Return of the God of War - Chapter 2

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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 2: This Time, I Won’t Just Endure It
His eyes opened.
Muk Yeojin stood in a broad clearing ringed by ancient, towering trees.
He recognized the place at once.
How could he not?
Mangdamjeon—the refuge of his childhood.
Whenever his heart grew turbulent, he would come here and stand in silence, drinking in the landscape, sketching the world around him.
Mangdamjeon had long since been consumed by war, reduced to charred ash more than ten years ago.
Which meant only one thing.
‘I’ve truly come back to the past.’
Before he had ever met Cheon Hwarin and his sworn siblings.
Before Jungyeon had been ravaged by the Woneumaegyo.
Before he lost them all—those who had always protected him.
He had returned as Muk Yeojin, the frail youngest son of Muk Uhmyeong, the Sadocheon Master who had first unified the dark path.
* * *
Muk Yeojin stared blankly at his surroundings.
“So what she said was true…….”
In those final moments, Cheon Hwarin had revealed the secret she’d hidden all this time—but he could sort out how to address her later, in his own time.
That wasn’t what mattered now.
Muk Yeojin folded his arms and murmured to himself.
“Since I’m at Mangdamjeon, I can’t be older than fifteen yet.”
Mangdamjeon—the Serpent Pool Palace.
Divided Jungyeon by the great river Jangggang.
The dark path’s southern territories unified under the Sadocheon—and its Master, Muk Uhmyeong.
His children, all of them, were confined to Mangdamjeon from the moment they were weaned until their fifteenth birthday.
Ostensibly, it was for protection against assassination.
The world spoke of it thus: ‘Even a Sadocheon Master as fearsome as he cherishes his own blood.’
“That man care for his children? Even a stray dog would laugh at that. I’d sooner believe our eldest brother studies the classics at a village school.”
Whatever the reason truly was—
The Sadocheon Master’s children could not take a single step beyond Mangdamjeon’s walls until after their fifteenth birthday.
He didn’t know his exact age now, but judging by the size of his hands and feet, by his line of sight, he was somewhere between ten and twelve.
In that moment, a face long forgotten surfaced in his mind.
“Wait…… If that’s true, then that bastard is still here…….”
The Sadocheon Master had taken five wives and fathered seven children.
Muk Yeojin was the youngest.
At this time, his older siblings—those with a significant age gap—had all left Mangdamjeon. Only one half-brother, a year his senior, remained in the palace with him.
Though epochs could turn and turn again, the mere thought of that man still churned his stomach.
He’d hoped never to cross paths with him. But life rarely obeys such wishes.
And as expected—
“Muk Yeojin!!”
At the sound of that grating, all-too-familiar voice, displeasure flooded through him first.
Muk Yeojin turned toward the sound.
His half-brother, Muk Byeongho—a year his senior—came striding over with a childish grin, as if he’d just spotted some amusing toy.
Muk Yeojin harbored not a single good memory of him.
Throughout his childhood at Mangdamjeon, Muk Byeongho had tormented him relentlessly.
‘He’d never even begun his training, just shut himself away and sketched all day while I grew stronger with each passing season—so of course I seemed like a worthless plaything to him.’
“Oi, little brother! Your heaven-sent older brother calls—don’t you dare ignore me!”
Swish, swish—
Muk Byeongho thrust something into his hand and waved it in front of Muk Yeojin’s face.
A flash of recognition struck him.
‘Ah, I remember.’
This had happened when he was twelve.
The memory had seared itself so deeply that it surfaced instantly.
Muk Byeongho had beaten to death a stray cat that Muk Yeojin had occasionally fed and grown attached to, then dangled it before him while laughing in mockery.
Back then, he’d made not a sound of protest.
He’d simply buried the cat where the sunlight fell warmest and wept tears like chicken droppings—a weak, frail boy.
That was who Muk Yeojin had been.
Now, looking back, it was pathetic beyond measure.
Muk Yeojin shook his head slowly.
‘Forgive me, little cat. I think I even gave you a name back then—but I’ve forgotten it now.’
His tear ducts had long since run dry; there were no more tears left to shed.
Instead.
‘I’m going to make damn sure this bastard pays for it.’
Muk Yeojin, who had been watching Muk Byeongho with indifference, answered with a dark smile.
“Why the hell are you calling me, you bed-wetting brat?”
“W-what…… what?”
Muk Byeongho had been unusually prone to wetting himself in his sleep as a child.
The rumor spread quietly enough among the servants.
Of course, after the thirteen-year-old Muk Byeongho had beaten one of the servants who’d spread the rumor until he was half-crippled, it became an absolute forbidden word among them.
As if his shame had been laid bare before the world, Muk Byeongho’s face flushed crimson.
“Y-you…… do you have a death wish?”
Pfft.
Muk Yeojin let out a brazen laugh and stepped forward.
Could this child—fragile enough to vanish without a trace if pressed with a finger—even comprehend what death meant?
In truth, at thirteen, Muk Byeongho had already spent eight years training his body through the Mugong, having begun his martial studies young.
Meanwhile, Muk Yeojin at this age had not yet even begun the Ipgong—he was utterly ignorant in martial matters.
By all rights, Muk Byeongho shouldn’t have allowed Muk Yeojin to touch even his feet.
But.
The Muk Yeojin of now—having endured the bloodbath of his previous life—was confident he could shred a dozen men like Muk Byeongho if they rushed him all at once.
Unable to contain his rage, Muk Byeongho threw a punch first.
“I’ll make you crawl through Mangdamjeon like a dog today!!”
It was a fist filled with pure Jingi that belied his thirteen years.
Muk Yeojin regarded the incoming punch with calm indifference.
‘So he does have considerable talent.’
But that was all.
In Jungyeon as a whole, talent like Muk Byeongho’s was as common as dirt beneath one’s feet.
It was likely the reason their father, the Lord of Sadocheon, had never spared him even a glance.
Whoosh!
“Huh?”
Muk Byeongho’s fist cleaved through empty air.
He had expected Muk Yeojin to collapse to the ground, tears and snot streaming down his face, after taking his punch.
But what in the world was happening now?
The moment he turned his head, a terrible impact crashed down upon him.
Crack!!
“Aaaahhhhh!!”
Muk Yeojin’s fist had buried itself in his face.
His bridge of nose shattered in an instant, and blood poured like waterfalls from both nostrils.
“Y-you’re…… insane……?!”
Thud!
“Ugh!”
When Muk Yeojin’s foot drove into his abdomen again, Muk Byeongho couldn’t finish his words.
He had never been struck like this in his life.
His limbs trembled uncontrollably, and tears spilled reflexively down his cheeks.
As Muk Byeongho retreated, Muk Yeojin pressed forward and rained kicks upon him without mercy.
Whack! Crack! Slam!
“Ahhh! Ack! Guh…… s-save me…….”
Muk Yeojin had no intention of going easy on the boy crawling on the ground, already drained of will to fight.
Lacking Naegong, he wasn’t channeling Jingi into his strikes, but each point of impact was precisely a fatal Geupsso—a critical vital point.
The body of a child still far from full growth.
Continued merciless beating against such a tender frame would certainly result in death or, at minimum, permanent maiming.
He knew it was harsh treatment of a foolish child.
But this was entirely deliberate on Muk Yeojin’s part.
‘It’s about time he showed up.’
On the surface, Mangdamjeon was staffed only by a handful of servants and guards.
But this was where the direct offspring of the Lord of Sadocheon resided.
There was no way such a place wouldn’t have a hidden guard watching.
‘Though surveillance would be their primary function rather than protection.’
Muk Yeojin’s fist, which had been raining blows indiscriminately on Muk Byeongho, shifted its trajectory toward his lower abdomen.
Just before a direct strike—a certain killing blow from which half-crippling was the only escape—could land.
As expected.
Snap!
A man in a blue-black martial robe appeared from nowhere like the wind and seized Muk Yeojin’s arm.
“I think it would be best to stop here, young master.”
He had actually been watching the two of them fight from the beginning.
But he found himself standing transfixed as Muk Yeojin—whose Naegong was barely perceptible—beat Muk Byeongho senseless in a one-sided assault.
Because of that, he nearly made the grave mistake of missing his moment to intervene.
“Young master Yeojin. This is…….”
“Let go.”
“Pardon?”
“I said let go of my arm.”
The moment their eyes met, the man felt a chill run through his body and trembled.
This was no gaze belonging to a mere twelve-year-old child.
What could it possibly be?
Yes.
There was power in his eyes.
The dignity that emanates from those who have reached the highest seat of authority.
The warrior sensed it in that instant—that aura radiating from Muk Yeojin.
Click.
The man hurriedly stepped back and bowed deeply.
“Forgive my rudeness, young master.”
Muk Yeojin, his expression one of indifference, nudged the unconscious Muk Byeongho—who lay face-down—with the tip of his shoe.
“Take him to the infirmary.”
“Yes, understood.”
With that, Muk Yeojin waved his hand dismissively and left the courtyard.
Even without turning around, he could feel the man’s gaze following his receding figure.
‘This will surely reach Father—the Lord of Sadocheon—before long.’
That was precisely what Muk Yeojin had hoped for.
Not even half a Shijin had passed since his return, yet Muk Yeojin had already taken a step unmistakably different from his past self.
“I won’t be made a fool of again this time.”
* * *
Among the countless towers of the Sadocheon headquarters, the one that soared highest—the Skyscraper.
Manryeongung.
The residence of the Lord himself.
And at the very top of the palace.
Someone crossed through the center of the Daejeon.
Not even the softest footfall accompanied his assured stride—proof that his Gyeonggong had reached its ultimate mastery.
At the far end of the Daejeon.
Dozens of paces before the Taesauui, he knelt on one knee.
“Ju Gok, Commander of the White Wolf Brigade, pays respects to the Lord.”
Earlier that afternoon.
This was the very warrior who had stopped Muk Yeojin’s fist.
A moment passed.
Whiiiiing!
In the sealed hall, a wind so cold and desolate that it chilled Ju Gok to the bone swept through—the wind of one who had transcended mortal limits.
“What is the matter?”
Drip.
Sweat trickled down his spine without his realizing it.
Just hearing that voice made his fingertips tingle.
Ju Gok steadied himself and spoke.
“I have a report concerning what occurred at Mangdamjeon this afternoon.”
“Mangdamjeon, you say…… Go on, then.”
.
.
.
After Ju Gok finished explaining the matter involving Muk Yeojin and Muk Byeongho, he bowed respectfully.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Do so.”
Long after Ju Gok departed, Muk Uhmyeong, the Lord of Sadocheon who sat upon the Taesauui, suddenly let out a soft laugh.
It was because of the words Ju Gok had hesitantly stammered out at the very end.
―If I may be so bold to say, young master’s gaze resembled…… that of the Lord himself.
“The youngest…… quite the bold one.”
The very next day.
The Lord of Sadocheon, who had secluded himself for years without showing his face to the world, held an official gathering and revealed himself to society once more.
To take a fresh measure of his youngest son, whom he had dismissed as worthless.

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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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