Return of the God of War - Chapter 46

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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 46. I simply wished to exchange a word
Boom-boom-boom. Bang.
The massive entrance of Janghyeonjeon swung open on both sides.
Namgung Ryeongryeong, the evening’s guest of honor, stepped inside.
A vivid crimson robe, hair pinned up with elegant restraint, jewelry that caught the eye—each element heightened her grace to another degree.
The gazes of clusters of people gathered in small groups converged upon her.
It was after they had confirmed, with their own eyes, that the rumors of her son Mukyeojin moments earlier were no exaggeration.
Naturally, expectations for her rose in turn.
And Namgung Ryeongryeong showed every sign of meeting those expectations.
Step. Step.
Her pace was neither brisk nor languid, yet with each footfall there lay not merely confidence—but dignity.
The head of an organization. The leader of a faction.
She already possessed the aura that only those who stood above the multitudes would carry.
Mukyeojin found a smile breaking free at the sight of his mother.
‘How magnificent she is.’
Namgung Ryeongryeong did not spare a glance for her son, who stood to one side, but walked forward with her eyes fixed ahead.
Upon reaching the platform, she swept her gaze across the assembled guests.
Indifference settled in her eyes.
The guests immediately stirred with unease.
Thump.
She sat upon the place of honor without uttering a word, leaning back against the rest.
Several figures furrowed their brows.
Conventionally, a gathering begins with the host expressing gratitude to the distinguished guests who have graced the occasion with their presence.
Yet here was not even a simple greeting—let alone thanks.
Moreover, among those assembled were martial masters of higher rank than Namgung Ryeongryeong.
And yet such bearing.
The meaning of her conduct was unmistakable.
Come first and show your respect.
Mukyeojin marveled inwardly.
With her entrance alone, his mother had impressed upon everyone’s mind the hierarchy of this place.
Who held the upper hand, who the lower—all of it etched into every consciousness.
Before the guests could attempt anything at all, she had seized complete control.
‘I never knew Mother possessed such a side.’
It seemed trivial, yet this was no easy feat to display—it required an extraordinary force of will.
It was a moment when he felt anew that the mother he had known before his return was only half of who she truly was.
In truth.
She had been the target of every scheme and intrigue within the family since childhood.
So it was inevitable that several serpents coiled in her depths, regardless of her own wishes.
She had simply had no need, no opportunity to reveal such a side until now.
Meanwhile, the gathered guests grew busy exchanging Jeonum with one another.
Most of those who had come to this gathering had traveled at great effort to secure some form of advantage.
And so their minds reeled at the revelation that Namgung Ryeongryeong possessed such political acumen.
Of course, there were also those who had come purely to offer congratulations.
Step.
‘He’—the one who had stood in a corner of the gathering hall—moved.
He had been there from the beginning, yet most had failed to perceive his presence.
He had transcended mere Ki Suppression and reached a state where he could suppress his very existence itself.
It was only well after entering the gathering hall that even Mukyeojin became aware of him.
‘I never expected to encounter him in this place.’
The moment those who noticed the distinguished monk approaching the platform let out gasps of astonishment.
“Hyegong!!”
A martial master whose name was inscribed among the Cheonmu—a position held by merely eleven souls in all the realm.
One of the greatest pillars of the Baekdo faction.
Bukdu Sorim.
Head of the Baekpalnahan.
Hyegong, the Two-Faced Buddha, one of the Cheonmushibilja.
An extraordinary master all but certain to become the next abbot of his temple—that was he.
Hyegong approached the platform slowly and clasped his palms together in salutation toward Namgung Ryeongryeong.
“This humble monk comes to pay respects to the Geomgongjju of Sadocheon.”
Rather than introducing himself by his monastic name of Hyegong, he offered his lay name.
This was his way of making clear that his visit had nothing to do with Bukdu Sorim’s will.
Yet because a master of Cheonmu had graced the gathering in person,
its significance would surely prove far from trifling.
Namgung Ryeongryeong received him warmly.
“It has been far too long. I scarcely know what to do with myself, honored to have you seek me out like this.”
“Ha, how could I sit idle when an old friend celebrates such fortune? It is unthinkable.”
Namgung Ryeongryeong and Hyegong had been colleagues and rivals thirty years prior, both of them rising stars destined to lead their respective sects in generations to come.
“Such is the wheel of fortune—I feel as though we were only yesterday walking the same path, yet we have arrived at opposite shores.”
A faint smile crossed Namgung Ryeongryeong’s face.
“Arrived, you say? Perhaps. I am still walking, truth be told. Only my destination eludes me. My single purpose is this: to shield my son from even the smallest measure of wind and rain that falls one step ahead of him. That alone is my aim.”
Hyegong’s eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed.
“This poor monk was foolish indeed. Truly, Lord Geomgongjju, you remain unchanged—yesterday and today alike.”
Namgung Ryeongryeong smiled in return.
“You are the same, Reverend.”
With the Cheonmu master having opened the doors first, the other guests could not afford to stand aloof on pride.
Soon, those who had been watching for their moment approached Namgung Ryeongryeong one by one to pay their respects.
“Gogyangryangmun bows before the Geomgongjju.”
“A pleasure. So you are the renowned Nangyamun master I admired in my youth. How delightful to meet you face to face.”
Though there was no necessity for such flattery, her generosity of spirit painted a smile across Gogyangryangmun’s face.
“I am merely an aging elder of a declining sect, nothing more.”
“Your modesty does you credit, sir. Yet Nangyamun commands respect throughout the realm. I hope this meeting marks the beginning of fruitful exchange between our Geomgongjju and your school.”
Gogyangryangmun brightened visibly.
Even if her words were merely ceremonial, they came from none other than the Lord of Sadocheon himself, spoken with genuine warmth.
For Nangyamun, this alone was already a triumph.
“I, too, look forward to a rewarding partnership, madam.”
The woman who had seemed so haughty upon entering the banquet hall now presented herself with extraordinary gentleness.
The guests grew bolder in their approach.
“Galjeonsu pays respects to the Geomgongjju.”
“Tongcheon pays respects to the Geomgongjju. Though humble in the eyes of the world, I am known by the title Clear Laughter Guest.”
“I’m Danshim, keeper of secrets. It is a great honor to stand before Master Gwangyong Sword.”
The atmosphere within Janghyeonjeon shifted in an instant toward warmth.
Of course, this hall contained masters from both Heukdo and Baekdo, and among them were not a few who harbored grievances demanding settlement.
Such encounters bloomed throughout the banquet without rarity.
“Ha! Well, if it isn’t that tiresome wretch from House Jeok—what a nuisance.”
“Wiryoung…… it has been too long, it seems.”
Jeokcheon and Wiryoung.
Two men from Heukdo and Baekdo respectively, each the preeminent master of the spear in their respective schools.
They were bound by blood debts spanning generations—mortal enemies unto death.
The families they had each robbed by plunging spears through each other’s hearts were so numerous they could circle a training ground multiple times.
By all rights, their meeting could only end in bloodshed.
And yet.
“Next time we meet, I’ll plant my spear through your neck. Count on it.”
“Those are my words to you. The blood debt owed to the Former Master I shall repay, even if I must become a ghost to do it.”
The two men glared at each other with murderous intent, then turned and walked away.
All the guests at the banquet carried themselves thus.
Which was only natural.
Who had summoned them to this gathering?
None other than Mukowmyeong, Lord of Sadocheon.
In other words, to disturb the waters of this banquet was to spit upon the Heaven Lord’s face.
Should one act thoughtlessly, seeking to settle personal grudges and thereby offend the Heaven Lord’s sensibilities—what then would follow?
In the worst case, not only the individual but their house, their entire sect, might be erased from the present world.
And so they growled and bared their fangs, yet dared not bite.
Before overwhelming martial might, even mortal enemies could nod civilly as they passed on a narrow bridge—and the masters in this hall demonstrated this truth with their very bodies.
As the true banquet was about to commence in earnest,
Mukyeojin approached a figure quietly slipping away.
“Are you leaving already?”
At those words, Hyegong turned his head.
……
For a moment Hyegong regarded Mukyeojin, then smiled.
“Ha, an old monk lingering in such a place only dampens the mood, you understand.”
Don’t be deceived by that benevolent smile—it wears the face of a Buddha.
Two-Faced Buddha.
As his epithet suggests, he bears two countenances at once.
Behind that compassionate visage lies a warrior who shows not a shred of mercy to the wicked—a living Buddha paired with a Buddha of death, both dwelling in the same flesh.
“It does this old monk’s heart good to see how the son of an old friend has grown so fine.”
Mukyeojin smiled softly at the words.
“Yet moments ago, such a man harbored a terrible murderous intent. Why?”
Hyegong flinched.
For the accusation was true.
A master of Hyegong’s caliber had no need to test his hands against another to sense their strength.
Their skill, their latent power—all of it was visible in an instant.
And in that fleeting moment, Hyegong had glimpsed something.
Mukyeojin as he would be in ten years, twenty, thirty.
Should he reach his full strength and become Heukdo’s sword.
‘For half a century at least, the Baekdo sect would never draw breath.’
That thought had bloomed in him like a weed, and with it came the killing intent—a seedling that had to be uprooted before it could grow.
Hyegong opened his eyes halfway.
“I offer no apology.”
Mukyeojin’s smile was faint but knowing.
‘This one remains the same as ever.’
Mukyeojin, too, shared a deep bond with Hyegong.
In the days of the Suction-Devouring Blood Deity subjugation campaign.
It was Hyegong and the Baekpalnahan of Bukdu Sorim who had carved a path through the tide of Blood Humans pouring across the Daesama like grains of sand.
“—Old monk!”
“Go! Leave this to us! The future of Jungwon rests in your hands!”
When Mukyeojin at last severed the neck of the Suction-Devouring Blood Deity and turned to look back.
All that lay upon that blood-soaked ground was an elderly monk, now cold and still.
Hyegong’s shoulders tensed.
For in Mukyeojin’s gaze, he felt a grief that cut deeper than words.
“…But what brings you to seek this humble monk?”
Mukyeojin, having shed his reverie, answered as though the matter were trivial.
“I merely wished to share a word with you. Now go in, if you please.”
Mukyeojin then turned and walked back toward the banquet hall.
Hyegong watched him for a moment, then moved on.
‘So this is the one destined to be the strongest under heaven…’
With that thought, Hyegong stepped outside Janghyeonjeon.
At the entrance, he nearly collided with a woman, and his eyes widened.
In that instant, he felt compelled to revise his earlier conclusion.
‘Hmm… perhaps it is still too early to judge.’
Hyegong glanced back at the banquet hall once more, then set his path toward Songshan.
* * *
“Gwiyoung. A monster just passed by—something beyond reason. Could that man be the Lord?”
“No. If my eyes serve me right, he was a warrior of Bukdu Sorim—the Two-Faced Buddha himself.”
“Is that so? Then how strong is the Lord? As strong as Father?”
“I cannot say.”
The gate-keeper at the entrance to Janghyeonjeon saw two women approaching and called out.
“State your affiliation and names!”
At that.
A dark-haired woman in a blood-red doublet smiled wickedly and replied.
“Cheonmashingyou’s Sect Leader, Cheonhwarin.”

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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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