Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 228

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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 228
Dokgo Myeong walked slowly into the stone cave.
After advancing for quite some time.
Zzzt!
A tingling sensation brushed across my skin, causing me to halt my steps.
“Grrrrr…!”
Hoa, following behind me, bristled her fur and growled like a hunting hound.
In that instant, I felt the surrounding landscape shimmer and undulate.
‘A formation.’
Sssssss!
The pressure I sensed was considerable. My Dragon Scale Robe trembled finely—something that had remained unaffected even by the formation the Jeongheol Sect had deliberately deployed.
Of course, it was still just a formation.
The Spirit Core within my body began communicating with the Dragon Scale Robe.
Hummmmm….
Waves of vital energy flowed outward in concentric circles centered on me.
The undulation that had covered the entire space dissipated in an instant.
‘I was already largely unaffected by formations thanks to my sensory deficiency, but now it seems I’ve become completely immune.’
I marveled inwardly at this.
It didn’t feel like I was overpowering it through sheer force—rather, it felt as though some kind of natural compatibility had formed.
After all, what formation in this world could trouble someone whose inner core had consumed the essence of a water serpent and even a mystical beast’s aura?
I chuckled softly and moved to take another step forward. But then I paused.
‘Wait, the person who set this formation….’
Weren’t they my ancestors?
Setting aside the fact that I’d just cursed my own forebears, it occurred to me that this place wasn’t enemy territory—it was the burial ground where my ancestors rested.
“Tsk.”
I crossed my arms and made an uncomfortable expression.
Suddenly, I recalled what Dokgo Cheon had said—that this could be a trial, or if fate permitted, it might be a fortunate encounter.
If that were the case, then this was a space my ancestors had created for their descendants. If I passed through it like this….
“…This won’t do.”
If my ancestors in the afterlife saw this, they’d surely beat their chests in regret.
I clicked my tongue.
‘Ah, fine then. After all, I’m universally recognized as the Dokgo Family’s most filial son, am I not? I can’t ignore my ancestors’ intentions, can I?’
Uuuuuum!
I slowly suppressed my Spirit Core, then removed the Dragon Scale Robe and draped it over one arm before the formation’s energy began pressing in again.
How much time had passed while I was caught in the formation?
I encountered a single stone monument standing upright in the middle of the passage.
The burial ground of Dokgo Yeong-lim, the Third Patriarch of the Dokgo Family
It was a tombstone. Typically, such monuments bore commemorative verses or epitaphs honoring the deceased.
But this one bore something different from what was customarily inscribed on ordinary tombstones.
For my descendants, I leave here the enlightenment of my lifetime.
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed with recognition.
‘Characters carved with a sword.’
The handwriting was quite poor. The brushstrokes were rough, as if someone lacking mastery had carved them using only external force.
Thanks to this, the depth and distribution of power were easy to discern, and I could glean something crucial from it.
‘The Ten Forms of the Iron Sword? The sword techniques studied before mastering the Eight Great Divine Arts.’
I read through the characters that followed calmly.
I devoted my entire life to the sword, yet never reached the pinnacle of the world.
It was only in my twilight years that I realized a sword must carry intent, and intent must carry qi—what is meant by the breath of life itself.
Let my descendants take heed.
Even in the simplest gesture, intent must dwell, and only when qi fills that intent can it truly be called martial arts.
Only by mastering qi can one finally reach the pinnacle of the world.
Character by character.
These were words of wisdom inscribed with utmost care, despite coming from a swordsman who had not yet reached enlightenment.
Those few lines contained more than any masterwork of calligraphy in the world.
Words written by one who could not achieve it themselves, yet hoped their descendants would reach that height.
And at the very end of the monument, a single line was inscribed in a different hand.
Following the teachings of our ancestors, the Eighth Patriarch Dokgo Wang has established a trial formation here. Let all descendants approach this test with reverence and solemnity.
That was when it happened.
Whoosh!
The formation warped the space around me.
It was a pressure reminiscent of when I first entered the ancestral grounds. I chose not to resist and accepted it fully.
‘A test… Yes, this is definitely a test.’
Only then could I understand what Dokgo Cheon had meant.
This ancestral tomb was no ordinary burial ground.
A space created by my ancestors to pass their enlightenment to future generations.
This place itself was one vast secret scripture.
* * *
The deeper I ventured, the more the formation’s pressure tightened around my meridians and qi. It was no less intense than when I first entered the ancestral grounds—if anything, it was worse.
To shake off the formation’s oppression, my internal energy had to be perfectly refined, and I needed the power to push back against external pressure.
Of course, I still had confidence that by drawing upon the Heavenly Soul Spirit Orb with full force, I could scatter it in an instant.
‘This is actually fortunate. Let me use this chance to tame this wild beast.’
I decided to follow my ancestors’ arrangement.
A space created to pass on what they had achieved and entrust what they could not.
As a martial master and blood inheritor, wasn’t it only right to answer their call?
‘Food and drink… well, they’re here at least. Damn.’
As I surveyed the surroundings, wondering how many days this might take, my face twisted in frustration.
I had discovered jars of Bigu Pills stacked in a corner and a small pond.
“Are they seriously expecting me to survive on that?”
“Meow!”
“Speaking of which, Hoa—what will you do?”
At those words, Hoa padded softly over and pressed her snout against the jar containing the Bigyokdan.
Crunch, crunch!
“Grrrowl!”
Ah, so mystical beasts eat Bigyokdan too?
It was absurd, but at least Hoa’s meals were taken care of, so I was relieved.
Now it was truly time to cultivate. I crossed my legs and sat, closing my eyes.
Whiiiiiing!
With just a light touch, the Cheonoe Yeongdan scattered its formidable energy throughout my entire body.
‘I need to control my strength so the formation’s energy doesn’t scatter.’
I steadied myself, then steadied myself again.
Guided by sensory pathways, I moved according to the principles of Hyeon-cheon Gong.
Like someone learning inner energy for the first time.
‘Alright, let’s begin.’
I sank into deep cultivation.
Time passed.
When drowsy, I slept; when awake, I cultivated.
After repeating this several times, I left the cultivation chamber.
There was not just one cultivation chamber.
Exiting the passage and reaching a vast common area, another new trial awaited me.
…The Fourth Ancestor, Dokgo Maengseong, inherited the legacy of his predecessors and left behind his insights.
As if this were tradition itself, monuments inscribed with the enlightenment of each ancestor’s lifetime were scattered throughout.
And someone from a later generation inherited the insights contained in those monuments and created spaces for cultivation.
Fifth generation, sixth generation, seventh generation….
At some point, I stopped complaining and idle thoughts, focusing endlessly on these trials.
The proper way to use one’s body. That is external energy. Every martial art under heaven ultimately begins with limbs and flesh.
The Four Ancestors discussed external energy.
The foundation of all martial learning lies in the feet. Footwork comes first.
The Fifth Ancestor discussed footwork and demanded passage through the Giganjinsik, filled with countless traps.
Footwork.
Swordsmanship.
Mindset.
Inner energy once more.
Across generations, I encountered countless insights.
Some I passed through in an instant, like the internal and external energy cultivation chambers.
Others demanded considerable time, emphasizing the family’s history and tradition, requiring alignment with the laws and techniques of the Eight Ancestor Divine Arts.
And so I continued forward.
As time passed, I became captivated by a subtle sensation I had never felt in my entire life.
‘Honestly, I never had much affection for this family’s affairs.’
I had merely regarded it as a useful background and foundation.
But gradually, I felt my thoughts changing.
I witnessed how the legacy of a single martial artist who had not even reached the realm of ascension touched ever greater heights across generations.
It was a slow and arduous process.
By observing what was inscribed as enlightenment, one could discern what realm had been attained.
Some had regressed, others had stagnated in place.
Yet they pressed forward nonetheless.
Onward.
Ever onward again.
‘Just as this ancestral shrine exemplified it, just as the family’s history embodied it, just as a martial artist’s life demanded it.’
New martial techniques were created, the family’s foundation was established, and eventually it became a great house that produced masters of the age.
The breath exhaled by ancestors across long centuries remained here in this place.
Perhaps this was the very foundation upon which the Dokgo Household could be called the greatest family under heaven?
The power of time.
The power of history and will.
Dokgo Myeong felt the power that a family lineage possessed through his very skin.
‘I once thought that organizations in Gangho were no different from ruffians boasting of their strength, but I was wrong.’
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed.
‘It is about continuing the line. Even if I cannot, the next generation will, or I will for the sake of the next generation. That is how we build the fence.’
Dokgo Myeong thus contemplated the history of the Dokgo Family.
He gathered the distant ages within the dim ancestral shrine and inscribed them upon his martial techniques, body, and spirit.
A sect, or a martial house.
A way of thinking he had never considered before entered Dokgo Myeong’s heart.
‘I too wish to create something.’
It was the moment when the vague concept of ‘fence’ that he had harbored transformed into one concrete dream.
And then.
Tap!
Finally, Dokgo Myeong reached the end.
It was a stone monument that appeared to be the most recent of all he had passed.
The brushstrokes carved upon it were more powerful and beautiful than anything before.
I, the Dokgo Clan Leader, shall test the next generation.
It was the Clan Leader’s brushwork.
Testing, you say?
Compared to the illustrious inscriptions before it, the words were arrogant beyond measure.
“I had my doubts, but… is it really acceptable for someone still in his prime to write such things?”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes sparkled.
The following words were merely three characters.
Fight, triumph, and seize.
Tch, anyone could tell our Clan Leader wrote this.
His voice seems to linger right at my ear—surely this is no illusion?
“Squeak?”
Hoa trembled and flinched beside me.
The deeper I ventured, the denser the aura became—incomparably thicker than anything I’d experienced before.
My eyes blazed with unprecedented brilliance as I gazed into that space.
My gaze reflected both tension and exhilaration simultaneously.
Thus, I threw myself into the trial that Dokgo Cheon had prepared.
* * *
I took pride in having endured countless trials during my battles against the Twin Horse Alliance in my previous life.
Especially during my confrontations with the Jeongheol Sect.
The Shinblood Sect was merely a collection of fanatically powerful zealots, but the Jeongheol Sect—they employed tactics I’d never witnessed before in all my existence.
Among their favored techniques was something called the Midhon Formation—a formation that conjured illusions so convincing they could ensnare the very soul itself.
The Talmyeong Midhon Formation I’d encountered when capturing their general commander was so authentic that even my sensory meridians struggled to detect any discrepancy. I’d thought I would never face such a formation again.
And yet….
‘What is this?’
I doubted my own eyes.
Whoooosh—!
Something rippled within the thick mist.
Soon I sensed a presence, and a dark silhouette emerged from beyond the fog.
Thump, thump.
The figure approached until it entered my field of vision.
Vibrant skin, a prominent nose bridge, eyes with a sharp edge.
A man in his twenties whose overall appearance befitted the description of handsome.
The moment I saw his face, I let out a hollow laugh.
“Damn it—that’s me.”
The man before me was myself.
“Well, it wouldn’t feel right if this weren’t included. The household leader truly understands these matters well.”
Whether one called it an ancient tradition or a prescribed sequence.
‘Defeat yourself and claim victory—that’s what this is, isn’t it?’
The Buddhist schools taught that enlightenment required one to ultimately battle against oneself. The Daoist schools similarly spoke of how becoming an immortal necessitated releasing oneself.
In the end, it all came down to this.
My eyes flashed with determination.
“So the day has finally come when I’ll silence my own mouth with my own hands.”
Crack, crack!
I grinned wickedly as I cracked my knuckles.
Just as I prepared myself mentally and rushed forward.
“…!”
Whoooosh!
He launched a surprise punch at me.

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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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