Return of the God of War - Chapter 8

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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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Chapter 8: Hell itself.
Early the next morning.
A warrior who had reported the incident between himself and Muk Byeongho on the first day of his return to their father Muk Wooming.
Ju Gok, the master of Baekrang Dae, came to Muk Yeojin’s quarters.
“By order of the Heavenly Lord, as of this hour, the Young Master Muk Yeojin shall be confined to the Punishment Pavilion of Mangdamjeon for one year.”
Muk Yeojin nodded impassively and followed Ju Gok.
Namgung Ryeongryeong and Pyo Yeon had already departed Mangdamjeon early that dawn.
When he told his mother the secret of the Punishment Pavilion, she bore a troubled expression for a moment, then smiled brightly before leaving his quarters.
―I believe in you. Whatever happens, you’ll find your way through it. Leave the matters of the outside world to me, and worry about nothing.
Muk Yeojin instinctively sensed that his mother, too, had come to some sort of resolve, but he did not press her on what it might be.
Soon Ju Gok led the way, with Muk Yeojin following behind.
And all around, the warriors of Baekrang Dae formed a formation as though escorting a criminal across Mangdamjeon.
Muk Yeojin observed them carefully, pretending otherwise.
‘Baekrang Dae…… truly the direct military force of the Heavenly Lord.’
The master Ju Gok spoke for itself, but even the warriors who appeared to be ordinary soldiers carried a restrained aura that resembled a calm lake surface.
Yet Muk Yeojin understood well.
‘A single word from the Apostolic Heavenly Lord would transform their aura into rough waves that overturn a vast sea.’
Just as his father possessed Baekrang Dae, he himself would need trustworthy limbs and hands like these.
In practical terms, he could not single-handedly uproot Woneum Gyo, nor accomplish all the preparations that must precede it.
And so.
‘I must gradually make those hidden gems—those raw talents not yet known to the world—into my own people.’
With such thoughts in mind.
As Muk Yeojin calmly reflected on events yet to unfold and mulled over potential talents, his sworn brothers suddenly crossed his mind.
What were they doing now?
Maeng Ak of Namman Yasugung.
‘Maeng is likely competing with the Young Master by now.’
Jang Pyeong of Hwasan Sect.
‘Jang is probably still training day and night in Hwasan. He’ll likely begin his journey through the jianghu around the time I leave Mangdamjeon. With luck, we might cross paths.’
Baek Yeomin of Beihai Binggung.
‘Baek must already be governing Beihai by now, having ascended to Palace Master at such a young age.’
And the last one.
The one who sent him back to the past.
Cheon Hwarin.
Her…… he could not say.
She rarely spoke of herself, and Cheonma Sinjiao, her affiliation, was an organization far less known than the other Five Palaces.
But one thing was certain.
She too was not living a peaceful childhood.
Thump-thump.
Lost in such musings, he walked for what seemed like two hours.
Ju Gok and the warriors of Baekrang Dae led Muk Yeojin toward Mogshinsan, behind Mangdamjeon.
As they reached its midway point, Muk Yeojin’s eyes fell upon an old manor.
A rather massive estate with a weathered plaque reading Biryeondong hung carelessly upon it.
This was Biryeondong—the Punishment Pavilion where Muk Yeojin would be confined for one year.
The heavy gate stood wide open amid a crumbling wall that looked ready to collapse at a touch.
Its appearance resembled a serpent’s gaping maw, opened wide to devour him whole.
Muk Yeojin smiled faintly.
‘Hold on now. You’ll try to swallow me, but your own jaws will tear to shreds first.’
Without hesitation, he stepped forward with long, measured strides into Biryeondong.
* * *
Creak-eek. Bang.
The moment Muk Yeojin crossed the threshold, he started.
It was not because of the gate slamming shut with a deafening crash behind him.
It was the sky overhead.
Just moments before, the sky had been heavy with clouds and dull gray, yet the instant he stepped into the manor, a brilliant, cloudless azure sky stretched out above him.
“This…… is a formation?”
And not an ordinary one at that.
It was a high-tier formation that isolated an entire enclosed space.
From this alone, he could discern that Biryeondong was far more than a mere place of punishment.
“If they’re deploying this caliber of formation from the start, I’ll need to keep my wits sharp.”
Yet despite his measured words, a deep smile played at the corners of Muk Yeojin’s mouth.
Thump-thump.
As he crossed the manor courtyard toward the central hall, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
“But what about meals? How am I supposed to manage that?”
Even the greatest master under heaven starves if he doesn’t eat.
From the look of things, there was no cook stationed here.
Judging by the scale of the Jinbop, it wasn’t the sort of place that just anyone could wander in and out of freely.
The fact that Ju Gok and the Baekrang Dae had taken charge of his escort alone proved that most people would have no idea where this place even was.
Yet he couldn’t very well have a member of the Baekrang Dae—the direct military force of the Sado Cheonju—run errands for something as trivial as food.
“Surely they don’t expect a boy of twelve, still in his prime growing years, to subsist on nothing but Foundation Grain Pills for an entire year…….”
That was when it happened.
“Screeee!”
A bird’s cry rang out sharply from somewhere above.
The moment Muk Yeojin looked up at the sky where the sound had come from, he stiffened.
‘What is that?’
Ripples had formed in the sky itself, as if a stone had been cast into still water.
‘Something is breaking through the Jinbop?’
He knew it instinctively.
Snap.
Muk Yeojin took up his Gwonse stance and waited, ready for whatever might come.
How much time had passed?
Ping!
A black shape pierced through the Jinbop at an impossible speed.
The moment he saw what it was, Muk Yeojin couldn’t help but gasp.
“That’s…… a hawk?”
But this was no ordinary bird of prey.
Each wing span was at least five hand-lengths across—a truly colossal creature.
Its beak and talons were honed to razor sharpness, like the masterwork of a supremely skilled smith.
And judging by the strange heaviness that pressed against his heart each time he heard its cry, there was no doubt the creature was a Yeongmul.
‘Why would such a spirit appear so suddenly?’
Fortunately, it showed no signs of hostility.
Just as Muk Yeojin’s bewilderment was deepening.
Thud.
The creature, which had been circling in the air, released a wrapped bundle from its talons, letting it fall before him.
He carefully unwrapped it, and found inside nothing less than a day’s worth of provisions and drinking water.
At that, Muk Yeojin burst into genuine laughter.
“Thanks to you, I won’t have to worry about starving to death.”
I’m counting on you for the year ahead.
* * *
Time passed swiftly.
A month had gone by since Muk Yeojin entered Biryeondong.
In that time, he had grown somewhat acquainted with the hawk that brought his meals.
Now whenever he ate in the courtyard, the creature would settle beside him and share the meal.
Of course, matching its enormous size, each of its feasts was a wild boar it had hunted from somewhere.
“Chengbi, starting tomorrow I may not be out in the courtyard, so don’t feel obliged to wait.”
Chengbi was the name Muk Yeojin had given to the hawk.
“Screeee!”
The intelligent Chengbi seemed to understand at once, answering with a cry.
After finishing his meal, Muk Yeojin ran his hand once over Chengbi’s back before stepping inside the hall.
Over the past month, Muk Yeojin’s days had been nothing but routine.
Each dawn, the moment he opened his eyes, he would loosen his body and begin his external cultivation practice.
The foundation of his external practice was the Sanwang Wu, the unique external art of his sworn brother Maeng Ak of the Namman Yasugung, though he practiced a greatly diminished version of the movements.
As external arts go, the Sanwang Wu is truly among the very finest disciplines the world has to offer.
But it was excessive for someone like Muk Yeojin, whose physical development was still incomplete.
Above all, his natural constitution simply wasn’t suited to mastering the Sanwang Wu, so he had refrained from overextending his practice.
‘Without innate strength comparable to Maeng’s, achieving the complete Sanwang Wu would be impossible anyway.’
And yet he could feel his bones and muscles growing stronger with each passing day—strength enough to justify calling it divine cultivation.
After his external practice ended, he would eat the meal Chengbi brought and then throw himself into basic cultivation work until late night.
Here, basic cultivation meant internal energy cultivation.
Truth be told, twelve years old was slightly late to begin one’s Ipgong.
The younger one is, the fewer murky impurities settle in the Hyeoldoe—that is only natural.
Thanks to that, they could accumulate purer true essence, so the children of noble families typically completed the Foundation-Laying Art between the ages of five and seven.
In other words, that was when they formed their Danjeon.
But before the regression.
Muk Yeojin had first set foot in the world of martial arts at the remarkably late age of twenty-five.
‘Of course, back then I forcibly broke through the blocked Hyeoldoe and nearly brushed death’s door, and I endured all manner of suffering to shatter my rigid body…….’
What mattered was that he had succeeded nonetheless.
‘Compared to then, my current physical condition is nothing short of miraculous.’
For those called Gijae—who grasped intangible essence and formed their Danjeon—six months to a year was the standard timeframe.
Yet Muk Yeojin had succeeded in forming his Danjeon a mere four days after entering Biryeondong.
Even accounting for the Simdeuk he had gained before the regression, it was an astonishing pace.
And now, after a month of unbroken, steady cultivation.
Muk Yeojin had transcended the stage of Chukgi—merely accumulating essence in his Danjeon—and entered the stage of Chunggi, where he could channel essence through his limbs and wield it.
Muk Byeongho, who deserved some credit as more than merely mediocre, had reached the Chunggi stage only after eight years of training.
One could naturally infer from this just how extraordinary Muk Yeojin’s talent truly was.
But.
Muk Yeojin’s ambition extended far beyond becoming merely another unremarkable master.
Which was why he stood here now.
The first thing to greet him when he first set foot in Biryeondong’s main hall.
A wooden statue standing stubbornly in the center of the great chamber, as if it owned the place.
Though it was no ordinary wooden statue.
Not one head mounted on the neck, but three.
And six arms dangling from the torso beneath.
Samdu Yuk Bi.
An Asura statue.
Directly beneath this grotesque figure lay his father’s—the Sage Heaven Master Muk Wooming’s—secluded training chamber, brimming with his Simdeuk.
That he had not entered from the beginning was thanks to Muk Iyeon’s counsel.
She too had experienced confinement in this place, Biryeondong, during her childhood.
According to her, the training chamber existed, but one had to pass a trial to enter it.
Muk Yeojin steadied his breathing.
Then he walked slowly toward the Asura statue, raised his hand, and released a current of Naeryeok.
Shhhhhh.
The six eyes of the Asura statue, which had been drinking in his Naeryeok like parched cloth, suddenly gleamed, and the statue’s belly split open with a crack, revealing a staircase descending into shadow.
A cold aura wrapped around his entire body in a sudden wave of sensation.
When he looked up at the Asura’s first face, it seemed to speak.
Welcome to hell.

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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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