Return of the God of War - Chapter 12

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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 12: The Bond Between You and Me
After Muk Yeojin’s confinement in Biyeondong came to an end.
He found himself trapped in a monotonous routine—cultivation, meals, and sleep, repeating endlessly.
Unlike Biyeondong, there were too many eyes watching here, so he couldn’t push his training as hard as he wished; lately, boredom had begun to creep in.
‘The more I conceal my strength, the better it serves me. For now, there’s no help for it.’
It wasn’t that he meant to hide his power forever.
But any martial artist worth their salt knew to keep a third of their true ability concealed.
There was no reason to flash every card in one’s hand to every passerby in the street.
Still.
‘I wonder what Cheongbi’s up to… She left in such a huff over a few lost hairs and hasn’t shown her face since… petty thing.’
Somehow, he’d grown rather fond of Cheongbi.
If the chance arose, he thought he might visit Moksinsan to see her.
Just then, one of the servants from his quarters approached with hurried steps.
“Young Master Yeojin, your mother, Lady Namgung, will be arriving shortly.”
“Mother?”
Ah!
Now that he thought about it, today was his birthday.
And his birthday was the only day his mother could enter Mangdamjeon.
‘I’d completely forgotten. A birthday, of all things… I can barely remember when I last took note of such a thing.’
Muk Yeojin smiled faintly, making sure the servant didn’t catch his distraction, and spoke.
“Please prepare to receive my mother.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
It had been a year since he’d last seen her—he ought to present himself well.
He removed the martial robes he always wore and drew out a finely maintained deep blue Yu Sam, draping it over himself before tying his hair back neatly.
Though he was still only thirteen years old.
Over the past year, having devoted himself to mastering Sanwangmu and External Martial Training, Muk Yeojin had grown more than a head taller than his peers.
When he took care to dress himself deliberately, he cut a striking figure indeed.
The servants in his quarters let out gasps of admiration upon seeing his appearance.
“My! Young Master, in just five more years, every woman in Gwangseo will have her heart set aflame!”
A soft laugh escaped Muk Yeojin’s lips, but his thoughts ran differently.
By that time, before the Woneumgyo could spread its plague across Joongyeon, he would purge those vermin and begin the earnest work of cleansing the Murim.
‘The women may not know it, but a thousand flames will indeed fall among the martial artists.’
Once preparations were complete, he went with the household servants to the main gate of Mangdamjeon to receive his mother.
“Lady Namgung Ryeongryeong approaches!”
The cry of the gate guard rang out, and the massive iron doors swung open.
Creeeak.
Footstep after footstep.
Watching his mother approach with her unchanged, confident stride, Muk Yeojin was startled.
Namgung Ryeongryeong had come accompanied by martial guards—something unusual.
Each one bore sharp eyes and a disciplined bearing; they were no ordinary men.
But that wasn’t why Muk Yeojin was surprised.
It was the aura radiating from his mother herself.
She made no effort to suppress it; she let her presence bloom openly, and it carried such vastness that gazing upon her felt like beholding an endless sky.
‘Mother is this strong?’
She was a different person from the one who had faced Hyerang-yeong’s assassins a year ago.
Muk Yeojin understood immediately.
‘This is Mother’s true strength.’
She had resumed her abandoned martial arts and regained some of the heights she had once lost.
Her step carried confidence, and her face brimmed with ease.
This too was something he had never seen before his return to the past.
The change was not his alone.
And this change was a welcome one indeed.
‘You look well, Mother.’
As Muk Yeojin composed his suddenly stirred heart, Namgung Ryeongryeong was taking her own measure of her son, surprised.
‘Yeojin has already entered Ipgong.’
She had felt the refined flow of his cultivation energy.
Surely no one had taught him—but how had he grasped this art?
‘I never said he showed interest in martial training, so unlike the other celestial masters’ children, I didn’t even station a martial tutor at Mangdamjeon…’
Had he gained this chance encounter through Biyeondong?
But that was not the most astonishing thing.
‘Already entered the Full Energy Stage…….’
Even Muk Yeojin, counted among the rare talents of the Namgung Clan, had needed three years to ascend from Ipgong to the Full Energy Stage—yet his son had compressed that span into a third of the time.
Across all of Joongyeon, there were surely few who could boast such an achievement.
It was a moment that called for embracing him and showering praise.
And yet.
Namgung Ryeongryeong’s expression shifted subtly.
She knew it well.
Had she not experienced it herself? The saying ‘A sharp point hidden in a pouch will eventually pierce through’—it existed for a reason.
‘Talent too great invites misfortune…… so I must be the one to protect him.’
Having steeled her resolve thus, Namgung Ryeongryeong’s face softened into a gentle smile.
“In just a year, you’ve changed beyond recognition. Yeojin.”
“Mother, you’ve changed too—one would think you’d taken an elixir of youth. Why not take this chance to abandon that heartless husband of yours and marry into a new family?”
Those gathered nearby gasped at his words.
His brazen declaration that Sadocheonju was heartless left them reeling.
Pyoyeon glanced nervously about, worried someone might have heard, but Namgung Ryeongryeong simply laughed it off without concern.
“That’s not a bad idea. Some men keep five concubines, so why shouldn’t I take a lover or two?”
“M—Madam!”
Pyoyeon’s face drained of all color.
At the sight of her distress, both Muk Yeojin and Namgung Ryeongryeong burst into hearty laughter.
“Shall we stop, Mother? At this rate, Aunt won’t live out her natural years.”
“Very well, then. You do have a mischievous way about you.”
“……Young lady! Young master!”
“Hehe, forgive us. Aunt, do step inside now.”
“Really…….”
In this warm, playful atmosphere, Namgung Ryeongryeong’s party entered Mangdamjeon without incident.
* * *
“Happy birthday, Yeojin.”
His mother’s expression as she offered her congratulations was utterly at ease.
In years past, she had never failed to mark his birthday—yet her face had always carried a shadow of unease.
‘She must have feared that as I grew older, I would leave Mangdamjeon, step out into the world beyond.’
The world outside was no genteel, peaceful realm for the weak youth he once was—it was a battlefield, day after day, without reprieve.
But that was then.
Muk Yeojin had returned not as prey, but as a predator.
‘Now there will be only joy ahead, Mother.’
In the next moment, Muk Yeojin spoke in a playful tone.
“Your only son’s birthday, and your hands are empty? How can that be?”
At such shameless audacity, Namgung Ryeongryeong smiled despite herself.
“I had planned to gift you a brush crafted by a master artisan, but it seems you’d have no use for it. If there’s something you truly desire, tell me.”
Muk Yeojin pretended to ponder for a moment, then his eyes narrowed with intent.
“I see…… Well then, since I said I would take up the sword instead of the brush, how about a sword?”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the blade at Namgung Ryeongryeong’s waist.
Indeed, his eyes had been drawn to that sword since the moment he entered the chamber.
How could a swordsman not recognize a superior blade?
There was no need to unsheathe it to tell.
The cold, unsettling aura it gave off was so potent that even through the scabbard, it brushed against his skin like an icy breath.
‘Without question, it’s a renowned blade—not quite on the level of Jang Pyeong’s Maewhwa Divine Sword, but close enough.’
The third of his sworn brothers.
Jang Pyeong, the Heavenly Sword of Huashan.
That blade, the Maewhwa Divine Sword, one of the Huashan Sect’s treasures, was what he held more dear than life itself.
Muk Yeojin harbored no great attachment to arms and armor.
Yet whenever he saw his own sword—chipped and broken time and again through countless battles—and then beheld his sworn brother’s weapon, unmarred by so much as a scratch after all that warfare, a wistful longing would stir in his heart.
‘I had always meant to find a blade worthy to stand beside Jang Pyeong’s Maewhwa Divine Sword.’
And now, of all things—
Such a sword lay before his very eyes.
How could avarice not kindle within him?
Yet that greed shattered almost as swiftly as it had taken root.
In the firmest tone he had ever heard from her, Namgung Ryeongryeong spoke.
“Then you might as well ask for your mother’s head instead.”
“……You could have simply said no, Mother. You’re rather fierce about it.”
Namgung Ryeongryeong smiled knowingly.
“Just as each person has their own thread of fate, so too does a swordsmaster’s blade. Someday, you’ll meet someone whose thread is bound to yours—whether that someone is a sword or a person.”
‘A thread of fate…….’
She turned her mother’s words over in her mind, then grumbled with mock petulance.
“My fate is bound to be an encounter without equal in all of Joongyeon’s history. Even if you tell me then that I can wield my sword once more, I won’t budge. Mother.”
Her mother fell silent for a moment, then opened her mouth.
“……Not even once?”
“Not even once.”
A beat of perfect stillness.
The two of them, eyes locked, burst into laughter at the same instant.
The warmth between them was absolute.
Muk Yeojin felt tears threatening to spill.
As they continued their conversation, Namgung Ryeongryeong suddenly spoke.
“Since you don’t seem to want anything in particular, I’ll give you what I’ve prepared.”
With that, she drew a pristine manuscript from her robes and placed it on the table.
It looked new, without a single character written on its cover.
Muk Yeojin tilted her head in question.
“What is this?”
“A handwritten copy of the Changgoong Dae-yeon Jingyeol.”
“……!”
Muk Yeojin could not suppress her shock at Namgung Ryeongryeong’s heavy blow—delivered without warning, striking straight through her solar plexus.
The Changgoong Dae-yeon Jingyeol.
The foundational inner cultivation manual of the Namgung Clan—the force that had once earned her mother’s native household, situated in Anhui Province, the title of supreme sword family under heaven.
It was the root of centuries of Namgung power.
The Namgung lineage, carrying centuries of unbroken history.
From there, countless swordmasters who had risen to the pinnacle of Beyond Heaven with nothing but a single blade.
The inner cultivation method that became their foundation.
Truly, it was worthy of being called divine technique—the very essence of inner cultivation mastery.
But.
‘This is not a cultivation method that just anyone can learn…….’
If one were to ask whether the threshold for Entry into Cultivation was high, the answer would be no.
Rather, the opposite.
The nature of Changgungi was inclusivity and moderation.
For this reason, Entry into Cultivation was more straightforward than with other supreme methods.
But it was the root of all martial arts the Namgung Clan had achieved.
‘Of course, it would never be permitted for someone without authorization to learn it.’
To prevent leakage and misuse, the Changgungi was transmitted only to those who had been rigorously vetted and approved within the clan itself.
If such a method were to take root in the dantian of an outsider, what would become of it?
‘It would become the clan’s greatest shame, and I would spend my entire life as an enemy to the Namgung.’
Her mother would know this better than anyone.
So how could she hand this to her now?
Namgung Ryeongryeong quickly noticed her son’s grave expression and immediately understood what was troubling her.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already received the Clan Head’s approval.”
Muk Yeojin started, taken aback.
“But how?”
At his question, a flicker of bitterness crossed Namgung Ryeongryeong’s eyes.
“You’ll understand someday, so there’s no need to hide it. Simply put, think of it as the price of this mother’s body.”
“…….”
Though her words were cryptic, Muk Yeojin immediately grasped their meaning.
‘She obtained the clan’s approval by settling the debt incurred when she came through a strategic marriage to Sadocheonju.’
Call it a strategic marriage if you will, but in truth she had been discarded.
Her mother had likely resolved long ago to sever all ties with that household and live on her own.
It had been the same even before the return.
And yet, that very mother, after twenty long years, had first approached the Namgung clan that abandoned her for her son’s sake.
For her.
To offer whatever help she could to a son who had chosen to walk the martial path.
The manuscript before her was far more than a mere cultivation manual—it was her mother Namgung Ryeongryeong’s youth, her blood and tears.
Muk Yeojin’s eyes grew cold and still.
‘Namgung…… I have a feeling my fate with you is bound to be nothing but evil karma.’

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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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