The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 37

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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 37.
Jekal Cheonseong’s expression hardened.
“You created a Mugong?”
“I did.”
At Muhun’s casual reply, Jekal Cheonseong let out a soft sigh and offered a thin smile.
“Muhun, your reaching Jeoljeong is a fine achievement. I understand your desire to learn Mugong after suffering all these years.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“And seeing that you’ve created the Cheonsan Yeongong suggests you possess genuine Mujae. But creating a Mugong is an entirely different matter.”
Muhun nodded quietly, listening to his father’s words.
“I understand why you wanted to create this new Mugong. Your Cheonsan Yeongong, though based on the Clan’s Socheonseonggong, differs enough that you found it difficult to begin the Sochen Seongsearcheop.”
“You see clearly.”
“Your reasoning isn’t flawed. However, creating an entirely new Mugong in response is not something I can permit. Instead, I will help you refine the Sochen Seongsearcheop. After all, since you’ve already improved upon the Clan’s foundational Heart Method, improving the sword art itself should certainly be possible, shouldn’t it?”
Jekal Cheonseong’s words carried conviction.
In truth, the direction his father proposed might have suited Muhun better.
Since the Cheonsan Yeongong was an improvement on Socheonseonggong, refining the Sochen Seongsearcheop would naturally align with it.
Muhun was not unaware of this.
“You speak wisely. So I too have designed a new Mugong based on the Sochen Seongsearcheop.”
“What?”
Jekal Cheonseong’s eyes widened.
“I understand you’ve seen it—the martial texts are open to all direct descendants of the Clan. However…”
“To go beyond merely using what you’ve read and then create an entirely new Mugong—surely you see the impossibility of it.”
“…You’re right.”
As always, Jekal Cheonseong nodded, his thoughts laid bare.
“The Sochen Seongsearcheop is a supreme art. Apart from the Heart Method, how could you possibly refine a technique when you haven’t directly experienced the principles embedded in each Choshik or their real applications in combat?”
Jekal Cheonseong’s expression was firm.
Certainly, as he said, the Sochen Seongsearcheop was, for a martial art of a clan as much a scholarly house as the Jekal Clan,
—or rather, it was an excellent art that didn’t fall short when compared to any Mugong in all of Zhongyuan.
It even possessed higher stages, and reaching them meant being treated as a Gosu worthy of respect anywhere in Zhongyuan.
His own father standing before him now, Jekal Cheonseong, was living proof of this.
‘Still, the Sochen Seongsearcheop is slow to achieve progress even among orthodox martial arts.’
Even Muyoung, called a genius, had yet to enter the Daecheon Seongsearcheop, the higher art of the Sochen Seongsearcheop.
Given that it took a full year just to learn a proper offensive Choshik, one could measure the depth of that slowness.
Even with Jekal Cheonseong, who had already deeply cultivated the Daecheon Seongsearcheop, offering help to refine it, he would not forcibly accelerate the slow progress for safety’s sake.
Of course, that was not inherently bad.
‘I need a Mugong I can use in combat right now.’
Muhun recalled the event that would occur a year from now and bit his lip.
The very event where the current Jekal Clan Lord, Jekal Cheonseong, would lose his life.
‘This time, I will not sit helpless like that.’
Back then, all Muhun could do was hear the news in the Jekal Clan and sink into grief.
That was all?
When Jekal Cheonseong died, Muyoung, suddenly the Clan Lord, overextended himself trying to reclaim their reputation and was caught in a disaster.
Moreover, as Clan Lord and Deputy Lord, both Jekal Cheonseong and Muyoung had many duties to fulfill.
Helping Muhun would not be easy amidst all that.
Then, in the end, learning Mugong now was the fastest path to becoming stronger.
Of course, there was another reason as well.
“You speak wisely, Father.”
At Muhun’s acquiescent tone, Jekal Cheonseong released a relieved sigh.
“Good. When we return, we’ll begin the refinement at once. I’ll make as much time as I can…”
“However, might I ask you to see the Mugong I’ve created, just once?”
Muhun often indulged in childish fantasies.
Just once.
To show his father the version of himself he couldn’t display in his past life.
He wanted his father to witness his own effort and passion for Mugong.
He had thought of it only as a dream, but now that the opportunity had come, he couldn’t bear to let it slip away.
“…Muhun.”
“Since I’ve already made it, I’d like you to see it and evaluate it. It’s just movement without using Naegong, so there’s no danger.”
Muhun spoke his heart honestly.
Jekal Cheonseong fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
He had already forbidden the creation of a Mugong.
It sat uncomfortably with him to refuse his son’s request a second time.
If Muhun’s words were true and the movement was nothing but technique without inner energy, then there would be no danger in it at all.
Beyond that, the light in Muhun’s eyes seemed desperately earnest.
‘When was the last time I saw this child wear such an expression?’
Remembering those early years when he was sickly and always on the verge of tears, Jekal Cheonseong found he could not refuse him as a father.
“Very well. If that’s the extent of it, I shall watch.”
“Thank you!”
Muhun broke into a radiant smile, bowed deeply to Jekal Cheonseong, and picked up a long branch from nearby.
He snapped off a portion of it, shaping it to the exact length of a sword that matched the Mugong he had conceived.
Then, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he pictured the first Choshik of the Mugong he had created in his mind.
‘He forbade it for now….’
If he actually witnessed this Mugong, surely his mind would change.
Though Muhun had never performed this Mugong with his body before, he was certain of it.
Or perhaps certainty was too strong a word—it was closer to hope.
‘Because this Mugong, apart from my own Mujae….’
It contained the decades of longing that Muhun had yearned toward—in essence, it was a Mugong that was as much Muhun himself as anything could be.
So whether Jekal Cheonseong’s judgment was favorable or not, he could not deny this Mugong, Muhun believed.
With his eyes closed, Muhun sank into Mua and recalled the Myori he had pursued endlessly.
In the end, the most crucial element in creating a Mugong was the first Choshik that would serve as the foundation toward Jeoljeong.
Naturally, it was this very first Choshik that had consumed Muhun’s deepest consideration.
‘What sort of enemies will I face in battle?’
When he thought in those terms, the first ones that came to mind were undoubtedly the Black Assassins.
The Black Assassins typically moved in groups of four—a sword user, a spear user, a hidden weapon specialist, and an archer.
If so, then the sword technique Muhun created must be a flexible strategy capable of countering all of them.
‘Moreover, to reach the extreme state I first envisioned, I must be able to harmonize all Geomri without leaning toward any particular direction.’
A Mugong that could adapt to any situation without being specialized in any particular Geomri.
Did such a convenient Mugong even exist?
By fortune, Muhun already knew of such a Mugong.
‘So I will borrow the Myori of the Dokgogusearcheop.’
The first through eighth forms of the Dokgogusearcheop could be seen as preparatory steps leading to the ninth form, the Pagiashik.
The Pagiashik was ultimately about grasping the initiative by reading the opponent’s flow of energy.
However, merely grasping the initiative meant nothing if one did not know how to move based on the opponent’s weapon, which was why nearly every situation was trained in advance.
Since Pagiashik could only be reached by abandoning Naegong, it was meaningless for Muhun, who needed to accumulate Naegong to uncover the secrets of Giyeonbi, but the process leading up to it had proven invaluable.
‘I cannot seize the initiative in the way of Pagiashik.’
There was no need for him to do so.
The Myori opposite to the Seonbaljeoin of the Dokgogusearcheop.
He knew countless Mugongs bearing the Myori of Hubaljeoin, striking after the opponent.
And among them, the one that suited Muhun best was undoubtedly the Sochen Seongsearcheop.
As a disciple of the Jekal Clan and likewise practicing Cheonsan Yeongong, which was based on Socheonseonggong, it was only natural, but the best fit lay elsewhere.
‘The foundation of Sochen Seongsearcheop is analyzing the opponent’s physique and habits to predict their sword path.’
In this, Muhun had the greatest confidence of anyone under heaven.
‘So, how can I weave the Myori contained in the Choshiks of the Dokgogusearcheop, which specializes in Seonbaljeoin, into the Sochen Seongsearcheop?’
Since the Choshiks of the Dokgogusearcheop accounted for countless scenarios, its movements were exceedingly numerous.
Just the first Choshik alone comprised one hundred and twenty movements—there was no need to elaborate further.
While this was excellent in itself, if one were to strike late and subdue the opponent rather than attack first, those movements needed to be far more refined.
The method Muhun devised was simple.
Muhun exhaled deeply and opened his eyes.
Then he brought the branch to his left hip and grasped the handle with his right hand.
Watching this, Jekal Cheonseong’s brow twitched.
‘Balgeomsul? A drawing technique?’
The art of drawing the sword from its sheath. To draw.
The act of drawing itself was undoubtedly slower in response than holding the sword already drawn.
But what if the Myori of the Dokgogusearcheop, which could handle any situation, were combined with the Myori of Sochen Seongsearcheop, which calculated and predicted the opponent’s movements?
‘Even drawing late, one could surely subdue the opponent with certainty.’
That was the conclusion Muhun had reached.
Sinking into Mua, Muhun conjured a phantom opponent before his eyes.
A tall frame of around six feet, larger than Muhun’s own height.
His weapon: a sword.
A master at the stage of Jeoljeong who had trained in a Mugong employing the Myori of Kwaegeom.
This was an opponent that would be difficult for Muhun, who still lacked proper combat experience, to face.
Yet Muhun, cradling his fear, sought to perceive the opponent’s minute movements and habits.
His concentration was so extraordinary that even Jekal Cheonseong, though facing a phantom opponent, could discern the exact form of the adversary that Muhun had conjured.
Of course, such a thing was possible only for a master of Jekal Cheonseong’s caliber.
Jekal Cheonseong felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his brow.
‘…This child who has never learned a day of martial arts can enter such a state of Mua?’
It was difficult even for masters at the peak of their power, though not impossible.
Yet to display such focus through imagination alone, without ever tasting real combat—it strained belief.
In that moment, the phantom opponent Muhun had created thrust forward with a Kwaegeom strike.
Whoosh—
And in that same instant, Muhun shifted his grip on the sword scabbard.
He had altered the position from which he would draw, matching his opponent’s martial strength.
Then Muhun’s blade emerged, unmistakably a heartbeat slower than his opponent’s.
Clang—
Yet despite being late, a flawless draw reminiscent of the second form of the Dokgogusearcheop’s Pageomshik deflected the enemy’s sword.
Without hesitation, Muhun pressed inward.
His footwork, though imperfect, evoked the Palgwaepo that Jekal Cheonseong himself knew well from the Jekal Clan’s arsenal.
Then, spinning once more in the direction of his draw, Muhun cleaved through his opponent.
The disarmed adversary fell helpless before Muhun’s assault.
Blood welled up where the blade had struck…
‘But it won’t actually spill. Ha…’
Jekal Cheonseong found himself unknowingly drawn into Muhun’s state of Mua alongside him, and a rueful chuckle escaped his lips.
Whether Muhun noticed his father’s thoughts or not, he exhaled a measured breath and set down the twig branch.
“What is your assessment?”
At Muhun’s question, Jekal Cheonseong’s expression grew grave.
“…Is this truly martial arts of your own creation?”
“Yes. It is the first form of the martial art I have devised.”
“The first form, you say…”
Jekal Cheonseong pressed his fingers to his brow for a moment.
“You have woven together the Sochen Seongsearcheop of our main line with an excellent foundation art that favors no particular sword principle.”
“As expected of you, Father. Your sight is keen.”
“Yet the footwork at its foundation is crude.”
Jekal Cheonseong continued in a measured tone.
“Your choice to draw from Palgwaepo, given the Sochen Seongsearcheop foundation, shows sound direction—but the Sochen Seongsearcheop employs Seonbaljeoin, not Balgeomsul. Thus it cannot be deemed suitable for your art.”
Jekal Cheonseong pressed on with his critique.
“Furthermore, the notion of varying your draw’s direction to match your opponent’s strength and deflect their strikes is sound in concept, but in practice, should you fail to read your opponent’s nature precisely, both attack and defense would be naught but a defenseless state with drawn sword—a trap.”
Muhun nodded quietly at his father’s evaluation.
“Father, do you believe this martial art to be unusable?”
At Muhun’s question, Jekal Cheonseong closed his eyes for a moment.
“No.”
And his deliberation over that answer did not take long.
“Considering that you, who have learned nothing, conceived this—I will say plainly, even setting that aside, it is an excellent form. Should you perfect it, there will be no gaps.”
Jekal Cheonseong always places Muhun’s safety first, yet at heart he is a warrior and a scholar both.
He is the patriarch of the proud Jekal Clan, one who speaks truth even when falsehood would be gentler.
“Show me the next form. I will render my full judgment only after.”
At his father’s words, Muhun’s lips curved upward and he nodded.
“You will not be disappointed.”
***
Muhun proceeded to demonstrate every form he had devised thus far before Jekal Cheonseong.
Since they were not yet perfected, some rough edges remained.
This was largely because Muhun had not yet fully acclimated to using his recovered body.
Though there were occasional stumbles, they did not significantly hinder the transmission of Muhun’s intent.
Having observed all of it, Jekal Cheonseong fell silent, lost in thought for a considerable span of time.
And at the end of that silence, Jekal Cheonseong’s conclusion was this:
“The completion of each individual form is remarkable.”
Jekal Cheonseong, himself numbered among the realm’s foremost warriors, offered an objective appraisal.
“Though echoes of the great schools’ classical forms resound throughout, you have not been enslaved by them, instead distilling the essence of their Myori into something wholly your own. That your draw technique serves as the foundation for every form you have shown—in terms of completion, there is nothing to fault.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Muhun smiled, taking his father’s acknowledgment to heart.
“That you, untrained in martial arts, should devise such a system… it is truly extraordinary. Perhaps… you may possess the makings of a Daejongsa.”
“Ha! Such high praise leaves me without words.”
“But one thing.”
Yet Jekal Cheonseong’s assessment did not end with praise alone.
“This martial art has clear limitations.”
“….”
Muhun did not answer, instead listening intently to Jekal Cheonseong’s words.
“At your current level—at the Jeoljeong stage—this martial art will perform admirably. However, once you reach a certain level of mastery, its progression will slow considerably.”
“Are you saying it resembles the martial arts of heterodox sects, sir?”
“Speaking of the speed of advancement, yes—it could indeed approach heterodox methods. But the reason is quite different.”
Muhun showed no great agitation.
It was, after all, something he had already anticipated to some degree.
“Because you extracted only the profound principles of martial arts and distributed them among each technique, I would imagine.”
“Yes.”
Jekal Cheonseong nodded gravely.
“Martial arts are not a matter of technique’s profound principles alone. All the processes needed to deeply comprehend those principles are embedded in the techniques themselves. Yet you borrowed only the results as your techniques.”
In other words, those who learn a single martial art study one profound principle while practicing countless techniques for decades.
Muhun’s martial art, however, was the inverse.
It was a martial art imbued with the arrogance of studying countless profound principles through a single technique.
“For now it will be formidable, but to master each individual technique and reach its zenith… it is possible, yet it would require an eternity of time.”
Muhun smiled faintly at Jekal Cheonseong’s words.
“I understand. And I find it acceptable.”
“If this were merely a matter of reluctance to abandon what you created…”
“That is not it.”
Ultimately, what mattered most was the martial art that could offer the greatest benefit in the near term.
“Surely this would be sufficient to be of aid to Father and Brother, and to the main clan, would it not?”
“That is true, but…”
“Moreover, while perhaps not to the absolute zenith, I believe I can reach a considerably higher level of mastery.”
At Muhun’s confident answer, something flickered in Jekal Cheonseong’s eyes.
“How can you be so certain?”
Muhun paused to consider.
Because of his experience from his previous life, he could clearly identify from whom he might seek guidance, and with the Giyeonbi in hand, he could find countless precious herbs accumulated over ages.
This was the reasoning Muhun had in mind, yet he could not speak it plainly.
“I cannot say. But I thought it better to hold confidence than to surrender to disappointment.”
Muhun grinned broadly, deflecting with his confidence.
“…Heh heh. Is that so?”
Jekal Cheonseong laughed, his voice tinged with rising emotion.
Had it been anyone else, Jekal Cheonseong might have pressed further.
But his youngest, who had always seemed cowed, had become such a robust warrior.
And now, despite difficulty that bordered on the absurd, he displayed his own brilliant martial art without flaw and showed such confidence?
As a father, Jekal Cheonseong could not help but feel pride, and so he chose not to inquire further.
“Ahem. Then you wish to cultivate this martial art?”
“If you permit it, Father. I do.”
“It does not appear particularly dangerous, certainly…”
After a moment’s consideration, Jekal Cheonseong seemed to reach a decision and smiled warmly.
“Very well. To learn only today that you possess such talent—there is no telling what else you might accomplish. Our clan is hardly lacking in warriors, and one trying something like this would be worthwhile.”
“Do you mean…?”
“Muhun, I grant you permission to cultivate the martial art you have created yourself.”
Muhun expressed his heartfelt gratitude with a bow to Jekal Cheonseong.
“Thank you! Father!”
Jekal Cheonseong gazed at Muhun with a satisfied expression.
“Good. But… does this martial art have a name?”
At Jekal Cheonseong’s question, Muhun answered somewhat sheepishly.
“That is… as you yourself observed, it is not yet a fully perfected martial art. I have not yet given it a name.”
Jekal Cheonseong raised an eyebrow.
“Your martial art now appears nearly complete, except for refinement of the movement techniques and the connections between forms. If so, surely your desired direction is already determined?”
“It is.”
“Then consider giving it a name. If you name it from the beginning, your vision may become trapped by that name and narrow in scope. But at this stage of completion, you may instead be able to precisely define the path ahead.”
At Jekal Cheonseong’s counsel, Muhun’s head nodded as though something had struck him.
“Indeed… you are right as always, Father. Thank you.”
“It is nothing—a mere suggestion.”
“No. It has been truly invaluable.”
In truth, something flashed brilliantly in his mind.
Pleased by his son’s praise, Jekal Cheonseong added with a satisfied expression.
“And when you’re considering the connections between Choshik, it would be good to create a verse-formula for it.”
“A verse-formula, sir?”
“Yes. Even in situations where you cannot wield the blade directly, reciting the verse-formula that evokes that Choshik within your mind can serve as sufficient cultivation. Most Mugong possess verse-formulas like poetic couplets that tie everything together.”
“The name and the verse…”
Muhun’s expression grew solemn, and he began murmuring to himself.
He seemed absorbed in Mua once more, but the speed of his concentration was so rapid that even Jekal Cheonseong was astonished.
‘Given what I just demonstrated, his focus already surpasses my own.’
Jekal Cheonseong gazed at Muhun with evident pride.
‘His body has grown considerably. As soon as we return, I’ll need to prepare new clothes for him. And since he’s created a sword technique, I should acquire a proper blade for him as well.’
As Jekal Cheonseong pondered the various new things he would give his son, the two of them climbed back into the carriage.
All the while the carriage Yeong drove carried them slowly toward the Jekal Clan estate, Muhun spoke not a single word, concentrating entirely on crafting the name and verse-formula for his Mugong.
Just as Jekal Cheonseong had said, the very process of creating them sparked new inspiration within him.
By the time a full day had passed and they drew near the Jekal Clan estate.
“Ah.”
“Hmm?”
Muhun emerged from the state of Mua in which he had been immersed.
“Did something occur to you?”
At his father’s question, Muhun slowly nodded.
“Yes. I have decided upon the name and verse-formula for this Mugong I have created.”
“Ho. Excellent. Then what is this name?”
Muhun slowly turned the words over in his mind.
It would have been simple to merely speak them aloud, but this was the moment he sought to confirm once more that the name was truly fitting.
“As you said, sir, this Mugong will require countless ages to reach the highest realm.”
Muhun spoke slowly, yet with quiet conviction.
“But the reason is not that the path itself is crude—rather, it is because this Mugong aims toward a realm so boundlessly lofty that such time is simply required.”
Jekal Cheonseong offered a silent gesture of agreement.
“Just so.”
“I wish to carry that meaning directly in the name.”
As Muhun bestowed this name upon his Mugong, he felt the techniques in his mind arrange themselves with perfect clarity.
Then, naturally, a verse-formula flowed through his consciousness like poetry:
Facing ages unnumbered, yet I shall not hasten my stride.
For in each step forward lies no possibility of retreat.
The blade flows wherever it must, yet never truly ceases its motion.
In this slow current, I am certain the blade shall one day touch the heavens.
And in that final moment, there shall be no second regret.
“The Blade That Reaches Heaven in Late Maturity.”
Upon speaking his Mugong’s name, Muhun found himself smiling, refreshed.
“I shall take that as the name of this Mugong.”

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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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