Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 237

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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 237
Dokgo Myeong asked several more questions.
As Hwang Yeol-sam groaned from poison and injury, he even infused his own vital energy to help him while listening to the story.
Who in this world would do such a thing for someone with no prior connection?
Hwang Yeol-sam suddenly gnashed his teeth and muttered, “That vicious bastard…” He was likely venting his fury at Blacktooth Poison Fist. His schemes had been that brutal.
Regardless, Dokgo Myeong continued asking questions.
“What do you know of my family’s situation?”
“Cough! Cough! The Dokgo Household? A family of nobility, so why ask a beggar?”
“I’ve been away from the martial world, remember?”
After the discussion of Blacktooth Poison Fist concluded, the first thing Dokgo Myeong asked about was not news of the martial world at all, but information about the Dokgo Household.
“Nothing particularly has changed. I heard they’re steadily preparing for war.”
“What? You said nothing has changed?!”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“My family being quiet doesn’t make sense!”
“…?”
This was a significant variable.
The Dokgo Household being quiet?
‘What on earth has happened to my family?’
Hwang Yeol-sam wore a bewildered expression.
“Well, couldn’t such things happen occasionally?”
“I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes.”
“Y-yes, of course.”
Next, he asked about the atmosphere of the martial world and major events.
He’d heard the gist of it, but there were problems here too.
“It seems there are skeptical voices about the establishment of the Martial Alliance.”
He understood such talk coming from the Nine Sects.
The problem was that the Four Great Families were saying the same thing.
‘I’ll need to meet with my beggar senior and Ju Hyeong before starting the war.’
Finally, Dokgo Myeong asked about the true purpose of his coming to Gangseong Province.
It was about locating a certain person.
The talented individual he’d mentioned to Dokgo Jo-hak before—the one who had handled all miscellaneous affairs under Geum Seok-du in his previous life—was said to be in Namchang.
“…Now that I think about it, Hu Gu-dangju sent word to keep watch on that person’s movements. Could it have been your request?”
“That person? You know who they are?”
“Of course I do. Who in this region wouldn’t know that person?”
“How so?”
“Well, that is… they’re a famous landmark of Namchang. With such a memorable face, they’re bound to be well-known…”
Dokgo Myeong paused briefly, then nodded.
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“You already knew?”
“I couldn’t not know.”
In that instant, Hwang Yeol-sam’s eyes flew open.
“Wait.”
“?”
“Then… could it be that our sect got caught up in this because the young master came to rescue someone? We were the victims?”
“Well, I suppose that’s how it turned out.”
“This…!”
Hwang Yeol-sam glared at Dokgo Myeong with blazing eyes.
But Dokgo Myeong let out a scoff and spoke.
“Well, I am sorry about that. But if you had listened carefully to the warnings about spies coming from above and cleaned house internally from the start, you wouldn’t have suffered this much, would you?”
“…!”
“It’s true I brought the enemy’s wrath upon you, but magnifying the damage through carelessness—that’s Hwang Dan-du’s mistake, isn’t it? Am I wrong?”
Hwang Yeol-sam hesitated, then clicked his tongue.
It wasn’t wrong.
In fact, not just himself but the sect leaders across all regions were likely caught off guard as well.
“Tch, fine. How does someone so young speak so sharply?”
The grumbling Hwang Yeol-sam opened his mouth again.
“But this person the young master mentioned—who is this person that you came looking for directly?”
“Shouldn’t a sect leader of Gae-bang know that?”
“Well, I suppose I might not know…”
Dokgo Myeong smiled wryly.
“It’s a clichéd way to put it, and I don’t particularly like it, but there’s no other way to describe this person.”
“A clichéd way?”
“A pearl in the mud. That’s what he is.”
Hwang Yeol-sam’s eyes widened.
The next day, Dokgo Myeong sent word through a direct secret channel to Hu Gu-dangju. The message was that the household wanted to meet.
And he immediately set out for the place Hwang Yeol-sam had indicated.
It was a bustling street in Namchang, where a lavish pavilion stood prominently.
“You useless bastard! Didn’t you say you had no money!”
“No, that’s not it…”
“Are you trying to write characters again? Shut up!”
Thwack!
“Ugh! Sect Leader! What are you doing!”
“Shut it! A wretch like you needs a beating!”
In front of the pavilion, a man was being beaten by a chubby fellow.
* * *
The world has always been this way.
People see only the brightest side of things. They cannot see the darkness hidden beneath.
They envy the splendid robes of a newly graduated scholar, but they do not see the daily grind of toiling through the night.
They long for the strength of a martial artist’s life, but they do not see the daily reality of going hungry, sleepless, and wielding a blade.
Dokgo Myeong was no different.
There was a time when I believed that leading an organization required nothing more than fighting prowess.
That was before I met him.
-What did you say?
-He said he wouldn’t provide supplies. He demanded documents be submitted….
-Damn it, what documents! They throw us into the jaws of death every day, and now they want us carrying brushes and ink!
Was it the day when Geum Seok-du, who handled miscellaneous tasks for the Chamma Corps, fell ill from his wounds?
Everything began to unravel, and orders kept pouring down without end.
I later realized it was a trap set by the higher-ups, but at that time, my discernment wasn’t sharp enough to see through it.
Then, among the new recruits, one man raised his hand.
-May I take a look at this?
Jo Ryang-ui.
His nickname was Jo the Strategist—a man whose name borrowed one character each from the brilliant strategists of the Three Kingdoms era.
And true to his name, his talent for organization was exceptional.
-I understand the situation. Allow me to handle this. It seems the supply delays under the guise of paperwork were due to this, and I shall investigate the matter.
And in just one hour, he brought back all the supplies.
Later, I heard….
At fifteen, he had topped the provincial examination; in his youth, he had placed first in the regional examination; and at twenty-three, he received the highest score even in the imperial examination held in the Emperor’s presence.
A man of such fine calligraphy and eloquent prose that the Emperor himself wished to see him—yet he had joined the Chamma Corps.
After he arrived, Geum Seok-du’s burden lightened, and I came to understand that leading an organization required attention to the invisible workings behind the scenes.
Which made me all the more curious.
-Why are you here?
-Can you not tell by looking?
-What do you mean?
Why would such a man be stuck in the Chamma Corps?
Murder? Theft? Debt? Gambling? False accusation?
He wasn’t the type to commit such foolish acts.
I learned the reason later while drinking.
-I originally kept the accounts at that tavern. The proprietor kept delaying my wages, so I quit and joined the Murim Alliance. But the superior officer kept harassing me and skimming my wages in the middle, didn’t he?
-And then?
-I smashed his head with a wine bottle at a drinking gathering.
-….
-I wasn’t actually drunk—I broke it because I wanted to.
-….
-Murim experts can tell if someone is drunk just by their breathing. But I have no regrets.
At that moment, Dokgo Myeong—or rather, Dokgo Hyeon—was so dumbfounded that I asked.
-How did a man who even caught the Emperor’s eye end up at a tavern and then in the Murim Alliance?
-That’s precisely why, sir.
-What?
-My face, sir.
-You topped both the provincial and regional examinations, yet the Emperor cast you out for that alone?
-To be honest, it wasn’t so much that I was cast out. I placed first in the civil service exam too, but when I was bumped down to second place, I quit out of pride.
Could it be they were worried the palace maids would flock to me because I’m too handsome?
No, it was the opposite.
Jo Ryang-ui’s features were, in many ways… well, unconventionally arranged.
-Even if someone’s ugly, does it make sense for their grades to suffer because of their face?
-That’s what I’m saying. The world places more importance on appearance than people realize.
It must have been quite the incident—it was even recorded in historical texts, and rumors spread to academies throughout the Central Plains.
Thanks to that, he became such a laughingstock that teaching at an academy became difficult.
Still needing to eat, he ended up at a tavern, and the man who drifted from the Martial Alliance all the way to Chamma Fortress was none other than…
“Why won’t you clean up that filthy face? Didn’t I say I’d delay it? I’m not refusing—I’m just paying you later!”
It was Jo Ryang-ui, being harassed in front of the tavern that hadn’t opened yet despite it being broad daylight.
“That’s already been three months…”
“Ha! Look at this guy? They say your face reflects your character, and since you’re so selfish, that’s why your face looks like that!”
“What do you mean by selfish?”
“The tavern’s in financial trouble, and you alone want to get paid? Huh?!”
“That’s because the Sect Leader just recently acquired a new estate…”
“Ah, this bastard keeps talking back!”
“Did I say something wrong?”
“You bastard!”
Thwack! Crack!
Jo Ryang-ui, unable to resist even once, tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Tch! You ungrateful wretch—I gave you work when you had nowhere else to go! Hack! Ptui!”
The Chubby Sect Leader spat a glob of phlegm right in front of Jo Ryang-ui, then spun around and walked inside.
A moment later, Jo Ryang-ui brushed off his clothes and stood up.
“What nonsense, you pig bastard. Snort!”
Jo Ryang-ui, pinching one nostril and letting blood pour out in one go, clicked his tongue.
“Just one more month. I’ll gather all the corruption and report it to the authorities.”
Muttering to himself, Jo Ryang-ui let out a chuckling laugh and spun around.
And he came face to face with Dokgo Myeong, who had approached without a sound.
“…A customer?”
Dokgo Myeong smiled faintly.
“Yes, a customer.”
Not of this tavern, but yours.
* * *
Jo Ryang-ui narrowed his eyes at the customer who had arrived outside business hours.
‘What’s this?’
He wasn’t a martial artist and couldn’t read things like qi or momentum, but he did have an eye for people.
That made sense—living with a face like his, he had no choice but to read people’s expressions, whether he liked it or not.
But.
‘It’s been a long time since I met someone who doesn’t even frown when looking at me.’
What gleamed in those eyes was… delight? Anticipation? And perhaps a hint of anger?
The anger was probably directed at the Chubby Sect Leader, wasn’t it?
‘Strange… This is certainly no ordinary person.’
Jo Ryang-ui hesitated for a moment, confronted by those inscrutable, profound eyes.
“You appear to be a young master of considerable standing, but if you’ve come for an afternoon drink, I suggest you find an inn. As you can see, this is a tavern that operates at night.”
“I’m aware of that much.”
“Then why don’t you leave?”
“Ah, I came to see you, actually.”
Dokgo Myeong looked directly at Jo Ryang-ui.
Jo Ryang-ui’s expression twisted.
‘Damn it all.’
He received such visits often.
Lips and eyes that were asymmetrical.
A protruding nose bridge and jaw.
Skin like a toad’s.
Even his posture was awkward from keeping his face lowered.
People came to see his face, calling it a spectacle or a curiosity.
“If you’ve seen enough, leave. Do you think a person’s face is some sort of attraction to gawk at?”
“How about we talk for a moment?”
“I have nothing to discuss.”
Jo Ryang-ui turned sharply. He intended to return to his office and handle the remaining work.
But then, a voice came from behind.
“I didn’t come to see your face.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I told you. Let’s talk.”
…
Normally, he would have simply left.
But suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
‘Should I listen for a moment?’
Was it because of the special aura this man possessed? Or because he hadn’t even frowned upon seeing him?
Jo Ryang-ui, who rarely took interest in people, found himself naturally turning back.
“My name is Dokgo Myeong.”
Jo Ryang-ui tilted his head.
Dokgo Myeong?
Where had he heard that before?
Soon his mouth fell open.
“You don’t mean that Dokgo Myeong?”
“Yes, that’s right. I am that—”
“The legendary ruffian!”
“What?”
“That martial artist who beats everyone regardless of age or status?”
“No, what do you mean…”
“The one who struck down his uncle in his own household! Beheaded his cousin at Deungyongji! Beat the sect leader of the Nine Factions! The martial artist who openly challenged Moyong to a fight, isn’t he?”
“Damn it! There were circumstances behind all of that! Why are you cutting out the context…!”
“Does having circumstances make it acceptable?”
At those words that struck home, Dokgo Myeong’s mouth snapped shut. He had no rebuttal because the point was valid.
Soon Dokgo Myeong burst out loudly.
“But then, is it right to speak to such a fearsome martial master that way? What if I suddenly draw my blade!”
“I didn’t say anything false. Is there anything incorrect in what I said?”
“Well, no, there isn’t…”
“Then if you draw your blade over merely hearing unpleasant words, even Confucius himself would be ashamed. That’s the kind of conduct that amounts to nothing more than a petty person drawing steel.”
Jo Ryang-ui spoke matter-of-factly and shrugged his shoulders.
Dokgo Myeong blinked and looked at Jo Ryang-ui.
‘That’s right. Wasn’t he always like this?’
He spoke his mind, carried himself with confidence in all matters, and would rather charge forward than bend his pride.
That was the kind of man Jo Ryang-ui was.

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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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