Murim Login - Chapter 141

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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 141
I recalled words Jin Moo-kyung had spoken to me days ago.
‘One Divine, Three Stars, Ten Kings.’
Great martial artists who had already become legend.
By that ranking, the Sword Sage Mae Jong-hak stood among the top five masters in all the realm.
‘Now even the Sword Sage has appeared.’
According to Jin Moo-kyung, the Fire King had captured and killed a thousand Demon Cult members over four days and nights to earn his place among the Ten Kings.
Then what level must the Sword Sage be, ranking even higher?
‘How is it that monsters keep appearing one after another?’
I was exasperated, yet watching Chung Poong, I couldn’t help but nod in understanding.
You reap what you sow. A monster had raised a monster.
‘Someone with such talent doesn’t appear easily.’
Chung Poong was undoubtedly a supreme master.
At merely twenty years old, having been raised under the guidance of such a tremendous master as the Sword Sage, it made perfect sense.
“Ugh, bleeech!”
…Still, something didn’t quite add up. How did someone like this become a supreme master?
I asked Chung Poong, who continued retching.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fi—ugh!”
“You’re clearly not fine.”
“But senior, you seem quite injured, blech!”
“Senior? I’m fine. Injuries like this heal with a bit of saliva.”
“Really?”
Of course not.
I patted Chung Poong’s back while glancing around. Everyone except Hong Jin was staring at us with wide eyes.
“Wait, the Sword Sage Mae Jong-hak? The one I know?”
“That dimwit is the Sword Sage’s grandson?”
“What on earth is this….”
Among them, Gong Il-hyuk’s reaction stood out most. He stared blankly at Chung Poong, forgetting his own pain, then suddenly bellowed.
“Nonsense! The Sword Sage has been in seclusion for over thirty years! How dare you claim to be his successor!”
“Um, I apologize for interrupting, but….”
I scratched my chin and continued.
“Shouldn’t you stop the bleeding first? You’re losing a lot of blood.”
“….”
Gong Il-hyuk’s face flushed crimson. He must have felt ashamed—speaking of someone like me when his own arm was shattered in a single blow.
“Tch, if I hadn’t been careless….”
“Then once your wounds heal, shall we arrange a rematch? I can lend you our family’s Training Ground.”
He would lose a hundred times out of a hundred. The gap between them was that stark.
As proof, once I offered the venue, Gong Il-hyuk fell silent like a mute eating honey.
“Stop the bleeding first. Just stop the bleeding.”
“…You bastard.”
Gong Il-hyuk glared at me with murderous eyes.
It seemed he had only now realized that I disliked him, but I felt no real threat from him.
‘Stop while you’re ahead.’
If word of today’s events got out, it would only hurt him. Having become entangled with the Sword Saint’s grandson, even the Zhongnan Sect’s sect leader—his distant uncle—wouldn’t find this situation pleasant.
Meanwhile, I wasn’t even a direct party to this affair, and I’d unexpectedly gained a golden connection.
‘I’m in luck, huh? I gave the Sword Saint’s grandson a room, went to hot springs, did everything. This bastard.’
So this is how Bing-dang coins skyrocket in value.
Just as I was smiling inwardly with satisfaction, Gong Il-hyuk, having finished stopping his bleeding, let out a scoff.
“Now that I think about it, this is absurd. As far as I know, the Sword Saint has no children—how could he possibly have a grown grandson?”
Chung Poong, who had just stopped retching, tilted his head in confusion.
“No, he really is Grandfather’s grandson.”
“It is common knowledge throughout the realm that the Sword Saint devoted his entire life to martial arts. You are clearly lying!”
“No, I’m really not lying.”
Chung Poong continued with a tearful expression.
“He really is Grandfather’s grandson. A crane brought him to us twenty years ago.”
“…?”
“…?”
What the hell is he talking about?
As everyone’s gazes turned toward us, Chung Poong looked back at me with a confused expression.
“Benefactor, am I misunderstanding something?”
“…What exactly do you think you know?”
“That cranes bring babies. Grandfather said that since babies are bestowed by heaven, when the time comes, a crane brings them.”
“Who told you that?”
“Grandfather did.”
“Ah.”
The story makes perfect sense now. Given that even our surnames differ, it’s clear the Sword Saint adopted him from somewhere….
Chung Poong, who grew up alone with his grandfather on the mountain from childhood—a time he barely remembers.
No matter what anyone told him, he would have simply accepted it as truth.
“If it wasn’t a crane that brought me, then I’m not really Grandfather’s grandson?”
“Ah, well, that’s….”
I continued with a heavy heart. At twenty years old, now that Chung Poong had come down from the mountain, it was time he learned about the world, one step at a time.
“For a baby to be born, there are three stages in total. Ovulation, fertilization, implantation. Try saying it.”
“To you, Benefactor?”
“Why would you do it to me? Are you insane? Say it out loud and repeat after me.”
“Yes. Ovulation, fertilization, implantation….”
But the ambitious sex education had to end before it even truly began.
“You wretched little bastards! How dare you carry on like this before a great senior of Murim!”
The owner of that growling voice was, of course, Gong Il-hyuk.
With the help of the other two—the Zhongnan Three Hands, as they were called—he had even fashioned a splint, and now he glared at us with blazing eyes.
“A country bumpkin with nothing but brute strength dares to disrespect a disciple of the great Zhongnan Sect?”
Chung Poong’s eyes widened.
“Am I a fool?”
“Apparently so.”
“Then my benefactor is a country bumpkin?”
“Thank you for clarifying that.”
I exhaled deeply. This man, old enough to know better, still couldn’t read the situation. Was the prestige of the Zhongnan Sect and his faith in his distant uncle truly so overwhelming?
“Our senior here certainly has a loose tongue.”
“What?”
“Setting me aside, what will you do if what this friend said is true?”
“True? If that were the case, Lee Poong would have recognized him.”
Lee Poong? Why was he being brought up now?
I turned my gaze toward Lee Poong with curiosity. He, who had been rigid as if seeing a ghost, finally parted his lips.
“I am a lay disciple of the Huashan Sect. Until ten years ago, I was at the main temple.”
Gong Il-hyuk added with a smirk.
“This fellow was quite accomplished among the lay disciples. At least until he lost to me in a friendly martial exchange with the main sect. Isn’t that right?”
“True. I stayed at the Zhongnan Sect for two days for the match, but I ate something that disagreed with me and fell gravely ill.”
“There’s that story again. Don’t you ever tire of it?”
“Every time I think about it, the coincidence is remarkable. Only those of us scheduled to face you experienced such misfortune. Myself included.”
“…So, you still cannot accept your defeat?”
“No, I accepted it long ago. Rather, thanks to you, I learned what the Murim truly is. The tuition was cheap enough.”
At his calm words, Gong Il-hyuk’s brow twitched.
“Stop playing the magnanimous sage and answer truthfully. Have you ever seen this fool at Huashan?”
“Before that, let me ask one thing. Do you still believe I left Huashan because of you?”
“Of course. You fled the sect less than two months after our match. What excuse could you possibly offer?”
“It’s true I fell into despair for a time, but… you’re wrong.”
Lee Poong shook his head and continued slowly.
“About a month after that day, my master suddenly said he had somewhere to go. When I followed, the sect leader and all the senior figures of the main sect were gathered there.”
“Did they hold a consolation gathering for a failed lay disciple? The Huashan Sect seems kinder than I thought.”
“Kindness is indeed their nature. They included a failure like me in such an important occasion—a meeting with the Grand Master.”
Gong Il-hyuk’s eyes narrowed.
“The Grand Master? Could it be…?”
“The sect has only one Grand Master. The Sword Sage, Mae Jong-hak. Everyone knows of him.”
Gasps escaped from various corners. Meanwhile, unease spread across Gong Il-hyuk’s face.
“That’s impossible. I heard the Sword Sage hasn’t shown himself in ages….”
“It’s true. But he remained at Huashan all along. He simply secluded himself so deeply that no one could find him.”
“So, what then?”
“We searched Huashan thoroughly. Only after breaking through ten formation arrays could we reach his dwelling. Can you guess what I saw there?”
Everyone present could guess. Lee Poong’s gaze was fixed upon Chung Poong’s face.
“A lovely child. With a frame far smaller than his peers, wielding a sword with earnest determination… yet no one could laugh. Who could laugh upon witnessing a monster who, at merely ten years old, wielded the Plum Blossom Sword Technique?”
“…!”
“…!”
A silent gasp rippled through the crowd. Gong Il-hyuk stammered as he opened his mouth.
“That’s, that’s impossible. From what I know, the Plum Blossom Sword Technique requires at least first-rate mastery….”
“In Murim, occasionally unimaginable things occur. Resorting to tricks during a friendly match is nothing remarkable.”
Lee Poong smiled with self-deprecating humor.
“After more than a month of wall-facing meditation, I came to understand there was no reason to remain here. That’s why I left the Huashan Sect. Don’t you find it amusing?”
The impact of Lee Poong’s story was formidable. Everyone, including myself, gazed silently at Chung Poong.
Suddenly, the conversation I’d had with him the previous night at the Honghua Inn came to mind.
‘I was ten years old when dozens of people came rushing in, causing trouble. I remember my grandfather shouting at them to leave before he set the mountain on fire.’
‘Ah, is that why you keep relocating…?’
‘Yes, fortunately the mountain is vast, so for ten years now we’ve managed to evade them well.’
I hadn’t known then. The people who came causing trouble ten years ago were the leadership of the Huashan Sect, and the Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak was Chung Poong’s grandfather.
What seemed like causing trouble from young Chung Poong’s perspective was surely quite different in reality.
‘Who would cause trouble for the Sword Saint? That’s a death wish.’
A Sword Saint who threatened to set the sect ablaze was no ordinary figure either.
In any case, on that day when Huashan nearly became a literal inferno, Lee Poong had encountered young Chung Poong and clearly despaired at his genius.
‘It makes sense. First-rate mastery at ten years old.’
Countless people never reached first-rate status even after passing their prime years.
Even two of the younger generation experts of the Sanseo Five Gates present here still fell short of being called first-rate masters.
Yet he had achieved that realm at merely ten years old.
‘Would Jin Moo-kyung have been capable of such a feat?’
The moment that question arose, Gong Il-hyuk cried out convulsively.
“Evidence! What evidence do you have that he is that child?”
The younger generation experts of the Sanseo Five Gates who had been trying desperately to appear composed, Hong Jin who had been watching with fascination, and even the two people belonging to the Zhongnan Three Hands—all frowned in unison as if by agreement.
“There is no evidence. My memory is all I have.”
“Exactly. Ten years can change the world, so should we trust your meager memory?”
“No, actually I’m not even certain myself how that child grew into adulthood.”
Lee Poong, who had responded calmly, suddenly drew his sword.
Gazing at the blade that radiated a chilling aura, he asked Chung Poong.
“Young friend. How much do you know of the Huashan Sect’s martial techniques?”
Chung Poong replied with a bewildered expression.
“Well, I’m not of the Huashan Sect.”
“Not of the Huashan Sect….”
“No. My grandfather simply taught me various things he thought would be good for me to learn.”
“Then I ask: the Hexagon Sword, the Plum Blossom Sword Technique, the Upper Heaven Sword, the Tai Yi Plum Blossom Palm, the Falling Flower Chasing Shadow Palm, the Mountain Fire Shadowless Hand… how many of these do you know?”
“All of them.”
“Heh, all. All of them.”
Lee Poong, who had let out a dry laugh, handed the sword he was holding to Chung Poong.
“Could you demonstrate the Plum Blossom Sword Technique?”
“Grandfather instructed me not to display my martial prowess.”
“One stance—no, a single sword strike should suffice.”
Chung Poong, who had hesitated, grasped the sword.
“Then I’ll show you something brief.”
The moment the words left his lips, a transformation occurred.
Swiiish.
Sword energy? No. From Chung Poong’s head to his toes, his entire body radiated a tangible violet aura that flowed in waves.
It was an extreme yang-attributed inner force so potent that merely standing near it scorched the breath.
“Magnetic Sage Force…!”
Lee Poong exhaled in delighted astonishment.
Whoosh!
The tip of Chung Poong’s blade traced an exquisite arc.
Like a plum blossom falling at the season’s end, a single strand of sword energy bisected the massive table. Food, dishes, and the sturdy wood itself—all cleaved in two.
“Ah…”
An involuntary gasp escaped me.
Breaking things is easy. But Chung Poong’s sword energy was impossibly sharp and clean—so precise that one wouldn’t notice the cut had been made until the table collapsed the next instant.
Boom! Crash!
As the bisected table crumbled, Lee Poong assumed an extremely respectful stance and clasped his fist in salute.
“Lee Poong, inner disciple of the Huashan Sect, pays respects to Uncle Chung Poong.”

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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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