Murim Login - Chapter 157

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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 157
Since ancient times, it was said that the masters of renowned mountains were spiritual beings. Huashan, known as one of the Five Sacred Peaks of the Central Plains, was no exception.
Before human feet ever touched its slopes, it was tigers that dominated the vast, towering forests.
These spiritual creatures, possessing the majesty of kings and the ferocity of beasts, grew enraged when their domain was invaded, and soon began attacking the uninvited intruders.
‘And so?’
‘When the casualties became severe, the Hua Mountain Sect had no choice but to intervene. The Subduing Tiger Fist was born from that necessity.’
A martial technique to subdue tigers. The Subduing Tiger Fist.
Chung Poong remembered clearly what his Grandfather had told him when he first learned the Subduing Tiger Fist all those years ago.
‘Poong, the Subduing Tiger Fist is a martial art so formidable it can bring even the mountain’s sovereign to heel. Master this alone, and there will be none your age who can stand against you. Do you understand?’
‘Yes!’
Young Chung Poong had believed his Grandfather’s words as absolute truth.
But now, ten years later, in this very moment.
Thud!
“Ow, that hurts.”
“…Huh?”
For the first time, I realized that even my Grandfather could be wrong.
* * *
Three days into my sparring matches with Chung Poong. In the forty-fifth bout, I witnessed him stammer for the first time.
“I-I’m sorry, Benefactor. Are you alright?”
“I know. That was the Subduing Tiger Fist, wasn’t it?”
I had seen it with my own eyes, and experienced it firsthand through direct contact.
It was only yesterday that I was struck in the solar plexus by the Subduing Tiger Fist and collapsed.
I observed how Chung Poong moved when executing the technique, the footwork he employed, the positioning of his shoulders, and the flowing sequence of strikes—all of it burned into my memory.
Yet despite all that, I still allowed myself to be struck, so Chung Poong was undoubtedly a step above me.
“What’s the name of that technique you just used?”
Chung Poong answered my question with a bewildered expression.
“One Fist Subdues the Tiger.”
One punch to fell a tiger? It was certainly a technique with enough destructive power to warrant such a name. If my physical resilience hadn’t been steadily improving through each sparring session, I would have collapsed like I did yesterday.
‘I suppose I should take comfort in the fact that I’m doing better than yesterday?’
It wasn’t just my physical resilience that had improved. Through experiencing Chung Poong’s martial arts directly with my body, I was becoming increasingly familiar with his techniques.
“Come on, let’s go again.”
But Chung Poong seemed to have other ideas.
“How did you evade that?”
“Pardon?”
“I was aiming precisely at the Phoenix Tail acupoint…”
The Phoenix Tail acupoint would be around the rib area. I had twisted my body in an attempt to dodge, only to take the full force of the strike directly to my abdomen.
Since I had deviated from his intended target, one could argue I had evaded it in a manner of speaking. I shrugged my shoulders.
“I just thrashed about trying to avoid taking even one hit. In the end, I still got struck, though.”
“Did you see the sequence of the technique?”
After days of being pummeled, I could vaguely discern it now. Where and how the attacks would come, and how the next technique would flow.
‘I’m still clumsy, that’s the problem.’
I rubbed my throbbing abdomen as I answered.
“I’ve taken enough hits to know the difference. Every time I got struck, I forced my eyes wide open and watched carefully.”
Wasn’t it basic to keep your eyes open even while being beaten, to discern your opponent’s techniques?
“Hmm, that’s strange. I didn’t use Reverse Palm Technique that many times.”
“That’s why it took me longer to grasp than the others.”
“The others?”
“Yes. Techniques like Plum Blossom Fist were relatively easy? Since I used it most during the matches, I could pick it up roughly.”
Chung Poong clapped his hands in admiration.
“Wow, could you show me?”
“It’s nothing difficult.”
I unfolded a crude imitation of Plum Blossom Fist in an awkward stance. The footwork and movements were sloppy, but they were all the forms of Plum Blossom Fist that Chung Poong had displayed in every match.
‘This much is nothing.’
As I trained in martial arts, I realized something at some point.
While mastering a technique requires understanding of martial arts and appropriate energy circulation, merely mimicking the form is easy.
‘He moved like this here, I think?’
From the first form to the seventh form. Though I stumbled occasionally, I displayed them as smoothly as possible without difficulty, then turned my head.
“For now, this is the extent of it… By the way, Chung Poong?”
“Ah, yes. Benefactor.”
“Is something wrong? Why do you have that expression?”
“No, it’s just…”
Chung Poong, who had been gazing at me with a complex and subtle expression, hesitated before opening his mouth.
“Grandfather’s words suddenly came to mind.”
“The Sword Saint, I mean your grandfather?”
“Yes. He called me a thief.”
“That’s fine. When I was little, I secretly took a thousand won from my mother’s wallet and got beaten for it.”
“That’s not what I mean…”
Chung Poong let out a deep sigh.
“When he taught me martial arts, he always said it. That I was a thief who stole martial techniques.”
“Ah.”
Is this a compliment? To receive praise from a talent like Chung Poong.
Chung Poong spoke to me, who was taken aback.
“You’re definitely a genius at martial arts.”
“A genius? Me?”
“Yes.”
A genius, what… no, he’s right.
When you think about it, I perfected first-rate martial arts like Jin Moo-kyung’s Footwork and spear techniques in just two or three months.
Of course, it’s all thanks to the system.
“It’s just a shortcut. I’m naturally good with my body. I have good eyes too. Hehe.”
“Grandfather said it. In martial arts, the eyes account for seventy percent and the feet for thirty percent.”
“That does seem right, but it’s not me.”
“Think about it carefully. There must have been something similar before, surely?”
Was there?
Suddenly, memories of childhood surfaced. I’d always had excellent athletic coordination, so I excelled at most sports. But anything that could truly be called martial arts….
‘Wait, there is one.’
As my expression changed, Chung Poong nodded as if to say he knew it.
“You have experienced it before, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes. Taekwondo.”
“Taekwondo?”
“It’s something like a martial art.”
A taekwondo academy I’d enrolled in during elementary school after being tempted by the promise of a portable gaming device.
There was a taekwondo demonstration by the high school seniors, and in exactly two attempts, I could replicate the Taegeuk patterns from 1 through 8.
Of course, I was expelled less than a week later after striking a middle school senior who was two years my senior.
‘Could it be that?’
Now that I thought about it, even during my F-rank Hunter days, I could pick up anything quickly.
It was just that my pathetic physical abilities held me back.
A bottom-tier hunter like me trying to replicate the movements of a mid-tier hunter would produce no destructive power and only result in torn hamstrings.
‘But things are different now.’
Overflowing inner energy. Superior physical abilities. And martial arts learned in the Murim.
Looking at it now, while I may not be a martial arts genius, I certainly do have considerable talent.
“How long did it take you to master Plum Blossom Fist, Chung Poong?”
“A month.”
“A month?”
From my own experience, Plum Blossom Fist is indeed a martial technique of the Hua Mountain Sect, but it’s not particularly complex.
Yet this fellow took a month to master what I’d managed to replicate fairly well in just three days?
‘Insane.’
Chung Poong added something as I grinned so widely my mouth nearly split.
“It took a month to reach perfection, and Grandfather scolded me quite harshly for it.”
“….”
Well, of course.
Chung Poong muttered as he watched my bewildered expression.
“Still… it doesn’t feel particularly good. Someone copying my martial arts.”
An ominous aura began to emanate from him.
* * *
Hyuk Moo-jin, having regained consciousness, stared blankly at the Training Ground.
‘This is insane.’
The Training Ground was already half devastated.
The blue stone tiles that the stoneworkers renowned in Shanxi Province had carefully laid were more than half shattered, and they continued to crumble rapidly even now.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
Indifferent to the season, the center of the Training Ground blazed with heat. Spear and sword collided, scattering sparks.
The masters wielding long spears moved at a dazzling speed, and even Hyuk Moo-jin, a first-rate expert, struggled to follow the exchanges of their blows.
‘How can they possibly move that fast?’
Chung Poong in white martial robes and Jin Tae-kyung in black martial robes.
The fact that these two, so starkly contrasted at first glance, were of similar age to himself was simply astounding.
‘That Chung Poong is a monster-level fighter.’
A moderate build and a benevolent expression. It seemed one could meet four or five similar young men of the same age just by spending half a day on the streets of Taewon.
Yet this ordinary-looking youth concealed an identity that no one would easily anticipate.
‘The sole heir who inherited everything from the Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak.’
Screeeee! Whoosh!
Beneath the towering sun, Jin Tae-kyung’s spear blade gleamed brilliantly.
Heavy and concise techniques, yet with added power and speed, they transformed into an exhilarating spear art that made one dizzy merely watching.
‘If that spear were aimed at me?’
Hyuk Moo-jin shook his head in denial.
Shamefully, he had no confidence he could withstand more than a single exchange. Perhaps even that thought was merely a consolation to preserve his own pride.
But Chung Poong was different.
Whoosh, whoosh whoosh whoosh!
The spear blade that had occupied all directions and rushed forward futilely slashed through empty air. Chung Poong’s face remained serene as he effortlessly evaded every attack.
Then his hand blurred, and a single streak of light tore through the air.
Screeeee! Boom!
“Hup!”
Jin Tae-kyung gasped with the thunderous impact, barely managing to block with his sword, only to be met with a torrential downpour of sword strikes.
Watching this spectacle, Hyuk Moo-jin found his mouth falling open of its own accord. In this very moment, a single thought completely filled his mind.
‘Graceful.’
There was no other way to describe it.
Chung Poong’s movements were as delicate and fluid as the brushstrokes of a master painter who had reached enlightenment, resembling flower petals fluttering down at the end of the season.
Hyuk Moo-jin, who had been gazing in rapt attention, suddenly murmured.
“Plum Blossom Sword Technique….”
He had never witnessed the martial arts of the Hua Mountain Sect until now.
Yet one thing he could be certain of: the very essence of Hua Mountain Sect martial philosophy permeated every single movement of Chung Poong’s body.
‘A monster. Truly a monster.’
Yet the word monster did not refer to Chung Poong alone.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh!
Clang clang clang!
Another person who blocked every single technique of the Plum Blossom Sword Technique displayed by the Sword Saint’s disciple.
A youth with a grand physique and sharp, handsome features ground his teeth audibly.
“Damn it, the Hua Mountain Sect’s martial arts are truly infuriatingly well-crafted!”
From Jin Tae-kyung’s body, who had unleashed a crude curse that would have caused an uproar had the Hua Mountain Sect heard it, a fierce aura erupted.
The tyrannical momentum that momentarily suppressed Chung Poong’s grace immediately transformed into a counterattack.
Whoooosh! Boom!
A ferocious strike.
With a thunderous boom, Chung Poong’s body flew backward as he blocked the spear—his form fluttering through the air. Jin Tae-kyung, having deflected Chung Poong’s assault with a single move, furrowed his brow.
“Ugh, that stings.”
Before the words even finished, the black martial robe he wore split open with a long, jagged tear.
On his exposed chest, several gashes wept blood in rivulets.
“What manner of technique is this?”
“Heavenly Eagle Claw.”
“You’re lacking nothing, are you?”
“Shall I teach you?”
“You’re permitted to teach it?”
“Ah, now that I think about it, Grandfather instructed me never to teach it to outsiders.”
“Again? I knew it.”
“Will you enter the Hua Mountain Sect?”
“Absolutely not!”
Jin Tae-kyung bellowed and launched himself forward, feet driving hard against the ground.
His movements were barely contained within the framework of martial technique, yet possessed the primal, instinctive grace of a predator. Hyuk Moo-jin’s body trembled.
‘That man grows more terrifying with each passing day.’
Every person possesses what is called momentum—a presence, an aura.
Jin Tae-kyung’s momentum is relentless and fierce, carrying something that strikes fear into the hearts of observers.
‘It’s not a matter of martial technique.’
The current Jin Tae-kyung is certainly a master of considerable skill, but he does not yet match Chung Poong, who is both the Sword Saint’s disciple and a confident pinnacle master.
Yet having observed him closely over these past months, Hyuk Moo-jin could be certain of one thing.
‘He is a man who would survive even if the heavens collapsed.’
No matter what hell he were cast into, Jin Tae-kyung would emerge alive.
Three pinnacle masters have thus far attempted to kill him, and yet it was they who fell. In the Martial World, the survivor is the strong one, and Jin Tae-kyung has consistently endured.
Moreover…
‘The sect leader’s growth rate transcends imagination.’
It was a truth only visible to one who had watched from the closest vantage point.
From the moment he defeated Jo Pil in that brutal, bloody clash, until now as he faces Chung Poong.
Jin Tae-kyung grows stronger with each passing day.
‘And that holds true even in this very moment.’
Merely days ago, he could not withstand the Hua Mountain Sect’s supreme techniques for more than a hundred seconds.
But now?
By Hyuk Moo-jin’s direct observation, he has already surpassed three hundred seconds. Even against the Heavenly Eagle Claw, which only the Hua Mountain Sect’s inner disciples may learn, his response is merely ‘ugh, that stings.’
‘A monster. Truly a monster.’
Peers of similar age, all pinnacle masters, all of the highest caliber. Is this not excessive? Why does his surroundings teem with nothing but monsters?
As Hyuk Moo-jin exhaled a long sigh, he recalled words Jin Tae-kyung had spoken days prior while training Wall Tiger Technique.
‘If you don’t want to lose what’s precious, stake your life on it now. Isn’t struggling to the death while breath remains better than simply dying?’
Those words ring true. One must struggle unto death to survive and become strong. Every moment standing against the tide of the Martial World is precious beyond measure.
Hyuk Moo-jin, who had been quietly observing the two combatants, rose to his feet and brushed off his clothes.
‘I cannot end this with mere pinky toe strength.’
I must grow stronger—strong enough to be recognized as Jin Tae-kyung’s right arm, or even his heart. And…
‘Strong enough to be remembered by everyone as Hyuk Moo-jin.’
He gripped the sword hilt tightly.

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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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