The Martial God with Psychic Powers-Chapter 118

Yang Munseong stood alone after bidding farewell to Jeon Yeo.

In his hand were records brought by a subordinate—dossiers on the students enrolled at Baekyeong’s Advanced Division.

These documents chronicled the students' growth over the past year.

“...Good heavens.”

He had assumed they had barely scraped into the Apex-Level.

He had been wrong.

One student had risen from Five-Star First-Class all the way to Five-Star Apex-Level.

Such progress wasn’t technically impossible in a year.

But the child’s background didn’t belong to a clan capable of providing the kind of resources needed to reach such heights.

One name, in particular, stood out—Jang Woon.

He had ascended from beneath even the First-Class threshold to Six-Star Apex-Level.

What Yang Munseong didn’t realize was this:

Even the information in his hands was outdated.

The students’ current levels hadn’t yet been formally registered.

And still, the growth was staggering.

“Are they truly learning demonic arts? Could that explain such rapid advancement?”

His pupils darted nervously across the page.

“No—this calls for a direct inspection.”

He resolved then and there to visit Baekyeong Advanced Division the very next day.

*****

The following day.

Yang Munseong arrived at Baekyeong and greeted Jeon Yeo before beginning a thorough inspection.

The facility catered to scholars more than warriors.

Unlike other divisions that emphasized training grounds, Baekyeong focused on its library and reading halls.

The sparring arena didn’t even appear to be in use.

“What is this? That dust... does no one train here at all?”

Where, then, did these martial students hone their skills?

In private?

That couldn’t be it—Jeon Yeo himself had said that his grandson, Gwak Pyeong, trained the students.

Which could only mean one thing—there was a secret location for training.

That made things even more suspicious.

Why train in secret?

They must have a reason.

More and more, the signs pointed to something deeply irregular.

If they really were cultivating demonic arts...

In the worst case, Baekyeong could be shut down completely. The families of those students could be exiled from Mushincheon and branded traitors to the martial world.

It could erupt into a scandal that would rock all of Mushincheon.

Praying it wouldn’t come to that, Yang Munseong continued his quiet investigation.

Just then, the school bell rang, and students poured into the hallways.

From a distance, it became easy to tell who was a scholar and who was a martial student.

Most drifted toward the library. A smaller group moved quickly in formation, heading elsewhere.

Yang Munseong silently followed them.

****

“Baek Yaksa?”

The students’ destination turned out to be a secluded temple known as Baek Yaksa.

Surrounded by dense forest, it would’ve been invisible were it not for the stone marker bearing its name.

As he approached, something began to feel off.

His head clouded, the path disoriented him—it felt like he was circling the same spot over and over.

A formation.

A formation barrier had been laid across the approach.

Now there was no room for doubt—these students were concealing forbidden martial arts cultivation.

His face grew tense.

He took a deep breath and assessed the flow of his Qi. First, he had to escape the formation.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t particularly complex.

“What? That was easier than expected...”

He found himself outside the formation almost effortlessly. Confused, he paused.

If they were really hiding something, why make the formation so weak?

“Do they lack formation mastery?”

No. That wasn’t it.

It had been deliberately made simple, likely so the students themselves wouldn’t get lost. It functioned more as a perimeter wall than a true seal.

In fact, if someone got lost for too long, the formation would eventually push them back outside.

It wasn’t meant to stop intruders—just to avoid casual detection.

But that subtlety only made it more suspicious.

Yang Munseong advanced cautiously toward Baek Yaksa, taking care not to be seen.

But someone had already seen him.

Jeok Seong.

He immediately sent a Thousand-Mile Whisper to Yeon Woo Jin.

—“Young Lord, we have an outsider. Shall I intercept him?”

—“An outsider?”

—“Yes. He’s tailing the students, but very discreetly.”

—“Do you recognize him?”

—“Apologies, I don’t.”

—“Hold on. I’ll send Uncle Ho Seong.”

—“Understood.”

Moments later, a message came from Chun Ho Seong himself.

—“It’s the Head of Recruitment.”

—“The Head of Recruitment?”

—“Yes. He must’ve sensed something and followed them secretly.”

—“Looks like Hwang Sung’s efforts to block them have reached their limit.”

—“What shall we do? If you don’t want to deal with him in the future, bringing him under your banner wouldn’t be a bad move.”

—“Feels like I’m stealing Grandfather’s men again.”

—“Lord Cheon Baek won’t see it that way.”

Yeon Cheon Baek was the sort of man who would hand over the Mushincheon Lordship with a broad grin if Woo Jin asked.

He’d been proud watching Woo Jin slowly take command.

If anything, he’d encourage it—never resent it.

A moment of silence from Woo Jin.

—“Is he trustworthy?”

—“Yes. He’s absolutely loyal to Lord Cheon Baek.”

—“Will he follow me?”

—“If you show just a hint of your strength—probably.”

—“A hint, huh? That sounds embarrassing...”

—“Then let me fawn over you a bit. If I act like an over-the-top sycophant, he won’t be able to refuse you.”

—“Over-the-top?”

—“Yes. I’ll go on about your greatness and ask you to demonstrate. You can pretend you’re reluctantly obliging me.”

—“What exactly are you going to say?”

—“Heh. Just trust me.”

It made Woo Jin uneasy, but the confidence was infectious.

—“Alright. Bring him to me.”

—“With pleasure.”

****

From a hidden vantage, Yang Munseong watched Baek Yaksa.

Every student of Baekyeong’s Advanced Division was gathered, engaged in training.

What he saw shocked him.

It was precise. Disciplined. Professional.

These were the drills used to forge elite soldiers.

And now mere academy students were practicing them.

Even junior students were present—he spotted them hauling boulders up a sheer cliff behind °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the temple.

Stones as large as their torsos strapped to their backs.

“Savages...”

If one of them slipped, they could be seriously injured—or worse.

But it seemed no such accidents had happened.

Everyone looked intact.

Then his eyes widened to their limits.

There, among the students—

“Wh-what?! That’s... that’s Shin Dowoon of the Shin Clan? What in the hell is he doing here?”

The scion of the Shin Clan, stripped to the waist, bore a boulder on his back as he crawled up the cliff with the others.

Filthy. Humiliated.

Yang Munseong rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“No mistake. That’s the Shin Clan’s heir.”

Unthinkable.

If word reached the Shin Clan that Shin Dowoon was being treated this way, it would cause far more than a scandal.

And besides—would Dowoon have even allowed it?

When Yang first heard the boy had been transferred to Baekyeong, he’d been baffled.

The southern region was the weakest in the realm. Dowoon should’ve gone to Jungcheon.

But then it had made sense.

Knowing Dowoon’s nature—he was the type who couldn’t breathe unless he stood above others.

In Jungcheon, that wasn’t possible. Children of the Five Great Martial Houses lived there.

Elsewhere? Still difficult.

But the South?

No famed families. No dominant peers. A perfect stage.

Yang had assumed Dowoon would arrive at Baekyeong, seize dominance, and reign like a king for three years.

But the reality was something else entirely.

What he saw now was no tyrant.

Dowoon was indistinguishable from any other low-level student.

That raised an even bigger question.

“Why is he obeying like this? Is he being blackmailed?”

No—impossible.

The Shin Clan was not the kind of family that allowed its weaknesses to be exposed.

If anyone ever managed to uncover a vulnerability, the Shin Clan would not respond with negotiations—they would obliterate the entire faction responsible.

Behind them stood a pillar of terrifying weight: Tianzhu Hall's Lord himself.

As Tianzhu's personal retainer organization, the Tianzhu Hall was, in truth, the most politically potent entity within Mushincheon.

And it was this organization that stood firmly behind the Shin Clan.

That very Shin Clan’s heir—Shin Dowoon—was now being subjected to treatment no one could’ve imagined.

Unthinkable.

Nearby, a group of students was engaged in live sparring—nearly indistinguishable from an actual battle.

They exchanged blows with full force, neither flinching from injury nor holding back.

At first glance, it looked like a duel to the death.

Yang Munseong narrowed his eyes and observed their techniques.

No matter how hard he scrutinized, nothing about it resembled demonic arts.

The energy was clean. Focused. Controlled.

It was unmistakably orthodox martial cultivation.

Then how—how had they grown so powerful, so quickly?

Even watching it for himself, he struggled to believe it.

Could this kind of intense training alone explain such exponential growth?

No.

If such drills were enough to reach those levels, the central realm would be teeming with High-Level Experts.

There was something else.

But what?

At least, he felt some relief—whatever else was happening, the students weren’t practicing forbidden arts.

He exhaled, long and quiet.

And at that exact moment—

"Have you finished spectating?"

“Gah!”

A voice struck from behind like a thunderclap, and Yang Munseong nearly fell backward in fright.

He spun to face the speaker—and froze.

“H-Head Commander Chun?”

“Hahaha. A pleasure to meet you.”

The Heavenly Martial Commander. What was he doing here?

“Someone wishes to speak with you, Lord Yang.”

“Pardon?”

“Come with me.”

“Y-yes, of course.”

There was only one person in all of Mushincheon who could command the Heavenly Martial Commander like a personal escort.

That was the sole reason Yang Munseong didn’t resist.

“The Lord of Mushincheon is nearby!”

If these students were raised under the Celestial Lord’s direct patronage...

If Baekyeong was nothing but a cover academy for that purpose...

Then everything made sense.

The impossible rate of advancement.

It all clicked into place.

But still—why?

What purpose did it serve?

The deeper he thought, the more labyrinthine it became.

“If I meet the Celestial Lord, I’ll have my answer.”

****

He’d expected to be brought before the Lord of Mushincheon.

Instead, he found himself facing a young boy he didn’t recognize.

“Master Woo Jin, I’ve brought him,” said the Heavenly Martial Commander with solemn respect.

The boy’s uniform identified him as an intermediate student of Baekyeong.

“Greetings. A pleasure to meet you, Recruitment Lord Yang.”

“...And you are?”

“My name is Yeon Woo Jin, intermediate student at Baekyeong Advanced Division.”

“Yeon Woo Jin?”

He’d never heard the name before.

Suddenly, Chun Ho Seong's voice pierced his ear via Thousand-Mile Whisper.

—“You are in the presence of Mushincheon’s Grand Heir.”

What nonsense was this?

There was no grand heir in Mushincheon.

The Celestial Lord had no children.

That’s why the Lesser Heir Competition was being arranged—to determine the next Lord.

He stared incredulously at Chun Ho Seong, silently demanding an explanation.

And then it struck him.

Yeon.

There was only one man in Mushincheon with the surname Yeon.

The Lord himself—Yeon Cheon Baek.

Yang Munseong’s pupils trembled as he scrutinized the youth’s features.

He does resemble him...

That face. The aura.

It was unmistakable—Yeon Woo Jin bore the blood of the Celestial Lord.

And now, even the Heavenly Martial Commander was standing as his guarantor.

Yang Munseong immediately bowed so deep his forehead nearly touched the ground.

“Th-this humble Lord Yang Munseong pays his respects to the Grand Heir!”

But then Woo Jin turned to Chun Ho Seong and asked, genuinely puzzled:

“Wait... I’m the Grand Heir?”

Chun Ho Seong smiled faintly.

“You are the Celestial Lord’s only grandson. That makes you the Grand Heir.”

Only grandson?

That revelation sent shockwaves through Yang Munseong’s mind.

If there was a grandson, why had he been hidden?

Why the competition for Lesser Heir?

Was it because the child wasn’t strong enough?

That had to be it.

The Lord of Mushincheon wouldn’t favor anyone, even blood kin, unless they proved their worth.

That would also explain why Woo Jin hadn’t even known his own title.

Still, it was clear he was being protected—having the Heavenly Martial Commander at his side was no trivial gesture.

But what shocked Yang Munseong even more was the fact that the Celestial Lord’s own blood was enrolled in a backwater academy like Baekyeong.

He wasn’t even in Jungcheon.

No matter how he spun it, it could only mean one thing—

The boy was so weak, he couldn’t be shown to the world.

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