I Shouldn't Have Joined the Martial Arts Alliance - Chapter 1

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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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Foolishly Joining the Murimmaeng — Episode 001
Saurin’s father was never without a drink in his hand.
And on days when he was drunk—or rather, since he was always drunk, there was hardly a need to specify drunk days at all.
In any case.
On those days, which meant always, nearly every day, he would say it: that his father had been a member of the Myeolmadae, the pride of the Murimmaeng.
The Myeolmadae…….
There was hardly anyone in Gangho who didn’t know of it.
Even Saurin, only thirteen years old, knew of this famous martial force of the Murimmaeng.
Though the Myeolmadae consisted of merely thirty members, they were composed of martial masters so formidable that they could boast of having the greatest martial prowess within the Murimmaeng.
Wasn’t it said that when the Myeolmadae took action, an average sect would be uprooted entirely by the next morning?
That his father had belonged to such a legendary unit…….
Believe it or not.
The personal details of the Myeolmadae were kept under the strictest secrecy, so there was no way to verify it.
And those who did know were even fewer.
If even the beggars of the Sanctuary of Information—the very cradle of gossip—didn’t know, what more was there to say?
So whether what his father spewed out day after day was fact or fiction remained impossible to confirm.
All one could do was let it go in one ear and out the other.
And yet, what gave his father’s words a glimmer of credibility was that the Manor where Saurin lived was quite spacious and well-appointed.
Moreover, seeing that there was a nursemaid who always looked after Saurin, and people who devoted themselves each day to maintaining the Manor in impeccable order, it was clear that Saurin’s father had considerable means.
If he truly served with the Myeolmadae, he would have received a substantial monthly stipend, which lent some weight to his father’s claims.
But regrettably, Saurin’s father, Sa Cheolgang, had lost the arm he used to wield his sword during a mission.
To Cheonma, the current Master of the Makyeong. Of course, at that time, he was not yet Cheonma—he held the rank of Deputy Cult Leader.
After that, Sa Cheolgang had left the Murimmaeng as though cast out, surviving on drink ever since.
Perhaps that was why his father constantly hurled curses at the Murimmaeng.
A rotting, fallen Murimmaeng.
A gathering of fools blinded by power.
A battleground of trash—abandoners of comrades, backstabbers and swindlers, creatures overflowing with every foul desire.
Yet despite all these endless curses and invectives, his father had once said that the happiest time of his life had been when he was with the Murimmaeng.
And that his dream was to become the Master of the Murimmaeng and build a Murimmaeng worthy of its name.
Master of the Murimmaeng…….
Could just anyone do that?
And besides.
A Murimmaeng worthy of its name?
What even was a Murimmaeng worthy of its name?
Wasn’t a Murimmaeng simply a Murimmaeng, no matter how you looked at it?
His father was something else.
So then, what kind of man was his father really?
A fool blinded by power?
An abandoner of comrades, a villain?
A backstabber and swindler?
A creature overflowing with every foul desire and corruption?
In the eyes of thirteen-year-old Saurin, his father seemed to belong to none of these categories.
He was far removed from what a Master of the Murimmaeng should be.
Rather……, Saurin made the reasonable inference that his father was simply someone who got trampled upon by others.
“Damn it! What are you doing? Are you even listening to your father struggle to speak?”
“…Yes.”
He was listening, certainly.
He was simply letting it flow in one ear and out the other.
“Not an ounce of filial piety in you.”
“…….”
How could he…….
He should have received a father’s warm affection.
For there to be something given, there must be something to receive in return.
How could he feel affection toward a father who spent every day drunk, his eyes clouded, droning on with unbelievable tales of dubious merit?
And besides, there was no mother. So how could Saurin possibly understand what affection meant, or what parental love was?
Ah, and there was one more thing that lent credibility to his father’s words.
His martial arts.
His father was most like a father when he was teaching Saurin martial arts. Only then were his eyes clear and undimmed by drink. Yet regrettably, they were not the martial arts that the Myeolmadae members trained in.
The martial arts of the Myeolmadae could only be learned by members of the Myeolmadae, or so he said.
Yet his father insisted—spraying spittle in his emphasis—that the martial arts he taught Saurin were superior to those trained by the Myeolmadae.
No, rather… I suspect it to be even more formidable than that.
Suspect…
Suspicion and delusion are practically close cousins, as I understand it.
Put plainly, it’s no different from saying we can’t know whether this art is stronger than what the Myeolmadae has mastered, simply because I’ve never tried to learn it myself.
But that’s not all.
It’s also said to be far more profound and obscure than the Myeolmadae’s martial arts, making it extraordinarily difficult to master.
Certainly.
Yet Saurin suspected his father’s words were lies. After all, despite being described as unfathomably abstruse and difficult to learn, Saurin was mastering it with surprising ease.
Of course, progress moved at a turtle’s pace, sluggish beyond measure.
Still, among all the children his age who trained at the Martial Arts Hall, Saurin was by far the strongest. This emboldened him, and he devoted himself to his practice with fervent dedication.
Strength is everything, after all.
What’s wrong with never being beaten?
Nobody to bow to—that’s good. No need for caution, free to do as he pleased—even better.
At thirteen, Saurin had nothing to envy in this neighborhood, not even the Murimmaeng’s master.
Then, in that very moment, words struck his ears that made Saurin’s entire body go rigid.
“…Pardon? I don’t think I heard you correctly, Father.”
Sa Cheolgang’s eyes, dull and listless, flickered weakly.
“This wretch…”
Sa Cheolgang lacked even the strength to rage. His gaze grew hazier still as he forced his lips open with visible effort.
“When this father dies, you’re to stay for a time under the man Jang Ga at the Gambling Den. Do you hear me clearly now?”
Sa Cheolgang knew the truth: his life was running out.
“Why…?”
There was a perfectly good Manor, and people to prepare meals at every hour.
Besides, in the thirteen years Saurin had lived, he’d rarely experienced his father’s care, so there was no reason he couldn’t fend for himself even after Sa Cheolgang died and vanished.
Of course, these were only the thoughts of a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Before you venture into Gangho, seeing the depths of its underworld will be good experience for you.”
“…Is it truly necessary?”
“Yes. Truly necessary.”
“But…what about the Manor?”
“I’ve entrusted it to Jang Ga in exchange for his keeping you until you come of age.”
Damn it…
Saurin felt rage surge up so violently he nearly spewed the coarse curses the neighborhood children used.
“This…how much is this worth…”
Saurin didn’t fully grasp the Manor’s true value. But even a rough estimate told him it must be an astronomical sum.
“You have seven years until you come of age. Seven years in which he feeds you, shelters you, and protects you—hardly a losing proposition, wouldn’t you say?”
Feeding and sheltering—he could understand that much.
“The man who runs the Gambling Den is going to protect me?”
No matter how hard Saurin tried to imagine it, his head shook of its own accord.
“The moment Father passes, he’ll liquidate the Manor and bury me with it, won’t he?”
“That man isn’t as wicked as all that.”
True, his face looks brutal, but he’s guileless through and through. He’s the sort who couldn’t even kill a man who tried to end his life—that’s Jang Ga.
Back in the Myeolmadae days, he was Sa Cheolgang’s informant. Now, having sacrificed himself to protect Sa Cheolgang, he’s lost his Danjeon and rendered his learned martial arts useless.
“And another thing I mention only now—a year back, you gravely wounded a child from the Unweolmun. And you also wounded a child from a martial arts hall called the Haewolgwan nearby.”
He had.
“They had it coming for running their mouths, so I simply taught them some manners.”
They’d called his father a limbless cripple. No matter how unfeeling a father might be, a father is still a father.
To be honest, he hadn’t given it much thought beforehand. But hearing such words from their lips had infuriated him. So he’d acted.
“You taught them quite thoroughly, I’d say. But did you even know who those boys were?”
“…Of course. They were the Unweolmun’s sect leader’s sons…”
Saurin’s voice trailed off evasively.
“And?”
“…and the Haewolgwan’s master’s son.”
“You knew exactly. So knowing who they were, you left them in that state?”
“That was…”
“Think carefully on this. Their fathers are no common men—they’re the heads of entire sects. Do you truly believe they’d simply watch their sons suffer such treatment and leave you be? They live and breathe by honor and reputation. I’m asking whether such men would really stand idle watching what you did.”
“That’s…”
True enough.
After that incident, he’d been genuinely frightened for a time. Yet what happened? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
And so Saurin had let the matter slip from his mind without a second thought.
Dismissed it as though it had never mattered at all.
It was a matter of time.
But now, looking back, there were many things that didn’t quite add up.
“Then surely…….”
“That’s right, you fool. Those bastards came looking for your father. It was lucky for you. If they’d found you instead, what do you think would have happened?”
The luck wasn’t Saurin’s—it belonged to the Sect Leader of Unweolmun and the Master of Haewolgwan. If Saurin had taken serious offense at that incident, both Unweolmun and Haewolgwan would have ceased to exist by now.
Of course, Saurin had heard himself called fortunate, even so.
“Then, Father…….”
You could have told me sooner.
If you had, I might have felt at least some of your affection all these years.
And.
Now that I think about it, I’m beginning to believe you really were a member of Myeolmadae.
The fact that despite having lost one arm, both the Sect Leader of Unweolmun and the Master of Haewolgwan are keeping their mouths sealed shut like mutes says everything.
“Listen. I’m not bringing this up now to ask for your forgiveness and a bow of apology.”
“Then…….”
“Because I don’t think those bastards will sit idle once this old man is dead. And that’s why I’ve asked you to hand over this Manor to Jang Ga, for that very reason.”
“Ah.”
Now it makes sense.
That he handed this Manor over to that man. But still, another question arose.
“But doesn’t it seem like he won’t have the power to protect me from those people?”
He’s a Sect Leader of one sect and a Master of one martial hall. In other words, they’re martial artists with considerable strength among their kind. There’s no reason such people should fear that man who merely runs a Gambling Den, is there?
Unless, of course, that man were also a member of Myeolmadae like your father.
“Do you know why Jang Ga manages to run that Gambling Den so smoothly?”
“I have no idea. What could it be?”
“Because there’s a solid backer behind Jang Ga. That’s why even after I’m gone, Unweolmun and Haewolgwan won’t be able to touch you. Do you understand now?”
“Ah……I see.”
“And these things I’ve drilled into your head over and over—you must never forget them. Do you hear me?”
In Gangho you must never trust anyone, you must always keep three-tenths of your martial ability hidden—such maxims, dozens upon dozens of them, he had always forced into Saurin’s ears, wrapped in the reek of wine.
“……I understand. But Father.”
“Speak.”
“Are you really going to die?”
What could a thirteen-year-old boy know of death?
“What? Do you want your old man to die quickly?”
“No. That’s not it. You’re still my father, after all.”
No matter how little affection he felt toward his father, he was still his father. Even though the man was perpetually drunk, he’d never struck Saurin or scolded him harshly over trifles.
A smile crossed Sa Cheolgang’s lips, unseen by Saurin.
“That’s a relief.”
He had been worried.
Worried that his own son might hate or despise him.
And so, ten days later, Sa Cheolgang was able to close his eyes in peace.
And Saurin, leaning against his father’s body, shed tears of sorrow—a grief he was feeling for the first time in his life—without end.
And then, for no good reason, he went and joined the Murimmaeng

May 26, 2026
Author
| Damia
Publisher
| (Co.) Terrapin
Registration Number
| No. 25100-2019-000007
Email
|
[email protected]
UCI
| G720:N+A022-20260506002
http://www.copinnovel.com
© Damia. 2026

This work has been published as an e-book under contract between the copyright holder and Terrapin. Unauthorized reproduction, modification, scanning, distribution, or any other act contrary to copyright law is prohibited.

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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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