Return of the War King Chapter 20

Chapter 20

To see Yu-jin, Yucheon headed toward the annex, but what he saw first were his two younger sisters coming out of the room with the children. When his eyes fell on the little girl, he caught glimpses of Yu-jin’s childhood face reflected in her.

But something was strange.

‘They said they’d act as guides?’

The overly warm and friendly attitude that Yuhwa and Yukyung showed toward the children unsettled him. Of course, they were his younger sisters, and those children were technically their niece and nephew, so he had no intention of scolding them or drawing lines. In truth, Yu-jin had long since become an outsider to the household. Treating her as a guest visiting the merchant clan would have been reasonable.

And yet, the two were buzzing with excitement, even talking about taking the children to the night market. Those sisters, who always loved sneaking off to snack at the stalls, were now acting as if they were willing to share even their little secrets.

‘Why?’

Their behavior was odd from the start. For one, back in the room, they had referred to him as “brother-in-law.” That in itself was a shock.

These were the sisters who had once shouted that he was nothing more than the thug who stole their sister away, far from a brother-in-law. He had expected them to glare, to snap at him, to show flushed, humiliated faces.

Even Father had hurried out, saying he had business to attend to—but his expression hadn’t been grim. Now that Yucheon thought about it, it hadn’t seemed bad at all. It almost looked as though he was pleased. A strange feeling arose in him, the kind of feeling people describe as “fortune rolling in uninvited.”

‘Impossible.’

The unexpected demeanor of Yuhwa and Yukyung sparked bizarre suspicions in Yucheon’s mind. No matter how much he resented his sister for disappointing expectations, their father would never accept someone like Songho Sect’s good-for-nothing son-in-law.

As a merchant, too, he would never willingly welcome someone who had brought such losses to the clan.

With the situation twisting in unexpected ways, Yucheon furrowed his brow. When his sister had returned home restless and uneasy, he had thought to step in and lend her a brother’s support.

‘What trick have you pulled?’

But there was no answer in baseless speculation.

So, he walked to the annex and pushed the door open.

Inside, his sister and the “good-for-nothing brother-in-law” rose to greet him.

“Have you been well?”

“Would there have been anything unusual? Still, it’s been a while.”

Mujin offered his bow, waiting quietly until his brother-in-law and wife finished exchanging greetings. As expected, the conversation felt stiff and awkward. It seemed Yucheon was trying to restrain himself, but there was an edge in his tone. There was no trace of an older brother’s longing for a sister he hadn’t seen in years.

— There’s a sense of inferiority here.

‘And?’

— That’s all.

‘I feel it too.’

Before coming to the Bomon Merchant Guild, Mujin had already done some digging through the Hao Clan. Internally, there weren’t any major problems. Yucheon had secured his position within Bomun by leveraging the power of the Gwak Clan.

Mujin hadn’t investigated the details of that process. What he did know was that his wife had once received a great deal of her father’s expectations. When expectations are too high, disappointment comes just as sharp—and she had endured bitter years under that weight.

Perhaps, as the eldest son, Yucheon had felt ignored in the process.

‘At least he hasn’t crossed the line.’

— Petty, for a grown man.

‘You insulting me?’

— Never said it was you.

‘That’s just twisting words.’

Mujin couldn’t fault his brother-in-law for harboring inferiority toward his younger sibling. Mujin himself had felt jealousy and envy toward his own siblings.

Blood relation didn’t erase the sense of competition. Still, if envy led someone to cross the line, that would change things entirely.

Especially in this case, where Mujin’s wife had effectively stepped back on her own, leaving herself powerless within Bomun.

At times like this, re-educating the mind could be a solution.

— You’re thinking of beating him?

‘Honestly, I feel like it.’

— Very much like the War King.

‘Unlike you, I don’t kill.’

— You can’t fix people.

‘You asking for death?’

— I was brainwashed. In spirit, I was as calm as a Buddha.

‘And yet you talk so much crap!’

Mujin knew he could establish dominance here to send the message “let’s get along from now on.” But his wife wouldn’t want that. He didn’t want to make Yu-jin, who had become an outsider to her family, feel even more uncomfortable.

When her conversation with her brother ended, Yucheon finally looked at Mujin. It was a long, weighing stare. Oddly enough, Mujin felt a flicker of kinship in it—the same gaze he had once thrown at arrogant scions of prestigious sects back when he rampaged across the martial world as the War King. To them, Mujin had been some unheard-of rogue making waves out of nowhere.

“This is the first time we’ve faced each other, isn’t it?”

“I’ll make sure to visit often from now on.”

“But as the eldest son of the clan, don’t you have many duties?”

“The next head of the family is my younger brother.”

At Yucheon’s question, Yu-jin’s expression stiffened briefly before returning to normal. It happened so quickly most would have missed it, but Mujin caught the change.

‘How childish.’

He didn’t think Yucheon was truly ignorant. Even if ties had been cut, he would have learned what his younger brother was doing. To ask regardless left only the question: why?

If Yucheon had always felt inferior to his younger sibling, then asking was a way to rub salt in the wound, to remind them of their positions.

And indeed, in this world, a spouse’s background was often considered a measure of one’s own worth. Cruel though it was, this reality would never change, not in a hundred years, not in a thousand. Backgrounds were everything.

“My condolences. How did it come to that?”

“The title of the next head belongs to the one who leads the next generation of the sect. Naturally, it requires both talent and ability. If someone inherits simply because they’re the eldest, despite lacking capability, it would only spell ruin for the clan.”

It was logical. It was the truth.

Yet what those words meant was: “You lacked ability, so your brother took your place.”

For Yucheon, it was a thorn in his pride. As if Mujin were saying that he had claimed the role only by being born first and being male, not through any talent.

‘…This bastard!’

The words clearly carried a sting, but he couldn’t object. To call it out would be like admitting it was true.

‘Do not cross the line.’

That was the difference between the one who relinquished and the one who clung. The more one fought for an undeserved seat, the more pathetic they became.

Mujin, at least, lived in accordance with his own nature. He wasn’t obsessed with carrying everyone’s expectations.

“Ah, this is a gift. I hope it suits your taste.”

When Mujin offered the gift, Yucheon opened it and nodded.

It was one of the highest grades of white tea. And judging by the fragrance, it wasn’t just high quality—it was among the most prized. Not as rare as the Longjing tea said to be drunk by emperors, but far from cheap. As a gift, it was almost excessive.

Although Yucheon did not enjoy his conversation with Mujin, he made every effort not to show it. To raise his voice here would only diminish his own dignity.

— He’ll be furious once he realizes later.

‘And what of it?’

— Discrimination is wrong.

‘People aren’t equal to begin with.’

If you force yourself to endure things you hate, it only builds resentment until it festers into an illness. Mujin had no intention of living like that.

‘Her family is just that—her family.’

As long as he protected Yu-jin’s comfort, that was enough. After all, his wife was his true life companion. If his own household collapsed, then neither his family nor hers would mean anything. That was a truth Mujin had only realized after becoming the War King.

‘My family comes first.’

****

Meanwhile, Tae-jin and Mi-joo followed their aunts to tour the Garden, located within Bomun’s inner compound, before heading back toward the annex. But on the way, they ran into Yucheon’s children, Baek Cheonun and Baek Cheonyeong.

As they exchanged farewells and were about to part, Cheonyeong and Mi-joo started comparing their older brothers—and that, unintentionally, led to a duel.

It went like this:

“My brother is stronger.”

“No, my brother is stronger.”

“Hmph. If my brother wins, give me that cat.”

“That’s off-limits.”

“See? That means my brother is stronger.”

“No way. Oppa! Crush him for me!”

The eternal and unchanging sibling war.

There was no escape.

Especially since Cheonyeong had her eye on the adorable calf. She was trying to claim it by betting on her brother’s victory.

Tae-jin wanted to stop it there and pull Mi-joo back, but at that very moment the Young Dragon Tournament was mentioned. As it turned out, Cheonun had also qualified to participate. Their preliminary rounds had taken place at different locations, so they hadn’t crossed paths.

Cheonun had suggested, “See you at the tournament then,” but when he taunted, “What, are you scared?” Tae-jin flared up, and in the end, he accepted the duel.

Cheonun had trained in the Lightning Sword, the exclusive martial art of the Gwak Clan. It was a style of fast, explosive swordsmanship built on overwhelming power. Perhaps because of this, Cheonun’s physique was bigger and sturdier than other boys his age.

Yuhwa and Yukyung were troubled by their nephews dueling, but since they were there to supervise, they believed no serious harm would come of it.

And then, suddenly, disaster struck.

Three years older, Cheonun had been confident he could win—but the fight unfolded in the exact opposite way. Tae-jin completely overwhelmed him.

After conceding the first strike, Cheonun never managed to swing his sword properly. Once his hand was struck and he dropped his wooden blade, that should have been the end. But instead, he recklessly lunged at Tae-jin’s back as the boy turned away.

Keughk! Kudada-dang!

Snatching up the fallen wooden sword, Cheonun aimed for his opponent’s back. But Tae-jin whirled and thrust forward, striking just beneath Cheonun’s solar plexus. The older boy crumpled to the ground, rolling violently, convulsing as if he could barely breathe.

Ggeok! Brrrrr!

Yes, Tae-jin had used more strength than he should have. But even if young, Cheonun had struck at a warrior’s back. The price was only natural. If they had been adults, it would have meant death.

Yuhwa and Yukyung, shocked and flustered, finally rushed to check on Cheonun. Luckily, after a moment, his breath returned and his breathing stabilized.

“You brat!”

A furious bellow split the air.

It was Gal Hyomyung, a man of the Gwak Clan stationed at Bomun as Cheonun’s martial instructor. To see the nephew who had inherited the Gwak Clan’s prized sword art utterly humiliated without even landing a strike—it was too much to bear.

Jjirrit!

He was about to spring from the ground when—

“Enough.”

The timing of the voice that cut in was uncanny.

Gal Hyomyung froze mid-step, rage boiling over. Whoever had dared interrupt, he would not forgive. But when he faced the speaker, his anger evaporated like frost under a cold wind. The killing intent lurking in those indifferent eyes pierced straight through his mind.

‘…What kind of gaze is this?!’

Gal Hyomyung was dumbfounded.

Had he grown so weak that mere eyes could suppress him? He was one of the top-ranked first-class experts of the Gwak Clan. To subdue a first-class master with just a glance meant at least a Peak Realm master—a level where, even among the greatest sects, only a handful of fingers could count such men.

Who on earth is this?

“Dad!”

Dad?

At that cry, Gal Hyomyung finally realized the man’s identity. It was Kang Mujin, the eldest son of Songho Sect, infamous throughout the land as a debauched scoundrel. And yet here he was, too terrified to even step forward. His pride burned at the humiliation.

Worse still, Gwak Iyeong had doted on Cheonun. If her precious son was injured and he, the teacher, did nothing, what punishment might await him later? He had to at least show the proper “sincerity.”

‘I’ll just claim I didn’t know who it was.’

If he pretended ignorance, no one would hound him too much. Even if Songho Sect raised a fuss, the Gwak Clan would never bow to them.

Hmph.

He stepped forward, hand reaching for his sword.

Chak!

But the blade wouldn’t budge.

“…How?”

“You’ve got a filthy habit of ignoring warnings. I told you not to move. From here on, everything’s on your head.”

“What are you—Kkraak!”

“Quiet.”

Mujin did not repeat himself. He closed the distance in a flash and seized Gal Hyomyung’s wrist.

Udeudeuk!

The wrist snapped like a brittle twig, as if it weren’t bone but chopsticks. Gal Hyomyung tried to scream in agony, but only a strangled gasp left his lips before he lost his focus.

Claang, Claang, Claang!

Thunderous crashes rang out as holes punched open in the floor one after another. Like hammering nails with a sledgehammer, Mujin slammed him again and again, six times, until the man’s body was battered and the earth itself seemed to flip upside down. He hadn’t even been allowed to resist, not even to thrash.

Ggurrrrk!

At last, Mujin hurled him against the wall.

Gal Hyomyung’s body smashed into the stone, rolled across the ground, his eyes showing only whites as froth and blood bubbled from his lips.

“Dad!”

“Yes, my daughter.”

“That was scary!”

“It’s fine. Daddy’s here.”

“Daddy’s the best!”

Though he had reduced a man to little more than a rag doll, father and daughter remained utterly calm, as if none of it concerned them.

Their composure was chilling—living proof of the saying “like father, like daughter.”

Hul!

Yuhwa and Yukyung finally snapped back to reality. They had been too busy tending to Cheonun to stop Gal Hyomyung from stepping in.

By the time they thought to intervene, it was already too late—the man was nothing but a broken mess.

‘But Gal Hyomyung is a first-class master…’

‘Was brother-in-law always this strong?’

One chaos after another.

First Cheonun was crushed one-sidedly by Tae-jin. Then Gal Hyomyung was utterly destroyed by Mujin. And most shocking of all—Mujin had closed the distance in an instant. Even then, Yuhwa and Yukyung hadn’t even considered raising a hand.

Mujin turned to his stunned sisters-in-law and smiled brightly.

“Could you clean this up?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I’m still a guest. I can’t be the one to handle him.”

“…Fine.”

Shrugging off the troublesome matters, Mujin gathered Mi-joo and Tae-jin and led them to the room his wife used to occupy. Not the annex, but her old chamber—returned to her again, a clear sign that her father’s treatment of her had changed.

“Dad, we can just leave?”

“Trust your aunts.”

Mi-joo hadn’t cared much from the beginning, but even Tae-jin didn’t see it as serious. Compared to the daily training he endured with his uncle, this was nothing.

Nestled in her father’s arms, Mi-joo smirked at the ashen-faced Cheonyeong.

‘You’re dead.’

---The End Of The Chapter---

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