Return of the God of War - Chapter 86

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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 86. Since it’s a gift from me, there’s no need to refuse.
Na Pyeonggi’s eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Who is that woman?’
He didn’t know her face, but he was certain he’d heard rumors of her before.
Among the children of the Lord of Sadocheon, there was said to be someone who wielded the Sabok Sword—not a weapon easy to handle—with almost supernatural skill.
‘That name was surely…’
The Blade of Absolute Heart, Muk Iyeon.
Had she not been born with a gentle and free-spirited nature, she would already have claimed the position of the Sadocheon’s lesser lord—such was the renown of this martial artist.
Though she had not appeared in the Central Plains for several years, she remained forever among the first rank of those Hidden Dragons who would come to dominate the next generation of the martial world.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!
The Gwigheop Sabok Sword—the Gimun weapon that was her signature—moved with the supple grace of a serpent.
Burst!
Na Pyeonggi dispersed the Sabok Sword energy that Muk Iyeon unleashed with a sweeping palm strike.
He retreated through empty air, his expression transforming in an instant.
In place of the anger that had burned there moments before, composure and caution now settled upon his face.
It was only natural.
No matter how far below him in the martial hierarchy a junior might be, the reputation of the Blade of Absolute Heart was not something to dismiss like gravel beneath one’s feet.
And she, for her part, understood the same truth.
Muk Iyeon’s gaze, sweeping across the battlefield, fixed upon Na Pyeonggi’s left hand, from which blood dripped steadily.
How strange.
‘Na Pyeonggi appears to be wounded.’
And yet even so, the four-character epithet “Hundred-Hand Demon Claw” was proving a burden even for her.
Still watching Na Pyeonggi, she turned to address Muk Yeojin.
“It’s been so long. My presumptuous little brother—are you hurt?”
“Fortunately not, elder sister. I’m truly overjoyed. I thought a celestial maiden had descended from heaven itself.”
“That silver tongue of yours hasn’t changed one bit, I see. That much puts my mind at ease.”
Muk Iyeon smiled faintly and continued.
“I owe Yang Hwi my thanks. Had he not pushed himself so hard, this would have taken at least six more Double Hours to resolve.”
Yang Hwi, carrying Muk Iyeon on his back from Yunnam, had unleashed the Seomhwi Jeonseom technique with reckless abandon.
That mad sprint only came to an end when they drew near Junggyeong.
Exhausted, he had collapsed along the way, and from that point on Muk Iyeon had run the rest of the distance alone.
After catching her breath for a moment, her gaze turned to the woman standing beside Muk Yeojin.
‘So that girl is the lesser lord of Magyo.’
Though Yang Hwi had given her a rough account of how things had unfolded, seeing these two standing together was still a striking sight.
‘They seem oddly well-matched. If things go well between them, my brother-in-law would be the next Heavenly Demon?’
At this sudden frivolous thought, Muk Iyeon let out a short laugh and gripped her sword hilt again.
“But brother… I told you to contact me freely whenever my help was needed, and yet you summon me by way of Na Pyeonggi? Did you perhaps invite me to this death trap because you wanted to hold your sister’s hand as we walk the path to the afterlife?”
Yet for all her words, she too was a martial artist born and bred.
Contrary to the fragility in her speech, Muk Iyeon’s eyes blazed with competitive spirit as she regarded Na Pyeonggi—the fire of one warrior facing another.
The brief lull that had fallen with her arrival.
Using this moment to steady his breathing, Muk Yeojin adjusted his grip on the Hukyak Geom and took his stance.
“Surely not. Let’s quickly dispose of that ugly fellow and go find something delicious to eat. My treat, absolutely.”
Muk Iyeon shook her head.
“I don’t think that debt will be paid off even if I ate from the Emperor’s own table dozens of times over.”
Na Pyeonggi’s brow furrowed.
That they would speak such things while he, the Hundred-Hand Demon Claw of Cheonmu’s Eleven Seats, stood before them—it was beyond comprehension.
It was absurd.
But through their conversation, he had learned a crucial fact.
“Brother? Ah, I see. The sword methods of Pi Yangcheon and the Imperial Sword Form—now everything falls into place. So you are that famous little prodigy everyone speaks of?”
Muk Yeojin nodded and spoke.
“Go to the ferry at Samdocheon, and give my name to the ferryman. He will furnish you with the fastest riverboat to the land of the dead. Since it’s a gift from me, there’s no need to refuse.”
Na Pyeonggi’s brow twitched.
The young man’s mockery was no trivial matter.
He pushed down the anger that surged within him once more.
‘I don’t know how the Heavenly Demon’s daughter and the Lord of Sadocheon’s son came to end up here or why they’ve set their sights on my friend Yeom Mugyeol.’
Such details could wait until after he’d broken every bone in these insolent whelps.
Soon, the light in Na Pyeonggi’s eyes shifted.
As his killing intent surged to its absolute peak, he began to pour forth his Qi with terrifying force.
A pressure befitting the name Cheonmu swept through the surrounding space in an instant.
Boom-boom-boom-boom.
An enormous pressure of Qi bore down on the space within a radius of twenty zhang.
‘Oh no!’
Muk Iyeon, caught off guard, instantly threw open her Jahap Qi to its fullest extent.
Her younger brother and the Magyo’s junior sect master.
She’d judged that the two of them couldn’t withstand the crushing pressure from that monster Na Pyeonggi.
But then.
‘……!’
In that instant, Muk Iyeon felt her hair stand on end.
‘That’s…… Geukma Qi?’
The pure demonic energy that Cheon Hwarin wielded against Na Pyeonggi’s pressure.
It was unmistakably the defiant force that those who had reached the very heart of the demonic path possessed.
‘Geukma at her age…….’
It was certainly cause for astonishment.
‘But…….’
The person who truly shocked Muk Iyeon was not Cheon Hwarin.
Her gaze fell upon her younger brother, Muk Yeojin.
‘He’s not merely enduring.’
Around him, a dark violet energy bloomed alongside shimmering heat waves.
That mysterious Qi was now actively pushing back Na Pyeonggi’s power, denying his very approach.
This was no matter of improvisation or technique within the realm of artifice.
A force of roughly equal magnitude.
In other words, it was the very principle of the martial way itself—something achievable only by those possessing comparable rank.
Only then did Muk Iyeon fix her full attention upon Muk Yeojin.
And in that moment.
‘Huh.’
She understood.
‘He’s already caught up.’
The Mugeuk Gyeong.
There was no doubt.
Her presumptuous younger brother had already risen to the same level as herself.
If that was true, then one mystery resolved itself.
‘It must have been that younger brother of mine who inflicted Na Pyeonggi’s wounds.’
Remarkable.
No—astounding.
So extraordinary that a single line of praise could scarcely contain it.
Muk Iyeon, who had only ever heard herself called a monster throughout her life and had never thought such a thing of another person, now found herself at a loss.
Yet watching her brother now, she could almost feel the words ‘This monster!’ leap from her throat unbidden.
A smile played at Muk Iyeon’s lips.
‘This wretch claimed he’d catch up with me in five years.’
More than three years had already passed.
Those words he’d spoken so boldly before her eyes at the Mangdam Event’s residence.
—Will you still be able to handle me even in five years, sister?
Muk Iyeon felt the smile leak through despite herself.
‘So arrogant.’
Arrogant enough to make her want to bite him for it.
But for now, there was a fire at her feet—or rather, one of such magnitude that it should now be called a fire demon.
Muk Iyeon steadied her flowing Jahap Qi and turned her gaze upon Na Pyeonggi.
‘If that’s the case, this situation might unfold quite interestingly.’
Muk Iyeon too was one of those rare masters of whom the martial world spoke—a warrior of the Mugeuk Gyeong standing before that ultimate wall.
But.
The one before her—the Hundred-Beast Monster Na Pyeonggi.
He had already shattered that wall, with half his body already across the threshold.
A warrior who had stepped one foot into the realm of Choguk.
The gap between them was so vast that comparison itself seemed meaningless.
‘In truth, I came racing here with the resolve to stake my life to save my brother.’
Two warriors who had attained the Mugeuk Gyeong and one demon cultivator who had entered Geukma?
‘The bow’s heading could well swing toward an entirely different course.’
In a flash, Muk Iyeon flicked the mental abacus of her mind and channeled Jahap Ganggi into her Gwigheop Sabok Sword.
‘Perhaps it will be today.’
The day when the Cheonmu’s eleventh seat becomes the tenth.
And thus, the legendary showdown announced itself with a single stroke.
Shwooooosh!
Muk Iyeon’s Sabok Sword lunged at Na Pyeonggi’s throat like a venomous serpent striking with its jaws splayed wide.
In the same breath, Muk Yeojin thrust his blade forward with the intent to cleave the man in two, wreathed in Mukcheon Gi.
Cheon Hwarin, though still pulling herself upright, had no intention whatsoever of remaining a mere spectator.
Shiiiii. Shiii.
From ten paces distant, she wove Bidosul, lending her support to the pair.
Crash-bang-bang!
The Goesaljo that bloomed in Na Pyeonggi’s right palm turned aside both sword strikes with impossible speed.
Though he had lost two fingers, his left hand was far from useless.
He channeled his inner strength into the remaining three fingers, launching Goesalji to deflect the blade technique.
“Hah…”
Na Pyeonggi laughed aloud.
When fury reached its zenith, the mind grew strangely serene.
‘So these young whelps have decided to hunt me, have they?’
In nearly five decades of life, had he ever suffered such humiliation?
Never. He would swear it.
His eyes settled into a cold, measured calm.
‘Very well then. Let us see if you are the challengers meant to lead a new age, or whether I, the master of this one, prove you false.’
Bang! Bang-crash-bang!
There was no probing exchange—from the opening move, they unleashed a relentless assault.
The three of them, clearly seizing momentum, drove Na Pyeonggi backward without pause.
Muk Yeojin paid no heed to the safety of his companions, his focus absolute on his opponent alone.
He understood that such unwavering concentration was a far superior tactic to fumbling coordination.
Bang! Bang!
Explosions of impact followed one after another.
Shwooooosh.
Muk Iyeon deployed the Jeolji Geommang with fierce intensity from the frontmost position.
Her powerful qi tore through the air like a net cast upon him, constraining his every movement.
Witnessing Muk Iyeon’s swordwork for the first time, Muk Yeojin could not help but marvel.
‘How supple.’
Yet that was not all.
Within that fluidity lay a weight beyond measure.
Softness and heaviness.
The principles of the sword—which dwelled at the opposing poles of grace and gravity—achieved perfect harmony in her hands.
Muk Iyeon was barely on the threshold of twenty, a young warrior at the tail end of the Rising Star stage.
Yet already, she possessed martial skill worthy of founding her own school—no exaggeration whatsoever.
His half-sister’s talent was that formidable.
‘So that was why Muk Byeongho was so fixated on the Sabok Sword.’
Had he himself witnessed such mastery in his own blood kin, he too would have naturally walked that path.
Crash-boom-boom!
Blade met bare hand with a sound like artillery erupting, and the very earth trembled in that instant.
For a moment he feared the pavilion where Yeo Cheong and the children sheltered might collapse, yet he could spare not a shred of attention there.
Besides, to let Na Pyeonggi catch him glancing toward them would be to advertise that very location as his weakness.
Shwooooosh!
Muk Yeojin unleashed his Mukcheon Geomgi without letup.
Ilcham Oseom.
Five strands of sword qi erupted from a single sweep.
The first form of the Geuktu Shingeom.
Cheonswae Ilseom, modified—Chaotic Slash.
Whoooosh!
The Hukyak Geom in Muk Yeojin’s grip traced a perfect circle.
What had changed was far more than his inner method alone.
The wisdom of his past life and the wisdom of this life converged, creating a synergy that elevated both.
Now, at last, he understood.
There was no need to erase who he had been.
‘I simply accept.’
The enlightenment he had achieved in his former existence he now wove into the swordwork of this one.
With each movement of his fingertips, a new sword technique of ultimate combat was born.
The Geuktu Shingeom.
Six Forms.
The Full Moon Descending.
Whoooooosh.
A mass of consolidated Qi fell over Na Pyeonggi’s head like a meteor.
‘The Gangwhwan Array?!’
The longer one watched, the more extraordinary it became.
For his age, the purity and sheer volume of his accumulated power were grotesque.
The principles of the sword he had grasped touched upon a realm that could only be called miraculous.
And yet.
‘There are still gaps in his technique.’
Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack-crack-crack.
Three strands of cyclonic force burst forth from Na Pyeonggi’s right hand.
Shriek.
The Mad Killing Reverse Wind, unleashed with a sound like the Mournful Valley Chant, shattered the Full Moon and continued its assault upon Muk Yeojin with undiminished force.
Slash. Slash, slash.
At the bone-chilling sound of flesh being torn, Muk Iyeon and Cheon Hwarin cried out in unison.
“Yeojin!”
“Muk Yeojin!”

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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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