Return of the God of War - Chapter 23

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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 23: I’ll need to rebuild this from the ground up.
Muk Yeo-jin had accomplished his intended purpose and was making his way back to the Residence.
His reason for heading to Chunghon Pavilion was simple enough.
A Valuable Item lay hidden there—something no one in the world currently knew about.
‘If I had my way, I’d go searching for it right now, but I’m not permitted to start until tomorrow. No help for it.’
He’d walked for some time, turning the Valuable Item over in his mind.
And then, almost without warning—
As Muk Yeo-jin drew near the Residence, two figures came into view, standing quietly before the gate.
His mother’s personal attendant, Pyo Yeon, and her guard, Gam Mo.
But the atmosphere between them was decidedly peculiar.
“Ha ha, the moon is quite luminous tonight, wouldn’t you say? Miss Pyo.”
“Ah…… yes, well…….”
“There’s a new teahouse that recently opened near the market. Perhaps you might join me for a cup of white tea sometime when you have a free moment…….”
“I’m afraid I have rather a lot of work.”
“Ah…….”
Watching this exchange, Muk Yeo-jin let slip a quiet laugh.
‘A late-blooming flower is beautiful in its own way. I’m firmly on Gam Mo’s side. Do your best.’
At those words, Pyo Yeon’s face—which had been dour until then—brightened like the morning sun.
“Young Master!!”
“I’m back, Aunt.”
“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely. Come now, let’s get you inside. Your mother has been counting the moments until your arrival.”
“Of course.”
Pyo Yeon stepped inside first, and as Muk Yeo-jin passed by Gam Mo—whose face was clouded with dejection—he leaned in close and whispered.
“Gam Mo. My aunt has more of a taste for spirits than tea. Another time, why not tempt her with a fine white wine and some excellent dishes instead?”
“Oh?! Is that really—*clears throat*—I mean, tempt? The Young Master’s use of such words is… well, I’m not entirely sure what you mean, but….”
“Of course not.”
With a chuckle, Muk Yeo-jin entered the Residence, and Gam Mo, his face now considerably brighter, followed close behind.
* * *
…….
What should have been a pleasant homecoming instead confronted Muk Yeo-jin with an unexpected crisis.
The air in the room was bitterly cold.
Those sharp eyes boring into him made it feel as though he might be cut to pieces at any moment.
Gam Mo’s eyes darted nervously between Muk Yeo-jin and Namgung Ryeong-ryeong.
In an attempt to dispel the frozen atmosphere, Gam Mo laughed boisterously.
“Ha ha ha ha! To vanquish such a man at large—truly you are worthy of being the son of Guanglong the Sword Master!”
But it was a grave mistake.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong’s face twitched.
“Gam Mo…… I distinctly told you not to call me that.”
Zzzzz—
A tremor of killing intent flickered across her eyes.
“Agh!”
An overwhelming pressure bore down, suffocating him.
He tried to hold out a moment longer, but there was no more strength in him.
Survival first, pride later—the dignity of a martial artist could wait!
Gam Mo’s head whipped around in search of an escape route.
And then, spotting a small window on one side of the room—
Whoosh!
Without hesitation, he hurled himself toward it and fled.
‘Gam Mo! So you’re leaving me to die alone, are you?!’
Muk Yeo-jin could only watch his retreating form fade from view, unable to summon the will to follow.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong fixed her gaze on the window where Gam Mo had vanished, then slowly turned her head back.
And so silence descended once more.
Cold sweat beaded on his skin.
He’d never been this tense, not even during a life-or-death duel.
Seeing how wretched he looked, Namgung Ryeong-ryeong—who had been glaring at him—finally opened her mouth.
“Do you have any idea how much your mother has worried?”
“I…… that is…… well…….”
Pyo Yeon, who had been watching, added her voice as well.
“You were wrong this time, Young Master. At the very least, you should have sent word to your mother that you would be delayed.”
…….
He had nothing to say.
He had never once considered the feelings of the mother waiting for him.
Born and raised, he had been confined to Mangdam Hall until that first venture into the Martial World.
And yet, despite completing his mission, this son showed no intention of returning home.
Could something have happened to him?
What if he had been wounded by someone?
Caught in such anxieties, waiting endlessly, any mother’s heart would have burned black with worry.
Muk Yeo-jin had no excuse.
The situation was different from what he had reported to his father.
To speak now of sightseeing and admiring mountains was utterly inexcusable.
In this moment, there was only one thing he could say.
“……I am deeply sorry.”
But even that seemed insufficient to appease his mother’s anger.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong rose from her seat.
“Follow me.”
Following his mother, they arrived at the Yeonmu Platform, prepared at one corner of the Residence.
The moment Muk Yeo-jin set foot on the platform without knowing why, something caught his eye.
Countless blade marks scattered everywhere.
Muk Yeo-jin quickly recognized whose hand had left them.
‘These are Mother’s training marks.’
Among them, some had been made only days ago.
Traces still wet with fresh blood drew his gaze.
The strikes lacked consistency, the movements chaotic and erratic, the blade tip trembling without rest.
It was as if watching the work of a novice.
A swordmaster’s blade marks always carry the emotion of that moment.
And the emotion contained in the marks his mother had recently left——
It was anxiety, restlessness, and fear.
Muk Yeo-jin realized that all of it stemmed from him.
A parent waiting endlessly for a child whose life or death they do not even know.
It was a realm he could scarcely begin to fathom.
Surely a single day must have felt like a year.
Muk Yeo-jin reflected deeply in his heart.
‘I have truly done something unforgivable.’
His mother must have brought him to the platform to show him this very thing.
“This unworthy son has grasped Mother’s profound intention……?”
As Muk Yeo-jin turned to face Namgung Ryeong-ryeong, his eyes flickered.
In his mother’s hand, he saw a blunt wooden training sword.
Only then did he realize something had gone terribly wrong.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong, wreathed in an icy aura, opened her mouth.
“Today, I shall beat this ungrateful wretch’s very nature out of him with my own hands.”
“W-wait, Mother? I fully understand my mistake——”
“No more words!”
Before Muk Yeo-jin could finish, Namgung Ryeong-ryeong rushed forward.
Hiss!
Such cutting intent flowed from her wooden sword that his hair stood on end.
Screech!
A horizontal slash, delivered without hesitation.
“Agh!”
Muk Yeo-jin bent backward, nearly breaking his spine.
The dreadful blade flashed past his face.
Having barely dodged the strike, Muk Yeo-jin leaped back, putting a full zhang of distance between them.
“Huff… huff…”
That was close. Certainly the gravest crisis he had faced since his return.
Yet Namgung Ryeong-ryeong’s face, having unleashed that lethal strike, remained perfectly calm.
“Not bad.”
With that, she withdrew another wooden training sword from the rack and tossed it to him.
Thunk.
“Catch it.”
In that moment, Muk Yeo-jin’s eyes gleamed.
The meaning of his mother giving him a weapon as well.
‘So she’s asking me to cross blades with her.’
Muk Yeo-jin realized she had not drawn her sword merely to vent her anger.
Yet whatever her reason, in this moment he felt his heart quicken with anticipation.
He had grasped it all in a single glance just moments before.
Mother’s mastery reached far higher than he had imagined.
Trading techniques with a true master was always exhilarating.
Muk Yeo-jin bent and retrieved the wooden training sword that had fallen at his feet.
Despite its appearance, it carried considerable weight.
It was a heavy sword practice blade, its core reinforced with iron.
Muk Yeo-jin was momentarily startled—before his return, the heavy sword had been his weapon of choice.
“How did you know?”
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong answered as if it were obvious.
“One swordmaster recognizes another.”
It was a strange sensation.
Hearing his mother call him a swordmaster felt oddly foreign, yet not unwelcome.
Muk Yeo-jin smiled slightly and assumed the Mid-Stance.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong took the Lower Stance, blade directed downward.
Though they merely held their guard positions across from each other, a trickle of sweat ran down Muk Yeo-jin’s spine.
‘Not a single opening.’
Her Qi Flow was so solid and impenetrable it seemed like confronting an iron wall.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong had begun to look unfamiliar to him.
The woman standing before him with sword in hand was no longer the mother he had known.
Here, in this moment, Muk Yeo-jin beheld Namgung Ryeong-ryeong the Martial Artist for the first time.
Gulp.
He swallowed hard and steeled his resolve.
Whoooosh!
The Cangqiong Qi that lay dormant in his dantian began to unfurl, surging through his entire frame.
In the same instant, the same energy billowed forth from Namgung Ryeong-ryeong.
Yet though it was the same Cangqiong Qi, its density was of an entirely different order.
A dense, azure shimmer rose from her entire body.
Muk Yeo-jin’s eyes narrowed.
“…You’re already crushing my momentum before we’ve even begun.”
“In combat, half the battle is momentum.”
“…Wasn’t this supposed to be friendly sparring?”
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong shrugged.
At that, Muk Yeo-jin let out a bitter laugh.
“Then do you know what makes up the other half, Mother?”
In the same breath, he contracted his body then burst forward, using the recoil to launch himself at her.
“Taking the initiative!”
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong’s eyes flashed.
‘Faster than I anticipated.’
Muk Yeo-jin’s charge, honed by the Sanwang Technique, was swifter than she had expected.
Whoooosh!
As his blade swept laterally, space itself seemed to tear, producing a vicious whistle.
It was a single strike poured with full force, as though facing a mortal enemy.
Rather than retreat, Namgung Ryeong-ryeong drove her body forward and tilted her blade diagonally across.
Sluuuurp.
Thud.
Muk Yeo-jin’s heavy sword slid along the flat of her blade and crashed hard against the ground.
In that instant, his entire front was left unguarded and exposed.
Muk Yeo-jin’s eyes went wide.
‘Extraordinary.’
In terms of weapon weight and sheer strength, he held a slight advantage over his mother.
Yet she had drawn out her strike before its momentum reached its peak, compensating for what she lacked in raw power by exploiting his own force to create an opening.
It was the technique of the Flowing Sword at its pinnacle.
An ordinary martial artist would have frozen in panic.
But the battle-hardened instinct carved into Muk Yeo-jin’s spirit allowed not even a moment’s hesitation.
Whip!
Crash!
Using his blade striking the ground as a pivot, he spun a half-rotation and kicked at her sword arm, driving her back.
This time, it was Namgung Ryeong-ryeong who widened her eyes.
The technique her son had just displayed was something she could never attribute to a Late-stage Master’s movements.
It bore the mark of an instinctive fluidity that only came from a seasoned warrior of the Gangho.
Namgung Ryeong-ryeong assumed her stance once more and spoke.
“I think we can raise the difficulty a notch.”
“…I’m quite satisfied with where we are now, Mother.”
Boom!
As Namgung Ryeong-ryeong burst into laughter and stamped her foot, a resonance shook through the entire courtyard.
And her Qi began to shift.

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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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