Return of the God of War - Chapter 89

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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 89. It seems this connection is only just beginning.
Two hours later.
Yang Hui, who had collapsed from exhaustion, opened his eyes.
Whoosh!
Even before his mind had fully cleared, his feet were already racing toward Baekyu Manor.
‘Could they both still be alive?’
If they were, it would mean that Na Pyeonggi had been defeated.
Was such a thing realistically possible?
Yang Hui’s rational judgment dismissed it as impossible.
He had known, when carrying the woman to the middle gate, that she possessed the Jeolsim Gwigum, but still.
For three people to stand against Na Pyeonggi, the Twelfth Seat of the Celestial Martial Assembly, was simply absurd.
‘Muk Yeojin and Cheon Hwarin.’
The scouting master of Sadocheon and the young cult leader of Cheonma Shingyeo.
From the perspective of Yang Hui, who stood within the Baekdo, their deaths would have been nothing short of fortunate news.
Yet despite that.
‘Why won’t my feet stop? Why… am I so desperately hoping they’re safe?’
Camaraderie? Loyalty?
Before he could even name that turbulent feeling, Yang Hui arrived at the rear garden of Baekyu Manor.
And the moment he saw the scene before him, his eyes went wide.
Even when he had left, the place still maintained some semblance of a garden, with vegetation and a small pond.
But what was it now?
A wasteland pure and simple.
The water that had filled the pond had evaporated away, and the surroundings too were barren—not a single blade of grass, not a single tree remained.
Only the pavilion of the rear garden, still standing intact, testified that this was indeed Baekyu Manor’s grounds.
‘Is this truly something the human hand can accomplish?’
What level of martial mastery would be required to wield such devastating power?
Yang Hui could not even begin to fathom it.
But his shock was short-lived.
In that instant, Yang Hui felt his heart plummet into his chest.
If a battle of this magnitude had taken place, how could Muk Yeojin and Cheon Hwarin have survived?
The answer to his unspoken question showed itself on his twisted face.
Crunch.
Yang Hui’s fists clenched of their own accord.
A fury rose from his chest, deeper and hotter than he thought himself capable of—so intense it startled him.
Yang Hui’s gaze swept across the surroundings like lightning.
‘If it were me, I’d be no match for Na Pyeonggi, not for an instant.’
Yet even so, Yang Hui wished for him to still be nearby.
Only by drawing his sword and throwing himself at that man would this burning anger finally be quenched.
It was then.
“You’ve arrived.”
“…!”
A voice no louder than a mosquito’s wing-beat drifted from far away.
“Yeocheng!”
Yang Hui’s gaze shot toward the pavilion’s main platform.
There sat Yeocheng, supporting herself with difficulty.
Yang Hui unleashed his Divine Method and flew to her in a single bound.
“What has happened here? The other two—are Lord Muk and the young cult leader safe?”
“Ugh! Wait, please…”
“Oh, my apologies!”
Yang Hui released the shoulder of Yeocheng, which he had seized.
In his urgency, he had forgotten that she too bore grave injuries.
“…It’s all right.”
Yeocheng caught her breath painfully, then offered the answer he had so desperately awaited.
“Both of them are unharmed, I assure you.”
“Ah…”
Thump.
The tension drained from Yang Hui’s body, and he sank to the ground.
“Thank the heavens…”
Suddenly he jolted upright, his voice trembling.
“Wait—then the three of them together managed to defeat Na Pyeonggi?”
“Yes, I was underground the whole time, working to dismantle the Great Method. I didn’t see it myself, but I’m told the battle was quite fierce.”
A shadow of guilt crossed Yeocheng’s face.
“I never expected Na Pyeonggi to come looking. Still, I’m grateful you indulged what amounted to my selfish whim. Young Master Yang.”
As Yeocheng bowed deeply, Yang Hui waved a dismissive hand.
“Please, don’t. We did all this because we wanted to.”
Yang Hui turned his head away, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Speaking of which—where did the other two go?”
“They’ve already left. Cheon Hwarin took the children who nearly became sacrifices to the Great Method and headed for a Divine Teaching branch. He’s kind enough that he’ll handle things properly, I’m sure.”
“That man, kind? Though… I suppose he does seem that way with the children. What about Muk?”
“Muk Yeojin also departed as soon as he regained consciousness—with his sister. I don’t know the details, but it seemed he still had battles ahead of him.”
Yang Hui shook his head slowly.
“More fighting? Listening to you, one would think he’s taking on the entire Central Plains alone.”
Despite the grumbling, a smile played at the corners of Yang Hui’s mouth at the knowledge that both of them had survived.
Then, suddenly, his brow furrowed.
“But not even a goodbye? I’m genuinely disappointed about that.”
As Yang Hui complained, Yeocheng produced a small coin.
“Cheon Hwarin asked me to pass this along to you. He called it an Eunwon Coin.”
“An Eunwon Coin!”
Yang Hui’s breath caught.
The Eunwon Coin of Cheonma Shingyeo.
It was said to be a treasure that, regardless of who possessed it, could grant the bearer access to the authority of a provincial headquarters commander if they visited a Cheonma Shingyeo branch.
Yang Hui accepted the coin with trembling hands.
Had he ever stolen anything more precious in his entire life?
Even the family heirlooms of the Buk Cheon Yang Clan would pale before this coin.
“And Muk Yeojin said that if you ever need his help, you should seek out the Hongyeon Trading Company.”
“The Hongyeon… Trading Company?”
A rising merchant house rooted in Guangxi Province.
Recently, it had become the most prominent newcomer in the commercial world, rapidly expanding its influence even north of the great river.
There was a particular reason Yang Hui knew of Hongyeon’s existence.
‘Isn’t Hongyeon the trading company where the Moonlit Painter works exclusively?’
The Moonlit Painter, known as Hongyeon’s exclusive artist, had already become so famous that even the imperial palace spoke of him.
Among the treasures that Yang Hui—that masterless wanderer—had accumulated, paintings by the Moonlit Painter were included.
‘Could Hongyeon actually be affiliated with Sadocheon?’
Or perhaps it was far more than a simple trading company.
Given what Yang Hui had seen of Muk Yeojin, it wouldn’t be strange at all if he personally managed some organization.
That was what made it all the more moving.
Muk Yeojin had essentially confided in him the secret of Hongyeon’s true backer.
A wry smile leaked out.
“Well, all this hardship wasn’t entirely without reward.”
Yeocheng watched Yang Hui, who had taken to entertaining himself, with a faint smile on her face.
“In that case, now it’s my turn to fulfill a promise.”
Yang Hui tilted his head curiously.
“A promise?”
“Yes. Didn’t I promise? If you would grant my request, I would use my remaining Divine Technique for all of you.”
“Ah, that’s right.”
The light in Yeocheng’s eyes sharpened.
“Just say the word. Whether it’s an unforeseen threat looming over your future or the location of some treasure you wish to find—within the bounds of my power, I can help fulfill whatever wish you desire.”
Yang Hui looked startled.
He had no idea Divine Technique could do such things.
“What did the other two wish for when they left?”
“I’ll tell you that after I’ve heard all of your wishes.”
“Hmm…”
Yang Hui lowered his head and fell into deep contemplation.
The frown etched into his forehead and the faint tremor in his fingertips revealed the seriousness of his deliberation.
Yet surprisingly, it didn’t take long before his mouth opened again.
And when he finally spoke, what came out was far from what Yeocheng had expected.
“I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“…!”
Yeocheng’s eyes widened in shock.
“You won’t need it?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
“Because using that Divine Technique would kill you, wouldn’t it?”
“My years were numbered from the start. There aren’t many left.”
“Then you should try all the more to live each day with purpose!”
“But—”
“Enough.”
Yang Hui’s gaze deepened for a moment.
“I acted to save innocent lives. However sweet the reward, if I obtain it by consuming your life, then everything I’ve done loses all its meaning and worth.”
Soon that peculiar impish glint returned to his eyes.
“You’re trying to sully my efforts with filth, aren’t you? Is that it!?”
“Oh, no, no—I meant nothing of the sort.”
“Ha-ha, only joking.”
……
Yeocheng fixed him with a sidelong glance for a moment.
“You’re far more mischievous than the other two.”
“The other two? Ah, what wishes did those two make?”
“……The same as yours, Master Yang.”
“Pardon?”
As Yang Hui tilted his head in confusion, Yeocheng smiled softly and gazed out toward the distant ridge.
Understanding her meaning at last, Yang Hui smiled quietly and murmured to himself.
“So my bond with those two ends here. That’s rather a pity.”
In that instant, a mysterious azure light flickered and vanished in Yeocheng’s eyes.
She smiled faintly and spoke in the smallest voice.
“That bond feels like it’s only beginning. Though whether its end will be tragedy or comedy, I cannot see.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing at all. By the way, Master Yang.”
“Yes?”
“Have you taken a wife? Or is there someone else you’ve bound yourself to?”
“Pardon?”
Yeocheng broke into a knowing smile and continued.
“You said to live the remaining life with purpose. Wouldn’t a woman fated to die young be rather unappealing?”
“……Is that why you’ve been waiting for me all this time?”
“Yes.”
……
Yang Hui, who had been staring at her dumbly, suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
“First, let’s properly treat that hole in your belly, and then we’ll talk.”
* * *
Guizhou Province.
Zhong Family Manor.
As a pillar of the region, this gentry household commanded the respect of common folk.
Yet in truth, it was one of many front operations managed by Cheonma Shingyeo, the tyrant of the Mado.
“My lord! Where have you been all this time without a word? Sangmyeonggak is in absolute chaos now—and what are all these small ones behind you?”
Gwi Yeong, the personal guard, regarded the cluster of children trailing behind Cheon Hwarin with a bewildered expression.
“Details later. Tell Jang Suksoo to prepare food for the children—keep it mild and simple, no heavy spices.”
“Yes… understood… wait!”
Gwi Yeong’s eyes went wide.
Only now did she perceive the change in Cheon Hwarin.
The aura emanating from her was deeper, richer, and purer.
Gwi Yeong could not fail to recognize what it meant for one versed in Demonic Art to carry such utterly untainted Demonic Qi.
“My lord—have you finally reached the Extreme Demonic Stage?”
Cheon Hwarin answered with a lukewarm expression.
“Seems that way.”
Gwi Yeong’s face flushed with excitement.
“My felicitations, my lord!”
“Congratulations for what? It’s nothing to—”
Such modesty.
Above that lay the legendary Gyeongji called Demonic Transcendence, which rendered even classifications like the Extreme Demonic Stage trivial.
Yet throughout Divine Teaching’s history spanning millennia, those Demon Cultivators who achieved Demonic Transcendence could be counted on both hands.
In other words, the Extreme Demonic Stage remained the practical pinnacle that Demon Cultivators could realistically dream of attaining.
‘It makes no sense when you think about the lord’s age.’
Cheon Hwarin was barely old enough for people to begin mentioning her coming-of-age ceremony.
A Demon Cultivator who hadn’t even reached her twenties, already ascending to the Extreme Demonic Stage?
Not only would the sect be turned upside down, but it would surely be an earth-shattering event for all of Cheonha.
‘I could utterly silence anyone who dares question the lord’s qualifications to become the Young Sect Master……!’
It was then that Gwi Yeong suddenly recalled a fact she had nearly overlooked.
Those who ascend to the Extreme Demonic Stage lose their original nature, and if the condition grows severe, they transform into bloodthirsty ghosts without reason.
Gwi Yeong faltered as she looked at Cheon Hwarin and asked.
“My, my lord—surely this servant is mistaken? You seem perfectly sound of mind.”
“Well, it just ended up that way.”
…….
Just ended up that way, she said, as if it were nothing…….
This was something that might require rewriting every single Demonic Art scripture transmitted within the Divine Teaching, a matter of genuine historical significance to the sect.
Which explained why Gwi Yeong’s face had gone blank.
Of course.
How could Cheon Hwarin not understand her feelings?
But wasn’t it true that everything in this world was relative?
She had witnessed with her own eyes Muk Yeojin’s divine stature, before which her own achievements seemed trivial dust beneath his feet.
That overwhelming presence still burned vividly in her mind.
‘I’m far too small to boast proudly about merely reaching the Extreme Demonic Stage.’
A self-mocking smile crossed Cheon Hwarin’s lips.
Then, suddenly,
she realized she was still wearing the Dragon Tiger Robe.
‘……I can return it the next time we meet.’
The premise of a next meeting had nestled into her heart with surprising naturalness.
She felt an inexplicable certainty that her connection with Muk Yeojin could not possibly end here.
In that instant, Cheon Hwarin’s eyes hardened with resolve.
If one were to translate the Gyeongji that Muk Yeojin had reached into Demonic Art terms, it would be the deepest reaches of the Extreme Demonic Stage itself.
That state known as the Extreme Demonic Abyss.
‘Wait. Before we meet again, I too will reach that place without fail.’
For the first time in her life, Cheon Hwarin made a vow.
Her eyes blazed with a great flame, fed by competitive spirit and jealousy alike.
“One thing more though—I never got to ask. Why did you call me sister? And what was that strange sensation back then?”
“My lord, what do you mean?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing.”
It was then.
Whir-whir-whir-whir.
A massive hawk with crimson feathers came flying and circled above the two of them.
A messenger hawk from Sangmyeonggak, the sect’s intelligence organization, used for urgent dispatches.
Cheon Hwarin deftly raised the hawk onto her forearm and removed a letter from the bamboo tube tied to its leg.
As she read through the letter, deep furrows carved themselves across her brow.
“……We’ll need to advance the date of my return.”
Gwi Yeong’s spirit sank in turn.
“What has happened?”
“A date for Diplomatic Relations with Saeoe has been set.”
……!
The martial world of Saeoe.
Those in Gangho often overlooked it, but their strength was in no way inferior to the Central Plains.
Should any of the three great powers of the Central Plains join hands with Saeoe, the balance of power could tip decisively in a single stroke.
It was unmistakably an urgent matter.
And the faction that had expressed willingness to establish Diplomatic Relations with Cheonma Shingyeo was said to be one of the Saeoe Five Palaces, known for their dominance in Saeoe.
Cheon Hwarin gazed toward the distant southern ridge and murmured softly.
“The Nanman Wild Beast Palace, then…….”

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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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