Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 110

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

Chapter 110
Geum Seok-du’s heart raced even faster now that he had descended from the Martial Arts Arena than when he stood upon it.
‘Did I truly employ martial techniques? Did I defeat a late-stage cultivator?’
Astonishment overwhelmed joy, making it difficult to believe what had transpired.
Then Dokgo Myeong spoke.
“How did it feel to cross blades?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked how it felt to cross blades.”
“Well….”
Geum Seok-du recalled the recent match.
‘What is this? Why is he so slow?’
‘Is that an opening? It shouldn’t be visible to my eyes, should it? What is this—a feint?’
‘Hmm, the Instructor definitely told me to extend my palm technique in situations like this.’
His opponent had been so weak that stray thoughts kept intruding.
Bewildered, he had fled stiffly for a while before finally thinking, ‘To hell with it!’ and driving his fist forward—that was how it began.
After that, it was simply one-sided assault.
-The mouth! The mouth! So that’s why you strike the mouth!
He seemed to have muttered something like that, but Geum Seok-du deliberately erased it from memory.
“At first, I was trembling like mad….”
“Trembling?”
“But once I engaged, it was more manageable than expected. I took a few hits just to be safe, and they didn’t even hurt.”
“Yes, that’s the correct answer.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve been struck by Dokgo Myeong’s fists! There’s no way a few blows from these small fry would hurt! That was all body conditioning training!”
Ah.
Yes, I suppose that would be the case.
“…Young Master.”
Geum Seok-du swallowed dryly and asked in a trembling voice.
“Am I actually strong?”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
….”
“Looking purely at martial prowess, you’re only at half a year’s level. At that level of skill, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d be worried about getting beaten wherever I went. Tsk, tsk!”
Right, that made sense.
He didn’t understand what “half a year’s level” meant, but he could tell it wasn’t a compliment.
Geum Seok-du’s shoulders sagged.
“So my opponent was simply weak?”
“Of course.”
“I suppose….”
“And more importantly, you were stronger than your opponent.”
“Sir?”
“Strength is relative like that, and comparisons are meaningless in the end.”
Geum Seok-du’s eyes widened.
Dokgo Myeong continued calmly.
“You probably wouldn’t last three seconds against real masters.”
“For example?”
“If you fought Seo Ryun, you’d truly be finished in three seconds.”
“That’s true….”
“Well, the disgrace of the Main Sect, this reckless fool here—you’d last about twenty or thirty seconds against him.”
“Why do you keep dragging me into this!”
Everyone ignored Dokgo Ak’s indignant cry.
“What about you, sir?”
“If you fought me, you’d take one hit and then go straight to pay your respects to the King of Hell.”
“…Ah, yes.”
Geum Seok-du’s expression turned blank at Dokgo Myeong’s words.
Dokgo Myeong chuckled and continued.
“But think about it carefully.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve survived without fear in that brutal back-alley gambling den, crossed the line between life and death following me, even ambushed and struck down a master from behind, and received martial training from the greatest instructor of the supreme noble family.”
“….”
“With everything you’ve accumulated so far, wouldn’t it be stranger to lose to young brats who grew up delicate as flowers and only learned flashy martial arts?”
“Is that what you mean?”
“That’s exactly it. Those who seemed so brilliant when you were young are now several levels below you.”
“…!”
Geum Seok-du stared at Dokgo Myeong with trembling eyes.
‘He still remembers those words?’
Dokgo Myeong laughed softly and continued.
“So don’t lose confidence without even trying. Especially not by doing this pointless comparing yourself to others.”
“….”
Only then did Geum Seok-du feel an emotion he hadn’t noticed before surging to the top of his head.
It felt like hair that didn’t even exist was standing on end. It wasn’t joy from winning, but confidence born from the realization that his efforts had borne fruit.
“Understood! From today on, I, Geum Seok-du, am a man of confidence!”
“Tsk! Your head’s already getting big from just one win. I should break it off for you.”
“….”
In any case, he never had a smooth ride with this man.
Geum Seok-du’s spirits sank again.
“Well, there is one thing you can actually be proud of.”
“Are you talking about gambling?”
“I’m talking about martial arts, not gambling. I mean your lightness skill.”
“My lightness skill?”
“Excluding me, there’s no one on that bracket faster than you.”
“Ah, surely not.”
“I’m serious.”
“…?”
There exists a fact that neither those who know Geum Seok-du nor Geum Seok-du himself are aware of.
My lightness skill surpasses even the pinnacle of mastery.
Even Dokgo Myeong occasionally falls behind in speed, provided he doesn’t employ the Gwang Geuk Un Hyung.
It was the same when we first met in Zhejiang, and when I laid a trap against the Blood General. I always followed closely behind, and there was even an occasion where I arrived before Seo Ryun when dealing with the Blood General.
“Young Master. Did you perhaps consume something disagreeable?”
“Hmm?”
“What brings on all this praise? You’ve been drinking rather frequently lately—has the alcohol gotten to you….”
“Haven’t I neglected your training all this time?”
“…!”
“That’s right. Once we return to the lodgings, we begin training immediately.”
“W-Young Master!”
There was someone quietly observing the two of them bickering.
It was Dokgo Ak.
He could have interjected, yet he kept his mouth shut, watching them. Dokgo Ak’s gaze soon fixed upon Dokgo Myeong.
‘What exactly is this man?’
He neither speaks only honeyed words nor only harsh ones. Despite the small age difference, he uttered things no one else dared speak so casually.
Then it happened.
“Zhejiang! Moyong Lim of the Moyong Family! Please come forth!”
A genius among geniuses, called the finest of the Five Dragons and Five Peaks.
Moyong Lim, wielder of the Windstorm Blade, ascended the Martial Arts Arena with absolute confidence.
* * *
Moyong Lim grasped his sword.
His stance was arrogantly at ease.
Eyes lowered, he held the blade lightly, pointing it forward in middle guard position.
There was neither emotional turbulence nor overwhelming momentum.
“Gulp!”
Standing before him, Gwak Yang, a martial artist from a rural sect in Shaanxi, swallowed hard and steadied his resolve.
‘To come here to elevate the name of Sahmun… that my first opponent is Moyong Lim himself—perhaps this is heaven’s will.’
Gwak Yang accepted it readily.
The martial way meant always approaching with humility, never neglecting learning, and perpetually advancing without end.
Though he would not achieve the lofty dreams he harbored, learning even one technique from a master would be satisfaction enough.
“Moyong Lim! I am Gwak Yang of the Weinan Sect in Shaanxi! I shall endeavor to make this a worthy match!”
“A warning, then.”
At Moyong Lim’s sudden words, Gwak Yang hesitated.
“I intend to subdue you in one second. So do not foolishly attempt to exchange martial techniques—unleash your finest technique from the very start.”
Gwak Yang’s expression froze.
“What did you just say?”
“It is exactly as I have heard. I, Moyong Lim, speak of a single strike decisive.”
“…!”
In ordinary martial contests, regardless of the skill gap, one typically exchanges blows several times.
This was a courtesy to allow the opponent to fully display the martial arts they had cultivated, and simultaneously a sign of respect to properly witness their techniques.
Yet he had invoked the notion of a single strike decisive.
Not even three strikes—a single strike.
“There are limits to contempt…! How could such an insult be uttered!”
“Contempt? Insult? How could that possibly be an insult?”
“What, what did you say?”
“You mentioned the Weinan Sect, yet I have never even heard of such a provincial faction. If a direct descendant of the great Moyong Family invokes a single strike decisive against a third-rate swordsman from such a place, that is not contempt—it is reality.”
“You!”
The moment Gwak Yang cried out, seething with contempt, he noticed that Moyong Lim was not looking at him.
‘Who is he looking at?’
How could a scion of a noble family be so utterly discourteous?
Just how far did he intend to mock me!
It was at that moment.
The native martial artist from Wuhan, invited as judge for the sake of fairness, opened his mouth.
“Both parties, assume proper stance and begin the match!”
Gwak Yang roughly raised his blade and took his guard position.
“I humbly request instruction!”
“Very well.”
“Hiyah!”
To the very end!
Gwak Yang drew his blade without hesitation and stamped the ground.
‘As I desired! I shall display my finest technique!’
He cooled his heated rage and charged forward, pouring all his inner force and strength into the assault.
“Prepare yourself!”
Whoooooosh!
“Haaaaaaah!”
Was it the power of rage?
The single strike Gwak Yang unleashed was undoubtedly the cleanest extension of all the moments he had trained.
Yet in that instant.
Gwak Yang felt his limbs growing sluggish.
“Ugh?”
It was as though he had sunk into mud.
His body slowed as if shackles bound his limbs, and his inner force flowing through his meridians felt as though it were stuttering and breaking.
The next moment.
Flash!
A single ray of light appeared.
A sword gleam so brilliantly intense it seared the eyes.
BOOM!
With a deafening crash, Gwak Yang was hurled unceremoniously off the Martial Arts Arena.
“Gahhh!”
In that instant, the crowd fell into stunned silence.
Those who hadn’t witnessed that single strike were shocked by their ignorance, while those who had seen it were shocked by what they’d witnessed.
“A fine match.”
Moyong Lim’s gaze was not directed at Gwak Yang.
Instead, he fixed his eyes on a young man scattered among the masses below the Martial Arts Arena.
“Wow, woooow!”
“Wooooooow!”
“Incredible! What was that single strike?”
“Absolutely astounding. I couldn’t even see it properly!”
Cheers erupted from all around.
No one paid attention to the loser. Even that breach of etiquette—ending it in a single strike—mattered little when the victory was so overwhelmingly decisive.
“Heh heh.”
Sheathing his blade with a sharp click, Moyong Lim turned away with a twisted smile.
Mo Yong-rim nodded with a twisted smile and quickly spun around.
“Wait, just a moment…!”
Then, from below the Martial Arts Arena, Gwak Yang staggered to his feet.
“Cough! Hack! I… I’m not finished yet…!”
Gwak Yang leaned on his blade like a cane and placed his hand on the edge of the Martial Arts Arena.
But soon he swayed and collapsed, his head crashing into the ground.
“Ughhhh!”
Whether fortunate or not.
Gwak Yang’s whimpering sounds were drowned out by the surrounding cheers and excited voices.
Meanwhile.
“Damn that arrogant bastard.”
Amid all the commotion, Dokgo Myeong furrowed his brow and muttered.
Soon he narrowed his eyes and glared at Dokgo Ak.
“Why, why again! Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Don’t you see what I’m seeing?”
“What?”
“You were exactly like that before I taught you some sense.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! I was never that lacking in honor!”
“You really believe that?”
“I… well…”
Surely I wasn’t that bad, was I?
Could I have really been that way?
“I… I feel ashamed…”
“Well, that bastard is definitely trash not even worth recycling.”
“What?”
“More precisely, it would be his family’s techniques.”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes grew cold.
Dokgo Ak, watching him, flinched in surprise.
‘I wasn’t mistaken. What I saw was real.’
That single strike.
It was absolutely not the martial arts of the Moyong Family. It couldn’t have been.
Moyong Lim, that bastard, was wielding the techniques of some clan he’d exterminated—techniques that only Namso should have been able to use.
‘It’s not merely stolen and hastily learned. It’s not something researched from secret manuals alone. Without spending an enormous amount of time excavating it….’
Only then did the circumstances become clear.
The very foundation of the murderous intent and venom that had flickered in Namso’s eyes was precisely this.
“There are limits to how thick-faced one can be. You Moyong Family bastards….”
Did they possess not even the minimum sense of duty or pride as martial artists?
Dokgo Myeong’s face contorted with rage.
‘You’re using the martial arts of the clan that fell to your betrayal as if they were your own?’
It wasn’t merely a matter of fortunately acquiring and learning the secret manual.
In the first place, it wasn’t a swordsmanship that could be learned that way.
‘Then could it be….’
Dokgo Myeong searched for Namso’s figure with contorted eyes.
He was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
Namso was breathing heavily as he pushed through the crowd, walking toward somewhere.
‘How could he use it so brazenly?’
The scabbard he held in his arms trembled slightly.
‘Could it be that the hidden residence where Father and I were in seclusion was attacked then, and I was kidnapped back then as well…?’
Crack!
Namso gnashed his teeth.
A fierce, crimson light began to flicker in his eyes.

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