Return of the God of War - Chapter 58

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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 58. A chance to transform one’s life—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The Bingaek-won, on the outskirts of Sadocheon.
The broad table set in the great hall groaned under delicacies piled so high one might fear the legs would snap beneath the weight.
There, a dozen or so neat-looking men raised their cups, their voices clamorous with laughter and chatter.
“Heh! Heh! Heheheh! My lord, I fear my belly will burst.”
Yi Gwang, captain of the Striking Corps—the outer division of the Jeongdo Murim Alliance, and of the Hosungdae—clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.
“A vice-captain by title, yet you lounge about as though the world belongs to you. Why not simply plant yourself here in Sadocheon and be done with it?”
Do Pyeongsu, the vice-captain, answered with brightened cheeks.
“What do you say? Chang Su, my friend—how about you? Rather than waste away in the Alliance eating scraps, why not jump ship to Sadocheon while we have the chance?”
“An excellent idea, Vice-captain!”
“I’m with you! I’ve got scout corps training—I know the layout of every Alliance installation from top to bottom. I could spill it all!”
In that instant, Yi Gwang’s eyes blazed.
“You fool! Learn to measure your words!”
“Ah! Y-yes, sir! My apologies!”
Do Pyeongsu, alarmed, quickly interjected.
“You thoughtless bastard! There’s a time and place for jesting, and a green recruit like you has no business! Captain, I’ll handle this one—teach him some manners myself.”
Yi Gwang opened his mouth to speak further, then fell silent and drained his cup in one draught.
He emptied three more cups in quick succession, and a sigh escaped him—from somewhere deep within.
‘What fault have they? The weakness lies only with me.’
Did Yi Gwang not see what his men truly felt?
‘Like a rib bone—’
Too valuable to throw away, yet too bitter to digest.
Such was the place the Hosungdae held within the Murim Alliance.
Not one of the men lacked skill.
Yet neither were any of them exceptional.
None came from influential families, nor did any boast powerful connections.
How the Alliance regarded them needed no explanation—this mission alone made it plain.
Sadocheon. A delegation sent into the very heart of enemy territory.
And guarding this hollow embassy—devoid of celebrated patron elders or influential clan leaders—fell to none other than the Hosungdae.
Click.
As Yi Gwang set down his cup, a bitter shadow crossed his features.
‘Exquisite.’
The wine was fine, and the dishes spread across the table were delicacies his men could never afford on their modest stipend.
‘How absurd it is—we are treated as refuse and castaways by our own, yet here in enemy territory we receive the hospitality of honored guests.’
His heart was troubled.
The men’s jest from moments ago had carried a weight beyond mere words.
Yet all he could do was raise his voice in rebuke.
A brief silence fell, then the great hall erupted once more into cheerful chaos.
Such was the nature of these straightforward men, unburdened by resentment.
Do Pyeongsu, well into his drinking, looked around the room and craned his neck, searching.
“Speaking of which, where’s Muha?”
“Likely still drilling on the open ground, sir.”
“Again?”
“Yes. The semifinals are the day after tomorrow, after all. He’s utterly serious about it.”
“Mm, well, his opponent is So Nachar, so—”
One of the men paused mid-bite of his chicken leg to ask.
“What’s that got to do with his seriousness, sir?”
Do Pyeongsu nodded solemnly.
“You haven’t been with us long, so you wouldn’t know. Are you aware that the host of this Sadocheon gathering—the Gungju herself—is Muha’s aunt?”
“Yes, I heard as much when I left the Alliance.”
Do Pyeongsu set down his utensils and folded his arms.
“But within the Nangung Clan, even to speak her name is forbidden. I learned from a distant branch relation—apparently she committed some grave transgression in the past and was driven out, fleeing to Gwangseo.”
Yi Gwang, who had been listening quietly from the side, felt his brow twitch.
‘Transgression, they say now… So that’s how the tale has been twisted after all these years. The Nangung.’
Understandable, perhaps.
It was, after all, a secret shame of the Nangung house.
But—
‘Twenty or thirty years at most, and yet they try to hide the sun with their palm?’
Yi Gwang glanced around at his men, then lowered his gaze.
Whatever the true history of the Nangung, it was not his place—as an outsider—to speak of it.
Moreover, Nangung Yeongryeong was now the sword master of Sadocheon.
To Yi Gwang, that meant she was the enemy.
He couldn’t defend an enemy by touching the Nangung Clan’s raw nerve.
In the end, Yi Gwang quietly rose and left his seat.
The remaining members had all turned their attention to Do Pyeongsu’s words.
“In any case, the sword master is something like a thorn in the Nangung Clan’s side, and lately not only her name but also that of her son So Nachar has spread across the entire northern region, so the Nangung perspective must be twisted with discontent.”
“Ah! Then this match must be a matter of family pride for Yi Muha, wouldn’t you say?”
“That too, perhaps. But as we all know, unlike us, Muha is a genius. Had he inherited the Nangung surname under normal circumstances without such complicated family troubles, he’d be more than capable of entering the Four Great Martial Forces in the internal tournament.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The difference in martial skill between themselves and Yi Muha was truly as vast as heaven and earth.
“Which is why this match is a tremendous opportunity for Muha. A chance to gain the favor of the clan elders—a once-in-a-lifetime chance to change his life.”
“So that’s why he’s been training like a madman day and night…….”
Then one of the members holding a cup hesitated before speaking.
“But is it possible? So Nachar is truly a monster……and even if it’s Master Muha…….”
“Hmm.”
Do Pyeongsu’s expression darkened.
In truth, he harbored the same doubt.
So Nachar. Muk Yeojin.
He’d only seen the man fight two or three times.
Yet his martial talent was of a different caliber altogether.
It was enough to make one wonder if this was what the gossipers meant when they spoke of a Natural Martial Physique after a few drinks.
As if everyone shared the same thought, the atmosphere of the gathering grew hushed.
But the silence didn’t last long.
Do Pyeongsu struck the table hard and cried out.
“You fools! If we don’t believe in Muha, who will? He’ll win! He’ll win no matter what! So all we need to do is cheer ourselves to death! Do you understand?!”
The members, now roused, answered loudly.
“Yes, sir!”
A warm light crossed Do Pyeongsu’s face.
Though Yi Muha came from a prestigious clan and they might well have envied or resented him, the members treated him as family.
It was because of them that Do Pyeongsu had managed to stay with this wretched Hosungdae all this time.
“Come on, let’s drink! Even if we don’t win anything else, we should at least drain Sadocheon’s liquor stores before we return!”
“Agreed!”
And so their gathering finally ended only when the morning sun began to creep slowly over the horizon.
* * *
The day of the Soilheol Arena semi-finals had arrived.
The first match was between Pyeong Cheol, first of Bracket A, and Muk Byeongho, first of Bracket B.
Hye Rangyeong had come again to watch her son’s match. Standing beside her was Pi Yangcheon, expressionless.
“Now, we shall commence the first semi-final match!”
At the referee’s announcement, the two fighters ascended the platform and their match began.
Of the two, Muk Byeongho moved first.
Knowing his opponent was the stronger fighter, he intended to seize the initiative through aggressive opening moves.
His sword cut swiftly through the air.
Clang! Clang!
Though Muk Byeongho pressed forward relentlessly, Pyeong Cheol parried with ease.
Pyeong Cheol was unmistakably a martial master of higher standing than Muk Byeongho.
What had begun as an evenly matched contest gradually began to tilt in Pyeong Cheol’s favor.
Boom! Crash!
The platform reverberated with the thunderous sound.
Pyeong Cheol had begun to deploy the Stone Breaking Leg Technique, his clan’s martial art.
As his footwork stormed forward like a tempest, the initiative shifted completely.
Now Pyeong Cheol attacked while Muk Byeongho found himself pressed into defense.
Muk Byeongho gritted his teeth and barely held his ground, but the situation worsened with each exchange.
The fact that he could endure at all owed everything to the training Pi Yangcheon had given him.
Without it, he would have been ignominiously hurled from the platform long ago.
Yet even that resilience was rapidly reaching its limit.
The onlookers, already certain of the victor, watched without tension.
As expected.
In that instant, Pyeong Cheol’s right foot twisted and pivoted with a subtle shift.
His heel flew directly toward Muk Byeongho’s wrist, where the sword was gripped.
Crack!
The sound of wooden batons snapping across Muk Byeongho’s knuckles rang out sharp and terrible.
Pyeong Cheol thought the match was over.
But then.
‘…!’
His pupils dilated sharply.
In his vision, Muk Byeongho’s Straight Sword had moved to his other hand.
Muk Byeongho had been waiting for this moment all along.
The instant his opponent grew certain of victory and committed to a sweeping strike.
From the start, he had entered this match prepared to execute the Flesh Slash Bone Break — a technique that sacrifices flesh to claim bone.
The blade sang.
Muk Byeongho spun his body and swung the sword.
The blade split the air with such searing sharpness that Pyeong Cheol’s entire frame went rigid.
Desperate, he unleashed a carefully reserved technique.
The impact was devastating.
Blood trickled from Muk Byeongho’s mouth where the blow struck his chest.
Three or four ribs shattered, and it felt as though his organs had been damaged.
Yet he did not stop.
His teeth clenched so hard the capillaries in his eyes seemed ready to burst, and ignoring the agony, he drove his body deeper forward instead.
And at last.
The blade shrieked.
A sickening crunch.
Muk Byeongho cut deep across his opponent’s flank. The flank and abdomen held vital organs packed densely together.
A wound that could prove fatal without immediate treatment.
Pyeong Cheol had no reason to stake his life on this match.
He cried out in haste, pressing down on his wound to stanch the bleeding.
“I… I yield!”
The referee’s voice rang out at once.
“The first finalist for the Soilheol Arena final is Muk Byeongho!”
In that moment, Muk Byeongho collapsed to the ground face-first.
Pi Yangcheon rushed to him and examined him at once.
“Stay still. Your ribs are broken. If you move carelessly, the bones could pierce your organs.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Then Hye Rangyeong came running, her expression etched with worry.
“By… Byeongho, are you all right?”
“Yes, Mother. I won. Hehe.”
“You fool. Why did you do something so reckless! What is this match worth!”
Muk Byeongho scratched his head awkwardly.
Hye Rangyeong exhaled a soft sigh and spoke.
“I’ll notify them that you’re forfeiting the final.”
Then Muk Byeongho shook his head, his voice firm and resolute.
“No. I will compete.”
“What… what?”
Hye Rangyeong had begun to protest, but suddenly the words died in her throat.
In her son’s eyes she saw a fierce will, an unshakable determination.
Standing beside Hye Rangyeong as she gazed at him in stunned silence, Pi Yangcheon let out a soft chuckle.
“Regardless. First, let’s get him to the healer.”
“… Yes, sir.”
And so Muk Byeongho was escorted from the arena.
Moments later.
The referee’s powerful voice echoed through the venue.
“The first-ranked of the Jeongdo bracket, Muk Yeojin! And the first-ranked of the Sado bracket, Yi Muha! Take your places on the ring!”
Cheers erupted as Muk Yeojin slowly climbed the steps.
From the opposite side, Yi Muha ascended, wearing the pristine blue martial robes that symbolized the Nangung Clan.
Behind him came the cries of Hosungdae members cheering for Yi Muha.
Muk Yeojin and Yi Muha.
The expressions of the two facing each other were serene, utterly at odds with the surrounding chaos.
Even as they simply stood there, a taut tension flowed between them.
As the commotion around them gradually subsided, the referee opened his mouth once more.
“Now we begin the second semifinal match!”

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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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