Return of the God of War - Chapter 67

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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 67. What It Means to Stake One’s Life
Muk Byeongho drew a deep breath and climbed the steps to the Martial Arena one by one, slowly.
‘My body is in perfect condition.’
Thanks to Gang Chang’s treatment, the ribs and wrist bones that had fractured in the semifinals were fully healed.
The nine forms of the Nine Dragon Blade Method that Pi Yangcheon had taught him were also completely integrated into his body.
Most importantly.
Naegong.
The Spirit Elixir that his mother and Hye Rangyeong had given him.
It was a Spirit Elixir with efficacy potent enough to be called a treasure.
Now that he had consumed the Spirit Pill and absorbed all its Medicinal Qi.
Muk Byeongho’s martial cultivation had amplified at least twofold compared to before.
If he were to fight Pyeong Cheol again—his opponent from the semifinals—he felt he could finish it within a dozen forms.
Truly, he was fully prepared.
Step. Step.
With measured footfalls, he ascended the final steps and finally stood upon the Martial Arena.
He slowly raised his head and gazed across to the other side.
His opponent, waiting for him.
Muk Yeojin.
Now known more by the epithet “Little Rakshasa,” the rising star of Sadocheon.
Even Muk Iyeon, his brilliant older sister who had been acclaimed a genius among geniuses, had not achieved such renown at Muk Yeojin’s age.
As Muk Byeongho steadied his breathing, Muk Yeojin, his face serene, spoke first.
“It’s been a while, Byeongho. This is our first real conversation since the Wangdam Arena, isn’t it?”
Muk Byeongho flinched.
The Wangdam Arena.
Yes, that must have been when it began.
The moment Muk Yeojin unfurled wings he had kept folded and took flight.
And the moment he himself had begun to fall.
His father’s indifferent gaze.
And the cold disdain in his mother’s eyes as she looked upon him.
Back then, he had thought the world was collapsing.
But now…
Muk Byeongho looked at Muk Yeojin with fresh understanding.
‘Looking back now, that was actually the turning point.’
The moment he realized what a worthless existence he truly was.
The authority of his mother, the status of being a child of the Sadocheon leader.
The instant he faced his own bare truth—how foolishly, in his childish ignorance, he had relied on nothing but these hollow facades and grown arrogant.
Only then did he truly understand.
That he could survive in this harsh world only by raising his own value, his own strength.
‘That bitter realization back then changed me, and that change is what brought me to this place now.’
Looking back on it all…
Muk Yeojin tilted his head slightly.
“Why are you smiling all of a sudden?”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”
Muk Byeongho scratched his head awkwardly.
“I was just thinking that it’s thanks to you thrashing me senseless that day that I stand here now, and it struck me as odd.”
“Hmm…”
A flicker of interest passed through Muk Yeojin’s eyes.
Ordinarily, the one who dealt the blow forgets it quickly, but the one who received it never forgets it in a lifetime.
Yet Muk Byeongho was not harboring resentment but rather believing that he had been able to grow because of it.
Muk Yeojin let out a soft laugh himself.
Wasn’t that admirable in its own way?
At the same time, he found it strange.
‘Why did someone like that live as a pathetic wretch and die a meaningless death in the previous life?’
Certainly, one’s surroundings exert a profound influence on a person.
And yet there is such a thing as one’s innate nature.
The difference between Muk Byeongho now and before his return was so vast it might as well have been two different people.
Still, it was also true that such a transformation could not be deemed absolutely impossible.
Muk Yeojin casually let go of that fleeting question.
After all, what mattered was the present moment.
Whoosh.
Muk Yeojin drew the Black Night Sword slowly and leveled it at him.
“Three years ago, you didn’t have eyes worth anything, but that’s true now—though ambition alone will only carry you this far, and no further.”
His expression wiped clean in an instant, he fixed his gaze on Muk Byeongho.
A look.
The chill in his eyes bore down like a physical weight.
At the same moment.
Shhhhhhh.
An invisible aura ensnared Muk Byeongho.
His pupils trembled as though the ground had split beneath him.
‘What… is this…?’
It wasn’t killing intent.
Then what?
Yes.
Fear.
But not the ordinary fear born of a gap in skill.
That distant, vertiginous terror that comes from facing something beyond reach, something untouchable.
Cold sweat traced down Muk Byeongho’s spine, and his hands began to shake.
He’d never expected an easy victory.
But hadn’t he too poured out blood and toil in his training?
He’d believed the disadvantage wouldn’t be entirely one-sided.
But what was this?
He was overwhelmed before their weapons even met.
This was an opponent he couldn’t face.
No—Muk Yeojin stood far beyond anything he could even dare to look upon.
‘Is this what they call the difference in talent?’
Perhaps it was.
But some instinct whispered to Muk Byeongho that it was more than that alone.
Something that lay deeper than mere martial talent.
‘The heart.’
The heart with which one grasped the sword.
The very attitude toward life—it ran fathoms deeper than anything in him.
‘For what… could he possibly…?’
No. Such thoughts were pointless.
Hadn’t he already sworn an oath?
Fall and shatter—he would rise again.
‘An egg striking a rock?’
Well, let that egg be struck a thousand times, ten thousand times, tens of millions of times.
Would that rock emerge unscathed?
Muk Byeongho’s jaw tightened.
His grip on the Park Blade grew fierce.
“I too…”
“…?”
Fire kindled in Muk Byeongho’s eyes.
“I will reach where you stand, someday.”
The fervor that Muk Byeongho gave off made the corner of Muk Yeojin’s eye twitch.
‘Hm?’
Once, he’d dismissed Muk Byeongho as talent so common it was trampled underfoot across all the Central Plains.
‘I may have to reconsider that assessment.’
And yet.
“Reach where I stand?”
“Yes. Even if it costs me my life.”
“Life… your life…”
A thin, bloodless smile crossed Muk Yeojin’s face.
And then.
‘…!’
Muk Byeongho’s breath caught.
Muk Yeojin’s form vanished in an instant, only to materialize directly before him.
Muk Yeojin’s Black Night Sword fell from above like judgment.
Crash!
The Park Blade, raised at the last instant, barely held it back.
Crunch-crunch-crack.
“Ugh!”
Muk Yeojin’s cold voice cut through the air.
“You’ve never endured that hell, and yet you dare climb to where I stand? The audacity.”
As Muk Yeojin pressed down with the Black Night Sword, Muk Byeongho’s limbs trembled like aspen leaves.
‘What kind of strength is this!’
It felt as though a jagged mountain cliff had descended upon him in its entirety.
“Do you comprehend what it means to stake one’s life?”
Crash. Crash.
Muk Yeojin’s strikes rained down without mercy.
Each blow—each single strike—was saturated with killing intent.
Whistle. Whistle.
The blade wind he couldn’t parry sliced across his entire body.
Amid the spray of blood in all directions, Muk Byeongho caught sight of Muk Yeojin’s sword path.
Familiar.
As if he’d seen it somewhere before……
And in the next instant.
Muk Byeongho understood.
‘You were the Black Phantom.’
Bang!
Muk Yeojin’s right foot drove into his abdomen.
Muk Byeongho was hurled backward more than ten paces, the impact making him wonder if he’d been driven straight through a carriage.
Thud-thud-thud-crash.
Sprawled on the ground, he used his sword as a prop to push himself upright.
As he raised his head, he saw the Sword Fiend approaching with an impassive expression.
A measured gait.
And then once more—a straightforward descent of the blade.
No high technique of refined martial skill, merely a cut.
Yet to Muk Byeongho, it appeared more formidable than any technique—a single, devastating strike.
“Hyaaah!”
He roared and thrust the Park Blade forward at Muk Yeojin.
Shriek-shriek-shriek-screech.
Rough blade wind erupted from the Park Blade, hunting toward Muk Yeojin’s vital points as if alive.
Nine Dragon Blade Method.
Fifth form.
Raging Wind Python.
But.
“You’re tensing your shoulder too much,” Muk Yeojin said without changing expression, drawing his blade diagonally across the air.

Whisper-whisper-whisper-shriek.
The blade wind that had been tearing through the empty air vanished without trace against his single slash.
Simultaneously.
Bang!
In one fluid motion, Muk Yeojin closed the distance; his left palm strike struck Muk Byeongho’s chest.
He offered no opening.
Thwack! Smack!
Bang!
In a heartbeat, Muk Yeojin’s palm strikes hammered across his entire body in relentless succession.
“Cough!”
Spewing blood, Muk Byeongho rolled across the ground once more in pathetic fashion.
By this point, even the spectators had fallen silent.
They stared at the Martial Arena with glazed, stunned expressions.
In that silence, Muk Hyenam let out a low murmur of amazement.
“I expected it, but…… the gap between them. A monster indeed.”
And Muk Geon muttered softly.
“Quite so. He would make an excellent specimen.”
“Hmm? What did you just say?”
“Pardon? Oh, it was nothing. Ha-ha.”
Muk Geon hastily laughed and deflected the question.
“Goodness! Byeongho’s getting up again. Remarkable.”
Muk Hyenam tilted his head for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the Martial Arena without concern.
The spectators, too, stared wide-eyed at Muk Byeongho as he pushed himself upright.
Blood trickling from his lips stained his chest crimson, and his hair, once neatly pinned, now hung loose and disheveled—like a convict being escorted to judgment.
His limbs trembled ceaselessly, like willow leaves before a gale.
By any measure, he was in no state to continue the duel.
Muk Yeojin regarded him with eyes still cold and steady.
“The outcome seems decided already. Why did you get up?”
Even as the world blurred into doubled and tripled images before him, Muk Byeongho turned the question over in his mind.
‘Why did I get up?’
His body had already reached its limits.
It would be easier to simply collapse.
So why had he risen?
After a moment of quiet reflection, he opened his mouth slowly.
“Because it’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
Muk Byeongho let out a weak laugh as he raised his blade in stance.
“You put on that black cloak and beat me half to death—and I’m grateful for it, I am. But I reckon I owe your face at least one solid hit just so I can feel satisfied about the whole thing.”
“…….”
Huh.
At that, Muk Yeojin burst out laughing himself.
Just like that I Muha he’d faced not long ago—where did all these lunatics keep coming from?
Muk Yeojin adjusted his grip on the Black Night Sword and shifted into an upper stance.
A peculiar smile played at the corner of his mouth.
“Come.”
Wheesh.
Muk Byeongho charged forward, his breathing sharp and controlled.
Bang!
Bang! Crash!
Each time blade and dao met, it was the dao that went flying backward.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-crash.
Muk Byeongho flew through the air without so much as a cry, slamming hard into the ground.
But.
Crack.
He rose faster than he’d been knocked down, launching himself forward again.
Hye Rangyeong’s fists clenched tight.
She still couldn’t understand her son’s reckless stubbornness.
But this much was clear to her now.
Even before a master far beyond reach, he would not yield—he would rise again and swing his blade.
Though blood poured from his mouth and he was hurled to the ground, still he would stand and press forward.
‘So this is what a true warrior is.’
Muk Byeongho’s desperate struggle was enough to ignite the hearts of every spectator watching.
Moments later.
Bang!
Muk Byeongho’s body plummeted to earth once more.
“Ah…….”
Sighs rippled through the crowd.
Was it over?
The gap in skill was simply too vast to hope for miracles.
Yet.
“He’s getting up again?”
“……Unbelievable.”
Now using the Park Blade as a staff, Muk Byeongho pushed himself upright and drew ragged breaths.
“Huh… huh…”
Covered in wounds and filth, he wore the most genuinely peaceful smile.
“One more time……”
Muk Yeojin studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
And now he shifted into a different aura, assuming a new sword posture.
Whoooosh.
Simultaneously, from the Black Night Sword poured forth Spear Palace Qi like a vast, crashing sea.
And from the blade itself emerged threads upon threads of Sword Energy Threads.
He had prepared a single strike that carried respect for his opponent.
Muk Byeongho too had readied the highest form he could unleash.
The Nine Dragon Blade Method.
Ninth form.
Flying Dragon Ascending Heaven.
And in that instant, as the duel between the two young warriors approached its end.
A thin, piercing note.
A wisp of sound from a small flute bored into Muk Yeojin’s ears.
“……!!!!!”
Muk Yeojin’s eyes widened to the size of oil lamps.
In the same breath, his heart began to thunder wildly.
‘Impossible—?’
And his dark premonition did not deceive him.
A deafening roar erupted.
An aura of a completely different magnitude began to surge from Muk Byeongho.
And his focus, as if his very soul had fled, grew hazy.
And his irises, stained with a dark jade light.
‘Wrath Jade Eyes!’
Muk Yeojin’s face contorted like a vicious demon.
‘The Original Dark Teaching!’

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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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