Return of the God of War - Chapter 66

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

Chapter 66. The Moment Carelessness Seizes the Heart
The Three Sovereigns of the World.
Muk Umyeong, Lord of Sadocheon.
Cheon Ilhwi, Master of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Yeom Jihan, Leader of the Orthodox Martial Alliance.
Three giants who divided the Martial World among themselves.
No one could speak of this era’s martial realm without discussing these three.
Absolute masters who, had any one of them been absent, would surely have been hailed as “supreme under heaven.”
And yet, strangely enough.
The Three Sovereigns—pillars of the Martial World—vanished from the world as if by design, all within a similar span of time.
And the void they left behind was immense.
Jeongdo, Sado, Mado.
The countless sects and powers belonging to each lost direction and began to waver.
What would later be known as the Disappearance of the Three Sovereigns—an unprecedented vanishing unlike any before it.
From that event onward, the Central Plains descended into chaos and endured divisions both great and small.
And the Won-eum Cult, seizing that very chaos, swiftly multiplied its influence.
It would prove to be one of the most bitter blunders in the war that was to come.
So Muk Yeojin had long wished to ask his father a question.
‘Where were you, Father, while Sadocheon crumbled and the Central Plains were ravaged?’
But he could never bring himself to speak those words aloud.
Because it was an event that had not yet come to pass.
The disappearance of the Three Sovereigns, the rise of the Won-eum Cult—all of it still lay in an unknown future.
If only the Disappearance of the Three Sovereigns could be prevented, there would be no greater power in the martial realm of the Central Plains.
But.
‘Rather than exhaust myself trying to prevent an event whose cause I don’t even understand, perhaps it’s better to simply accept that what will happen shall happen, and act accordingly.’
That was a problem for later.
There were one or two more pressing matters to attend to first.
Whoosh.
Having gathered his thoughts, Muk Yeojin rose slowly from his seat.
“Master, I should take my leave now. If I stay out too late, my mother will worry.”
Pi Yangcheon let out a soft snort of laughter.
“Who could live with any peace, having no family?”
Muk Yeojin shrugged with a slight grin.
“I hear twilight marriages are all the fashion in the holy city these days—shall I arrange a match for you, Master?”
“Stop spouting nonsense and go, if you’re going.”
But Muk Yeojin did not retreat.
With a playful expression, he pressed on.
“Come now, think it over. You’re not exactly young, but you have a certain charm about you—I’d wager you’d be quite popular.”
Pi Yangcheon’s left hand drifted casually, brushing the hilt of the White Moon Sword.
A chill like frost gleamed briefly in his eyes.
“Do you have more to say?”
“Ha-ha…… hardly.”
Muk Yeojin waved his hands and quickly stepped back.
“Then I really must go now. The night air is cold—do button up your robes.”
Just as he turned to leave.
Pi Yangcheon’s calm voice followed quietly behind him.
“Go carefully.”
Muk Yeojin’s footsteps halted for a moment.
So the old curmudgeon could say something so warm.
It was proof that Pi Yangcheon’s heart had opened just a fraction wider.
But this was precisely when one had to be most cautious.
People tend to grow closest to one another at the very moment when distance most easily widens again.
Muk Yeojin turned back, and with none of his earlier playfulness, bowed with sincere respect.
Then he left in silence.
Watching his receding figure, Pi Yangcheon let out a soft chuckle.
He had never thought he wanted a family.
But now, for the first time, the thought crossed his mind that having a grandson like that one would keep him from being bored in his waning years.
* * *
At last, the day of the Small Iron Blood Arena finals had arrived.
This grand gathering hosted by Sadocheon, unprecedented in its splendor.
To witness the spectacular final match that would crown the tournament, vast crowds descended upon the arena, and the stands had long since filled to bursting—a sea of humanity pressed shoulder to shoulder.
Though the tournament’s host, the Cheonju of Sadocheon, was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, his trusted lieutenant, the Gungju of the White Wolf Brigade Ju Gok, took the stage first.
And with a single proclamation, the entire arena stirred.
“The Cheonju has decreed that whoever emerges victorious in today’s martial competition shall be granted access to the Overlord Military Armory.”
……!
The Overlord Military Armory.
It was a weapons repository where Muk Umyeong, the Cheonju of Sadocheon, stored countless Divine Weapons he had acquired during his wanderings through the Martial World in his youth.
Only those granted explicit permission by the Cheonju could enter or leave that place.
Until now, only two individuals had been granted such access: the Crown Prince Muk Jujin and the Gungju of the Fighting God Palace.
Muk Yeojin too felt his interest kindle at those words.
‘The Overlord Military Armory… I’ve heard it houses not only Precious Swords and Blades in abundance, but also every conceivable type of Protective Armor.’
In the past, he would have paid little regard to weapons and armor.
But his thinking had changed.
Muk Yeojin’s gaze drifted naturally downward to the Black Night Sword hanging at his waist.
‘I never understood their worth until I actually wielded a Divine Weapon of this caliber. It’s genuinely different.’
It would be no exaggeration to say that the quality of one’s weapon rivaled even a Peak Martial Art in importance.
When he thought about it carefully, the logic was perfectly self-evident.
If one faced an opponent of equal martial skill, the difference between victory and defeat would inevitably come down to the performance of one’s weapon.
‘The Black Night Sword alone is sufficient, but the saying goes that more is always better—there’s no harm in acquiring a few additional blades.’
That was when it happened.
“Ho! The Overlord Military Armory—now that’s a prize that certainly appeals to the appetite.”
As Muk Yeojin turned his head, a figure came into view.
“Third Brother?”
It was Muk Hyeonam, the Gungju of Younghung Pavilion.
“What brings such a busy man to this place?”
“Ah, so you speak as though I’m someone who has no business being here?”
Muk Yeojin received his words with a meaningful gaze.
“Simply put, our conversing so openly in a space like this wouldn’t paint a natural picture. After all, it was you who said we should keep our alliance hidden as much as possible.”
Muk Hyeonam scratched his head with a troubled expression.
“True enough… but I suppose no matter how I struggle, I can’t escape the palm of our mother’s hand.”
His mother—Sama Hyang, the Gungju of Hyeonkwon Pavilion.
The intelligence network of Hyeonkwon Pavilion was among the finest in all of Cheonha.
It would be no surprise whatsoever if Sama Hyang had somehow learned of it through any means.
“If Mother knows, then the eldest brother knows as well. Which means there’s no longer any need to skulk about hiding our alliance. That’s the crux of it.”
Muk Yeojin nodded quietly.
There was nothing in that reasoning to surprise him, nor any grounds to refute it.
From the beginning, he had regarded both the concealment and disclosure of their alliance as
simply different strategies, each with their own distinct advantages and drawbacks.
Moments later, Muk Hyeonam moved to approach Nangung Yeongryeong.
He bowed respectfully.
“I am Muk Hyeonam, offering my greetings to the Gungju of the Sword Palace. My apologies for the delayed courtesy.”
Nangung Yeongryeong reciprocated with equal propriety.
“A pleasure to meet you, Gungju of Younghung Pavilion. You are too kind—there is nothing to apologize for.”
Muk Hyeonam continued with a light laugh.
“Gungju, before all else I am Yeojin’s elder brother. I would be grateful if you would speak to me without such formality.”
Under ordinary circumstances, Nangung Yeongryeong would have maintained courteous formality no matter how her counterpart insisted otherwise.
Yet the distinction between formal and informal speech is a remarkably potent weapon in establishing hierarchy within a relationship.
Younghung Pavilion’s Gungju.
Though they had formed an alliance, Nangung Yeongryeong understood full well that today’s ally could become tomorrow’s enemy.
She would not miss this opportunity to secure even the smallest political advantage.
Nangung Yeongryeong answered with a smile.
“As you wish, Third Lordship.”
…….
Muk Hyeonam could not hide a flash of bewilderment.
Though he had been the first to offer, he had not expected her to abandon formality quite so swiftly.
In that instant, Muk Hyeonam grasped that Nangung Yeongryeong was no ordinary opponent.
He glanced sidelong at Muk Yeojin and murmured inwardly.
‘Like mother, like son……’
Having concluded these brief courtesies, Muk Hyeonam turned as if to head toward the stands.
A familiar face suddenly entered the corner of his vision.
“That fellow?”
The other man also caught sight of Muk Hyeonam and hurried over.
“Brother!”
“Geon? What brings you here?”
The man was none other than the Fifth Son, Muk Geon.
‘Muk Geon?’
Muk Yeojin turned his head at the name.
Muk Geon was a small, slender man.
His pale, delicate face was so fine-featured that from a distance one might mistake him for a woman.
And most tellingly, the qi emanating from him was indistinguishable from that of an ordinary person—suggesting he had scarcely studied martial arts at all.
“Everyone’s been talking about the Small Iron Blood Arena lately, and since the finals are happening, I thought I’d come watch for amusement.”
Muk Hyeonam tilted his head and let out a laugh.
“You used to say watching other people fight wasn’t entertaining at all, so this is quite a change. Anyway, welcome. The match should start soon, so go offer your greetings and come back.”
“Yes!”
Soon Muk Geon approached, waving his hand cheerfully.
“Yeojin, it’s been ages! You were shorter than me back at Mangdam Station, but now I have to look up at you—hahaha!”
“It has been a long time. I hope you’ve been well, brother.”
“I’m the same as always! Seeing my younger brother grow like this makes me so proud. Let’s share a meal together sometime.”
“…Yes, brother.”
“That’s right, that’s right. Win today’s match, you have my support.”
Then Muk Hyeonam interjected with a jab.
“You fool—Byeongho is your brother too, after all. Aren’t you being a bit too obvious with your favoritism?”
“I already told Byeongho to win as well. Wouldn’t it be better if both of them won?”
“Now that’s just nonsense—ah, never mind. You’re still as naive as ever. Come here and stop tiring Yeojin out like this.”
“Yes! But brother…”
Muk Geon’s eyes narrowed as he looked Muk Hyeonam up and down.
“What’s this around your abdomen? How many rare delicacies have you been secretly enjoying?”
“Ah, ah—hey! Where do you think you’re touching? And rare delicacies, nothing of the sort. I’ve just been eating late-night meals because of all the recent banquets and rigorous duties.”
“Don’t say that! Or have you secretly hired some world-class chef?”
“That doesn’t even make sense…”
The two moved their seats to the spectator stands, bickering all the while.
No one could help but smile at the sight of two brothers with such a warm bond.
But.
……
Muk Yeojin’s eyes, watching Muk Geon’s departing figure, had turned cold and distant.
The emotion that unsettled Muk Yeojin in this moment was simple.
It was a sense of dissonance.
While judging by appearance alone is premature, the Muk Geon he’d just glimpsed was a good person and a righteous person.
Even the cautious Muk Hyeonam showed no wariness toward him, which suggested his usual conduct was little different from what he’d just displayed.
That was precisely what troubled Muk Yeojin.
When he thought of all the atrocities the future Lesser Cheonju would commit, he found it impossible to believe they were the same man.
……
He gazed at Muk Geon for a moment longer, then deliberately turned his eyes away.
This was not the time to dwell on such thoughts.
There was another opponent he needed to face here and now.
The finalist.
Muk Byeongho.
No matter how much inferior Byeongho’s skill was to his own, Muk Yeojin harbored not a shred of carelessness.
The moment carelessness seized a warrior’s heart, even a master swordsman could lose his head to the blade of a third-rate practitioner—such was the way of the Martial World.
Muk Yeojin took a quiet breath and ascended the martial competition platform.
Moments later, Muk Byeongho too slowly climbed up from the opposite side.

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