Return of the God of War - Chapter 39

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 39. You don’t use a cleaver to catch a chicken.
In truth, there was nothing odd about him appearing here—the son of Nangung Ryeongryeong and disciple of Piyang Cheon.
The problem was that he had come alone.
The hall stirred in an instant.
Yet Muk Yeojin paid no mind, speaking with an untroubled expression.
“Greetings to all. Due to unavoidable circumstances, I shall step forward in my mother’s stead for this Martial Competition.”
The faces of the Sword Ghosts hardened in unison.
What sort of gathering was this?
None other than a pillar of the Four Paths Six Palaces.
A solemn occasion to determine the Sword Master and Palace Master of the Sword Palace.
Yet he spoke of participating as a substitute?
Did he think this was some third-rate martial tournament?
And the one who had uttered such words was none other than Muk Yeojin himself.
It was true that he had recently made a name for himself as one of the Late Stage Cultivators in Gangnam’s Black Blade territory.
He had received a Special Grade evaluation from that Heaven Lord at the Ascension Ceremony, slain the Ghost Child Returning Face, and now stood as the disciple of Piyang Cheon.
No one disputed that he was a figure of great promise.
But in the eyes of the Sword Ghosts, he was still nothing more than a stripling not yet twenty.
One who had no right to presume such audacity at this gathering.
Piyang Cheon himself was taken aback by Muk Yeojin’s sudden move.
‘Fool! What in the world are you doing?!’
His urgent transmission of thought reached Muk Yeojin.
Muk Yeojin replied as though it were of little consequence.
‘In truth, my mother’s Seclusion has not yet concluded. Until then, I thought I might buy us some time.’
‘Seclusion?! Never mind that—how do you think you’ll buy time?!’
In that moment, a voice laced with cold severity rang out.
“There are limits to impudence, it seems.”
Muk Yeojin bowed slightly toward the speaker.
“It has been a long while, madam. I trust Byeongho is well.”
At that, Hye Rangyeong’s brow twitched.
To deliberately mention Muk Byeongho’s name now.
Hye Rangyeong took it as a clear provocation.
The second son, so different from the firstborn Muk Yeonyeon.
Muk Byeongho was her reverse scale.
But Muk Yeojin had asked in earnest—merely inquiring after his brother’s health.
A few months prior, he had offered Muk Byeongho a small measure of guidance.
‘If he had devoted himself with all his might, there should be some change by now.’
Of course, Hye Rangyeong, unable to read his heart, did her best to suppress the indignation rising in her chest.
She was in no position to gain anything from growing flustered here.
Soon she opened her mouth again, her tone measured once more.
“I can allow so much for courage. Do not presume to meddle further in the affairs of your elders—withdraw.”
Muk Yeojin’s lips curved upward slightly.
“My elders, you say… I see. Then I shall ask the eldest among us. Whether I am permitted to step forward or not.”
In an instant, all eyes turned toward Piyang Cheon.
For he was naturally the eldest present in this place.
Muk Yeojin nodded.
“Master, your years are indeed the greatest, yet is there not one more suited to judge this matter?”
His gaze swept past Gye Osu on the martial stage, past the Sword Ghosts, and once more crossed the high seat where Piyang Cheon and Hye Rangyeong sat.
Reaching higher still.
Then Muk Yeojin smiled faintly and spoke.
“What say you, Heaven Lord? May I step forward in my mother’s place?”
!!!
Everyone gasped and jerked their heads up in shock.
Hye Rangyeong and Piyang Cheon likewise turned their heads by reflex.
And where their gazes fell.
There sat a single man on the grand chair, face expressionless, gazing down upon the great martial stage.
None other than Heaven Lord Muk Uhmyeong.
“Gasp!”
Exclamations of amazement burst forth from all sides.
Since when had he been there?
Just moments before, that seat had been empty.
Even if one were a ghost, there seemed no way such a presence could go entirely unnoticed.
Yet the confusion lasted only a moment.
Soon a thunder-like shout engulfed the training ground.
“We greet the Heavenly Lord!!!”
Even amidst it all, the question lingered.
Why had the Heavenly Lord appeared at this place?
He had no precedent of involving himself in any of the Four Paths Heaven’s affairs, great or small.
Whether Palace Master, Hall Master, or Section Master took the seat.
Even if a great blood feud erupted in the process, he would not spare a glance.
But that was no longer what mattered.
Now that the god of the Four Paths had descended.
From this moment forward, all decisions here fell solely under the Heavenly Lord’s purview.
Silence.
For a moment, an awkward hush settled over the ground.
Muk Yeojin waited for his answer.
But.
Thump-thump-thump.
Muk Uhmyeong, instead of speaking, unleashed a torrent of Qi from his entire body.
A tangible, weighty force descended upon Muk Yeojin.
And the magnitude of that force matched precisely what the Earth Sword Ghosts had just unleashed upon Gye Osu.
Not a hair’s breadth more, not a fraction less—perfectly synchronized.
What it signified could only be one thing.
Prove your worth.
Muk Yeojin let out a faint laugh.
‘A troublesome bastard indeed.’
He immediately drew upon his cultivation without hesitation.
The Changung Qi that lay dormant in his Dantian slowly opened its eyes.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Though it was the Qi born of the White Blade’s secret method, its nature was brisk and fierce.
The Changung Qi, lifted to its full height, naturally drove back the Heavenly Lord’s pressure.
The Earth Sword Ghosts’ eyes wavered.
That momentum from the Heavenly Lord was undoubtedly equal to their own.
Yet Muk Yeojin was advancing through such force as if it were nothing at all.
Even Piyang Cheon felt a jolt of surprise.
‘That bastard… his cultivation has grown even stronger than before?’
Moreover, the density of his power had risen to an entirely different level.
The rate of growth was truly unreasonable.
What manner of creature was this to achieve such advancement in such a span of time?
He nearly let out a hollow laugh despite himself.
But relief would be premature.
The real test begins now.
Boom-crack-whoosh-crash.
The Qi pouring from the Heavenly Lord became far more violent.
He had raised the power within his momentum to the level of the Earth Sword Ghosts.
The force that hundreds of Earth Sword Ghosts poured forth with all their might—now one man alone.
And without so much as a blink, producing it identically, was in itself a sight worthy of awe.
Muk Yeojin’s step faltered.
No matter how he had perfected the Changung Qi, breaking through this magnitude of force was beyond reach.
If he forced his way through, internal injury would be unavoidable.
It would be much like walking barefoot across thorns through a sea of flame.
But.
In this moment, Muk Yeojin thought thus:
A sea of flame? Thorns?
‘How pleasant such a path would be.’
It was almost laughable.
Before his return, he had walked through situations incomparably more harrowing countless times.
And what had tormented him most along that journey.
It was not the wounds he himself had borne.
It was that those he must protect, those he cherished, were forced to walk that burning road, and he could only stand beside them and watch.
When he had lost so many before his very eyes.
The agony of a crumbling inner world transcended any pain the body could endure.
And so, what was this suffering compared to that?
The sea he had longed for.
If by walking this path alone he could save them all.
That path of Asura.
He would walk it gladly.
Thud.
Muk Yeojin took another step forward.
One step, two steps—by the time he had walked ten, his vision swam.
Gag.
A thread of blood traced down from the corner of his mouth.
With each push through the qi, the internal injuries deepened.
Yet Muk Yeojin did not stop.
The eyes of the Sword Ghosts watching him wavered.
Reckless.
What could he possibly be throwing his life away for?
At this rate, he would lose it.
Was there anything more precious than life itself, than one’s own safety?
It was a recklessness they could not fathom.
And yet.
Every Sword Ghost gathered here was a warrior who yearned for that very recklessness more than anyone.
Thud.
For the first time, Muk Yeojin’s knees touched the floor.
“Hhh…….”
In that moment, a sigh escaped from somewhere.
All the Sword Ghosts had begun to support his struggle.
Piyang Cheon whipped his head around to look at Muk Uhmyeong.
His heart was tearing itself apart.
‘Master! Surely this is enough!’
But Muk Uhmyeong paid no heed and drew his qi higher still.
Boom!
The aura had now reached the level of a Heaven Sword Ghost.
For Muk Yeojin as he was, it was beyond bearing.
Thump.
His head fell limply.
Everyone believed Muk Yeojin had finally surrendered.
But in that instant, Piyang Cheon’s eyes flew wide.
He saw it.
Muk Yeojin’s right hand moving ever so slightly.
At the same moment, strength surged through his upper arm.
His back foot planted itself to bear his weight.
And Muk Yeojin’s qi flowed into meridians so achingly familiar.
Through Yongcheon and Fengchi, along Jianjing, gathering at Hegu.
Piyang Cheon’s heart cried out.
‘The madman—that absolute madman!’
Piyang Cheon could not possibly mistake what it meant.
And indeed.
The moment Muk Yeojin’s fingers brushed the hilt of his blade.
Shriek!
The Black Night Sword sang free like thunder, unleashing a ribbon of sword energy forward.
Geuk Tu Shin Geom—First Stroke.
Cheon Swae Il Seom.
Perfect. Flawless. Complete.
Piyang Cheon burst into laughter.
‘He learned my blade in one strike? This monster…….’
Crack-crack-crack!
Through the gap the Cheon Swae Il Seom had carved, Muk Yeojin hurled himself forward with savage speed.
And at last.
He landed.
Muk Yeojin’s form came to rest upon the Martial Competition platform where Gye Osu stood.
Everyone stared at the scene before them in a daze.
Muk Yeojin casually wiped away the blood at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, then turned his gaze toward Muk Uhmyeong.
“Then may I take my mother’s place in this Martial Competition?”
Muk Uhmyeong regarded him quietly for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Granted.”
* * *
Gye Osu stood speechless.
He stared at the young martial master before him—Muk Yeojin.
There was no mistaking it.
A genius.
This was what heaven’s gift truly meant—a talent like this one.
One of Black Blade’s Ten Great Swordsmen.
That was the single line of fame Gye Osu had earned after a lifetime of training.
Some would praise such a title.
But for him, it was only humiliation.
Not a master of the entire Central Plains, not among all the martial masters—merely a swordsman of some skill in Black Blade.
Not even worthy of standing beneath the feet of that arrogant Heavenly Master looking down on the world.
He couldn’t even match those called the Heaven Martial Eleven Seats.
But this one.
This whelp Muk Yeojin.
There was no doubt.
‘This wretch will one day surpass Heaven Martial itself, and have the character “Venerable” affixed before his name, just like his father.’
In that instant, something surged up from within his chest.
It was a feeling he knew well.
Inferiority.
Gye Osu’s eyes turned cold and hard.
“You little whelp. Are you truly saying you’ll face me in combat right now?”
Muk Yeojin let out a soft laugh.
“One wouldn’t use an ox-slaughtering blade to kill a chicken, would one?”
Sparks flashed in Gye Osu’s eyes.
“Insolent bastard… You will regret this day for the rest of your life.”
Gye Osu immediately gripped his Great Sword firmly.
As he channeled his Hongmang Qi, a crimson mist began to rise behind his back.
The Hongmang Guicheon Gong – Gwisim Dan Myeong Geuk.
Piyang Cheon shot to his feet.
‘How dare he.’
A terrible killing intent poured out from Gye Osu.
The man clearly intended to kill Muk Yeojin.
Just as Piyang Cheon reached for his White Moon Sword—
A cold voice stopped him.
“Sit.”
A single, dry word from Muk Uhmyeong.
But why on earth?
Ignoring the frowning Piyang Cheon, Muk Uhmyeong let out a faint exclamation.
“Admirable.”
Admirable? That was all?
Among those within Four Paths Heaven, only a handful would receive such praise from the Heavenly Master.
Those around them assumed the compliment was directed at Gye Osu’s swordsmanship.
Indeed, the sword energy pouring from Gye Osu’s blade was far from ordinary.
But they didn’t know.
At the very moment he spoke those words—”Admirable”—
Muk Uhmyeong’s gaze was fixed on empty space to the south.
“Die!”
Just as the mist of Gwisim Dan Myeong Geuk was about to engulf Muk Yeojin—
Whiiiiii!
A blade-sharp sword wind swirled forth with a fragrant flower scent, tearing through Gye Osu’s mist.
And then.
Tap.
A figure descended onto the martial stage as lightly as a falling feather.
The moment Muk Yeojin saw her, he collapsed to his knees.
In truth, he had no strength left to lift even a single finger.
“You’re far too late for that.”
She smiled softly.
“Forgive me. Leave this to your mother now.”
Muk Yeojin’s mother, Nangung Ryeongryeong, had finally arrived.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————