The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 68

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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 68.
At Gwak Tae Kang’s response, Mu Heun’s face clouded with suspicion.
“Surely you haven’t sold it off somewhere?”
“Goodness, no! Never such a thing!”
For a moment, the image of Jegal Family Head wagering the Precious Sword at gambling flickered through his mind, but fortunately it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“Then where have you kept it?”
“…That is….”
Gwak Tae Kang hesitated before opening his mouth to answer Mu Heun’s question.
“…Well, they say to hide a treasure of unparalleled worth, one must throw it into the middle of the marketplace, yes? And so… well, at home….”
“You mean the Eternal Cold Iron?”
Gwak Tae Kang, catching the meaning in Mu Heun’s gaze, launched into an explanation with exaggerated urgency.
“Yes, yes. But there’s nothing to worry about! No one knows that it is the Eternal Cold Iron!”
Regardless, how could such a timeless treasure—unique in all the Central Plains—simply be left at home?
Mu Heun made no outward sign of his thoughts and replied evenly.
After all, he had come precisely to retrieve it.
“…Then, might you bring forth the Eternal Cold Iron?”
At Mu Heun’s request, Gwak Tae Kang scratched his head again, looking troubled.
“I… well, that is….”
“…Is there something more?”
As they say, ill omens rarely miss their mark.
Gwak Tae Kang nodded slowly, as if weighed down by guilt.
“…In truth, there is one other person who knows of the Eternal Cold Iron’s existence. It’s….”
Mu Heun regarded Gwak Tae Kang with an odd intensity as the man kept shifting his words.
‘…This is not how he was.’
Though Mu Heun had not seen him often, the Gwak Tae Kang he remembered was a man of far greater resolve.
Yet what was this display now?
‘Come to think of it… he was quite active in my father’s generation, then disappeared for a time, and only resumed his work once the war began.’
What had happened during that interval?
Mu Heun regarded Gwak Tae Kang briefly, then offered a light smile.
“I would prefer to see the problem directly. Will you lead the way?”
***
Gwak Tae Kang’s house stood in a small village, a considerable distance from the cliff’s edge.
To speak to its remoteness: despite lying not far from Hubei, scarcely anyone there would recognize the robes of the Jegal Clan.
Yet even so, many took note of the fine silk—but seeing it headed toward Gwak Tae Kang’s home, they assumed it was only natural and thought no more of it.
Though Gwak Tae Kang’s house was a humble thatched cottage set apart from the world, true to his renown as a master craftsman, this was hardly the first time someone of Mu Heun’s station had come calling.
‘And this despite his not being active now.’
It was proof of Gwak Tae Kang’s legendary reputation.
Still, Mu Heun’s attention was drawn to something else entirely.
A deep crimson scent so thick it seemed to cloud the very air assailed his nostrils.
It was unmistakable evidence that the Eternal Cold Iron lay beyond this threshold.
“Humble compared to the Jegal Family Estate… but I shall do my utmost to welcome you.”
“Not at all. I am grateful to be received here.”
“Ah, well then….”
Gwak Tae Kang pulled open the door, his face still creased with worry.
Creak—
Mu Heun’s assumption that he would have hidden it away in some secure corner proved wrong.
The moment the door swung open, he found himself facing the source of that crimson scent—the Eternal Cold Iron itself.
What was peculiar was that a young man sat on the veranda, cradling it against his chest as though it were his own child.
Gwak Tae Kang cleared his throat and called to the youth.
“Seon Yong, you wretch. Your father’s arrived, and you won’t even greet him?”
At these words, Gwak Tae Kang’s son, Gwak Seon Yong, glanced sideways at his father.
“…You’ve come.”
Then Gwak Seon Yong’s gaze shifted toward Mu Heun.
“Who is this person?”
Gwak Tae Kang hesitated a moment before answering.
“The one I’ve told you about countless times… the true owner of that Eternal Cold Iron.”
Gwak Seon Yong’s eyes flared with fervor as he clutched the metal to his chest with even greater force.
“No!”
Gwak Seon Yong fixed Mu Heun with a savage glare, something feral flickering behind his eyes.
“This is mine! I won’t give it to anyone!”
Mu Heun regarded Gwak Tae Kang with composure rather than alarm, his steady gaze demanding an explanation for the startling declaration.
“What is the meaning of this situation?”
“That is….”
Gwak Tae Kang answered with a sorrowful expression.
“Forgive me, but may I speak first of my origins?”
Mu Heun nodded.
“I understand you were among the servants who came with the Lady when she crossed over from the Northern Sea.”
“…It seems the Family Head has already told you. Yes, I too hail from the Northern Sea.”
Gwak Tae Kang lifted his gaze, as though looking back into those distant days.
“I had no talent for the Ice Palace Martial Arts, nor any particular gift to speak of—but the young lady, the Family Matriarch, took me under her wing and discovered in me the gift of a Master Blacksmith.”
This was the reason Gwak Tae Kang could work with the Eternal Cold Iron.
“Not only myself, but all those who received her kindness found ourselves naturally following when she departed. She never commanded us to come, yet it seemed only right that we should.”
“…It appears your lady mother possessed great virtue and standing.”
“Indeed, needless to say. Yet, as was her nature, she suddenly announced she would take marriage vows with the current Family Head.”
For those who had come to the Central Plains trusting only in her, it must have struck like a bolt from the blue.
“What astounded us was that, though we had come of our own accord, she took it upon herself to find a path for each of us to live—only then did she marry. The Family Head aided her wholeheartedly in this. Thanks to his kindness, I too found my wife and came to live this life.”
Mu Heun could anticipate what came next.
“And in repayment of that debt, you undertook to work the Eternal Cold Iron.”
“…Yes, that is so. The forge the Family Head built for me and the wages I received that day—it was then I learned that she had passed away.”
Gwak Tae Kang slowly lowered his head, his gaze settling on Gwak Seon Yong.
“Around that time, I was blessed with Seon Yong, and I have been honing my craft ever since, waiting for the young master to arrive someday. But….”
“But?”
Gwak Tae Kang’s fists clenched hard.
“Five years ago, my wife—a merchant by trade—went out on business nearby and was murdered by bandits, the cursed dogs.”
Gwak Tae Kang could not continue; his teeth ground together.
“…Did you report it to the authorities?”
At Mu Heun’s question, Gwak Tae Kang’s expression flared with intensity as he turned to face him.
“The local magistrates ruling over small villages in the Central Plains are invariably corrupt.”
This meant the bandits had connections with the officials.
“…In such circumstances, you could not seek aid from the Family Head, could you?”
Gwak Tae Kang nodded in agreement.
Any letter he sent would have been intercepted, and if it became known that he had attempted to send word, they would not have spared his remaining family.
“So, Seon Yong—who had been learning the blacksmith’s trade alongside me—has clung to the Eternal Cold Iron like his very flesh and blood ever since that day.”
At this, Mu Heun tilted his head slightly.
“If I may ask, what connection does the Eternal Cold Iron bear to this matter?”
“Ah…? It seems you have not heard the tale.”
Gwak Tae Kang answered in a sigh-laden voice.
“In the Northern Sea, it is a famous story—that the Eternal Cold Iron grants its owner’s wishes. A fairy tale of sorts.”
Having heard this tale since childhood, Seon Yong began, from that day onward, to pray to the Eternal Cold Iron every day.
“He prayed for vengeance, for the deaths of those men—such wishes. No matter how much I tell him it is meaningless folly, he will not listen.”
“No! The Eternal Cold Iron promised me—it surely promised me vengeance!”
Gwak Seon Yong, who had been listening quietly until now, burst forth with rage.
Gwak Tae Kang, in turn, answered with an agitated voice.
“How many times must I tell you—you are entranced by the Cold Energy within it! Only those who carry the blood of the Ice Palace Master, like this young master here, can command such energy!”
“No! That cannot be! Father, you simply do not understand! You do not!”
Gwak Seon Yong unleashed a torrent of words, then caressed the Eternal Cold Iron once more.
“Is that not so? You are not lying to me, are you? You will grant me vengeance?”
Watching this, Gwak Tae Kang squeezed his eyes shut and offered an apology to Mu Heun.
“…I am truly sorry to display such a scene. Young master, please do not worry. I have no intention of breaking my word. Somehow, with the Eternal Cold Iron, I will forge your martial artifact.”
“Enough of this nonsense! What is there to admire about the Jegal Clan, when they could not even save my mother? Why should he be given this?”
“You will be silent! This object was never ours to give in the first place!”
“That is a lie! It is mine! Mine!”
Mu Heun observed Gwak Seon Yong with a serene expression as the young man shouted with eyes so wide the blood vessels stood out, then smiled faintly.
“Gwak. The exact wish you are making to the Eternal Cold Iron—what is it?”
“…What?”
“You said you are praying to it, did you not? May I ask the nature of that wish?”
Gwak Seon Yong regarded Mu Heun with suspicion.
Yet to meet his gaze for long proved difficult.
Mu Heun had done nothing, but such was the nature of one who stood at the Peak as a Martial Artist.
On an instinctive, biological level, Gwak Seon Yong recognized the gulf between himself and his interlocutor.
Gwak Seon Yong answered in a blunt tone.
“Of course the magistrate’s office and those rotten Green Forest bastards will all face justice for their crimes. What are you asking for?”
“I see.”
Mu Heun continued without dropping his smile.
“However, that Eternal Cold Iron will not be able to fulfill your vengeance.”
“What? You little—”
“Instead, I will accomplish it for you.”
At Mu Heun’s sudden declaration, not only Gwak Seon Yong but Gwak Tae Kang also looked at him with startled expressions.
“Y-young master? What do you mean right now—”
Mu Heun answered as if it were nothing at all.
“The vengeance of both the blacksmith and your brother—I shall accomplish it.”
Then Mu Heun shrugged his shoulders as if to emphasize his resolve.
“In exchange for forging my martial artifact from that Eternal Cold Iron.”
***
That night, bandits were throwing a festival at a hideout on the mountainside of an unnamed peak.
“Hah! Vice-chief, let me drink from your cup!”
“Oh my! A cup offered by you, chief? This won’t do as a cup! I’ll take it as a bowl! Hahahaha!”
“Gahahaha! There’s that wit! This hideout grew so large thanks to you, Vice-chief!”
Chai Ju drained his cup in one go, then surveyed the plunder they’d taken that day.
“Because the Vice-chief connected us so well with the magistrate’s office, we’ve grown fat off five years of easy pickings! Hahahaha!”
“Haha! That’s hardly my doing, chief! It’s all the foundation you’ve built over the years, isn’t it?”
“Puhaha! Is that so?”
The man called Vice-chief drained another cup with a laughing face, yet his thoughts ran differently.
‘A greedy, brutish pig.’
This fool had nearly destroyed the hideout more than once.
If this pig of a man weren’t near First-Rate in martial skill, there would have been no need to toil so hard to keep this hideout alive!
‘And yet, even that will end soon.’
With the magistrate’s office—which favored him far more than Chai Ju—at his back, the Vice-chief was carefully nurturing his dream of rebellion.
‘Just by consuming those spirit medicines this fool pilfers, I’ll reach First-Rate in no time. No? Will it stop there? One day I’ll climb to the very top of the Green Forest—to lead all seventy hideouts!’
The preparations were already nearly complete.
All that remained was to spread word of the plan over the coming days and slit this pig’s throat alongside his loyal subordinates.
Just as the Vice-chief was thinking this, a delicate voice—utterly out of place in a bandit hideout—reached his ears.
“Ah. So you’re the brains of the operation?”
“?!”
Not only the Vice-chief but Chai Ju himself leaped from his seat, startled by that voice.
“W-what! Who are you! How did you find this place?”
Mu Heun, who had inserted himself into the conversation, answered as if it were obvious.
“Wouldn’t it be strange not to find a festival as grand as this?”
“No! What I mean is—how did you slip between us without a trace, not a single sound!”
“Surely that’s something you can work out if you think about it?”
The simpleton Chai Ju still seemed lost, but the Vice-chief was not.
‘This man… he’s strong!’
Even a useless pig like Chai Ju possessed First-Rate martial skill, yet he hadn’t detected this intruder’s presence—which meant this visitor was at least a Master-Stage martial artist.
Having reached that conclusion, the Vice-chief wasted no time and threw himself into a desperate escape technique.
“…Huh?”
Yet somehow, despite having clearly launched forward, his body crashed back to the ground.
It didn’t take long to understand why.
“A-a-aaahhhhh!!”
One of the Vice-chief’s legs had been severed, sliced as cleanly as if by a blade.
“It’s late. I’d prefer you not scream so loudly.”
Mu Heun quickly struck the Vice-chief’s pressure points.
At once, the blood that had been streaming from the Vice-chief’s severed leg ceased to flow, and his screaming mouth locked shut.
Only then did Chai Ju grasp what was happening.
“A… a master…”
“Yes, now you speak the truth.”
“W-why are you here? Why us?”
At Chai Ju’s question, Mu Heun let out a soft laugh.
Yet his eyes were not laughing at all.
“Another foolish question, I see.”
Mu Heun spoke in an ancient, weary tone, clasped his hands behind his back, and continued forward.
“First, I have heard of your crimes, and I have come to punish the one responsible for them.”
Before the words had even left his mouth, Chai Ju—thinking Mu Heun had grown careless and left an opening—rushed forward.
Since Mu Heun had shifted his stance and was now facing away from him entirely, it looked to Bu Chai Ju like the perfect opportunity.
Whoosh—
But it was only a dream.
Chai Ju’s head, a Second-Rate martial artist and master of the Mountain Hideout, flew through the air like a child’s discarded gourd.
“Second.”
Mu Heun continued without pause.
“If I want to finish things quickly, a general’s blade comes before words with a scholar.”
Mu Heun looked down at Bu Chai Ju with an icy gaze.
“I’m in rather a hurry, so you’d do well to follow quietly.”
Faced with that murderous look, Bu Chai Ju trembled with a terror he had never known, nodding frantically again and again.

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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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