The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 43

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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 43.
Four days had passed since Moo Hyun and Yang Mujin began their arrangement.
Yang Mujin still struggled to make sense of his situation.
If he catalogued every small puzzle, he could list dozens, but boiled down to essentials, there were two.
The first was that Geum Daeyun had released him on the condition of joining the Cheoneneungdan that Moo Hyun was building.
And moreover, Geum Daeyun had promised to step forward as the organization’s patron.
It seemed impossible, but when Yang Mujin asked directly, Geum Daeyun confirmed it as fact—what could he do?
‘Why would that penny-pincher do such a thing?’
The matter itself wasn’t difficult, but Yang Mujin had never witnessed Geum Daeyun cede anything to another without compensation.
Which meant Moo Hyun must have paid some price in return, yet Yang Mujin couldn’t fathom what it could be.
So he’d pressed the question to Geum Daeyun as well.
—A gamble, I’d say. Perhaps the riskiest wager of my entire life, but I am a gambling house proprietor, am I not? I simply judged it worth the plunge.
The only answer that came was one Yang Mujin couldn’t comprehend.
‘Still, though….’
Though it baffled him, the terms of becoming leader of the Cheoneneungdan were so favorable to Yang Mujin himself that he couldn’t call them unfavorable.
True, standing against the Imperial Palace was dangerous, but Yang Mujin—his entire clan had been exterminated by the Imperial Palace—could regard it instead as opportunity.
What puzzled him most was the second thing.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
Thud-crash!
Moo Hyun tumbled across the ground under Yang Mujin’s spear strike.
“Hah… your martial prowess as leader is truly exquisite. Is this the legendary technique of the Yang Family that survives only in rumor?”
Yang Mujin looked down at Moo Hyun, who had already begun calling him “leader,” effortlessly boosting his pride as naturally as breathing, and shook his head.
“Just fundamentals. We agreed from the start to use only this, didn’t we?”
“Ha. Merely jesting. Still, my admiration for its exquisiteness remains unchanged.”
Moo Hyun continued speaking, watching his sword hand tremble.
“I couldn’t endure even ten exchanges this time. I’m acutely feeling the difference between Peak Stage and Absolute Perfection.”
At Moo Hyun’s bitter remark, Yang Mujin laughed as if bewildered.
“A realm, you see, is like a cliff—the higher you climb, the steeper it gets. And you’re only at the threshold of Peak Stage. Normally, that gap would end it in two exchanges.”
“You weren’t channeling your internal energy, after all.”
“No, even so. Remember at first you flew back after two exchanges? Now you’re holding out for nine.”
“Ha. Though I may be a swordsman, watching only fundamentals for two straight days teaches one to perceive the flow.”
“Heh. In just two days, no less.”
Yang Mujin looked down at Moo Hyun with an air of exasperation, laughing.
What baffled him most was Moo Hyun’s talent.
Five days prior, when Geum Daeyun had consented to making Yang Mujin leader of the Cheoneneungdan, and Yang Mujin had confirmed it directly after.
Moo Hyun had arrived at Yang Mujin’s lodgings bearing fine spirits, delicacies, and a contract.
Oddly enough, he himself didn’t particularly enjoy drinking.
When Yang Mujin asked why, Moo Hyun said it was because his body had only recently recovered from Julmeak Syndrome.
—I’ll arrange a proper appointment ceremony separately, but even so, shouldn’t such a meeting include spirits? A martial artist I greatly respect also didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, yet always made a point of attending such occasions.
Yang Mujin found it amusing that an eighteen-year-old would speak so, but since they’d be working together regardless, he invited him inside.
And the stories Moo Hyun shared proved more refined than the delicacies he’d brought.
—You obtained Gongcheong Seokyu, cured Julmeak Syndrome, and reached Peak Stage? And then immediately created your own martial art after that?
Such unbelievable tales were rare even for Yang Mujin, who’d heard all manner of stories in the gambling houses, so he drank without noticing how time passed.
In doing so, Yang Mujin came to understand Moo Hyun as a person, at least somewhat.
‘An orthodox practitioner… no, more like a revered elder of an orthodox sect.’
Yang Mujin, hunted by the Black Assassins from childhood and who’d worked as a gambling house attendant, took considerable pride in his eye for people.
By Yang Mujin’s assessment, Moo Hyun was simultaneously a good person and, in many ways, anything but ordinary.
Moo Hyun was a genius. But that word alone fell short.
‘One could have genius in a single field.’
Yang Mujin himself had reached Absolute Perfection at thirty years old.
If nothing else, that was a rate of achievement counting among the swiftest in the Martial World.
‘But this one….’
Moo Hyun possessed the keenest mind of anyone Yang Mujin had met.
He’d heard of perfect memory, but that alone hadn’t formed this conclusion.
One could excuse the intellect—he was after all a scion of the Jegal Clan—but he possessed a composure that seemed impossible for eighteen.
People ordinarily grow somewhat excited when crises or opportunities arise, or when facing new circumstances, yet Moo Hyun operated by no such rule.
‘I’d thought composure wasn’t something developed through talent.’
Moo Hyun’s composure was the type that shattered Yang Mujin’s common sense.
‘And yet his martial aptitude reaches this level too.’
Moo Hyun asked Yang Mujin for a martial sparring, saying he wanted to fill the gaps in his spear technique by drawing from swordsmanship without being bound by it.
Yang Mujin said it wouldn’t be easy and offered instead to observe his martial arts and give him advice, but when Moo Hyun insisted on experiencing it firsthand through sparring, he relented.
He set the condition that if Moo Hyun could withstand ten of his basic exchanges, he would then show him the Yang Family Spear Technique—reasoning that displaying the family’s secret art from the start would be impossible for him to handle.
And in truth, Moo Hyun could not withstand Yang Mujin’s basics. Not at first, anyway.
He grew to the point of taking five exchanges in a single day, and today he endured nine.
Even if only basics were used, the basics of someone at Absolute Perfection—and in just two days!
Moreover, the martial art he was creating showed no signs of being haphazard; rather, it bore the makings of a Transcendent Rising Technique.
‘This is hardly fair.’
As Yang Mujin felt the unfairness of the world settling upon him, Moo Hyun rose to his feet and dusted off his knees with a smile.
“Then let us go again at once. This time I shall surely withstand ten exchanges.”
Yang Mujin watched him take his stance for a moment, then broke into a knowing smirk.
“There’s no need for that. I already know you’ll manage it. Besides, you’ve got plenty on your plate.”
“I’m grateful for your consideration of my time, but is not a promise still a promise?”
“Don’t be so rigid. A military unit works because orders must always be obeyed, but when no order has been given, it’s the humanity that keeps things running.”
Though he had never actually commanded troops before, these were principles he had learned since childhood as the descendant of the Yang Family patriarch.
“Besides, I’m curious myself now. What help our family’s martial art might offer to the one you’re creating. What it will look like when it’s complete.”
At Yang Mujin’s candor, Moo Hyun regarded him for a moment, then smiled softly.
“Then I shall not refuse twice.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“But if I may ask one thing—”
“What is it?”
Moo Hyun asked with curious eyes.
“The secret arts passed down in the Yang Family are spear techniques, I understand, but what is their name?”
Yang Mujin’s eyes widened at the abrupt question.
“It’s not hard to tell you, but why are you suddenly curious about that?”
“Surely the martial arts of the Yang Family would be worthy of being called divine techniques, and is it not only natural that I, as a martial artist, would take interest in such things?”
“Weren’t you only a martial artist for less than two weeks?”
“Still, a martial artist is a martial artist.”
This was truly Moo Hyun’s real nature.
For decades spanning his past life, he had enjoyed collecting and organizing information on martial arts throughout the Martial World as though it were a sacred duty.
At that gleaming in his eyes, Yang Mujin chuckled.
“True, passion burns brightest at the beginning. If I have an audience so eager as this, I suppose I should give a proper demonstration.”
Yang Mujin twirled his practice spear and continued.
“Our family doesn’t place much weight on the names of martial arts. It’s a technique born in the very earliest days, after all, and what was originally designed for military use became the family’s secret art.”
“Yet surely its power is unparalleled?”
“Well, of course.”
Yang Mujin cracked his neck sharply side to side, then drew a deep breath.
“It’s been a while—doing this properly like this.”
Then Yang Mujin’s gaze grew sharper and his body began to move slowly.
Yang Mujin moved while reciting a brief chant.
The movements too were simple, matched to the incantation.
When blocking, do not retreat.
When grasping, do not lose hold.
When thrusting, death shall surely come.
At first glance, it seemed little different from the basics shown moments before.
Yet the spinning of the spear was far more economical, and the pulling and pressing motions carried far greater weight.
It was a small difference in movement, yet it was the kind of difference most warriors could never achieve in a lifetime of effort—movements that held the very essence of the spear.
Three return to one, and one thrust determines life and death.
Then the final basic movement of the spear form—the thrust—unfolded.
Whoosh—
Slow though it was, the grass on the ground still bent as though a strong wind had passed.
Having finished the demonstration, Yang Mujin made a small sound of regret and put away his spear.
The Yang Family Spear Technique. It’s been so long, the execution isn’t quite what I’d like.
Moo Hyun stared at Yang Mujin with a dazed expression.
“…You say that was lacking? It was a splendid form.”
“Hmm? Did it look that way?”
“Yes. It was quite splendid—”
“Ah, not that.”
Yang Mujin shrugged his shoulders.
This isn’t a form. It’s just preliminary movement—reciting the core chant to ingrain the basics into the body.
Moo Hyun could not hide his astonishment.
“…You’re saying that’s just the preliminary motion?”
“Of course. If I showed you all the techniques and you managed to block every single one, what then?”
At this absurd remark, Moo Hyun let out a hollow laugh.
Yang Mujin unfolded every movement slowly so that Moo Hyun could observe it fully.
Moo Hyun understood the consideration behind it, yet even so, he felt an unmistakable pressure radiating from these motions.
If this were executed at full speed? Moo Hyun was certain he couldn’t block a single technique.
But this was merely the preliminary motion?
Yang Mujin, who had been quietly studying Moo Hyun’s expression, smiled as if amused.
“My, my. Looks like you’re getting a bit nervous. Tell me—should we do a bit more with the fundamentals before moving straight to the Yang Family Spear Technique?”
At those words, Moo Hyun suddenly came to his senses and, after regarding Yang Mujin for a moment, lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile.
“I would be grateful to proceed directly to the Yang Family Spear Technique.”
***
“…I thought you were a body not fit to take blows wandering about, so I let you loose freely.”
Jegal Cheonseong regarded Moo Hyun with an expression of utter disbelief.
Purple bruises were drawn across a fair face that had grown more handsome as he reached Peak Stage, so much so that he was called the most beautiful in Hubei.
Moo Hyun scratched his cheek with an embarrassed expression.
“Ha… as I was sparring with a newly made friend, things simply…”
At this excuse that hardly qualified as one, Jegal Cheonseong exhaled a sigh.
It was customary not to target the face during martial sparring, yet his face had been bruised—his body hardly bore mention.
Of course, his body had reached Peak Stage, and his personal internal cultivation method, the Cheonsan Yeon Gong, was inherently superior, so he would heal in a day. But as a father, his heart found no ease in it.
Yet, having granted permission to become a martial artist, must one not prepare for wounds far graver than this?
Jegal Cheonseong composed himself and inquired about another matter.
“This new friend of yours—is he the leader of that Cheoneneungdan you’re planning to establish?”
At Jegal Cheonseong’s question, Moo Hyun slowly nodded.
“He is.”
“…So you truly intend to stand against the Imperial Palace.”
Moo Hyun laid bare to Jegal Cheonseong all the plans concerning the Cheoneneungdan.
On Cheonseong Mountain, they had spoken in whispers lest the Lord hear, thinking it possible his body might not heal, but now that it had not only healed but risen to Peak Stage, there was nothing left to hide.
Above all, his father had already reported to the Lord about the existence of the Black Assassins, so there was no hiding it even if he wished to.
“It is so.”
“In my heart, I would forbid it a hundred times, a thousand times over.”
Jegal Cheonseong made no attempt to conceal his feelings.
The reason was simple.
“Yet I am deeply grateful that you have granted permission despite everything.”
Jegal Cheonseong had already consented to Moo Hyun establishing the Cheoneneungdan.
Moreover, until clear evidence was found that the Cheoneneungdan struck at the Black Assassins and that the Imperial Palace aimed at the Martial World, he had volunteered to help conceal the organization as merely a group of young martial artists engaged in chivalrous deeds.
“This is because I discovered that the Black Assassins operate with four second-rate members, and moreover, I confirmed the high credibility of the list of those you submitted regarding where the Black Assassins were expected to extend their reach.”
For this permission, Moo Hyun had subsequently compiled a detailed account of all the large and small incidents the Black Assassins were expected to carry out.
Moo Hyun had not known the Black Assassins were active at that time, but once he became aware, it was not difficult to predict their movements.
He remembered every event that had occurred in his past life, and among them were countless incidents and betrayals he had failed to foresee beforehand.
If he thought of them not as sudden explosions but as the result of the Black Assassins’ hidden work, then composing such predictions was merely a matter of writing them down.
Jegal Cheonseong, having verified this at close hand, found himself with no choice but to trust Moo Hyun’s words.
“The accuracy was remarkably high. Without information, it would have been impossible to know.”
“But I was the one who faced the Black Assassins directly, was I not? I merely predicted based on their patterns of activity.”
“I do not doubt your cleverness. Yet… the level of accuracy is still difficult to believe.”
Jegal Cheonseong looked down at Moo Hyun with an enigmatic expression.
“However, I have seen no signs of you contacting the Great Development in any personal capacity, and I even investigated whether you had contacted the Lower Five Gates, but found no such thing.”
“Have I not been quite busy of late?”
“Indeed. So you lack time on the physical level as well.”
In recent days, Moo Hyun had been spending his mornings in martial sparring with Moo Young and his afternoons with Yang Mujin, rapidly honing his martial prowess.
Then at night, he had been deliberating with the personnel to recruit into the Cheoneneungdan and the order of their activities, making it impossible to meet with informants.
Jegal Cheonseong tapped his fingers against the table—tap, tap.
Had the accuracy of the list Moo Hyun submitted been moderate, he would have felt only pride rather than suspicion, but it was so high that he could not help but suspect.
The fact that it turned out to be mere suspicion did not change matters even now.
Yet Jegal Cheonseong was the type of person who trusted the evidence he had investigated, and at the same time, when it came to his children, his heart grew weak.
“I do not fully understand it, but if the circumstances point to that truth, then truly you must have thought all of this through sitting at your desk. Therefore, I have decided to regard you with pride and to offer my support.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Moo Hyun bowed again in gratitude.
“Though I wondered if perhaps my mind had gotten ahead of me, thinking I had received a favor from the Martial World for the first time in my life and wishing to repay it, I am glad that you have spoken to me thus, so that I may believe my thoughts were correct.”
At Moo Hyun’s words, the corner of Jegal Cheonseong’s mouth lifted slightly.
Watching his youngest speak with such propriety and respect, it was hard to suppress a swell of pride.
“Ahem. Yes. Apply yourself diligently. Above all, take care that the children of other clans suffer no serious injuries.”
“Of course. I shall do my utmost to ensure no dishonor comes to our main house.”
“Yes, and…”
Since he had already discussed the Cheoneneungdan several times over, Jegal Cheonseong turned to a new matter entirely.
In truth, this was the principal reason he had summoned Moo Hyun today.
“These past few days I have observed your martial sparring with Moo Young. And I must say, it brings great joy to the main house to see that your martial talent falls not one whit behind your brother’s.”
“You are too kind. Surely I have not yet matched my brother in all respects?”
“Did you not begin far later than he? Besides, what Moo Young learned is the heritage of our house, while your martial arts are of your own creation—such a difference in their pace of development was inevitable.”
Jegal Cheonseong’s smile warmed with genuine pleasure.
“Accounting for all such things, you may well surpass him yet.”
Moo Hyun paused before answering.
“Is it not the blessing of bearing your blood, sir?”
“Ha! You will not deny it twice! Yes. Such confidence too is necessary. Humility and self-assurance are like the two edges of a single blade—wield them well, and all is well.”
At Jegal Cheonseong’s hearty laugh, Moo Hyun smiled in kind, his mood lifting.
Truth be told, Moo Hyun had not yet fully grasped the measure of his own martial talent.
To others, it might well deserve the title of genius under heaven.
But his internal energy came from Gongcheong Seokyu, and his martial arts and mental cultivation had been perfected with the aid of Namgung Seoryong, a figure approaching the pinnacle of all the land.
Regarding the full extent of Moo Hyun’s own innate gifts, there remained a certain opacity.
Still, in matters of martial knowledge he feared no equal, and judging by the reactions of both Moo Young and Yang Mujin after their sparring, he seemed indeed to lean toward the side of true genius.
Even considering bloodline alone, it could be no other way.
For this reason, he judged it wiser to offer a wry acknowledgment rather than excessive modesty.
At this, Jegal Cheonseong stroked his beard with evident satisfaction.
“Yes. Talent, internal energy, martial art, mental cultivation—in none of these do you fall short. Yet there remains one thing you have not yet mastered?”
At Jegal Cheonseong’s question, Moo Hyun understood what was meant and nodded.
“You speak of the technique for projecting internal energy outward, I take it.”
“Precisely. Blade energy, protective force—the very symbols of a master at Peak Stage.”
Jegal Cheonseong nodded at Moo Hyun’s correct answer.
“Today I shall teach you how to command such things.”

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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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