Return of the God of War - Chapter 42

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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 42. More Than Anyone Else
The moment Muk Yeojin deciphered the secret formula of the Geukwon Hoshinggong, he set his inner energy in motion along that path.
Hardly had he initiated the first circulation when his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
The route guided by the secret formula was fraught with danger from the very beginning.
‘Draw it up from the spring gate, pass through the gate of the wind, rush straight through, then spread it through the governing and conception vessels into the twelve primary meridians……’
A single misstep would tangle the blood pathways and plunge him into demonic possession—the difficulty was that treacherous.
Yet he couldn’t stop the energy he’d already set in motion.
Once begun, it cannot be reversed.
Whoooooooosh.
Cold sweat beaded across his back as he exhaled a deep breath, following the energy’s course.
The crisis came at every turn.
Each time the energy passed through a meridian, it grew wilder, soon thrashing like a maddened wild horse.
Had he not strengthened his blood vessels after obtaining the Yeonhwa-ryun before.
Had he not perfected the Changgung-gi after cultivating the Seonryeong-singwa.
He would not have been able to contain this runaway surge.
But now.
Muk Yeojin felt as though all those fortunate encounters were speaking to him.
You are not fated to fall into demonic possession and die in this place.
Muk Yeojin believed in himself.
And as if repaying that faith.
Slowly.
The raging energy began to settle.
Before long, those wild horses became docile sheep, proceeding at their own pace without need of the rein.
Beyond the layered mountains came a clear path.
Muk Yeojin navigated the secret formula’s final passage without difficulty.
In that instant, pale luminescence erupted across his entire body before being drawn back in, absorbed once more.
It was the Geukwon Hoshinggong itself.
The Geukwon Hoshinggong was spread thinly and broadly throughout his body, not merely concentrated in the dantian.
And he understood instinctively.
‘When danger arrives, my Geukwon-gi will move of its own accord, protecting me.’
Truly, it was no ordinary martial art.
But.
Muk Yeojin suddenly gazed toward that distant, towering pavilion and swallowed hard.
‘Perhaps the real trial is only beginning now.’
* * *
Late in the night, beneath a full moon hanging in the sky.
Muk Yeojin hastened through the darkness toward some destination.
A moment later, the place where he arrived.
It was, surprisingly, the Manryeongung—where the Heaven Master Muk Woomyeong, his own father, resided.
Step by step.
His face taut with tension, he climbed toward the palace.
‘Not a soul.’
Unlike when he’d come here shortly after the Ascension Ceremony.
Inside, all was silence—not even a mouse stirred.
The thought occurred to him then.
Was this quiet emptiness the very world in which the Heaven Master Muk Woomyeong lived?
Moments later.
Even upon reaching the highest floor, he sensed no presence of life.
‘No choice, then.’
Creeeeak.
Pushing open the inner doors of the great hall himself, the blood-red carpet stretched before him still—waiting to receive him.
And.
There ‘he’ sat upon the throne of the sage, in that same listless posture as always.
‘Father.’
The Heaven Master Muk Woomyeong.
Step by step.
Muk Yeojin walked slowly forward along the carpet of the throne hall, coming to a stop some twenty paces before the sage’s seat, and bowed his head.
“I bow before you, Heaven Master.”
……
Muk Woomyeong regarded his son, then opened his mouth with deliberate slowness.
“I’m quite certain I told you to seek me out once you succeeded in Entering the Gate, didn’t I?”
That was true.
When Muk Woomyeong had transmitted the technique through sound transmission, passing along the secret formula of the Geukwon Hoshinggong.
He had added one final instruction.
That once Muk Yeojin had fully internalized the martial arts he’d been taught, he was to come to Manryeongung.
Though the reason remained unclear, Muk Yeojin felt no hesitation whatsoever.
“And so I have come.”
In that instant!
Crack!
An invisible, impossibly dense wave of formless qi slammed into Muk Yeojin’s skull.
Thud-thud-thud, Bang!
His body skidded across the floor and crashed into the wall more than ten paces away.
“Ugh!”
The impact was catastrophic enough to shatter bone itself.
Drip.
Fresh blood traced down Muk Yeojin’s jawline.
But.
Fortunately, his head remained where it ought to be.
That was entirely due to the Geukwon Hoshinggong.
The defensive technique had moved of its own accord, intercepting that unseen blow before his eyes could even follow it.
Had he not mastered the Geukwon Hoshinggong, he might have lain here eternal, never even aware of his own death.
Before Muk Yeojin could gather his wits, a monotonous voice reached his ears.
“So you’ve truly succeeded in cultivating the Geukwon-gi.”
Muk Yeojin was speechless.
‘That damnable bastard!’
He’d just decided to verify his son’s progress by caving in his skull?
‘If I’d come here without mastering the defensive technique and been reckless….’
The thought alone sent ice down his spine.
After the shock came the natural surge of fury and irritation.
Crack-crack-crack.
His fists clenched involuntarily.
‘I want nothing more than to charge forward and strike back.’
But spirit must be tempered by circumstance, and more importantly, by one’s opponent.
Confronting this fearsome father would leave no chance of survival.
All Muk Yeojin could do was meet his gaze steadily, eyes sharp with defiance.
At that.
“Hoo.”
A flicker of interest flashed across the eyes of the Lord of Manryeongung.
“So you dare harbor murderous intent toward me… You are indeed an amusing creature. But.”
Whoosh.
Flinch.
Muk Yeojin’s alarm spiked in an instant.
His father, who had stood at a distance mere moments ago, had closed the space until his breath could be felt.
The movement was too sublime to distinguish whether it was a body technique or simply footwork.
And now, with his face barely an inch from Muk Yeojin’s own, the Lord’s golden eyes gazed at him with terrible clarity.
Muk Yeojin’s body trembled beneath that stare.
As though stripped bare.
As though the deepest reaches of his inner world were being laid open.
‘What manner of man is this?’
To what realm had he ascended?
It was beyond anything Muk Yeojin could presently fathom.
‘If I were to compare him to that woman from those days….’
Cheon Hwarin was undoubtedly the strongest martial artist Muk Yeojin knew.
Yet somehow, imagining this man—Muk Woomyeong—in defeat was impossible.
He was lost in admiration rather than anger when his father spoke again.
“This killing intent is no mere impulse. And its magnitude rivals that of Heavenly Slaying itself.”
“…!”
Muk Yeojin startled, but quickly steadied himself.
There was nothing shocking about it, truly.
Even if he’d abandoned the lethal meditation methods from before his return and mastered the Changgung-daeyeonjin-gyeolkul instead.
The killing intent—Salsim—was already etched into Muk Yeojin’s very soul.
He’d hidden it well from those around him, but there was no deceiving the eyes of this wild, relentless father standing before him.
“Toward whom have you cultivated such killing intent?”
Toward whom else?
Of course those lunatic butchers obsessed with plowing through Jungwon as if it were a field.
But in this moment, here and now—
he couldn’t very well speak to his father about Woneum-gyo and such.
Beyond that, instinct told him that clumsy excuses or outright lies would have no place before his father.
So Muk Yeojin answered thus:
“Any who block my path, I will cut them down without exception.”
“Hmm.”
The Celestial Lord Muk Woomyeong regarded him in silence for a moment.
Muk Yeojin tensed.
This was the mad father who’d tried to send a man to his grave the instant their eyes met.
There was no predicting what reckless thing he might do next.
How much time passed this way?
Then the Celestial Lord Muk Woomyeong let out a quiet chuckle.
“The Path of the Transgressor? That’s far too grand a treasure for a mere pup to bear.”
“It is precisely because I am but a pup that I know no fear of tigers and can thus bluster about.”
……
Once more fixing his gaze upon him, Muk Woomyeong turned and walked toward the corridor at the far end of the chamber.
“Follow me.”
* * *
Thud, thud.
Muk Yeojin walked in silence along the lengthy corridor, his eyes fixed on his father’s back.
He had never known such a space existed within Manryeongung.
In the profound quiet—
Muk Woomyeong suddenly spoke.
“There exists a formation called the Heart-Shadow Heaven-Opening Formation.”
“……What do you mean, Father?”
“The very formation you encountered in Biryeondong.”
Ah.
The one that conjured Cheon Hwarin’s phantom between the cliff face and the inferno.
“A filthy, vicious formation indeed.”
“Take your complaints directly to the Gwihwan-gung Master.”
Muk Yeojin’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘So it was the Gwihwan-gung Master’s formation all along.’
Even now, thinking back on that ordeal sets his teeth on edge.
While he was still grinding his teeth inwardly, Muk Woomyeong spoke again.
“And what stretches across this place is a formation known as the Alien Phantom Space-Time Formation.”
“What? What is that supposed to—”
That very instant.
Whooooom!
‘……!’
The space warped.
As if heaven and earth were inverting, the entire corridor began to writhe and twist.
Deep furrows carved themselves across Muk Yeojin’s brow.
An Alien Phantom Space-Time Formation?
What does a name matter now?
‘What wretched formation is it this time?’
Mountain after mountain, they say.
There seems to be not a moment’s peace for him to rest easy.
‘What’s going to jump out at me now?’
Cheon Hwarin again?
Or perhaps one of my sworn siblings?
Or could it be one of the enemies I faced in my past life?
Lost in such thoughts as he was—
from within the undulating space, only his father Muk Woomyeong remained unaffected as he asked:
“My youngest, my son.”
……?
“Do you wish to grow stronger?”
“……!”
The shock of the sudden question lingered only a moment.
Muk Yeojin’s wavering gaze steadied, clearing like water settling.
His tumultuous pulse slowed, finding calm with surprising speed.
Yes.
That was it.
‘Whatever this technique is, whatever strangeness emerges from it—what does any of that matter?’
What he truly wanted.
What he genuinely yearned for was singular and pure.
This. Only this.
Drawing a deep breath, he looked back at Muk Woomyeong and spoke.
“I wish to grow stronger. More than anyone else in this world.”
The corners of Muk Woomyeong’s mouth twitched.
He had sensed the subtle transformation that had rippled through his son’s being.
“Good—for now, that much should suffice for the boy.”
Whoosh.
In the next instant, as Muk Woomyeong swept his hand in a light gesture.
The corridor around them vanished without a trace, and Muk Yeojin found himself standing alone atop Snowmountain, surrounded on all sides by pristine white snow.
He stood there, solitary and exposed.
His father’s voice echoed through his mind.
“To grow stronger, you must first become hard enough to endure without breaking.”
Muk Yeojin was about to ask the meaning of those words.
Far below.
A crowd came rushing up the mountainside, cutting through the falling snow.
The moment he caught sight of them, his eyes sharpened.
‘I don’t need to ask. I understand.’
What to do. How to do it.
Whisper-whisper.
Then his father’s final words drifted through the wind.
“Steel grows harder the more it is struck.”
Yet nine times in ten, it cracks and shatters along the way.
Indeed.
I wonder what kind of steel you will become.

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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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