The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 46

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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 46.
Mu Heun drew a deep breath and seized the sword’s grip.
Yang Mu-jin likewise steadied his breathing, holding his spear low.
Despite it being a friendly sparring match, a sharp, cutting tension hung between them.
Neither needed to invoke that old adage—train as if in battle, fight as if in training—for both understood it perfectly.
Yang Mu-jin nodded at Mu Heun and spoke.
“Shall we proceed as before, with me conceding the first three moves?”
Mu Heun readily nodded in agreement.
“Yes. That suits me fine.”
“Good. Come at me as you will.”
“Then….”
Whoosh—
Mu Heun crouched lower, keeping his grip on the sword’s hilt.
Yang Mu-jin, who had sparred with Mu Heun repeatedly over the past days, could sense that his martial prowess had advanced another level entirely.
‘Lowering further… gathering his strength,’ he mused.
The first form of the Manseong Cheondo Sword—Manseong Kaedo—is a quick-draw technique.
The essence of a quick-draw lies in the speed of unsheathing.
This principle held whether one struck first or second.
‘Ilbobultwae… no, he’s weaving in the principle of Cheondomujeong right from the start. That’s it.’
Yang Mu-jin smiled, pleased. This was exactly what he’d wanted.
He longed to experience firsthand the true martial art of a genius perfected by this new footwork called Cheondomujeong.
As if answering Yang Mu-jin’s wish, Mu Heun’s coiled form shimmered and became one with the surrounding landscape.
Then his entire body shot toward Yang Mu-jin with blinding speed.
Such was the explosive power of Cheondomujeong reinforced by Ilbobultwae.
Manseong Cheondo Sword, First Form: Manseong Kaedo.
Clang!
In an instant, Mu Heun’s blade crashed violently against Yang Mu-jin’s spear.
In that impact, Yang Mu-jin’s eyes widened.
‘Faster and heavier than I anticipated.’
He’d expected much, but this exceeded it.
Where the previous Manseong Kaedo had bounced off his spear, this strike actually drove it back slightly.
‘Excellent. Yet….’
Yang Mu-jin and the Yang Family Spear Method were not ones to be pushed back by this alone.
Mu Heun knew this as well.
Without allowing even a moment’s respite, he retracted his sword and lunged toward Yang Mu-jin once more.
Yang Mu-jin, obliged only to defend by virtue of conceding three moves, gripped his spear vertically rather than thrusting, bracing for the assault.
Then came Mu Heun’s next move.
As he rushed forward, Mu Heun’s body buckled as if collapsing, his blade diving toward Yang Mu-jin’s ankles.
The blow came without warning.
Clang!
Unanticipated though it was, Yang Mu-jin reacted with blinding speed, driving his spear downward to intercept Mu Heun’s lower strike.
A supreme martial master’s reflexes operated at a level ordinary imagination could scarcely fathom.
Recognizing this clearly, Mu Heun sprang sideways as if he’d expected nothing less.
Despite crouching nearly to the point of falling, the footwork of Cheondomujeong enabled such movement.
“From that crouch, you slip to the flank? Ha. Remarkable.”
Yang Mu-jin laughed in disbelief, swiftly spinning the spear he’d driven into the ground.
Whirr—
That fierce rotation lightly deflected Mu Heun’s sword as it cut toward his side.
“That concludes my concession. Now I get to attack.”
At Yang Mu-jin’s words, Mu Heun smiled wryly.
“You never emphasized that point in our sparring before. But today is different, I see.”
“Of course. Until now it was only half-martial art—without proper footwork.”
Yang Mu-jin remained unshaken by the somewhat provocative remark.
“Today it’s true martial art. Shouldn’t I heighten my own intensity accordingly?”
With that, Yang Mu-jin angled his spear tip forward.
Whoosh—
In that instant, Mu Heun felt the air around Yang Mu-jin’s spear tip drawing inward as if sucked in.
It was a phenomenon born purely from principle and essence, without any expenditure of internal energy.
“…”
Mu Heun exhaled slowly, focusing all his attention on the Yongcheon acupoint in the soles of his feet.
Yang Mu-jin’s eyebrows lifted with evident interest.
“Oh. Not backing away this time? Confidence, I see.”
“If either of us cannot withstand this technique form, it stands to reason the next will be beyond our reach, does it not?”
“That’s sound analysis, certainly.”
Yang Mu-jin twisted the spear in his grip, his smile taking on a predatory edge.
“But only if you survive this one.”
—Twisting at the waist to sweep like wind—
—All that the spear touches shall be severed—
The Yang Family Spear Method, First Form: Horizontal Sweep Thousand Soldiers.
Crack!
The air gathered at Yang Mu-jin’s spear tip detonated, the shaft erupting into a devastating rotation.
The spear descended with the essence of pushing force—Barrier—at its apex, hurtling toward Mu Heun without mercy.
This was no mere push; the destructive power screamed of annihilation.
There was only one way to stop the tyrant-like Horizontal Sweep Thousand Soldiers at such proximity.
‘The essence of the Flexible Sword…’
True, he had used it in every friendly sparring match before, but success had come only once.
Even then, he’d barely deflected it from a distance.
Yet today would be different. A certainty close to intuition flooded Mu Heun’s mind.
Mu Heun closed his eyes and began to chant his mental formula.
—In the realm where black and white remain undivided, the immortal paradise flows freely.—
—We gaze up at that dream, though its heights are beyond reach.—
—Let the mind be vast as heaven, the body flow like a river.—
—Upon that, raise clouds to dance in imitation of them.—
Mu Heun’s blade tip began to move with fluid grace, like clouds drifting across the sky.
His blade point rotated in concert with the Horizontal Sweep Thousand Soldiers’ spin, and in the next instant, Yang Mu-jin’s spear met it.
For a moment, shock flashed across Yang Mu-jin’s eyes.
“—!!”
The spear that had rushed forward with savage force grazing Mu Heun’s blade tip, its trajectory warped completely off course.
No impact. No sound at all. As if this had been its intended path from the start.
What was needed was the essence of the Flexible Sword, and the Manseong Cheondo Sword drew its foundation from the Soft Heaven Star Sword, which inherently embodied that essence.
Yet the technique form he was executing now was not that of the Soft Heaven Star Sword.
By fortune, Mu Heun had been exposed to an even deeper Flexible Sword practice since childhood.
One of the great orthodox sects that divided Hubei alongside the Jeol Sega, called the very foundation of all Daoist schools—a pillar of the righteous path.
The Wudang School’s Tai Chi Wisdom Sword. A technique form derived from the essence of the Flowing Cloud Sword Method that forms its foundation.
—Manseong Cheondo Sword, Second Form: Flowing Cloud.—
Such was the name of this technique.
“Excellent. Truly masterful!”
Yang Mu-jin laughed with genuine delight.
Mu Heun had already thwarted Yang Mu-jin’s Horizontal Sweep Thousand Soldiers using the Flowing Cloud before.
But it had been far from perfect then. Unstable, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest disturbance.
Now, however, it was different. The Cheondomujeong’s suppleness now supported a firmness born of that very softness, revealing a flawless rotation.
“The Wudang priests might lose their jaws if they saw this.”
To that degree, the Flowing Cloud that Mu Heun had unleashed resembled almost perfectly the Flowing Cloud Sword Method that Wudang took such pride in.
The difference lay in this: unlike the Flowing Cloud Sword Method, which consisted of multiple technique forms, he had distilled all its essence into a single form.
Remarkably efficient, yet not something anyone could accomplish.
For essence was not something one could perform with the body simply because the mind grasped it.
Those capable of such were called geniuses by the world.
“A genius, you say. The world calls those like the Commander such, yet to receive such words from you leaves me uncertain where to stand.”
“Bah, I don’t care for men cooing at each other like that. Your talent is undeniable, certainly.”
Yang Mu-jin resumed his spear stance.
“The sparring continues in earnest. Best stay focused.”
Mu Heun nodded and returned his attention to the bout.
There was satisfaction in perfecting the Flowing Cloud, but praise could wait until later.
Besides, his opponent was a supreme martial master who seemed barely human even without drawing upon internal energy.
Yang Mu-jin took his stance once more.
This time he neither lowered his spear tip nor gathered the air around him.
Yang Mu-jin twisted his waist sharply to the right.
He rotated so far that Mu Heun could see only his back.
Yang Mu-jin glanced over his shoulder at Mu Heun, then lifted his left leg, contorting his body further still.
The grotesque posture appeared at first glance to be riddled with openings, but Mu Heun recognized it for what it was—a trap.
‘I took quite a beating there.’
After that initial rush, what happened next had left Mu Heun unable to recover for nearly two heartbeats.
And that was despite the attack carrying no internal energy.
Yang Mu-jin seemed to recall the scene as well, his voice colored with amusement as he asked.
“So? Think you can block that form with your technique again?”
Could he deflect that with Flowing Cloud?
Mu Heun’s conclusion came swiftly.
‘I can’t block it.’
It wasn’t that Flowing Cloud was an inadequate form—it was a matter of mastery.
‘That technique, unlike the Horizontal Sweep, strikes in a perfect straight line. To redirect it requires a deeper understanding of the Flower Grafting Technique’s essence.’
The essence of Flower Grafting lay in redirecting the opponent’s force with a different force.
Since it shared the same principle as the heart of Flexible Sword, Mu Heun had paid it the most careful attention, and his theoretical understanding was sound enough.
But wasn’t this the first time he’d executed Flowing Cloud flawlessly?
His mastery could only be lacking at this moment.
‘Then…’
Mu Heun steadied his breathing and raised his blade high above his head.
At that sight, Yang Mu-jin’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Surely you’re not thinking of meeting force with force?”
Yang Mu-jin could interpret it in no other way.
The stance Mu Heun had adopted was fundamentally one of swordplay—a downward vertical strike, one of the most powerful attacks in any arsenal.
Mu Heun let out a hollow laugh and gestured his acknowledgment of Yang Mu-jin’s reading.
“I can’t think of any other choice.”
Yang Mu-jin laughed back in disbelief.
“Sounds like you’re betting against yourself. Are you sure?”
“I lack confidence in myself overall… but in this particular form, I’m quite certain.”
Mu Heun planted the Yongcheon acupoint in the sole of his foot firmly against the earth.
“After all, the original source of this form is a martial art that splits Mount Tai itself.”
“Splits Mount Tai…”
Preposterous as it sounded, Yang Mu-jin didn’t dismiss Mu Heun’s words as mere boasting.
‘He chose this form—not one descended from Tai Chi Wisdom Sword, but this one.’
The essence of Tai Chi Wisdom Sword centered on turning the opponent’s attack back against them, and so its destructive power fell short of its reputation.
Yet it was undeniably a supreme technique representing the school. For deflection, there was nothing its equal.
And yet he’d chosen to assume that stance and meet force with force—which meant either the boast about splitting mountains was empty air, or the destructive power of that form was truly extraordinary.
“Now that stirs my blood.”
How long had it been since he’d shared such a joyful exchange with an opponent?
Yang Mu-jin had lived through prolonged combat, but only for survival.
For him, martial arts was no playful contest—it was a desperate struggle for existence.
And yet he too was born of a martial clan, a supreme martial master.
“Thank you.”
Yang Mu-jin offered his gratitude suddenly.
“I’d forgotten. I thought such feeling was beyond me now—that I’d worn it away entirely, sanded it down to nothing.”
But he was wrong. Through this friendly sparring with Mu Heun, Yang Mu-jin rediscovered that he still loved martial arts as a martial master.
“Since you’ve given me such a gift, I owe you a proper response.”
Yang Mu-jin twisted his contorted body one final time, winding it even tighter.
“Let’s do this—force against force.”
Mu Heun nodded, smiling at Yang Mu-jin’s words.
Then Yang Mu-jin’s twisted frame began to uncoil in an instant.
The rebound force of the earth, rising from the Yongcheon acupoint in his feet, unspooled the torsion in his ankles, knees, and hips, creating tremendous explosive power.
It traveled up through his waist and flowed along his arms until it lodged within his spear.
The explosive force of the earth, concentrated into a single point, began tracing one perfectly straight line across the world.
One thread of spear-light pierces heaven and earth.
Who dares stand before such a thing?
A line becomes a path. All creatures fear its edge.
The Yang Family Spear Method, Third Form: Direct Thrust Heart Pierce.
Crack—!
A killing-sharp line capable of piercing all things tore through the air and shot forward.
As Mu Heun watched it come, something else intruded into his vision.
Memory from his previous life.
After war broke out, Mu Heun’s personal visits to the battlefield had been rare—few enough to count on one hand. His body had grown worse with each passing day.
But in those early times when he’d retained some measure of health, he’d visited often enough.
And on that battlefield, Mu Heun faced the imperial army, which had seized Mount Ami and made it their stronghold.
As he pondered how to breach their defenses, a martial master approached him.
“Mu Heun, are there still members of the Wudang School or other civilians remaining on the mountain?”
“No, there shouldn’t be. We’ve evacuated all the survivors, and we’ve forbidden civilians from entering.”
“Then there’s no problem.”
With those words, he dismissed the other martial masters and stood alone before Mount Ami.
“What do you intend to do?”
“Hmm.”
To Mu Heun’s question, he offered an unexpected answer.
“Mu Heun, I’ve always thought that martial masters are beings who constantly encounter walls. The higher we climb, the greater the walls that block our path. Sometimes they seem utterly insurmountable.”
“Suddenly? What’s your point?”
“Ha. Then I thought to myself—why must I scale this wall? Why not simply cut it down instead?”
With that, he prepared a sword stroke that would inspire Mu Heun for the rest of his life.
“Isn’t that what true martial mastery looks like?”
In the next instant, Namgung Seo-ryong, the leader of the Murim Alliance, drew his blade, and Mount Ami split in two.
Cleaving a mountain asunder—this was no boast Mu Heun had picked up from idle gossip, but a sight he witnessed with his own eyes.
‘I could never match it…’
Haunted by the memory of that singular stroke, Mu Heun found himself laughing softly without thinking.
‘Still, I’ll do my best to come close. Seo-ryong.’
“What I cannot forget is the Azure Heaven I faced this day.”
“After witnessing this, what else could I ever call the sky?”
“The path he has walked is the path I shall walk.”
“To have walked beside him will be my life’s greatest honor.”
The fourth form of the Manseong Cheondo Sword.
“Azure Heaven.”
A heavy downward cut, as though dragging the sky itself down to earth, crashed upon the straight line traced by Yang Mu-jin’s spear.

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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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