Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 106

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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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Chapter 106
Moyong Lim’s face contorted.
Hisssss!
In an instant, the alcohol poison erupted outward in a rapid torrent.
Moyong Lim’s expression hardened as he glared at Dokgo Myeong.
“I suppose I should apologize.”
“Hmm?”
“As the host of the Yongbong Conference, I regret having offended your sensibilities.”
“….”
“Since I understand what you’re saying, let’s leave it at that.”
Dokgo Myeong chuckled softly.
Though it appeared to be an apology on the surface, his tone was peculiar—as if he were indulging a child’s tantrum before gracefully withdrawing.
“Are you frightened? Or do you have some reason to avoid this?”
“What did you say?”
“And you call yourself a Swordsman?”
Dokgo Myeong let out a mocking laugh.
“Isn’t a Swordsman one who stakes his life on a single blade? You swagger and posture against those weaker than yourself, yet the moment you face someone who might actually match you, your tail tucks between your legs.”
“…!”
At his relentless verbal assault, everyone’s expressions froze in shock.
Moyong Lim’s face twisted beyond recognition.
“You think I’m doing this because I fear losing to you?”
“Then what?”
Moyong Lim clicked his tongue.
“…It was a mistake bringing you here. I should have simply accepted it when you said you wouldn’t come.”
“Exactly my point. Why did you insist on dragging someone who refused to attend and ruin the entire atmosphere of this gathering?”
Dokgo Myeong laughed openly, his mockery dripping with contempt.
Moyong Lim’s eyes narrowed as he stared at him.
“I acknowledge that your martial prowess has grown stronger, but I never expected you to behave like such a ruffian.”
“So, are you just going to keep wagging your tongue?”
“What?”
“If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”
Whoooosh!
Dokgo Myeong extended his leg.
In that instant, those seated near Dokgo Myeong’s eyes widened in alarm.
‘What, what is this?’
It felt as though someone had seized their head and was shaking it violently.
A ringing filled their ears, and their vision blurred.
It was the application of sensory disruption.
Moyong Lim, momentarily staggered by this peculiarity, flinched in surprise.
Something was approaching from the front.
Moyong Lim drew his sword.
Clang! A thunderous crash!
“…!”
Moyong Lim was driven backward in a straight line.
The blade trembled fiercely. He nearly lost his grip on the hilt.
‘Just one strike?’
Could a bare-handed fist strike possess such overwhelming power?
What was the disparity between external and internal cultivation?
“Stop… Gasp!”
Clang! Clang-clang-clang-clang!
At close quarters, sword and fist became entangled.
Those of inferior skill could barely comprehend half of the collision between the two warriors that occurred in mere instants.
And in that moment, Moyong Lim’s eyes widened.
‘I’m being pushed back!’
Boom!
A heavy kick descended as if a cannon had been fired.
Moyong Lim frantically swung his blade.
Clang! Clang-clang! Boom!
Tables overturned completely, and the internal energy shockwaves colliding in the narrow space created a vortex.
“Cough!”
Moyong Lim spat blood.
It wasn’t even a direct hit.
The impact from Dokgo Myeong’s sharp strike had violently shaken his internal organs.
‘This level of power? From someone of my generation?’
Moyong Lim’s sword was the Swift Blade. If he fully committed to it, he was confident he could cut down even a superior opponent in the blink of an eye.
Yet clearly his blade had been drawn first.
Boom!
“Cough!”
Dokgo Myeong’s fist had arrived first.
He wasn’t even employing swift fist techniques. It was purely that his strikes were heavier and faster than his own.
“The Windstorm Blade is said to be the foremost of the Four Dragons and Five Phoenixes….”
Someone muttered with a face full of shock.
A direct descendant of the Moyong Family, the renowned house of swords, and counted among the strongest posterior disciples of his generation, was being relentlessly overwhelmed.
While everyone else froze in astonishment, only Geum Seok-du wore an expression of inevitability.
‘I knew this would happen.’
When I thought about it, Dokgo Myeong had never fought a favorable battle. Every time, he was outnumbered, circumstances were unfavorable, or he faced opponents clearly superior to himself.
And he won every time.
But the renowned house of swords? The strongest posterior disciple of his generation?
It was laughable. A tiger had simply never entered the arena where dogs competed.
Boom! A heavy thud!
“Huck!”
Half of Moyong Lim’s broken blade flew through the air and embedded itself in the ceiling.
Dokgo Myeong walked forward with light, leisurely steps as if taking a stroll.
‘Come on out.’
Dokgo Myeong clenched his fist.
‘What exactly are you hiding?’
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three light, cutting punches stripped away Moyong Lim’s defense.
And just as the drawn fist thrust forward again.
Flash!
A streak of energy flared.
Moyong Lim’s sword technique began to change its nature.
Whoooosh!
Against Moyong Lim’s heavy, deliberate strike, a strange momentum transmitted through the ground.
This was not the swift swordplay from before.
Heavy and linear sword technique—the sword energy that erupted in an instant felt like it was binding his limbs.
‘What is this?’
For a moment, alarm flashed across Dokgo Myeong’s eyes.
Boom! Crash crash!
For the first time, Dokgo Myeong allowed himself to be pushed back.
Dokgo Myeong skidded backward, scraping the ground.
“Huff, huff….”
Moyong Lim let his sword hang loose as a satisfied smile crossed his face.
Dokgo Myeong glared at Moyong Lim with wide eyes.
“What did you just do?”
“What?”
“That last sword strike—it wasn’t the Moyong Family’s martial art. Answer me. What exactly did you learn?”
“That is clearly a secret technique of the Main Sect. Is it so surprising?”
“You’re talking nonsense!”
At the sharp shout, Moyong Lim flinched momentarily.
Whoooosh!
A terrifying hostility erupted from Dokgo Myeong’s entire body.
“Fine. If you won’t speak willingly, I’ll make you want to speak.”
Just as Dokgo Myeong was about to move.
Clang! Clang clang!
Flashing weapons blocked his path ahead.
Not just in front, but to the sides and behind as well. All manner of weapons surrounded Dokgo Myeong from every direction.
“Stop, Dokgo Myeong!”
The Posterior Disciples who had been waiting for the moment to intervene. They all drew their weapons and surrounded Dokgo Myeong.
“That’s enough! What is the meaning of this outrage!”
“Apologize to Moyong Lim! You have clearly crossed the line.”
“Using assassination techniques over a trivial quarrel at a drinking gathering!”
Everyone stared at Dokgo Myeong with eyes caught somewhere between wariness and shock.
Dokgo Myeong burst into laughter.
“How shameless. Your mouths are so wide open, there’s nothing you won’t say.”
“That, that is….”
“Truly pathetic.”
At Dokgo Myeong’s words accompanied by a click of his tongue, the faces of the posterior disciples contorted.
“Well, you grew up watching the current martial artists who created today’s Gangho, so it’s only natural. And when you grow up, today’s Gangho will continue through you as well.”
Even with blades flashing before his eyes, not a trace of fear could be found on his face.
Dokgo Myeong appeared perfectly at ease, as if he were certain these blades could not even draw a single scratch on him.
“Seok-du.”
“Yes, yes?”
“Do these still look so brilliant to you?”
“…!”
Dokgo Myeong turned his head again.
“And do you truly believe you can stop me with just this?”
Thud!
Dokgo Myeong took a light step forward.
The weapons surrounding him from all sides rippled like waves and retreated. Fear was reflected in the light of the blades.
With weapons that could be swung at any moment surrounding him, Dokgo Myeong simply walked forward steadily.
“Wait, just a moment!”
“…?”
“We, we might be able to stop you or we might not. But that’s not what matters, is it?”
It was Jegal Soso, the precious jewel of the Jegal Family.
Despite having been laughing and giggling just moments before, she now stared at Dokgo Myeong with trembling eyes.
“If you go any further, we will all officially report this matter to your family.”
“Finally, something worth hearing.”
“Back away! Unless you’re prepared for war!”
Dokgo Myeong casually reached out and grasped the blade directly in front of him.
Whoosh! Crack!
“Wh, what!”
The moment the blade seemed to be pulled away, the sword’s hilt was already in Dokgo Myeong’s hand.
With the stolen sword resting brazenly across his shoulder like a ruffian, Dokgo Myeong grinned wickedly.
“Even the precious jewel of the Jegal Family is still young. You understand so little of how the world works.”
“What, what did you say?”
Jegal Soso’s face contorted, feeling as though she had been treated like a child.
“Even if I were to beat all of you down right now, no war would break out.”
Dokgo Myeong spoke with a slight hint of amusement.
“H, how can you be so certain?”
“The Main Sect will likely settle for a few regional rights, several chests brimming with treasures, and confining me to the Punishment Chamber for a time. And your parents will accept it as if they’re being magnanimous in their forgiveness.”
“That’s absurd! That can’t be right!”
“Can’t be right? It would be far more profitable than waging an all-out war against the greatest household under heaven.”
“…!”
“Why do you look so shocked?”
The blade Dokgo Myeong had caught gleamed with an eerie light.
“Isn’t that precisely how the Gangho operates these days?”
That was when it happened.
“Then let’s do this instead.”
Moyong Lim, who had regained his composure, glared at Dokgo Myeong with a contorted expression.
“In four days, a martial tournament will be held at the Denglong Arena. Unlike previous tournaments, this one will be conducted under the Main Sect’s supervision as a winner’s bracket.”
“Go on.”
“Face me there.”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes narrowed.
“And how do you know I won’t flee?”
“…Are you insulting me that much?”
“Perhaps. I hadn’t intended to speak this bluntly until now, but after seeing that final sword technique you used, I changed my mind.”
At Dokgo Myeong’s words, Moyong Lim’s expression wavered.
The people around them furrowed their brows in confusion.
What could that sword technique have been for Dokgo Myeong to react so intensely?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Dokgo Myeong exhaled slowly.
Whoosh!
In an instant, the overwhelming aura that had dominated the hall receded like a tide, flowing back into Dokgo Myeong.
‘The withdrawal of momentum is so natural….’
The Posterior Disciples felt defeat once more.
“Well, from my perspective, it’s not a bad proposal.”
“….”
Dokgo Myeong spoke with a light laugh.
Then he glanced around before slowly clasping his fist in salute.
“I apologize for causing unnecessary disturbance in this fine establishment and speaking out of turn. Seeing my cousin oppressed made my blood boil for a moment.”
“….”
“As a token of my apology, I’ll have a new table of drinks brought out on my way. Please enjoy without worry—I’ll cover all the expenses.”
Everyone’s expression became bewildered at the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“With the cost of the broken table and a new spread of drinks, the price won’t be cheap….”
Someone tactless muttered vacantly.
Dokgo Myeong smiled gently.
“I happen to have quite a bit of money.”
How could I be the same as you lot, who do nothing but bleed your parents dry?
“So then, would you mind lowering your weapons now?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
Everyone lowered their weapons with reluctant expressions.
Whoosh! Crack!
A gust of wind swept past, and Dokgo Myeong’s figure vanished.
“…!”
In an instant, Dokgo Myeong stood directly before Moyong Lim’s face.
Not a single soul had witnessed even a trace of Dokgo Myeong’s single step.
Moyong Lim, seized by shock, attempted to raise his blade once more.
Tap! Crunch!
But Dokgo Myeong was faster—he pressed down on Moyong Lim’s wrist, and the sword could not be lifted at all.
Dokgo Myeong spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t run away. Let’s settle this on the arena stage.”
Thud!
Dokgo Myeong drove the stolen blade into the ground before Moyong Lim and spun around sharply.
Footsteps echoed as he passed between the posterior disciples, who stood awkwardly clutching their weapons.
“Th-this…!”
Watching his retreating figure, Moyong Lim’s clenched fists trembled with rage, veins bulging visibly.
* * *
“M-my lord!”
“Hey! Wait for us!”
Geum Seok-du and Dokgo Ak hurried after Dokgo Myeong, who strode forward with purpose.
“That reckless bastard! He’s caused trouble again… huh?”
Dokgo Ak, who had caught up hastily, blinked as he glimpsed Dokgo Myeong’s profile.
‘Why does he have that expression?’
Dokgo Myeong did not slow his pace.
Throughout his walk, he recalled Moyong Lim’s final sword strike.
The energy that enveloped the opponent’s entire body to dull their movements, and the solid sword path traced by the blade—it all played vividly in his mind.
‘If that’s the swordsmanship I think it is….’
Dokgo Myeong murmured to himself.
‘Moyong Family. Why are you wielding that sword?’
Had they employed the martial arts of the Jeongheol Bloodfiend Sect instead, he would not have been so astonished. It would have been expected.
Dokgo Myeong recalled Namso—a warrior who wielded his blade at the very front of the battlefield, and right beside him.
Then he remembered the sword strike Moyong Lim had unleashed.
Those two sword strikes were far too similar.
‘No, certainty is dangerous. Nothing is confirmed yet. It could merely be a misunderstanding.’
But if his suspicion proved true….
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
‘Regardless of our relationship with the Jeongheol Sect… it seems your family’s signboard must be shattered.’
The Moyong Family—the left seat among the Four Great Houses.
Dokgo Myeong was now contemplating their annihilation.

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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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