Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 7

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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 7
A week had passed since Dokgo Myeong began his martial training at the Muhakbu.
And now, in the Study of the Muhakbu Director.
Maecheon Yang was receiving a visitor.
“I hope the tea suits your palate.”
Maecheon Yang set down a cup of tea with wisps of white steam rising from it before his guest and offered a respectful greeting.
“The aroma is quite pleasant. I had no idea the Director possessed such refinement in the art of tea.”
“Ha, merely a small hobby of mine. I’m glad it pleases you.”
The man lifting the teacup was none other than Dokgo Myeong’s father, Dokgo Wi-hak.
“I apologize for arriving unannounced like this.”
Dokgo Wi-hak regarded Maecheon Yang with a composed expression.
“I’m afraid my son has caused unnecessary trouble for the Muhakbu. I am truly sorry.”
“Trouble? Not at all. It is simply what must be done.”
Dokgo Wi-hak shook his head gently.
“A child who needs guidance has shown such determination that I could only call it troublesome to have indulged him.”
His voice was calm yet carried unmistakable sincerity.
“I humbly ask for your continued instruction and guidance.”
“…”
Maecheon Yang hesitated for a moment before letting out a soft laugh.
“Instruction and guidance… ha.”
“Why do you laugh?”
“There is no need to thank me for that.”
“…?”
“Because I am not actually teaching your young master anything.”
Maecheon Yang set down his teacup.
“In truth, it would not have mattered if he came here or elsewhere.”
Dokgo Wi-hak’s expression grew even more bewildered.
“What on earth do you mean by that?”
Maecheon Yang fell silent for a moment.
After pausing to gather his thoughts, Maecheon Yang opened his mouth with a faint, weary smile.
“What do you think is the reason most people seek out a master?”
Dokgo Wi-hak answered.
“Because they do not know what they must do.”
“Yes, precisely. The work of the Muhakbu and instructors like myself serves that very purpose.”
Whether in martial arts, studies, or life itself.
A master in any field could be said to be a guide who sets goals and shows the way to reach them.
“But your young master…”
Maecheon Yang paused thoughtfully before speaking in a measured tone.
“He seems to have already carved out his own path.”
“Carved out his own path?”
“It seems you grasped this not through learning, but through your own enlightenment. Your visit to the Muhakbu appeared less like seeking instruction and more like arriving out of necessity.”
“…!”
Even Dokgo Wi-hak, who had remained composed throughout, could not help but pause at those words.
“Therefore, there is nothing to apologize for. Rather, I am the one who should be sorry.”
Maecheon Yang continued speaking with a calm smile that carried a hint of self-deprecation.
“Those of us tasked with nurturing the Dokgo Family’s future could not even recognize the seedling properly and abandoned it. Yet you found the answer on your own. I am merely ashamed.”
Dokgo Wi-hak’s eyes widened, a rare occurrence.
‘That Three-Severing Swordmaster saying such things?’
A man of Maecheon Yang’s caliber would never resort to flattery merely because someone was a direct descendant.
Dokgo Wi-hak knew what kind of child his son was. Moreover, the boy had been pushed to the periphery of the family’s center because of the conflict he himself had created with the Family Head, Dokgo Cheon.
Yet now, following his father’s words, even Maecheon Yang was saying such things.
“….”
Dokgo Wi-hak closed his slightly parted lips firmly.
Then he pictured his son in his mind.
Words and tongue can hide falsehoods, but actions and eyes reveal themselves the more one tries to conceal them.
His son had truly changed.
“…I’ve taken up too much of your time. I should take my leave now.”
“No, Lord Kakju. You are welcome to visit anytime.”
“Thank you for today. There’s no need to see me out.”
Dokgo Wi-hak left the room with a somewhat stiffened expression.
As he walked quietly down the corridor, Dokgo Wi-hak murmured softly to himself.
“He has forged his own path….”
* * *
The rear Training Hall of the Muhakbu.
Dokgo Myeong waited in seated meditation for his next opponent to arrive.
Over the past week, Dokgo Myeong had set himself one goal.
That goal was neither to master the Cheonwae Gyeong, nor to condition his body, nor simply to grow stronger.
‘To become Dokgo Hyeon.’
Dokgo Myeong lived as Dokgo Hyeon lived.
He never relaxed his vigilance—not during sleep, not during meals, not for a single moment of breathing.
‘To think I would live this way in a place that isn’t even a battlefield.’
It was a forced march. This was hardly a life worth living. I found myself wondering how I had endured such an existence in my past life.
Yet that hardship was repaid with swift progress.
‘The Hyocheongong is already responding.’
The corners of Dokgo Myeong’s mouth lifted.
Hyocheongong—the dawn sky.
Dawn is both the beginning and end of all changes the sky holds. The Hyocheongong, the first profound technique of the Cheonwae Gyeong, was no different.
“Huuu….”
Dokgo Myeong exhaled slowly and focused his mind.
Whooom!
As my mind stirred, the vital energy scattered throughout my body began to shift subtly.
It was the Hyocheongong.
As the Hyocheongong responded, the sensations across my entire body began to sharpen.
‘I’m finally starting to feel it clearly.’
My consciousness expanded outward to the world surrounding me.
Even with my eyes closed, everything around me became distinctly perceptible.
Behind me, Jang Sam’s presence yawning and grumbling; fallen leaves swept away by the wind; even the flutter of wings of a flying insect hiding beneath those leaves as it suddenly leaped up.
This was the power of the Hyocheongong’s martial technique—the Sensory Recitation—expanding my perception of vital energy and my five senses.
The blind sparring at the Muhakbu was precisely for training this Sensory Recitation.
‘I knew there would be limits to blind sparring without actual combat, but….’
The countless experiences from my past life had not vanished—they were etched into my soul. What I needed to do was fill this dull vessel called Dokgo Myeong with Dokgo Hyeon.
‘Mastering the Sensory Recitation is not far off.’
Once I achieved complete mastery, all the vital energy permeating my body would transform into Hyocheongong.
‘If I can just succeed….’
Dokgo Ak?
I never gave him a second thought from the beginning. What mattered now was manifesting Dokgo Hyeon’s martial arts.
In the past, Dokgo Hyeon had perfected himself through the Sensory Recitation.
‘With this, I took the necks of the Bloodfiend and the Martial Arts Alliance Leader.’
The measure of strength is varied.
Speed, power, internal energy, techniques….
But to eliminate a single person, one truly doesn’t need so many things.
A human dies from even a small awl. Without exquisite techniques or greater internal energy, there are many ways to dispatch one person.
The Sensory Recitation was precisely the martial art that revealed the path between life and death.
‘I thought it would be difficult to awaken in just a month… but it might actually be possible.’
I clenched my fist tightly.
The Cheonwae Gyeong was responding far faster than I had anticipated.
“Hah!”
Flash!
I opened my eyes.
Rising slowly, I drew the blade I had set down below.
Thud! Slash! Whoosh!
Following a brief thrust, my cutting strikes sent ripples through the empty air. The movements were incomparably cleaner than they had been a week ago.
‘Good. Not bad at all.’
I slowly lowered my arms.
‘From today, I’ll push harder.’
Beyond the blade’s tip, at the entrance to the Training Hall, an Instructor from the Muhakbu was stepping through the threshold.
“I greet you, Young Master.”
“Good. Let’s begin right away.”
“Yes, then shall we proceed the same as before?”
“No.”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
“From today onward, let’s draw some blood.”
“…Pardon?”
The Instructor hesitated.
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes sharpened as he unsheathed his blade.
Moments later.
Boom!
A deafening roar erupted throughout the Training Hall, shaking it to its foundations.
* * *
At the outer Dokgo Estate, in a training ground reserved exclusively for the direct bloodline of the main family.
A young man there ceased his sword practice and furrowed his brow.
“What in the world is that bastard doing right now?”
Dokgo Ak wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead and turned his body.
The Guard standing behind him flinched and opened his mouth.
“He’s sparring with the Instructors at the Muhakbu.”
“Sparring?”
Dokgo Ak let out a scoff.
“That dull-witted fool who didn’t even know how to grip a sword is sparring now. How absurd.”
“That is… but it seems not to be the case anymore.”
Dokgo Ak’s Guard recalled the recent rumors circulating through the family.
“The stories being told about Young Master Dokgo Myeong lately are quite extraordinary.”
“Extraordinary? What do you mean by that?”
“That he’s achieved enlightenment, that he’s changed greatly… and some even say he’s mastering some mysterious martial technique.”
Rumors grow and swell the more they spread. Yet Dokgo Myeong paid no mind to his name circulating among the people’s lips.
The Guard found this troubling.
“Regardless. Even if that wretch changes, how much could he really transform?”
“Still, it would be wise not to underestimate him too greatly, would it not?”
“What?”
Dokgo Ak’s expression twisted, but the Guard failed to notice and continued speaking.
“Even the meticulous Maecheon Yang has acknowledged him. If you become careless and suffer a great humiliation… did you not already face considerable disgrace a month ago, Young Master?”
“You impudent wretch!”
Thud!
Dokgo Ak mercilessly kicked the Guard in the stomach.
“Ugh!”
The Guard collapsed to the ground, clutching his abdomen.
“What are you saying? A humiliation? You think I would suffer defeat at the hands of such a wretch?”
“I, I apologize!”
Dokgo Ak ground his teeth.
‘Tch. Pathetic.’
Dokgo Myeong had always been his prey.
A mere punching bag whose role is to whimper and take beatings every single time!
‘I was simply caught off guard that day, nothing more.’
That was the truth.
How was I to know that idiot Dokgo Myeong would actually resist?
I was just stammering when I got hit, but if no one had interfered, I would have beaten him down on my own.
‘Yet the clan members are watching that bastard so closely?’
Dokgo Ak clenched his fist so tightly that veins bulged across the back of his hand.
“Ha.”
Then, suddenly releasing his grip, a scornful laugh escaped his lips.
“Incompetent fools. Placing their hopes on such a pathetic wretch.”
Right, what would these stupid clan members know?
‘Actually, this works out better. Expectations are always more devastating when they’re crushed.’
Dokgo Ak’s eyes gleamed with predatory sharpness.
The thought of losing never once crossed his mind.
Victory was inevitable. What mattered was how spectacularly and overwhelmingly he would crush Dokgo Myeong beneath his heel.
“Stop your whining and get out of my sight.”
“Y-yes, I’m terribly sorry.”
Dokgo Ak snapped these words at the guard and returned to the training grounds.
* * *
Time flowed like an arrow.
A month proved far shorter than expected. Despite the monotonous routine of sparring, cultivation, and physical conditioning, days would slip away the moment I closed and opened my eyes.
Dokgo Myeong lived as though time itself held no meaning.
Five days remained until the promised duel with Dokgo Ak.
Clang!
With the collision of metal, a sword cut across the center of the Martial Arts Training Hall.
Clatter!
An iron blade tumbled helplessly across the ground.
The instructor standing in the training hall stared blankly at Dokgo Myeong.
“Huh? What… what is this…?”
The instructor, bewildered, alternated his gaze between his own hands and Dokgo Myeong.
The sword that had been sent flying was none other than the instructor’s own blade.
“Hah…”
Before the bewildered instructor, Dokgo Myeong steadied his breathing with a single exhale.
In just one month, Dokgo Myeong’s appearance had transformed dramatically.
His face had grown gaunt, and deep shadows hung beneath his eyes.
His martial robes were torn in countless places from whatever battles he’d endured, and with each gust of wind, the tatters fluttered about, revealing sword scars that had not yet fully healed.
“Hehehehe.”
At that moment, Dokgo Myeong suddenly split his lips into a grin and began to laugh.
His body was in no condition to laugh, yet he could not suppress the laughter.
How could he not?
At last….
“I’ve completed it.”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed with brilliance.
Cheonwae Gyeong, Hyocheongong.
Finally, the sensory threads had been perfected.

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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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