Return of the God of War - Chapter 27

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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 27. A Life of One’s Own.
Namgoong Ryeongryeong’s eyes widened in shock the moment she saw Muk Yeojin return to their quarters.
With good reason.
There, hanging plainly at his waist, was a sword.
She could not possibly fail to recognize it as the Heukya Sword, one of Sword Palace Master Pi Yangcheon’s Baekya Twin Swords.
“How did you come by that?”
“I found it on the road, Mother.”
……
Her eyes hardened instantly at his clumsy lie, and he rushed to confess the truth.
“As I was leaving the Chunghon Pavilion, the Sword Palace Master was waiting for me outside. At first…….”
And so Muk Yeojin laid bare everything that had passed between him and the Sword Palace Master, without distortion or omission.
Having heard the full account, Namgoong Ryeongryeong pressed her fingertips against her temples.
“Somehow it feels as though trouble follows you everywhere you go.”
Fortunately, her attention remained fixed entirely on the Sword Palace Master and the Heukya Sword.
So much so that she paid no attention to the unfamiliar bracelet wrapped around his wrist—the Yeonhwa Bracelet.
“I didn’t steal it, Mother. He gave it to me himself. Surely that’s not such a grave matter?”
“If you so much as step onto the street with that sword in hand, I can already envision a dozen calamities unfolding. And you call that no grave matter?”
Though Muk Yeojin privately agreed, he simply clapped his hands together cheerfully and played along.
“You’re quite right. Then what if we do this instead? We could grind away all these unnecessary patterns so no one would recognize it at a glance. Paint it in blotchy colors too. Make it look like the cheap blades street bandits carry around, and even the Sword Palace Master would applaud our handiwork.”
At this patent nonsense, Namgoong Ryeongryeong shot him a withering look.
“I suspect you’ll be the death of me before my time.”
“Impossible! By my assessment, Mother, you’ll live long and healthy, robust and vigorous, eternally youthful and blessed with countless…….”
“That’s enough flattery.”
“Yes, Mother!”
At his utterly unflappable demeanor, Namgoong Ryeongryeong let out a deep sigh.
“Who on earth does he take after, to be so utterly without sense?”
“Who else could it be but Gwangrong, obviously…….”
Muk Yeojin didn’t finish the sentence.
Before he could, a sharp killing intent came pelting toward him in waves.
Without hesitation, Muk Yeojin hurled himself through the window at the corner of the room.
“Then I shall take my leave!”
Namgoong Ryeongryeong watched his fleeing form with narrowed eyes.
“Does he really take after me…….”
Suddenly, memories surfaced of incidents she’d caused back when she was known as Gwangrong the Sword Sage.
……It shouldn’t be this way.
Anxiety wrapped around her—the kind with good reason.
* * *
The next day.
Muk Yeojin made his way to the private Training Ground within their quarters.
As he walked, his gaze drifted to the Heukya Sword hanging at his waist.
With it came thoughts of the Sword Palace Master.
‘Behind that smiling face, he surely conceals dark intentions.’
To grow old in the martial world is to have survived.
And survival necessarily rests on a foundation of formidable strength and deep scheming.
If one cannot gauge such a person’s measure, the wisest course is to keep one’s distance.
And yet.
There was a reason why Muk Yeojin had accepted the Heukya Sword nonetheless.
To draw a comparison: the Sword Palace Master was a hive, and he was a seeker of honey.
That honey might be martial prowess, talent, resources—or even wealth.
And a place rich in honey is not a pleasant flower garden but a hive thick with aggressive bees.
His circumstances were hardly comfortable enough to pass by a hive brimming with sweet honey out of fear of their stings.
That was why he had chosen to leave room for further dealings with the Sword Palace Master.
Having reached the Training Ground, Muk Yeojin slowly drew the Heukya Sword.
A chill emanated from the blade and filled the space around him.
He hadn’t even channeled the Bing Technique, so it was purely the inherent force of the sword itself.
Merely holding it felt like grasping a trusted companion of long years—it settled into his palm as though it had always belonged there.
Whoooosh.
As he infused it with Changgung Qi, the Heukya Sword sang out with a clear, pure ring.
It felt as though the blade itself was greeting him in joy at their meeting.
Muk Yeojin immediately began to swing the Heukya Sword, engaging imaginary opponents.
Slash! Slash!
One stroke, then another.
Each time the Heukya Sword moved, the heads of enemies he would one day face tumbled cleanly away.
Of course, if he actually encountered them, they wouldn’t fall so easily.
But everything depended on conviction, or so he had learned.
That was why Muk Yeojin always imagined when he trained: the five faction leaders of the Woneum Sect, his strongest foes.
He wielded his blade imagining slicing all their heads clean off in a single stroke.
Today, in particular, their necks seemed to fall away more easily than usual.
Probably because of the Heukya Sword now in his hand.
The more he drew on his technique, the more he felt its difference in his bones.
‘It truly is different.’
The same cutting motion, yet utterly transformed from the ordinary blade he’d wielded before.
Sharper, heavier—the Sword Path traced through empty air like that of an enraged beast.
Now he understood why martial artists obsessed so over their weapons.
A smile bloomed across Muk Yeojin’s face without his notice.
The training that had begun before dawn continued long after the sun hid behind the ridge.
He swung the blade again and again, heedless of hunger, as if possessed.
So deep was his concentration that he never heard someone unlock and enter the Training Ground.
It wasn’t until the uninvited visitor had drawn within arm’s reach that he sensed the presence.
Slash!
Muk Yeojin spun low and thrust his blade toward the intruder.
And standing there was someone utterly unexpected.
“The Master of Sword Palace?”
The uninvited guest behind him wore only a single sword, not the Twin Swords—it was the Master of Sword Palace himself.
Muk Yeojin was genuinely startled.
He’d anticipated the man might return eventually, but not that he would seek him out again the very next day.
Listening carefully, the entire residence hummed with commotion.
Well, it made sense. The Master of Sword Palace had come in person.
Muk Yeojin sheathed the Heukya Sword.
“We meet again.”
“Your composure surprises me. I expected you to jump with alarm.”
“You’re no ghost, just a man like any other. Why would I make a fuss?”
The words carried a message beneath them: ‘Being the Master of Sword Palace doesn’t make you particularly special to me.’
Something flickered in the Master’s eyes.
He’d felt it before, but again the thought struck him: this youth was no ordinary prospect.
“And what brings you here so soon?”
The Master smiled warmly and let his gaze drift to the sword at Muk Yeojin’s hip.
“After I drank last night and lay down on soft bedding, I gave it some thought… and it suddenly seemed a waste to entrust my daughter merely to some young master Yeojin.”
Muk Yeojin nearly laughed inwardly.
He had called the man an equal, and now the Master repaid him with “merely” and “some”—a swift riposte.
‘This slippery old fox.’
Yet Muk Yeojin’s smile never wavered, meeting the provocation head-on.
“You mean to ask for the Heukya Sword back?”
“Precisely.”
It’s said that a man changes between entering and leaving the privy.
But would someone of the Master’s stature come merely for such a reason?
Muk Yeojin studied the Master, whose eyes glimmered with amusement.
They were utterly unlike his father’s gaze.
Where his father’s eyes held no emotion—a barren desert—the Master’s eyes brimmed with feeling like a shimmering pool.
Yet how deep that pool ran was impossible to gauge.
In that sense, the two were identical: neither revealed what lay behind their eyes.
Muk Yeojin tapped the crossguard of the Heukya Sword. “You mean with nothing more?”
The Master chuckled and replied, “I do have some conscience. So I’ll grant young master Yeojin one favor—whatever you wish.”

He emphasized the last words with a meaningful glint in his eye.
‘Whatever I wish…’
The world was full of clever swindlers.
And there was one surefire way to filter out eight in ten of them:
stay far from anyone who spoke the words “whatever,” “absolutely,” or “surely.”

But I couldn’t treat the Sword Palace Master who’d come to me as a swindler.
For now, I decided to match his rhythm to gauge his true intentions.
“If it’s anything at all… would you grant my request to teach me the Ilwol Sword Technique?”
The Ilwol Sword Technique was one of the supreme martial arts passed down through generations within the Sword Palace.
He answered immediately, without a moment’s hesitation.
Even slapping his knee with evident satisfaction.
“Now that’s a fine idea! If a talent of your caliber masters the Ilwol Sword Technique, it would be a true Fateful Opportunity!”
Exactly as I’d anticipated.
Muk Yeojin nearly laughed aloud.
He would have trusted the Sword Palace Master far more had he simply refused.
Transmitting martial arts to an Outsider was something not even the Palace Master could do carelessly.
There was no way he didn’t know this, yet he reacted like that.
What it meant was clear.
‘He’s testing me.’
He was threading bait on a hook and dangling it, savoring the game.
“Well then, tell me what you truly want, Yeojin.”
I couldn’t fathom why he was measuring me this way.
But if the Sword Palace Master intended to treat me as mere entertainment, my response was already determined.
This was it.
“I don’t need it.”
The Sword Palace Master’s brow twitched slightly.
“You don’t need it?”
“No. I prefer this sword as it is.”
“It’s still just a sword, nothing more. You can’t change anything with that. By all means, ask for something else—not necessarily the Ilwol Sword Technique. This is an opportunity that could transform your entire life.”
At those words, Muk Yeojin smiled defiantly.
“A person transforms their own life with their own hands. I cannot entrust my precious existence to someone’s trivial amusement.”
In that instant, the Sword Palace Master’s perpetually smiling expression froze cold.
Simultaneously, an aura so suffocating it made the skin prickle washed over the space.
It was a fleeting moment when Pi Yangcheon’s true nature—hidden beneath the smiling mask—was laid bare.
Muk Yeojin didn’t stop there.
He drew the Heukya Sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and offered it forward.
“I’ll return the sword. Of course, I’ll accept no compensation whatsoever.”
……
The Sword Palace Master fixed his gaze upon Muk Yeojin.
“……Are you truly certain you won’t regret this?”
Muk Yeojin answered with a smile.
……
Then, without another word, the Sword Palace Master turned and left the Training Ground.
Muk Yeojin stood there until he vanished from sight, then retied the Heukya Sword at his waist.
“Forgive me, but in this life, I’ve decided never to know regret.”

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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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