Return of the God of War - Chapter 33

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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 33. Quite Impressive.
The following night, deep into the hours of darkness.
Muk Yeojin fastened the Lotus Wheel to his right wrist and secured the Black Night Sword, wrapped in burlap, firmly at his waist.
He dressed from head to toe in Night Attire dyed black, and wound rope tightly around his limbs to ensure unhindered movement.
‘Hackneyed as it is, there’s no outfit quite like this for moving unseen through the night.’
One final touch—a black cotton cloth to cover his face—and the preparations were complete.
In the reflection of the bronze mirror, his appearance drew an involuntary smile.
“A sketch of a common burglar, if I’ve ever seen one.”
Muk Yeojin’s reason for slipping away at this late hour was singular.
To locate Spiritual Medicine hidden somewhere near Qinghai Lake.
Two months from now had been set as the date for the match to determine the Sword Palace Master’s position—his mother’s match.
Though his master had agreed to guide her, frankly, that alone would make it difficult to expect meaningful progress in such a short span.
Unlike the Dark Path, the essence of the White Path lay in understanding.
Simply pushing the body through grueling training did not yield linear gains in power.
The “wall” that orthodox martial artists often spoke of.
The moment one broke through it.
The inner power accumulated and the body refined until then became a stepping stone for understanding, carrying the warrior to a higher realm.
But.
‘My mother’s understanding is far from shallow.’
Over the years, watching the world unfold had threaded Mysterious Qi through her vision.
Her enlightenment had reached deeper places than before she’d set down her martial arts.
‘The problem, then, is inner power.’
Her understanding ran deep, but she lacked the strength to manifest it.
There was no shortcut to Qi Circulation and Absorption—drawing in Natural Qi and accumulating it as inner power in the cinnabar field.
To bridge the twenty-year gap since her mother had abandoned martial training, external aid was absolutely necessary.
And among such external aids, the most prominent was Spiritual Medicine.
Muk Yeojin currently knew of several places where useful Spiritual Medicine lay hidden.
One of them was concealed near Qinghai Lake.
‘The Immortal Spirit Divine Fruit.’
That supreme Spiritual Medicine was precisely what he now went to find.
After a final check of his appearance, he left a letter on the pillow by his bed.
The message was simple.
Mother, I’m going out for a short walk. I’ll return within a month, so please don’t worry too much.
She would worry, of course.
But it couldn’t be helped.
He could take a beating after finding the Immortal Spirit Divine Fruit.
Soon after, Muk Yeojin scaled the wall and slipped discreetly from his quarters.
Mindful of unnecessary commotion, he decided to exit the Main Sect by way of the cliff on the northern side, where few people walked.
Hushed, soft sounds of movement.
In the midst of traveling with swift, silent Light Footwork.
Muk Yeojin stopped.
A short kiai had carried through the dense broadleaf trees ahead.
Someone was training.
The resonance of Qi in the air was considerable.
And the quality of that inner power was one he knew well—a familiar presence.
‘Muk Byeongho.’
Hyaerang-yeong’s son and Muk Iyeon’s brother.
His half-brother, bound to him by old discord.
Without a sound, Muk Yeojin turned and made his way toward the direction of the kiai.
Pushing aside the branches that had blocked his view, he saw Muk Byeongho in the center of an empty clearing, wielding his sword.
It was the first time seeing him since the incident at Mangyedam—a reunion after three years.
Like Muk Iyeon, he was practicing Sabok Swordsmanship.
Muk Yeojin watched from a distance.
‘His skill has grown considerably.’
It was unexpected.
More than his martial ability, the very sight of him here alone at this hour, training with his sword, took Muk Yeojin aback.
Before the regression, the life of Muk Byeongho was nothing remarkable.
If anything, he was a textbook example of a wastrel.
Riding on the prestige of his mother Hyaerang-yeong and his sister Muk Iyeon, he squandered himself in wine, gambling, and women.
All Muk Yeojin remembered was hearing that he’d met some ignominious death in the streets somewhere.
But.
The Muk Byeongho standing before him now was not the wastrel of his memories.
His eyes were sharp, keen with an icy clarity.
‘He’s changed.’
What had brought about such a transformation?
Had the incident three years past reshaped Muk Byeongho’s heart?
Or had he changed for the sake of his mother, Hyaerang-yeong, now losing both wings—Muk Iyeon and Pi Yangcheon—and spiraling toward ruin?
The precise reason remained unknowable.
Yet one thing was certain: unlike in his past life, he now walked the righteous path.
‘Quite admirable, really.’
In truth, Muk Yeojin was a man who had lived nearly four decades across two lives combined.
From his vantage, Muk Byeongho—barely seventeen—was still a child.
When an adult watches a young child taking his first proper steps, the urge to offer a steadying hand emerges naturally.
Of course, the harassment Muk Byeongho had inflicted during childhood still rankled somewhat.
But he had already taken his revenge.
Compared to the purgatory Muk Yeojin had endured since, such childish cruelty was barely worth remembering.
Now, not a trace of ill will remained between them.
Rustle, rustle.
Having made his decision, Muk Yeojin released the aura he had been suppressing and stepped forward three paces.
Muk Byeongho spun around in startled alarm.
“…Who are you!”
Snap!
Tension flooded Muk Byeongho’s eyes.
‘An…an assassin!’
Anyone would have reached the same conclusion.
Muk Yeojin was wrapped entirely in black garments from head to foot.
He made no move to dispel the misunderstanding.
At once, Muk Yeojin snatched up a fallen branch and rushed toward Muk Byeongho.
Whoosh.
“Gasp!”
Muk Byeongho jumped back in shock.
His stationary opponent had closed the distance in a heartbeat, stretching toward him like taffy pulled taut.
Muk Yeojin immediately wove Sword Qi through the branch in ribbons, dazzling Muk Byeongho’s vision.
Swish, swish, swish.
“Aaahhh!”
Sword strikes too swift for the eye to follow shredded Muk Byeongho’s entire body—yet not a drop of blood fell.
Muk Yeojin had cut only his garments.
But each strike had found a vital point.
After grazing the Four Limb Meridians in his arms and legs, the Middle Epigastrium Point, the Liver Gate Point, the Chest Center Point, the Middle Chest Point, and finally the Kidney Point at his spine, Muk Yeojin leaped back.
Muk Byeongho’s face had gone blank.
He’d been overwhelmed before he could throw a single technique, before intent could even rise.
Had his opponent intended his death, he would have fallen a dozen times over.
Eyes rigid with shock, Muk Byeongho stared at the black-clad figure before him.
After a brief silence, Muk Yeojin modulated his voice through esoteric breath control and spoke.
“Change your weapon.”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
“Your sword. The destructive Sabok Swordsmanship requires innate flexibility as its foundation. You can cultivate flexibility after the fact, though inefficiently. Abandon the sword and take up the blade instead—it will better serve your strengths.”
Before Muk Byeongho could speak, Muk Yeojin continued.
“And your external cultivation is too heavily weighted toward your upper body. From now on, focus on your lower half. The right leg especially—your ground-pushing power is noticeably weaker there than the left. Strength doesn’t come from your arms. Only when you channel the rebound tension drawn through your footwork and link it with the extraction of ground energy does true power emerge.”
“…”
Bewilderment was written plainly across Muk Byeongho’s face.
How could it be otherwise?
A black-clad stranger had materialized from nowhere, struck him down without warning, and now stood offering instruction as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Who could accept such a thing calmly?
Regardless.
As Muk Yeojin turned to leave, Muk Byeongho urgently called out to stop him.
“Master, who…who are you, truly?”
But Muk Yeojin merely glanced back once, offered no reply, and kicked off the ground—vanishing from sight in an instant.
Muk Byeongho stood alone for a long while, staring at the empty space where the stranger had been.
“Was it all a dream?”
* * *
Manryeon Palace.
Muk Woomyeong, the Palace Master, brought an oversized goblet to his lips.
Gulp, gulp.
He emptied the cup in one long draught, then hurled it into the empty air—it crumbled to dust before it could strike the ground.
He had never been fond of drinking in his youth, but of late, on nights like this when the moon hung bright, he found himself craving the fragrant aroma of fine wine.
Wasn’t this change itself proof that new winds were stirring in his heart?
Of course, the whirlwind that had captured Muk Woomyeong’s interest of late was none other than Muk Yeojin.
When he’d heard the report concerning Pi Yangcheon not long ago, even Muk Woomyeong had found himself eager to see what his youngest would do next.
A faint twitch crossed Muk Woomyeong’s lips.
“So the fledgling barely out of his cave thinks he can already dive into the hierarchy of wolves. Bold little thing.”
It was then.
Footstep, footstep.
Ju Gok, the Palace Master’s trusted confidant and commander of the Baekrang Division—Sadocheon’s most formidable military force.
He was approaching the seat of honor.
In truth, even Ju Gok, who was called the Palace Master’s right hand, did not often find himself in direct audience with Muk Woomyeong.
And for good reason.
Muk Woomyeong existed as a god unto himself, standing apart from those who merely led Sadocheon.
By nature, gods do not deign to concern themselves with the trivial struggles of lesser beings.
Thus Muk Woomyeong rarely involved himself in the great or small matters that transpired within or without Sadocheon.
More often than not, when he withdrew into seclusion, years might pass before he showed his face to the world again.
Yet recently, this very Muk Woomyeong had issued Ju Gok a single command.
―Report to me once every seven days on the youngest one’s progress.
He was demanding regular reports on Muk Yeojin, no less.
Ju Gok had been deeply astonished.
It had been forty years since he swore his loyalty to the Palace Master and followed him.
Yet never—not once—had the Palace Master shown such interest in any single person.
‘Is the Palace Master changing?’
The god of the Dark Path, who seemed to have lost interest in all things and was poised to depart the mortal world, was now turning his gaze back toward it.
From Ju Gok’s perspective, this shift was deeply welcome.
Ju Gok approached the seat of honor with brisk strides and performed a proper bow.
“The Baekrang Division Master Ju Gok reports…”
“Speak.”
……
A small smile bloomed across Ju Gok’s face as he kept his head bowed, then vanished in an instant.
Ju Gok’s expression stiffened, and he began his report.
Throughout, Muk Woomyeong tapped the armrest of his seat rhythmically with his right index finger.
“That concludes my report.”
What Ju Gok had reported was that Muk Yeojin had slipped away from the Main Sect in the dead of night, and had imparted instruction to Muk Byeongho along the way.
A shudder.
Ju Gok’s body trembled for a moment.
‘Was that… a laugh?’
The instant the report ended.
The faintest smile seemed to have appeared at the corner of the Palace Master’s mouth.
“So that’s the behavior of someone who claims to walk the Heretical Path. Amusing.”
“I shall order the division to extend protection to Lord Yeojin.”
“Very well. If he lacks the strength to protect himself and dies in some remote place, then he was only ever worth so much anyway.”
Ju Gok answered by bowing his head in silent acknowledgment.
Muk Woomyeong slowly turned his gaze toward the brilliant, cloudless night sky.
“Tolerance… is it?”
He still did not believe such things were necessary virtues for a ruler.
Yet one thing was certain: he had never once felt anything like it before.

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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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