The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 22

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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 22.
Song Chil felt robbed.
No—worse than that. It was absurd.
‘Is this really how it ends?’
He’d thought there would be some final gambit.
He’d kept his guard up accordingly, yet he’d never anticipated a move like this.
‘Ten years—ten years grinding like a dog to perfect the Cheonhyanggarak—’
And now that very technique was consuming him?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
As those tangled emotions churned through him, a familiar scent drifted into his nostrils.
The same fragrance he’d caught each time he visited this place to document Jang Seung-hu’s condition.
The sweet floral aroma of the Cheonhyanggarak was rising from Song Chil’s own body.
‘This fast…?’
The Cheonhyanggarak’s scent came naturally as Inner Energy vaporized.
It wasn’t merely draining his Inner Power.
The Cheonhyanggarak evaporated everything—his Inner Power and his Innate Life Force alike, leaving nothing behind.
And, cruelly, it released its most beautiful fragrance in that very moment.
Song Chil, who had studied the Cheonhyanggarak for so long, understood instantly when he caught the scent.
‘My Innate Life Force is… draining away….’
The poison, concentrated over a fortnight, was stealing his life before he could even accept what was happening.
Song Chil managed only to move his eyes, fixing them on Mu Hun.
‘What could I have possibly done to deserve this from you?’
It was not a thought becoming of a man who’d tried to abduct Mu Hun, but facing death, Song Chil lacked the composure for such moral arithmetic.
Still, the answer to that senseless question was written clearly enough in Mu Hun’s cold gaze alone.
“Kuh… heheheh….”
Meeting that stare, Song Chil suddenly broke into a harsh, stuttering laugh, like a madman.
“You… you think you’ve won, don’t you?… Heheheh….”
Sensing death drawing near, Song Chil stopped reproaching Mu Hun.
“You may not know it, but we… if one member of our cell dies, we know it instantly. Heheheh… do you understand what that means?”
Instead, he wanted Mu Hun to understand that killing him alone wouldn’t end this.
Even if the plan fell apart, he would not grant them a clean death.
That was the way of the Heuksawi.
“The moment I die, my colleagues will come looking for this place…. By then, perhaps that fool Jang Seung-hu will be awake, but can he face three of them at once after sleeping for a fortnight? Huh, it won’t be… easy.”
At Song Chil’s words, Mu Hun merely shrugged slightly.
“Indeed, it may not be easy with only Master Jang alone.”
“Right… you’ve got no poison now… and you can’t run, you have… no Inner Power left… your guards are probably resting somewhere in a village corner… I’d wager.”
Mu Hun, in response, only curled the corners of his mouth upward.
“You don’t seem to be listening closely.”
“…What?”
“Did I not say so from the start? I was certain you were connected to some vast organization.”
Song Chil blinked for a moment, as though confused.
But quick-witted as any capable assassin, he soon grasped Mu Hun’s meaning.
“Surely… your guards…?”
Mu Hun answered, still smiling.
“Everything unfolded exactly as we planned. You and I entering this house alone, poisoning you with the Cheonhyanggarak.”
Mu Hun nodded once, driving the point home.
“And my guards sweeping the entirety of Suryeopsae to eliminate your three colleagues.”
At that moment, a sharp cracking sound came from Song Chil’s chest.
Snap—
‘…!’
He didn’t need to check what it was.
There was only one thing in his possession that could make such a sound.
‘The Sahonnju…!’
Four black glass orbs, crafted by blending a single drop of heart’s blood from each of the cell’s four members—the Sahonnju.
A hairline fracture would appear whenever a distant member’s heart stopped; it was the very symbol of the Heuksawi.
Two more sounds followed almost without pause.
Snap—crack—
‘All… all three…?’
It meant all three of his colleagues had fallen, nearly simultaneously.
Faced with this incomprehensible turn, Song Chil fell silent, his face draining of all composure as he stared up at Mu Hun.
“You….”
Where resentment and grievance had filled his eyes moments before, fear now took root.
There were countless things he wanted to ask, but Song Chil had no time for them.
“What…?”
He searched for words, weighed them carefully, yet in the end that single utterance was all he could manage.
With that final question, Song Chil’s hand fell away.
Mu Hun stood gazing down at Song Chil’s corpse, still damp with the fear of his last moments.
‘What… indeed.’
Several answers presented themselves, but Mu Hun chose not to voice any of them aloud.
The dead body before him seemed hardly worthy of such courtesy.
‘Though there are ears to listen.’
Mu Hun turned and looked down at Jang Seung-hu, who still lay motionless on the ground.
“Well then, might I inquire after your reflections on all that has transpired?”
Despite the light humor in Mu Hun’s voice, Jang Seung-hu remained still, eyes closed.
At this, Mu Hun spoke again.
“There’s no point in feigning unconsciousness any longer. When I took your pulse just now, I confirmed you’ve already returned to normal.”
At these words, a deep breath escaped from Jang Seung-hu’s nose.
Anyone—even a three-year-old—could have recognized it as a sigh.
“…You’re a ghostly creature, aren’t you.”
Jang Seung-hu opened his eyes slowly and began to sit up, movements measured and deliberate.
Though he seemed to struggle somewhat, rising to his feet posed no real difficulty.
Inwardly, Mu Hun was impressed.
‘Not even a quarter of an hour has passed, and already he’s moving about—remarkable resilience.’
More remarkable still was how swiftly his physical condition had stabilized.
Even a Peak Realm master would struggle to move for half a day after being struck by the Cheonhyanggarak, yet here he was.
It spoke volumes about his extraordinary resistance to his own poison.
“…First, let me thank you. Because of you, I live, and Suryeopsae endures.”
Jang Seung-hu’s gratitude came in a weary voice.
Both his tone and bearing betrayed exhaustion, yet the amber light in his gaze remained sharp as a blade.
Mu Hun nodded slowly, accepting the thanks.
“And your condition—you’re well enough?”
“Well enough would be a lie, but my strength will return with proper nourishment, and since my Inner Power hasn’t degraded in rank, a few days of rest should see me whole again.”
Ordinary men didn’t recover in such a manner, yet something about Jang Seung-hu suggested to Mu Hun that it would be possible for him. He answered with a thin smile.
“Fortunate indeed. Ah, my introduction was delayed. I am….”
“Mu Hun of the Jegal Family, you said? I heard. Well, I never thought the day would come when I owed my life to the Jegal Family.”
At Jang Seung-hu’s words, Mu Hun gave a slight shake of his head.
“Does it matter to whom one belongs when one is saving a life?”
“In this Murim, many think it matters greatly. Especially these days.”
Jang Seung-hu exhaled another deep sigh.
“You asked for my thoughts on what’s happened here.”
“I did.”
“The story may run long—having been betrayed after ten years of friendship, there’s much I wish to say.”
At this, Mu Hun let out a soft laugh.
“I find myself drawn to such tales.”
For decades.
Through all those years climbing from the Murim Alliance’s lower ranks to General, he had heard such stories more than once or twice.
At first he’d found it difficult, but later he came to genuinely enjoy it.
Seeing the sincerity in him, Jang Seung-hu smiled faintly and opened his mouth.
“This is something I’ve never told even to that man lying over there, yet here I am, telling it to someone I’ve only just met.”
Jang Seung-hu glanced back at Song Chil with an expression tinged with complex emotion.
“The deeper the bond, the harder such things are to speak aloud—yet paradoxically, we speak them more freely to complete strangers. There’s nothing strange in it.”
“True enough. You’re right. But there’s another reason I never told that man.”
Jang Seung-hu turned his gaze back to Mu Hun.
“I came from the military. A Hundred-man Commander under the Ming—I commanded a hundred soldiers beneath me.”
!!
At this unexpected revelation, Mu Hun’s eyes widened sharply.
***
“…Tsk.”
Dokgo Hyeon gazed at the scar left on his arm and clicked his tongue softly.
It was a shallow wound, yet the manner in which he’d received it weighed heavily on his heart.
‘Damn it… there’s no way that’s going to work.’
Dokgo Hyeon stared down at the corpse of the man sprawled beneath his feet, irritation etched across his features.
One of Song Chil’s companions, dispatched by Dokgo Hyeon himself.
A member of the Heuksawi.
To be honest, he wasn’t even a second-class martial artist in the true sense—more like the lower end of that rank.
For someone approaching the Peak Realm of first-class skill like Dokgo Hyeon, this opponent shouldn’t have been worth the effort, and indeed it hadn’t been.
Which was precisely why he was so dissatisfied.
‘I couldn’t find the opening at all.’
Dokgo Hyeon had resolved to use members of the Heuksawi—his master’s enemies—as practice partners for the ninth variation of the Dokgogusaem, the Pargiestyle.
He believed that eliminating them with perfect Dokgogusaem technique would constitute vengeance for his master.
But the process was proving far from simple.
‘The theory makes sense, but how do you actually do it?’
The Pargiestyle that Mu Hun had uncovered, along with its subtlety, was fundamentally about the Seonballje.
It meant reading the signs of an opponent’s attack and severing that momentum before it materialized.
To this end, Dokgo Hyeon had poured every effort into reading those signs.
And he had succeeded in cutting off the opponent’s attack the moment he drew his sword.
But it left him utterly unsatisfied.
‘That was just me being faster, that’s all.’
But what if the opponent had been stronger, or at least his equal in cultivation?
Then it would have been Dokgo Hyeon on the receiving end.
‘I can predict the moment of attack, but….’
That prediction rested on experience.
If the opponent prepared for a Sudden Change, prediction would inevitably shatter.
And at the end of all this tedious deliberation, he had earned the wound on his arm.
In the midst of his relentless pursuit of a perfect opening, he had let his guard down entirely, waiting instead—and had allowed an unexpected strike to land.
“I don’t know. Damn it, I really don’t know….”
Dokgo Hyeon exhaled a frustrated sigh and shook his head.
“!”
In the next instant, sensing a presence nearby, Dokgo Hyeon spun around sharply.
“…Oh, it’s you, old man.”
Spotting Ryeong at the edge of his vision, Dokgo Hyeon released a soft breath of relief.
At the same moment, he felt a chill run down his spine.
‘…Even with my attention divided, I didn’t sense him until he was practically on top of me.’
It was only fortunate that he was an ally; had he been an enemy, Dokgo Hyeon would have fallen without a sound.
‘I roughly knew he was stronger than me, but….’
The gap was greater than he’d imagined.
While Dokgo Hyeon wrestled with conflicting emotions, Ryeong opened his mouth in a measured tone.
“I see you’ve already dealt with him. That’s fortunate.”
“Ah, well… yeah. Truth is, this one wasn’t much of a threat, but something held me up a bit.”
Dokgo Hyeon scratched his head awkwardly.
Though he and Ryeong had traveled together for seven days and nights, the man was so taciturn by nature that Dokgo Hyeon had learned nothing of substance about him beyond his reticence.
Which meant dealing with him remained somewhat difficult.
“By now, that young master should have detoxified himself using the Muknimantae and subdued his enemies according to plan. All that remains is for us to report our success.”
At Ryeong’s words, Dokgo Hyeon nodded, though doubt colored his voice as he spoke.
“I suppose… but will it really work out that neatly? I know he’s sharp, but for everything to unfold exactly as he said… isn’t that asking a bit much?”
“I don’t consider that excessive faith.”
Dokgo Hyeon cast a sidelong glance at Ryeong, who had interrupted him mid-sentence.
Ryeong continued undeterred.
“This young master’s designs have been renowned since childhood. They manifested with almost prophetic accuracy. Of course, back then they were merely exercises—chess problems, you might say—but still.”
“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Reality isn’t the same as chess. That part doesn’t worry you?”
“It does worry me, in fact.”
Ryeong did not deny Dokgo Hyeon’s point.
“However, this young master has already proven himself capable of actualizing his designs in reality once before.”
“Really?”
Ryeong was referring to an incident involving Baek Nian Hasuo and the Mok Family, but Dokgo Hyeon knew nothing of it.
Mu Hun had focused on filling the gaps in Dokgo Hyeon’s martial knowledge rather than indulging in self-promotion, which was why he’d never heard of it.
“Yes. Though it occurred within the family, I believe the difficulty then was even greater than what lies before us now.”
Dokgo Hyeon looked to Ryeong as if requesting elaboration, but Ryeong offered none.
He judged that further explanation was unnecessary unless it came directly from Mu Hun himself.
“The household head, being this young master’s father, observes him with a heart full of concern. As do I, truthfully… yet I confess my perspective differs somewhat from his.”
Lyeong looked up at the night sky for a moment before continuing.
“I cannot read Heavenly Destiny myself, but I have heard that Heavenly Destiny speaks of this young master becoming a great blessing to the orthodox sects. I wish to believe in that once. Because I genuinely hope that this young master will become such a person, I trust and follow his commands.”
Lyeong had watched over Mu Hun from the moment he was born.
Though he worked as a guard, a profession that prized dispassion as virtue, he regarded Mu Hun with a tenderness that differed from his father Jegal Cheonseong’s view.
Dokgo Hyeon gazed at Lyeong’s sentimental expression for the first time.
Beneath the impassive face, he could sense a deep affection for Mu Hun.
‘Perhaps it is because he has been loved and raised this way that he can be so confident.’
Of course, Dokgo Hyeon knew well enough that he himself had been loved by his own master.
Only that master had ultimately fallen because of his own mistake.
‘Tsk.’
Dokgo Hyeon shook off his brooding thoughts and forced brightness into his voice.
“Right, since you put it that way, I suppose I should trust that bastard a bit more.”
Dokgo Hyeon then turned his steps toward the direction where Chaejoo’s residence lay.
Lyeong, who had been watching silently, opened his mouth to address Dokgo Hyeon.
“What do you think, Dokgo? What are your thoughts?”
“Hm? About what?”
“Your sword is wavering, is it not?”
“…!”
At Lyeong’s words, Dokgo Hyeon turned back slowly to face him.
“…What are you suddenly talking about?”
A faint anger colored Dokgo Hyeon’s voice, but Lyeong continued without hesitation.
“Can you truly protect this young master with a sword that wavers?”

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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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