Moorim Pochang - Chapter 69

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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 69. The Black Tattoo.

Dok Go-yeop withdrew a wrapped bundle from his robe and handed it over.
“Consider this the price of tonight’s drink—for your eyes alone.”
The wrapping cloth was so thin that one could tell it contained a manuscript inside.
“I have no need of such a thing. Would you accept silver instead?”
“Even if you severed my neck, there would be no silver to take.”
Dok Go-yeop smiled coldly, then departed the inn with his wife.
The woman paused mid-step and turned back to look at Kang Jo.
“One day will come when you’ll kneel and prostrate yourself before me.”
Kang Jo answered without hesitation.
“Such a day will never arrive.”
Ho, ho, ho…
“Still so young. Youth has its charms, I suppose.”
The woman laughed with an air of sophistication as she crossed the Stone Bridge alongside Dok Go-yeop.

*

Once the guests had all departed, Yeon Ja-seol turned to Kang Jo.
“I think I should return to the Murim Alliance now.”
If she returned to the Murim Alliance, she would have to devote herself to martial training starting tomorrow morning.
Anticipating this, Kang Jo tried to persuade her otherwise.
“Would it not be better to rest a few days longer?”
“No. I’m fine now.”
Yeon Ja-seol’s true feelings were at odds with her words.
Though there was an emptiness in leaving undone what she ought to do, she had gained something far more precious and grown considerably stronger.
In truth, martial training at the Murim Alliance or here made no difference whatsoever.
Yet for some reason, she found it increasingly difficult to keep meeting Kang Jo’s gaze.
Her resolve was too firm for Kang Jo to press the matter further.
“Should you ever wish to taste the dishes of this inn again, you are welcome to return anytime.”
“Thank you.”
She entered her room to gather her sword.
But when she actually came to leave the inn, she found herself uncertain how much to pay for the meals.
The silver in her purse amounted to fewer than twenty taels.
A debt of life could not be repaid with merely twenty taels of silver.
Moreover, that wine could not be obtained even for a hundred thousand taels of silver.
At a loss, Yeon Ja-seol produced her entire purse and offered it.
“This is all I have. I promise to repay you without fail, even if it takes time.”
Kang Jo accepted the purse without so much as glancing inside.
“This is more than sufficient. Come again whenever you wish.”
“Thank you, Kang Jo.”
She dragged her reluctant feet forward and departed the inn.
“Until we meet again, Miss Yeon.”
Yang Jung offered a farewell in a clear, bright voice.
“Yes. I’ll see you again.”
Once she was gone, Yang Jung’s expression shifted.
He opened the purse that Baek Moon-do had left behind.
“Sir. There are four promissory notes inside. All of them worth ten thousand taels.”
Hmph.
Kang Jo let out a short laugh.
“Twenty thousand taels for a single cup of wine? That’s an extraordinary loss. Keep ten thousand taels for yourself.”
“That’s more than enough, sir. I’ll let you know if silver becomes scarce.”
Yang Jung placed the four promissory notes back into the purse, then reached for the wrapping cloth Dok Go-yeop had left behind.
“No.”
As Kang Jo blocked him with his hand, Yang Jung’s face fell visibly.
“What could there possibly be between us that we shouldn’t see? This truly wounds me.”
“It’s an ill omen. That short blade you’re carrying—Cheong-bi—that thing is terribly inauspicious too.”
“That’s unlike you, sir. If it’s so ominous, I’d be happy to look after it for you.”
Yang Jung tore open the wrapping cloth without hesitation.
But inside the cloth lay not a manuscript, but several neatly folded letters.
As he unfolded the first one, densely packed characters in elegant script caught his eye.
The beginning of the letter read thus:

*

I, Dok Go-yeop, leave behind the first half of the Jeon-ryul Guchen Ma-geom in settlement of a tavern debt.
The Jeon-ryul Guchen Ma-geom is divided into seventy-two lesser forms and thirty-six greater forms. What I bequeath to you are the seventy-two lesser forms.
The first form begins at the moment of drawing the blade………………………………………………..

*

Yang Jung’s face drained of color as he read further.
“This… this seems like an extraordinarily powerful martial technique, sir.”
He had an eye for martial arts.
As he progressed through the forms, he recognized that the technique described in the letter was no ordinary work.
Kang Jo too quickly scanned the forms and could not suppress his wonder.
‘Truly remarkable.’
The Wol-ha Sword Method that Baek Moon-do had transmitted as a secret teaching, and the Ja-cheon Jeok-ma Sword that Dok Go-yeop had passed down—both were formidable, but they paled in comparison to this sword art.
Yang Jung became wholly absorbed in the sword method described in the letter.
There were quite a number of passages that aligned with the techniques he himself had cultivated.
After nearly half an hour, examining the entire letter in hushed silence, he exhaled a long breath.
Wheeeee……….
At almost the same moment, Kang Jo’s eyes left the letter.
“Do you think you could master this sword art?”
“Yes, sir. It differs somewhat from what my master taught me, but it shouldn’t prove too difficult.”
At his answer, Kang Jo nodded.
“Then burn it.”
Yang Jung jerked his head up in alarm.
“Why would you burn something so precious? Sir, if you bring it home, Father will be so delighted he’ll dance with joy.”
His words caused Kang Jo’s expression to darken.
“Could you make what you learned from your master into a family-transmitted art?”
What one learned from a master required pain—bones and muscles wrenching out of place.
One had to be able to draw the blade from any angle and in any direction to truly master the forms.
Perhaps the first ten or so forms could be cultivated, but most others were beyond reach.
Hahaha……….
“Sir, even if you did make that technique a family art, could it truly be mastered? You’d only waste the years.”
“And this technique?”
“That… would be difficult. Still, it seems a shame to burn something so valuable, sir.”
Only then did Yang Jung grasp the reality of the situation.
“This technique carries too much ill fortune. If you cultivate it, it could haunt you for years to come. So burn it.”
Tsk..
“……….Very well, sir.”
With a regretful click of his tongue, Yang Jung gathered up the bundle of letters, leaving only the wrapping cloth.
Then he thrust them into the hearth.
Whoosh……….
The moment the bundle touched the flames, it vanished in an instant, turning to black ash.

*

Moyong Se’s naked body was covered entirely in black tattoos.
His back, chest, and the soles of his feet were inscribed with them, as were his face and the hair of his head.
Each tattoo bore a different character, yet all the characters were connected as one.
Kekekeke………..
Hyeol-je, having completed the tattoos, threw back his head with a strange laugh, his eyes gleaming with blood-light.
Until now, he had inscribed tattoos on the bodies of countless men.
Yet never before had he lavished such care on a single work.
“Get up.”
When Hyeol-je’s sinister voice spilled from his lips, Moyong Se slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“How do you feel?”
Moyong Se, still seated, clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly.
“Power… it feels like it’s overflowing.”
Kee-kee-kee… Ha-ha-ha…!
At those words, Hyeol-je could not contain his laughter.
“Now you need not trouble yourself opening your Dan-jeon or cultivating Internal Power. You may wield the strength bestowed upon you by the Celestial Being as you wish, and you shall not age until the day you die.”
Moyong Se could not help but be staggered.
How could one use martial techniques freely without even opening one’s Dan-jeon, and never age?
Yet the terrible power radiating through his entire body testified to the truth of those words.
“Then… does this mean I have achieved Eternal Youth and Immortality?”
“Not immortality in the truest sense. Only the Celestial Being possesses the power of true immortality.”
Never to age? That alone made him feel like a god.
“Go outside and display your strength.”
At Hyeol-je’s command, Moyong Se stepped naked through the door and out into the yard.
Upon entering the Training Ground, those without tattoos watched him with eyes full of longing.
Shiiing…
Whoooosh…
The moment he drew his sword and swung it, black energy streaked forward.
Crack-crack-boom…!
As the earth split and dust rose up, Moyong Se let out a tremendous laugh.
Ha-ha-ha-ha…!
What an astounding power this was.
Now he possessed strength that even the Murim Alliance’s leader could not rival.
Hyeol-je watched the scene with a satisfied expression.
“This is still weak. I shall grant you even greater strength.”
“Stronger than this… is such a thing possible?”
Moyong Se turned and faced Hyeol-je.
Thud…
“My martial art.”
Hyeol-je threw a manuscript before him.
As Moyong Se picked it up, he realized the manuscript was not made of paper.
It was beast hide.
“Interpret and practice it as you see fit. Then it shall become your art.”
Moyong Se’s hands trembled.
Though he had not yet examined its contents, he knew it must be the greatest martial art under heaven.
“I… thank you deeply, Master.”
Kee-kee-kee…

*

Yang Jung finished his morning meal and immediately gathered up a large wrapping cloth.
‘This is tedious beyond measure.’
Without a horse, he would have to walk into the village himself.
“Brother, couldn’t we skip this errand today?”
He knew full well that he himself was responsible for bringing back the meat.
But today he simply didn’t feel like moving.
“Want a beating, or will you go peacefully?”
When Kang Jo spoke as though it were no question at all, Yang Jung had no choice but to let his shoulders slump.
“I’ll go, brother.”
“Get going and come back quick. There’s plenty of work to do.”
“…………….Yes.”
Yang Jung stepped out of the Guest Inn with energy drained from his whole frame.
His shoulders drooped low as he walked, but the moment he spotted Gangho-in approaching from ahead, he straightened up and forced a faint smile onto his face.
Among those coming toward him were young female Gangho-in as well.
As the distance closed, those approaching cast curious glances his way.
But he gave them no notice and walked only toward the village.
By the time the Gangho-in had passed beside him and receded behind his back, Yang Jung let his shoulders drop again.
Sigh…
“This is exhausting. Won-yeong should’ve brought him back by now.”
After handing the stallion over to Won-yeong, there had been nothing but silence since.
‘Maybe I should go find him and ask for it back?’
As the village drew near, he straightened his shoulders and let a smile play at his lips.
The women of the village seemed to have already sensed Yang Jung’s arrival, for they were strolling the streets in their finest dress.
“We greet Young Lord Yang.”
“Oh my. Young Lord Yang has come out?”
The moment he stepped into the village, the women greeted him with smiles.
Among them were courtesans from the pleasure houses.
Not only the familiar faces but new courtesans as well cast flirtatious glances his way.
Ha, ha, ha……
Laughing brightly, he bowed his head slightly before heading toward the butcher’s shop.
‘Damn. Without a horse, I can’t even make an entrance.’
*

The stablemaster of the Murim Alliance found himself in a most troubling situation.
‘What am I supposed to do with that creature?’
Before him lay a gaunt stallion — the very one Baek Won-yeong had brought in from outside.
Ordinarily, the stallion sprawled on the ground without so much as a twitch.
But when he rose to his feet, he was fiercer than any tiger or bear.
Though the stable housed some fifty horses, there wasn’t a single stallion among them that could stand against him.
On his first day at the Murim Alliance, the stallion had subdued every other male horse with sheer ferocity alone.
The middle-aged stablemaster stood gazing blankly at the stallion when a colleague approached from the side.
Sigh……
He too let out a long breath the moment he caught sight of the beast.
“Don’t you think we should say something to Young Lord Baek about this?”
Because the stallion was mounting every mare, the condition of the other males was deteriorating by the day.
They were eating less hay and fodder than before, and their bodies were wasting away.
“That creature isn’t a horse—it’s a demon. A Color Yaksha, plain and simple.”

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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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