Return of the God of War - Chapter 11

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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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Episode 11: Unshakeable Foundation
Fortunately, beyond this door there was no vertiginous chasm with fire sweeping across it.
It seemed there were no further trials.
Muk Yeojin stepped forward with careful deliberation.
What opened before him was an expansive training ground.
Understanding came at once.
‘……So this is the place. Where Father used to cultivate, back when I was young.’
The isolated training chamber of Sadocheonju Muk Umyeong.
In the center of the training ground stood a Bimu platform for sparring.
Along the walls were arrayed weapons in profusion—commonplace blades and staffs at first, then stranger implements of bizarre and unfamiliar form.
Then his eye caught on something.
In the middle of the Bimu platform sat a single object.
‘Is that a Mokgap?’
What would a wooden chest be doing in a place like this?
Thump, thump.
After walking slowly forward and peering inside the chest, Muk Yeojin started in surprise.
Within lay a medicine box—but this was no ordinary thing.
On the surface of the medicine box was inscribed a name.
Baeksu Shindan.
Baeksu Shindan.
In Jungwon today, five extraordinary individuals possessed uncanny powers beyond martial prowess alone—and they were collectively known as the Oecheon Ojwa.
One among these five.
A master of Yeongyak preparation whose skill rivaled the immortals themselves—known as the Yakseon—had crafted this particular Shindan, a supreme treasure among treasures.
‘As I recall, only three Baeksu Shindans were ever refined, and one is here.’
Opening it on impulse, he found inside a single pale golden pill that exhaled an otherworldly fragrance.
The very scent of it was so pure and clear that his Danjeon trembled.
‘With Yakgi of this potency, this must certainly be the Baeksu Shindan.’
According to his sister Muk Iyeon.
Four half-brothers had so far undergone the trials of this Biyeondong.
Had even one of them succeeded, the Baeksu Shindan would not remain here now.
‘Which means they all failed to pass through the gate.’
Indeed, Muk Yeojin’s half-brothers.
Though they had each earned their own illustrious titles and become martial masters by this day, they had been mere youths when they set foot in this place.
Given the difficulty of the strange ordeal he had just endured, it was perhaps an inevitable outcome.
‘However it stands.’
For Muk Yeojin, recovering his former realm as swiftly as possible, the Baeksu Shindan solved the one frustration that plagued him most—the matter of Naegong.
It was a reward without peer, capable of bridging dozens of paces of cultivation gap in a single bound.
He could not help but smile.
‘I shall make good use of this.’
There was wisdom in the old saying about striking while the iron is hot.
‘And here I need not fear observers.’
Thud.
Muk Yeojin sat down at once and tossed the Baeksu Shindan into his mouth.
The instant the fragrant pill touched his tongue, it dissolved away.
Ordinarily, when one consumed a Yeongyak, the medicinal essence was metabolized slowly over days or weeks, transmuted into Naegong, then accumulated drop by drop within the Danjeon without loss.
But in the case of a Yeongyak as potent and vast as the Baeksu Shindan, months would scarcely suffice.
‘I must not overreach. During my year in this Biyeondong, I will work gradually to metabolize the Yakgi.’
The road ahead was far too long.
Though speed mattered greatly, if he collapsed from exhaustion along the way, all would come to ruin.
‘Swift, yet measured.’
That was the path of Muhak that Muk Yeojin would walk.
As the Baeksu Shindan dissolved and permeated fully through his body, its true nature began to reveal itself.
Whoooosh.
The Baeksu Shindan’s power began surging through Muk Yeojin’s interior like a relentless, turbulent tide.
‘Concentrate…….’
There was truth in the saying that medicine and poison differed by a single thread—in this moment, he must devote his every faculty.
How much time had passed?
Drip, drip.
Sweat poured down in sheets, drenching his upper body.
The Baeksu Shindan’s accumulated power was far harsher than he had anticipated, and the drain on his Shimryeok was substantial.
‘It’s as if I’m holding the reins of a wild warhorse straining at the bit.’
This Baeksu Shindan creature.
The moment I try to guide it, it thrashes and slips from my grasp.
And then it retreats to a distance, staring at me with that slack, vacant expression.
As though mocking me to try again.
A vein of frustration rose on Muk Yeojin’s forehead.
‘Cocky bastard. Fine then. Let’s see which of us wins.’
Muk Yeojin steadied his breathing and mounted the Baeksu Shindan once more, gripping its reins with iron resolve.
And so.
Three hours passed.
When Muk Yeojin finally opened his eyes, he had finished not a life-or-death struggle with the Baeksu Shindan, but rather something closer to a game of tag.
Whoosh!
He flexed his fists open and closed, exhaling deeply.
‘Not even a tenth of what I’d hoped for.’
In this single session of Ungi, he’d managed to absorb barely a speck of power into his Danjeon.
His first encounter with the Baeksu Shindan had ended in complete defeat.
The unabsorbed power of the Baeksu Shindan still radiated throughout his body, but unlike before, it had grown docile.
The creature seemed exhausted too, settling into a quiet rest.
Muk Yeojin let out a short laugh.
‘Next time, I won’t lose. Prepare yourself well.’
Pledging a rematch in the future, Muk Yeojin gently drew up his Naegong from where he sat.
Whoooosh!
As the Naegong coiled in his Danjeon surged through his entire frame, a profound sense of vitality bloomed, and a faint shimmer of power shimmered into being.
Truly, a supreme Yeongyak.
Despite absorbing only a fragment—less than a tenth—of the power, he could already feel the density of his Naegong transformed beyond recognition.
‘If I were to fully refine the Baeksu Shindan’s power, no one of my generation would match me in raw Naegong.’
Though today’s contest belonged to the Baeksu Shindan, time, ultimately, would be his ally.
Muk Yeojin nodded with satisfaction.
After conducting another round of Ungi to acclimate himself to the power now residing in his Danjeon, he was rising to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes, when a sudden question seized his mind.
An uncertainty that had not occurred to him until now.
‘Come to think of it, what sort of training was Father doing in this place?’
He’d been so consumed by acquiring the Baeksu Shindan that he’d nearly forgotten the original purpose of his search.
This training chamber bore the deep marks of Sadocheonju’s youth—traces embedded in every corner.
Yet when he looked about with fresh eyes, nothing particularly distinctive revealed itself.
There were no secret manuals placed anywhere, and though the walls bore countless blade marks, nothing else seemed worthy of note.
‘…!?’
Muk Yeojin’s eyes suddenly widened.
‘The Douro! Every single mark in this chamber—on the walls and throughout the space—each one is a Douro of Geomgong!’
He began examining the blade marks with growing wonder.
‘It is textbook perfection itself.’
Fierce yet supple, weighty yet nimble.
It was as though he were reading a flawless manual of swordplay—not a single gap to exploit.
It was strange.
Sadocheonju Muk Umyeong was known throughout the world for his overwhelming and aggressive swordplay alone.
‘So Father wielded such a orthodox sword in his youth?’
There could be only one meaning to this discovery.
‘He laid his foundation here. His Choseok.’
A tree with deep, strong roots stands firm even when a storm batters it.
Muhak is no different.
The gulf between a warrior who masters orthodox swordplay perfectly and one who does not only widens as they ascend higher in their art—a gap that can never be closed.
And this was a truth Muk Yeojin himself had come to understand.
Before his return, he’d been thrown into warfare without pause, never finding time to establish the roots of his martial art.
But now, with such perfect swordplay spread before his eyes, how could he not rejoice?
Muk Yeojin’s hands clenched into fists.
‘During the time remaining, I will root myself here as a mighty tree capable of weathering any storm.’
In that moment, it became clear what he would gain from his stay in Biyeondong.
Yet….
As Muk Yeojin began to earnestly examine the blade marks, he felt something subtly out of place.
The marks on the right wall and especially those on the Bimu platform itself bore traces that seemed strangely incongruous.
‘They look almost like the remnants of a fierce duel.’
The marks were evidence of countless clashes—dozens, hundreds of times, the same two fighters squaring off repeatedly.
Had Father had a regular sparring partner?
Yet even accounting for his youth, an opponent worthy enough to engage in hundreds of duels with none other than Sadocheonju Muk Umyeong should have earned a name known throughout the realm—but he could recall no such figure.
‘The sword marks are undoubtedly Father’s, but what about these other marks?’
They weren’t from a blade, nor did they resemble the traces of fist and foot techniques.
They looked like claw marks—somehow reminiscent of those left by a beast.
That was when it happened.
‘……!’
Screech.
The iron door directly opposite the one through which Muk Yeojin had entered swung open of its own accord, and a figure emerged from within.
Upon catching sight of this presence, Muk Yeojin startled—then burst into laughter.
“So it was you all along, Cheongbi. You were Father’s sparring partner.”
The creature that had entered through the open door was the massive hawk, Cheongbi, who had been delivering meals to Muk Yeojin in cloth bundles.
* * *
Thus time flowed on like water, flowing and flowing still.
Before long, the year-long confinement drew toward its end.
As always, Muk Yeojin sat in the center of the sparring ground in a cross-legged posture when his eyes suddenly opened.
Haah…….
White breath misted from his exhaled breath.
The emotion that glistened in Muk Yeojin’s blue eyes.
It was joy.
‘At last, I’ve absorbed all the spiritual essence from the Baeksu Shindan.’
After a year of unbroken combat with that beast, he had finally gathered all of its vast spiritual power into his danjeon.
Rising to his feet, he thrust his arm forward with force channeled through his naegong.
Crack! Bang!
His fist split the air with a heavy sonic boom, generating a shockwave of force.
Power incomparable to a mere year ago.
‘Now I could…….’
Muk Yeojin raised his index and thumb to his lips and blew a sharp, piercing whistle.
It was a signal.
A moment later.
With a swooshing sound, Cheongbi descended gently onto the sparring ground.
“Screeeech!”
Muk Yeojin watched the hawk alight before him, his body tense.
Over the past year, Muk Yeojin had engaged in grueling matches with Cheongbi.
The result.
Three hundred thirty-six matches: zero victories, total defeats.
An unbroken string of humiliating losses.
But now that he’d absorbed all the Baeksu Shindan’s power, things would be different.
“Cheongbi…… today I’ll pluck every last feather from your head, I swear it.”
Muk Yeojin vowed vengeance for all the hair he’d lost to the hawk.
“Screeeech!”
Cheongbi cried out as if the threat were beneath contempt.
Muk Yeojin gripped his wooden sword and took a middle guard stance; Cheongbi spread his massive wings and readied himself to strike at any moment.
He’d experienced Cheongbi’s martial prowess more than enough times to know its caliber.
‘Likely, even most of the ordinary disciples of Sadocheonju couldn’t so much as approach him.’
A half-hearted strike would be worse than useless.
‘I need to end this in a single blow.’
With this resolve, Muk Yeojin decided to engage at full power from the opening exchange.
Crunch-crunch-crunch!
As Muk Yeojin lowered his upper body and poured strength into his feet, the earth of the sparring ground caved in beneath him.
Both his thighs swelled and bulged visibly—the effect of the Sanwangmu technique he’d been cultivating.
Whoooosh.
The naegong amplified by the Baeksu Shindan erupted forth all at once.
“Screech!”
Cheongbi’s eyes gleamed in response.
Intrigued by this markedly different momentum from before.
True to his nature as a spiritual creature, Cheongbi began to emit spiritual energy as well.
The waves of force resonated through the empty air for a moment.
Then Muk Yeojin’s form surged forward.
“Dig in, Cheongbi!!!”
“Shrieeeek!!”
Crash!!
A shock so violent it shook the very earth trembled through the Bimu platform.
.
.
.
Days later.
Muk Yeojin’s confinement had ended, and he departed Biyeondong with the Baekrang officer who had come to escort him.
In his left pocket,
there lay a handful of feathers that resembled those of a dark blue bird.

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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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