Murim Login - Chapter 163

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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 163
“What? The Northern Plateau? Only four days until the First Day of the Year?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, well.”
The Old Master fell silent. Before him, three leaders and roughly two hundred subordinates knelt respectfully, their eyes fixed upon his lips.
“Is what you say truly the truth?”
“Y-yes, without question.”
“How could we dare speak falsehoods about your safety?”
“…I see.”
At their desperate excuses, the Old Master’s expression darkened.
He knew their words were true. He simply wished to deny it, even if only slightly—the fact that he was growing old.
‘Seven days and nights I’ve lost consciousness. Seven days and nights… it’s growing longer each time.’
It was the infirmity of age.
He had sensed the strange signs twenty years ago. During cultivation, he realized his vital essence, energy, and spirit were becoming misaligned—and knew that time had come for him.
Already approaching ninety years of age. Death held no fear, but he despised the thought of being remembered as a senile old fool.
‘For all my efforts….’
Now he had reached his limit. The curse that time inflicted could not be held back by this master’s cultivation, nor by the formidable inner strength of a supreme expert.
He should be satisfied that he had delayed the infirmity of age for a full twenty years. The Old Master forced himself to shake off the bitterness.
“Bring me some wine.”
“Well, the wine has cooled, and we’re preparing fresh some now.”
At Heuk-sa’s cautious reply, the Old Master clicked his tongue.
“How long will that take? Never mind—bring the cold wine regardless.”
“Yes.”
Who would dare object to his command? At Heuk-sa’s gesture, two Horse Bandits who looked reasonably strong hauled over a massive wine vessel, grunting with effort.
The enormous vessel, reaching up to a man’s chest, sloshed with half-cooled mare’s milk wine.
“Tsk, tsk. These young men are so feeble. Don’t you feed the children under your command?”
“T-that couldn’t possibly be the case.”
“Then why can’t you muster any strength? Ugh. Watching this is unbearable.”
The Old Master sprang to his feet and seized the wine vessel. A vessel weighing several hundred pounds was lifted with a single hand as easily as plucking a feather.
It was incomprehensible how such power could surge from a body reduced to mere bone and sinew. Heuk-sa wanted to gouge out his own eyes.
‘I must be mad. To have thought such an old demon was merely a senile fool.’
At least he had been careful with his words. That Ren Dou, who had wielded his sword while spouting nonsense about old age, had met a gruesome end, had he not?
Heuk-sa had no desire to die bleeding from seven orifices.
“Master! Allow me to do it!”
“Stop with that ‘master’ business. Sit down and stop talking nonsense.”
“No, truly. Mare’s milk wine must be served piping hot to taste its best. Allow me to….”
“Piping hot, you say?”
Heuk-sa lost his words. In the next instant, tremendous heat erupted from the wine vessel.
The source of that heat was the Old Master’s hand gripping the vessel.
White flames, so dazzling that merely witnessing them stole one’s breath and raised one’s hair on end, instantly heated the vessel and warmed the mare’s milk wine.
“Th-this…”
“S-Samadhi True Fire?”
Temur, Chinggis, and the two hundred-odd underlings turned ashen at the sight before them.
The shock that struck the leaders in particular was immense.
‘This madman!’
‘A wine barrel of that size… with Samadhi True Fire?’
‘The internal energy is staggering. Who in the world is this old man?’
Samadhi True Fire was a flame born from burning internal energy, and any master at the pinnacle stage backed by deep reserves of power could wield it without difficulty.
However, compared to the massive depletion of energy it demanded, the destructive power was disappointingly weak—far too inefficient for practical combat.
“Bring me a bowl. A large one.”
But this old man before them was different.
Though it lasted only a moment, the heat they felt was extraordinary. If he wished it, he could not only harm people but melt steel itself.
‘His martial prowess and internal energy have already reached the realm of immortal ascension.’
‘It’s not just the Samadhi True Fire. His energy itself is an incredibly potent source of heat.’
‘Don’t say another word. One wrong remark and… we’re dead.’
The three men swallowed hard and moved with the same swift efficiency as Jeom So-i welcoming a guest.
“Allow me to pour you a drink, sir.”
“Bring meat! Meat!”
“Just the legs!”
On the Steppes, the Black Sand commander known as a messenger poured mare’s milk wine, while the two tribal leaders—descendants of the great Khan and commanders of hundreds of cavalry warriors—circled the table, eagerly stripping and presenting only the tender leg portions.
It was a sight worth more than gold to witness.
“Hmm. This is why rude bastards need a beating. Only after getting thrashed do they learn what manners are.”
“Indeed, Elder Brother.”
The old man, who had been carefully preparing a piece of meat to accompany his mare’s milk wine, paused.
“Elder Brother?”
“Y-yes. Did I misspeak?”
“You look old. Like some geezer about to kick the bucket any moment.”
Yes, you really do look like you’re about to pass away soon.
Heuk-sa barely held back the words threatening to escape. The man before him was an absolute master whose realm was difficult to fathom. He had to appease the old man’s mood by any means necessary.
“Then… Elder Brother…”
“Do I seem easy to push around?”
“I-I apologize!”
Thud!
Without warning, Heuk-sa’s head crashed to the floor. He was in agony. The old man hated being called “old man,” complained that “Elder Brother” made him seem easy to handle—what was he supposed to do?
The old man gave Heuk-sa, still prostrate, a light kick.
“Get up.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You two with the bruised foreheads as well.”
Whoosh!
Temur and Chinggis, who had been busily preparing meat, rushed over at lightning speed and dropped to their knees.
The Old Master drained his cup of mare’s milk wine before finally opening his mouth.
“So, what kind of men are you?”
Horse Bandits. And Nomadic Tribes who were no different from Horse Bandits.
If I told this old man—who looked unmistakably like a righteous sect elder—the truth, there was no telling what fate would befall us.
It was the moment when all three of us were desperately exchanging glances.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Ugh!”
“Gasp!”
“Argh!”
The Old Master delivered a flick to each of our foreheads at a speed invisible to the eye, then glared at us.
“You damn brats. An elder asks you a question and all you do is roll your eyes?”
“We, we apologize, sir.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me sir? Are you performing a death ritual for me right now? Huh?”
Smack!
Heuk-sa, who received another blow for answering carelessly, felt tears welling up. I was over fifty years old, and my subordinates were watching….
“The oldest one among you—answer me.”
Heuk-sa looked up at the Old Master with glistening eyes and opened his mouth.
“I, well, with like-minded brothers, I roam the Steppes with horses as my companions….”
“You’re a worthless Horse Bandit. The kind who pillages, murders, and burns whenever the opportunity arises.”
“….”
The Old Master turned his head away from Heuk-sa, his eyes filled with contempt. Temur and Chinggis flinched and bowed their heads.
“You two are called Nomadic Tribes, but you’re hardly any different. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not.”
“You speak the truth, sir.”
“The only way you’re better than those Horse Bandits is that while you pillage and murder, at least you’re not arsonists burning down other people’s homes. Those who set fire to others’ dwellings deserve to be beaten to death!”
“…?”
“…?”
“…?”
Wasn’t murder usually considered the gravest crime?
Just as the three of us tilted our heads in confusion at this strange sentiment, another thunderbolt struck.
Thwack, thwack, thwack!
“In any case, I’ve got a rough idea of where you scoundrels crawled out from. What I’m curious about is how much influence you have in this region.”
“Ugh… Influence, you say?”
“Exactly as I said. Do you have any clout?”
The three of us, rubbing our scalps, answered carefully.
“If we combine our strength, there are few who can stand against us.”
“Most of us exist as branch families, so we’re quite scattered, but when the entire clan gathers, we can easily fill dozens of tribes and more.”
“We exchange information about everything that happens on the Steppes without fail.”
At Chinggis’s final answer, the Old Master’s eyes flashed with interest.
“Oho, that’s not bad at all.”
Chinggis, quick-witted as ever, immediately grasped that the Old Master sought information and answered without hesitation.
“If you require any intelligence, I shall provide whatever you need.”
“I’m searching for someone. I’m not certain of their exact location, but… they shouldn’t be far from here. Is it possible?”
“Of course. It would be far easier if you could describe their appearance or distinctive features.”
“Wait a moment.”
The Old Master withdrew a creased sheet of fine paper from his robes. A skilled painter had rendered the subject’s unmistakable visage with considerable artistry.
“Will this suffice?”
Chinggis nodded without hesitation.
“Absolutely. With such a detailed likeness, I can begin inquiries at once.”
Dispatching messengers in all directions and releasing messenger hawks, I could discern the answer within a fortnight at most.
Though the Steppes stretched vast and boundless, no one escaped the eyes of the Nomadic Tribes.
‘Besides, all news of outsiders reaches my ears.’
Yet Chinggis’s confidence faltered at the Old Master’s next words.
“A master at the peak of cultivation. One who primarily wields the sword and spear techniques.”
“…Did you say a master at the peak?”
“Why, shouldn’t that make it easier? Such a figure would stand out anywhere—you’d recognize them immediately.”
Chinggis struggled to find his voice.
“Forgive me, but if such a master truly existed, my brothers and I would have discovered them long ago.”
“Hmm. What do you think?”
“Though I oversee a considerable territory, I have never heard reports of such a master appearing.”
“If even Chinggis finds it impossible, then I have no solution either.”
Having extracted similar responses from Heuk-sa and Temur, who had remained quietly crouched, the Old Master’s brow furrowed.
“Cursed fool. Putting an old man through such torment.”
The three men’s ears perked at the Old Master’s bitter murmur.
What circumstances could drive an unidentified supreme master to conduct such a search personally? And with an aging body wracked by illness, no less.
‘A son? Or perhaps a disciple?’
From his demeanor, it was surely blood relation or student…
Heuk-sa felt his heart quicken. An old man standing at life’s threshold, clinging to a wavering mind to search for someone.
Someone he must meet before death. A single thread of attachment that must be resolved, no matter what.
‘Could this be…?’
Heuk-sa’s mind raced. Perhaps today’s brush with catastrophe could be transformed into opportunity.
His lips parted slightly as a sound transmission flowed forth.
– Listen, Chinggis.
Chinggis showed no reaction to the sudden transmission. Truly a sharp one.
– I know you’re listening. Respond.
– Accept the old man’s proposal. Now!
– Impossible. I cannot find whom this old man seeks. Should I succeed, I would gain considerable favor, but if I merely raise false hopes and fail, I’ll only earn resentment. I’ve no intention of bearing that burden. I don’t wish to become further entangled with him either.
– Find him.
– What?
– If you find him, you’ll gain this old man’s martial mastery. Techniques worthy of dominating all under heaven!
In this moment, Heuk-sa was filled with certainty. He had to find that disciple—or son, whoever he was. If he could just find him….
‘Not merely a single castle, but the very heavens themselves could be stolen!’
Blackmail directed at a master of the highest caliber. Chinggis’s lips trembled faintly as he grasped the meaning behind Heuk-sa’s words.
– Have you lost your mind? Greed has blinded you!
– No, it’s entirely feasible. You simply haven’t considered it because you fear that old man so greatly.
– Nonsense. Do you truly believe he would fall for such threats? He’d tear us to shreds before that!
– He’s already an old man whose mind wanders with age-induced ailments. We simply search the vicinity thoroughly, find the boy, and buy time. Until the old man’s mind becomes completely addled.
Even by Heuk-sa’s own reckoning, it was a flawless plan. An elderly man whose mind was not intact was no different from a child.
Wait for that moment, then subdue him. Through persuasion and coercion, steal away all that formidable martial prowess.
– Why hesitate? Agree at once!
Then, a response came.
“Yes, why not agree immediately?”
Heuk-sa’s entire body went rigid.
The Old Master was gazing at him with eyes that burned a reddish hue. From those dark, sunken eyes poured forth an inferno that could not be resisted.
“Are you finished?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You’re not as clever as I thought. This is already the third time you’ve made me repeat myself.”
Thud.
In that instant, the Old Master’s palm strike pierced through Heuk-sa’s abdomen. The ultimate heat of extreme yang energy scorched his organs and burned his meridians.
“I told you not to call me ‘sir.'”
Thump. As Heuk-sa collapsed like a charred husk, Chinggis closed his eyes. A voice as parched as desert sand scraped against his ears.
“Return in two months.”
When he opened his eyes again, the Old Master was nowhere to be found.
* * *
The Old Master clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing has changed.”
The world he had emerged into remained the same. The wicked, the righteous, and the gray masses who belonged to neither—all intermingled.
Regardless of who lived or died, the void was always filled. These Horse Bandits were no exception. They were simply unlucky.
“The Northern Plateau, then….”
I’ve come quite far indeed. The Old Master muttered as he surveyed his surroundings.
The horizon stretching to the world’s edge, the blue Steppes and barren earth coexisting here—his destination was already determined.
‘I’ll leave this region to those Nomadic Tribes, and search through Shanxi Province myself.’
The Old Master began to walk. With each step, the landscape blurred past and the grass bowed in submission.
His gait was leisurely, yet swift as a loosed arrow. The arrow’s destination was Datong—the boundary between Shanxi and the Highland.

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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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