Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 394

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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 394
“Gongcheol Monk of Shaolin, the Iron Arhat, emerges victorious!”
“Waaahhhhh!”
“Amitabha Buddha. I have learned much from this encounter.”
The martial tournament had now entered its main rounds.
Spectators who had gathered like clouds could not hide their astonishment with each match.
“Gongcheol Monk is truly remarkable! I heard he earned the title of Iron Arhat!”
“I found Baeksong Lady of Hwasan more impressive, though. When I first saw her, I thought a celestial fairy had descended to the mortal realm!”
“Still, she cannot compare to the Mudang’s Great Sword. Given his age, there is a certain maturity and refinement to his technique, is there not?”
As the main rounds progressed and the level of martial skill continued to rise, the crowd’s voices grew increasingly fervent.
And among them, one question was heard especially often.
“So, who among them is the strongest?”
People have always enjoyed ranking things.
Who is stronger than whom, what realm allows one to defeat all lesser practitioners, which sect’s martial arts are more refined—such topics filled the air.
These were the sorts of conversations that could spark quarrels in an inn, yet at a gathering like this, people would feel disappointed if such talk didn’t arise.
“Baeksong Lady is the favorite for the championship! Did you not see how plum blossoms bloomed across the entire arena?”
“Bah! One strike of the Hundred Step Divine Fist and it’s all over!”
“Do you not know the principle that softness subdues hardness? The Mudang sect will surely win!”
In the martial world, there had always been a tendency to rank disciples of the Nine Great Sects several levels above ordinary martial artists.
And for good reason—they were literally practitioners who did nothing but eat and train.
From their earliest years, everything they did—eating, dressing, sleeping—was part of their cultivation. The sophistication of the martial arts they learned was beyond question.
When such individuals participated en masse in this year’s tournament as if by design, it was only natural that all eyes turned toward them.
“In any case, the champion will likely come from among the disciples of the Three Great Sects.”
“But then again… is there not one more to consider?”
“Who? Ah, surely not?”
“The Posterior Disciples of the Dokgo Family.”
Meanwhile, there was another name that had risen like a brilliant star, though not affiliated with the Nine Great Sects—Dokgo Ak.
“Still, would he not struggle against the Posterior Disciples of the Nine Great Sects?”
“Did you not see the Zhongnan Sect disciple lose? Moreover, unlike the others, Menglongzhang has already proven his strength in the war against the Moyong Family.”
“Even so, he cannot match Baeksong Lady!”
“Do you not know the saying, ‘All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin’? The championship will surely go to Gongcheol Monk…”
“Do you not understand that softness subdues hardness? The Taiji Sword is supreme!”
“My goodness, do you truly understand nothing?”
Then, someone spoke up.
“Shall we place some wagers, then?”
“Eh? A wager?”
Of course, it was only natural for betting to arise in such circumstances.
‘But even so, at a gathering where disciples of the Nine Great Sects are present…?’
‘To place money on it. Why invite misfortune?’
Given the caliber of those assembled, many chose to exercise caution.
The man who had spoken gestured toward something with his chin.
“It looks like the betting table is already open.”
“What? The betting table is open?”
When I turned my gaze in the direction the man had indicated, I saw a crowd of people frantically waving papers in their hands. Standing before them was a man wearing some kind of board around his neck.
“Come on now! Place your bets and win big! The odds are already doubled, doubled! Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…!”
What is this? What are they betting on?
“Is, is this even allowed? I heard several sect leaders from the Nine Great Sects came today….”
“It should be fine? I heard the place running this has quite a reputation.”
“A reputation?”
“The Dokgo Family.”
“What?”
“They say it’s the manager of the Gold Mountain Hall’s Northern Branch….”
“…?”
“I heard they even guarantee it. No risk of running off with the money….”
“…??”
What in the world is going on here?
* * *
“Sir, Dharma Protector Chief… Is, is this really allowed?”
“Hah, that’s not my concern. Why are you asking me?”
“Well, because you gave orders to our branch manager….”
“Tsk! Orders, you say! People might misunderstand! I just threw out a casual remark in passing, and it seems the branch manager took it as an overenthusiastic command!”
“Ah, no! You’re cutting ties like this…!”
The man sent from the Gold Mountain Hall’s Northern Branch made a miserable expression.
“I’m joking. Don’t worry. There’s no problem. As long as we don’t run off with the money. Just manage the funds well.”
“Ah, yes….”
“This is how we make some pocket money on the side. You understand what I’m saying, right?”
“Yes, yes…. Of course.”
“Ahem! By the way, Dokgo Ak is the underdog right now, isn’t he?”
“Ah, well, that’s true….”
Dokgo Ak glared at Dokgo Myeong, who was whispering conspiratorially with his arm around the Gold Mountain Hall manager’s shoulder.
‘This bastard is the Dharma Protector Chief?’
This is absolutely infuriating. The family is going downhill. No, the entire martial world is going downhill.
Do the people of the world know? That one of the Seven Heavenly Kings is running a betting table?
“Hehehehe. Oh my, little brother. What have you been up to?”
Just then, Dokgo Myeong came walking over with a chuckling face, waving a fan back and forth.
But looking closer, that wasn’t a fan at all….
‘Is, is that a betting slip?’
Could he actually be bringing over winnings from placing bets?
“Hehehehe! Brother, thanks to you, I’m making quite a tidy profit.”
“You, you crazy bastard… You already have plenty of money, so why….”
“Listen here, you fool. All this money goes toward feeding, clothing, and housing those Cheonma Sect disciples. Honestly, a guy who’s never earned a single coin in his life…”
There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t.
Because it was true that I’d never earned a single coin.
“Anyway, who’s my next opponent?”
“…Yeong-cheon, the Great Sword Master from the Mudang.”
“Can I win?”
I wasn’t sure.
Yeong-cheon, known as the Great Sword Master, was a full seven years older than me.
An age difference always translated to a difference in inner strength and training, and especially his martial arts…
‘No, I shouldn’t speak of weakness.’
Hadn’t I decided not to do that anymore?
‘I am strong.’
Dokgo Ak’s eyes gleamed with light.
“Of course. I’ll win.”
“Haha! Now that’s the spirit!”
“…”
“And besides, you have no choice but to win. I’ve bet all my spare change on you right now. You know what happens if you lose?”
Dokgo Ak’s expression turned gloomy.
I couldn’t tell if this was a threat or encouragement.
That was the moment.
“The next match features the Dokgo Family’s Fierce Dragon Palm! Dokgo Ak, the Young Master!”
“Against him, the Mudang’s Great Sword Master! Yeong-cheon, the Young Master!”
Both names were called out.
Dokgo Ak took a deep breath and turned to look at Dokgo Myeong.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“What are the odds for this match?”
Dokgo Myeong grinned widely.
“If you’re betting on yourself, it’s reverse odds.”
“How much?”
“About two to one?”
They’d placed twice as much money on the Great Sword Master’s side?
“Ha!”
Dokgo Ak’s eyes blazed with fierce determination as he laughed heartily.
“I’ll rake in all the money, so buy yourself some drinks later.”
Dokgo Ak climbed onto the arena with absolute confidence.
* * *
Those watching the tournament from a distance couldn’t hide their astonishment either.
“Remarkable. To think Shaolin had such a master among their disciples. The Hundred Step Divine Fist at that age…”
“You’re being modest. Isn’t the Hwasan Sect Leader the one who brought that outstanding young girl, Baek Song?”
“Heh, still lacking, I’d say.”
“Lacking against such a skilled woman? Our Zhongnan Sect disciples didn’t even display anything noteworthy before being eliminated.”
They were none other than the sect leaders from various schools who had participated in the Secret Council gathering.
They conversed with smiling faces while concealing their true thoughts.
‘The Hua Shan Sect Leader deliberately showcased Baek Song. She’s several times stronger than her known martial prowess.’
‘Zhongnan kept theirs hidden. I heard they have an exceptional swordmaster cultivated in secret.’
‘Taihang Mountain Manor sent a disciple instead of the young master….’
Officially, it was a festival to invigorate the atmosphere of the martial world.
But beneath the surface lay the true purpose—a smokescreen for the Secret Council gathering—alongside the political maneuvering just before the Martial Alliance’s establishment.
“By the way, that young man from the Dokgo Family… he’s truly remarkable.”
“They call him the Fierce Dragon Spear, and it’s no empty title.”
“What on earth is the Dokgo Family doing to keep producing such talents? Heh.”
Everyone gathered here held positions of leadership. Third-rate individuals who clouded their judgment with prejudice would never receive an invitation to the Secret Council.
Naturally, all of them recognized the true nature of this young man called Dokgo Ak, and they couldn’t help but show greater interest.
‘What would happen if he were to face one of our sect’s disciples?’
By the time a sect reached the Nine Great Sects’ level, they inevitably had outstanding talents being groomed as future sect leaders. It was natural to compare them with Dokgo Ak.
And the moment such comparisons began, something felt wrong.
‘Geom-jon has truly raised monstrous children.’
Gun, Yeon, Myeong, Ak.
Dark clouds seemed unlikely to gather over the next generation of the Dokgo Family. The youngest, Dokgo Ak, was being compared to the future sect leaders of the Nine Great Sects—that said it all.
‘But… isn’t this somewhat dangerous?’
Someone harbored such thoughts.
The Dokgo Family’s reputation—more precisely, Dokgo Myeong’s reputation—was growing far too large.
‘If the Martial Alliance is established, wouldn’t power tilt toward Dokgo Myeong?’
If Dokgo Myeong decided to build independent military forces, could anyone even stop it?
Was that too exaggerated a thought?
That was when it happened.
“It’s beginning.”
Dokgo Ak and Yeong-cheon of the Mudang were ascending the martial stage.
* * *
“I am Ak of the Dokgo Family from Hunan.”
“Mudang, Yeong-cheon.”
At the brief introductions, my brow twitched slightly.
‘These Nine Great Sects disciples don’t like that.’
Arrogant bastards who train in the mountains and act so high and mighty.
For a moment, anger surged within me, but I quickly shook my head.
‘No. That’s not it.’
Hadn’t Myeong said it?
To have confidence, yes.
‘But approach it with a learning mindset.’
Dokgo Ak picked up his sword with a composed expression.
“Since I’ve honed my blade through actual combat, my killing intent may be somewhat pronounced. Do not let your guard down.”
Watching Dokgo Ak, Yeong-cheon’s eyes hardened.
“The Mudang does not teach carelessness.”
“Very well. Shall we begin at once?”
Two people who bowed with understated courtesy.
Soon, with a sharp *tang*, the two drew close in a single breath.
*Clang clang clang!*
*Whoosh! Huff!*
In an instant, sparks scattered through the air multiple times, and the two were pushed apart by the violent wind of their clash.
Dokgo Ak clenched his teeth.
‘I let it all slip through.’
Against Yeong-cheon’s circular sword path, the linear sword qi of the Ilyang Divine Sword scattered in all directions.
It was a poor matchup for Dokgo Ak, who pursued extreme aggression and sharpness.
‘So this is the Mudang’s martial art!’
It flows away.
Pushed back, deflected.
The endless turning and revolving—the Taiji Sword.
‘If I fought like I do in real combat, I could pierce through the gaps.’
Countless tactics flooded my mind.
I could strip off my clothes to steal his attention before launching a surprise attack, or throw dirt to blind his eyes entirely.
I could throw my sword unexpectedly, or speak to steal half a breath before advancing.
‘But if I do that, I lose.’
A martial duel has its own meaning.
Why else would Dokgo Myeong have me participate here?
‘He’s certainly strong. But… the assassins’ blades were more vicious than this.’
Dokgo Ak recalled the days he’d fought as part of the Cheonma Sect.
‘The Jeongheol Disciples were more relentless.’
Every moment, he’d fought alongside Dokgo Myeong and the Managers—the greatest talents under heaven.
‘The Patcheon Army soldiers were more extreme.’
And he’d claimed victory in every single fight.
Who had been the main force?
‘When I crossed blades with my brother, Namgung Bujang, and that bastard Cheolmu-baek, it was even more suffocating than this.’
Only now did I realize it.
That I had stood shoulder to shoulder with such people, and that even they grew tense when facing me.
‘Would they lose to someone like this?’
No, they would never lose. Because they were rivals I had acknowledged.
And that meant…
‘I won’t lose either.’
The flames of the Ilyang Divine Qi flickered in Dokgo Ak’s eyes.
“Hyaaaaaah!”
I threw myself forward in a sudden assault.
Whoosh! Crack!
My forearm split open and blood spurted forth, but in exchange, I severed Yeong-cheon’s continuous Taiji sword energy.
“…!”
Yeong-cheon, startled, stumbled backward.
I seized that opening and pressed forward.
Clang! Clang! Scraaape!
Reckless strikes, slashing indiscriminately across the front.
Faced with such a ferocious attack that disregarded defense entirely, Yeong-cheon couldn’t even muster a counterattack.
‘What… what is this…!’
My blade cut through as thin and sharp as a razor, and my movements were aggressive like a starving beast.
When had he ever experienced such martial arts in the mountains? Bewilderment began to flood Yeong-cheon’s expression.
Boom boom boom boom!
And I didn’t miss that moment.
Whoosh!
A single strike swung down with the force of an axe.
It was a technique I had learned from Cheolmu-baek.
Craaaaaaash!
With a deafening explosion, Yeong-cheon’s iron sword shattered and flew away.
“Hah….”
Silence descended.
And moments later, after catching my breath, I spoke.
“I have learned much from you.”
“Waaaaaaaah!”
Thunderous cheers erupted from all around.
I turned and walked away.
* * *
Someone approached Dokgo Myeong and spoke.
“To fight aggressively, one must be free of hesitation.”
“Ah, you’ve arrived. Elder.”
“So he’s your cousin?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Heo Un-jin smiled faintly and spoke.
“Confidence is not given by others but by oneself. Yet even knowing this, it’s difficult to practice…”
“I believe he has come to understand it now.”
“You have a fine subordinate and brother.”
“He’s nothing to be proud of, really.”
Heo Un-jin glanced at Dokgo Myeong from the corner of his eye.
Yet why was he smiling so contentedly while saying such things?
“By the way, it seemed like he just barely crossed over a threshold.”
“Yes, that’s what I observed as well.”
“A child with a great vessel. Once he breaks through that wall, he’ll become a master difficult to match. Mark my words.”
“I appreciate the kind words. But I defeated a disciple of the Mudang Sect—are you certain it’s appropriate to offer me such guidance?”
Heo Un-jin chuckled warmly.
“One learns far more from defeat than from victory. In truth, that boy Yeong-cheon has gained greatly from this.”
I couldn’t win against this man.
‘Heh heh. Well done, you rascal.’
It wasn’t the money that brought me joy.
Absolutely not.

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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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