Ho?
Sending that one on an errand would be perfect.
“Then I’ll ask you to handle it.”
“Everything will proceed without a hitch.”
The Chief Steward watched Namgung Mu’s retreating figure fade into the shadows.
How this decision would unfold—he found himself genuinely curious.
Now, truly, the competition that would determine the clan’s fate was about to begin.
#2
A strangled gasp tore from his throat.
“Get up, you wretch. Is this all I taught you?”
“No, I… I apologize……”
Namgung Jinjin lay there covered in dust, his face swollen and bruised.
Before him stood his father, chest heaving with barely contained fury.
Baekryong Daeju.
A commanding officer of the White Dragon Unit, among the finest swordsmen in the Namgung Clan, and a loyal minister of considerable renown.
He harbored but a single dream.
That his son would become Deputy Family Head.
Or, to be honest, he didn’t even require that much—only that his boy would rise far beyond where he himself had climbed.
Isn’t that the dream of every parent?
But Baekryong Daeju’s longing burned with a peculiar intensity.
“I have invested time and coin in you, yet this is all you can manage? This father is sorely disappointed. I believed you were the hope of our collateral line!”
“Forgive me……”
“There’s no need for apologies. The responsibility falls to you regardless.”
……
The boy understood that such cold words would sting far more deeply than any shouted rebuke—and his father knew it too.
Namgung Jinjin squeezed his eyes shut.
This father had always looked at him with eyes full of hope, always telling him that he was capable, always building him up.
When he had failed, he’d received reproaches, yes.
But he had always known that beneath those scoldings lay an unwavering belief that he would improve.
This time, however, was different.
Words forged deliberately in the furnace of disappointment.
The thought that he would no longer be expected to succeed—it made his chest plummet.
“Leave. And don’t let me see you until you’ve found your resolve.”
With those final words, Baekryong Daeju turned and walked away.
Namgung Jinjin sat for a long time in that place, cursing his own weakness.
Why was this all he could achieve?
‘Why couldn’t I defeat that one man?’
As he’d left, he had studied the expression of Namgung Jin, whom he’d always followed with brotherly affection.
In those eyes, once so warm toward him, disappointment and contempt now mingled.
And worse—it was toward Namgung Yeon that he now directed his competitive spirit.
The third young master, Namgung Jin, had always sparred with him, building his skills through constant practice.
For the first time, he had shown his hunger to compete—not against Jinjin, but against another.
Even if that hunger had taken on the color of hatred.
“Damn it……”
It was rising up in him.
A fierce resolve not to sit passively by.
A bitter hatred toward Namgung Yeon, who had taken everything from him.
Despair at his own meager talent.
And a desperate need not to betray his father’s expectations.
‘In the end, I will be the one who prevails.’
And so he made a vow.
Since his start had been derailed, he would reclaim the Squad Leader position afterward.
That wretch had become Squad Leader only by luck.
Therefore, he would take back that position—he had sworn it.
That position should have been his from the beginning.
“I will reclaim it… no matter what.”
That seat is mine.
Namgung Jinjin rose shakily to his feet, hatred pouring from him like a living thing.
Then, without hesitation, he headed not to his quarters but to the Training Ground, determined to hone his blade.
#3
At that same moment.
Namgung Yeon was in private conversation with his mother.
“You want me to arrange a meeting with my grandfather—that is, my father?”
“Yes.”
“Just give me a moment.”
By now, he was probably lounging about like an idle scholar, chewing on something or other, so going to see him would be no trouble at all.
The real question was what had prompted his mother, So Yeon, to ask in the first place.
She sent a servant ahead to first confirm that her husband was in his quarters.
“He appears to be there now, madam.”
“Good, thank you.”
And so they set out to visit Tang Yeon Ho, the former Family Head of the Tang Clan, who was staying in a nearby Separate Building.
So Yeon went to meet her father with Namgung Yeon at her side.
Now that she thought about it, why hadn’t the other children paid their respects to him?
‘Or did they go separately?’
Thinking that some instruction was needed, she knocked on the door to his quarters.
“Father, I’ve come.”
“Oooh! So Yeon! Come in, come in!”
A rasping voice, as though he’d been boiling leather.
So Yeon smiled softly and continued.
“Namgung Yeon came with me. It’s your fourth grandchild.”
“Ohhhhh! Is that so! Let me see my grandson’s face! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
A hearty, delighted laugh.
Namgung Yeon found himself thinking of his maternal grandfather.
They hadn’t seen much of each other, but the man had always steadfastly guarded the western reaches.
The Nine Sects and One Alliance, all crumbling.
During that era when both orthodox and unorthodox factions alike were collapsing, he had been the pillar holding firm—Sichuan’s unwavering support.
‘If only that pillar could have been strengthened further.’
What might have been then?
Could Sichuan, Chengdu, and all the countless souls who fled there have been saved?
Namgung Yeon stepped inside, his mind swirling with the tragic reports he’d heard again and again.
The man before him still appeared vigorous.
The sharp scent of medicinal herbs wafted in, mingled with the faint, acrid tang of poison.
Tang Yeon Ho lay sprawled at an angle, flipping a dagger—whisk, whisk—through his fingers.
A master of poison and blade both.
And so the world knew him by this name:
The Ten-Thousand Poison Dagger King.
Even in retirement, that epithet had clung to him unchanged.
He was the king of poisons, the king of dagger arts.
No one had yet emerged to surpass his reputation.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! My grandson! Did you miss your old grandfather? How wonderful!”
“Good to see you, Grandfather.”
“Yes, yes, come in. Is your father busy?”
“Yes. He has to oversee the preparations for the training grounds.”
The two of them continued inside, their conversation flowing naturally.
Tang Yeon Ho gazed at his grandson Namgung Yeon with warm affection and asked:
“Well then, my boy. You were truly remarkable today. I heard you were sickly as a child—your mother must have taken good care of you.”
“No, sir. I recovered on my own.”
“Mm…?”
He recovered on his own?
Tang Yeon Ho began to piece together his memories methodically.
Yes, that was right…
“Weren’t you afflicted with Jeolmaek? Am I remembering correctly?”
“Yes, that’s true. There was no improvement in sight, and yet I managed to overcome it myself.”
“Ha-ha-ha… Is such a miracle possible? Wait. That means… boy, how long have you been formally training in martial arts?”
Tang Yeon Ho straightened his posture as he questioned Namgung Yeon.
At the same moment, he caught sight of eyes that seemed far too old for a child, and inwardly he stilled his surprise.
How could this small boy possess eyes so profoundly deep?
‘An abyss.’
There was no vertigo, no glimmer of youthful brilliance in Namgung Yeon’s gaze—only an endless, depthless void.
He had seen eyes like this only once before.
Once, moments before the death of the Sword Demon, whom the martial world called a calamity.
Those hollow, fathomless eyes—they could only be seen in those who had shed all attachment to the world.
“It’s been three months now.”
“……What?”
The words pulled him free from his reverie.
He had to ask again, uncertain if he’d heard correctly.
“Three years?”
“No. Three months. Three months.”
The boy held out his hand and raised three fingers, and Tang Yeon Ho’s expression turned bewildered.
So, a child who’d recovered from the Jeolmaek and gotten back on his feet had, in three months, thrown a First-Class warrior to the ground?
And not just once, but twice in consecutive bouts?
“Heh. Hehehehe…….”
What a creature this one was.
He was genuinely astonished.
He couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of this child’s gift.
The hunger that lay buried deep within his chest stirred and lifted its head.
“Well then, do you have a reason for seeking out your grandfather? If you’re weary of the succession struggle, come to your mother’s side whenever you wish.”
“Rather than that, I came because I have a request.”
Tang Yeon Ho’s eyes gleamed.
This child’s talent.
And more than that, there was something different about him.
‘The others never came to seek me out. I thought it was merely a trait of the Namgung Clan, nothing remarkable.’
Whether they deliberately refused to come or whether they preferred to rise by their own strength, he couldn’t say.
But every direct descendant who participated in the Deputy Family Head Competition had not sought him out.
To be precise, when they visited, they paid their respects and then pretended to know nothing.
Yet this one had come to him.
Moreover, he was making a request.
Tang Yeon Ho found himself curious about what grand scheme might be turning behind the eyes of this audacious little child.
“Well then. What could you possibly ask of your old grandfather?”
“Become my guardian. For the duration of this Deputy Family Head Competition.”
…….
Everyone fell silent.
Because this was unprecedented.
And because no one bearing the Namgung name had ever reached out to another family for help.
Tang Yeon Ho’s eyes dimmed.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————