Murim Login - Chapter 169

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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 169
In the murky dawn, a group of men advanced through swirling mist, their forms barely visible.
Two middle-aged men at the front exchanged words in hushed voices.
“Are you certain about that information?”
“Nine parts out of ten.”
“Nine parts?”
“I cannot be certain until I verify it with my own eyes.”
“Then the remaining one part….”
“They may have deliberately leaked the information.”
“Then it could be a trap.”
“Which is precisely why we must remain vigilant and prepared for any contingency, is it not?”
Both middle-aged men swallowed hard. In fact, so did all those following behind them.
Their eyes, gripping their weapons tightly, betrayed anxiety and tension with every glance.
“Damn it, we’ve stepped in something foul.”
“I share your sentiment. Ever since I took command of the Datong Branch, something has felt off.”
The two middle-aged men exchanged a look of shared understanding. They were the newly appointed Datong Branch Masters of the Taewon Jin Family and Haowen Sect—positions established merely a month prior.
“I boasted to my wife about the promotion just recently. If things go wrong, I’ll make her a widow.”
“Stop your whimpering. I said nine parts out of ten.”
“What if we hit that one part?”
“We die surrounded by over four hundred Horse Bandits.”
….
“Face it. Now stop speaking ill omens and keep your eyes ahead. We should be arriving soon.”
With the Ha-o Gate Branch Master’s words, silence descended upon the group.
They advanced slowly and steadily, their footsteps muffled. The thick mist blanketing the area concealed both their forms and sounds.
How long had they traveled thus? It was when every member of the group was drenched in sweat and moisture.
“Halt!”
The source of the hushed cry was the Taewon Jin Family’s Datong Branch Master. Gripping his sword hilt with white knuckles, he turned to the Ha-o Gate Branch Master and asked.
“Just now—did you hear anything?”
“What… Ah!”
The Ha-o Gate Branch Master’s face hardened.
A certain sound drifting through the mist pierced his ears.
‘This is….’
The neighing of horses. And not just one or two.
The two men, grasping the situation, raised their clenched fists. Simultaneously, dozens of sword blades, darkened with ash, came into view.
Beyond the thick mist, where visibility barely extended a zhang ahead, it seemed as though hundreds of Horse Bandits armed with bows and spears would charge forth at any moment.
Gulp.
Just as someone’s throat bobbed visibly, a sudden wind from the Steppes swept across and tore through the mist.
As the landscape gradually revealed itself, everyone’s eyes widened.
“Gasp!”
“What… what in the world is this….”
Beneath the azure sky of the Steppes lay crimson earth. Across the blackened ground, the stench of blood and death hung thick in the air.
The Ha-o Gate Branch Master let out an involuntary groan.
“The intelligence was accurate.”
Dozens of panicked gazes swept across the scene. Hundreds of fallen soldiers and horses lay motionless, already drained of life.
Severed limbs scattered like weeds across the ground, while eyes frozen wide with terror and horror stared into the void.
The few surviving horses whinnied in hunger and trampled the banner inscribed with red characters.
Cheon Poong-dan.
Unmistakably, the banner of Cheon Poong-dan.
The annihilation of Cheon Poong-dan, who had once made their fearsome name known throughout the Northern Plateau. In this moment, speculation became absolute certainty.
The Taewon Jin Family and Haowen Sect had remained vigilant for nearly two weeks, monitoring Cheon Poong-dan’s movements. Though relief should have come like a tooth finally falling out, the faces of both branch masters grew increasingly ashen with each passing moment.
“This… this is…”
“Indeed. The work of a single person.”
The scattered corpses spoke volumes—they had all fallen to one man.
“A master of extraordinary skill. Beyond all comprehension.”
The Taewon Jin Family’s branch master, the most skilled among them, continued with a trembling voice.
“All killed in a single strike. The charred internal organs suggest someone who has perfected the Scorching Yang Technique to its absolute limit.”
“What… what martial technique? Can you identify it?”
“None. They didn’t employ any particular technique. This was… simply overwhelming force trampling them down.”
A single person had slaughtered four hundred bandits. As easily as crushing ants.
The corpses scattered in all directions bore witness to their desperate flight, while their contorted faces screamed of terror.
Not a soul had survived the hands of this mysterious master wielding such devastating power.
“Is… is such a thing even possible?”
“It must be possible. We’re witnessing it ourselves.”
True. The scene before their eyes was both evidence and witness.
The two men fell silent, unable to speak further.
“Here! There’s a survivor here!”
A survivor?
Their eyes snapped open at the sudden cry. The two branch masters rushed forward like wind, their voices barely above a whisper.
“A survivor, you say?”
“There’s still breath, though it won’t last long.”
The sole survivor was already as good as a corpse.
The left arm had been torn away as if devoured by a beast, and the acrid stench of charred flesh emanated from the gaping wound in the side.
The Ha-o Gate Branch Master stared intently at the one part of the face that remained relatively intact.
“This is the Cheon Poong-dan Master.”
“…Is that certain?”
“Absolutely.”
The Cheon Poong-dan Master had risen to prominence over a decade ago, and his face was widely known.
Recently appointed as the Datong Branch Master of Haowen Sect, he had memorized the features of all the major figures.
The Cheon Poong-dan Master in particular was a face he saw more often than his own children’s of late.
“One of the top five—no, top three masters on the Highland, and yet… reduced to this.”
The bandit leaders who dominated the Highland were all masters of exceptional martial prowess, yet among them, the Cheon Poong-dan Master stood apart.
Though his mind was dull, he had become a supreme expert who shouldered one pillar of the Highland through sheer innate combat ability.
But now he was nothing more than a dying man in defeat.
“So much for a supreme expert—it took only two exchanges. I tore off his arm and fed him one scroll.”
A supreme expert defeated in merely two exchanges? Even my spirit falters at this.
It was then that everyone fell silent, at a loss for words.
“Kgh… kgh…”
With the sound of phlegm rattling in his throat, the Cheon Poong-dan Master’s body convulsed.
Soon, with eyes forced open, a hoarse voice escaped between his lips.
“Save me… save me, please.”
“You are the Cheon Poong-dan Master, correct?”
“Y-yes. That’s… that’s me.”
The Taewon Jin Family branch master channeled his inner force toward the man’s wrist meridians. His eyes grew slightly, ever so slightly, clearer.
“Take heart. You can survive.”
A lie.
Though they desperately wished to save him, it was already too late. Before his final breath escaped, mountains of questions needed answering.
“Who was responsible for this?”
Before the question finished, the Cheon Poong-dan Master’s body convulsed like a bird struck by an arrow. Simultaneously, his remaining arm seized the branch master’s collar.
A strength that belied a dying man—impossibly fierce. The stench of death emanated from his gaping mouth.
“An… an old man. It was an old man. He’s a demon risen from the fires of hell.”
“Release me!”
“Everyone’s dead. I’m dead too. I’m already dead. The demon killed us all.”
“You… you wretch!”
Just as the branch master, seized by panic, tried to wrench himself free, the Cheon Poong-dan Master’s grip went slack.
Life drained from his body as it tilted slowly, then collapsed. His wide-open eyes stared up at the azure sky.
“Hah… hah… Is he dead?”
The Ha-o Gate Branch Master nodded and exhaled heavily.
“Completely delirious.”
“What else could we expect? That he survived this long is remarkable. He endured nearly two days in that condition.”
“At least we gleaned something from it.”
“What, besides ‘an old man’?”
An expert at the transcendent peak—one who primarily wielded the Yeolyang technique. The fact that he left no survivors suggests ruthless methods. If he crossed beyond Datong into our territory, he’d be spotted immediately.”
The Ha-o Gate Branch Master hesitated briefly before adding a final thought.
“One way or another.”
Whether he was merely a cold-blooded old master or the emergence of an unimaginably great demon lord—they could not say.
All that the two men could do to prepare for any contingency was one thing alone.
“We must send a letter to the Main Residence.”
“I was thinking the same.”
The two men, their expressions darkened, met each other’s gaze and arrived at the same thought simultaneously.
What exactly was the identity of the old man the Cheon Poong-dan Master had spoken of, and furthermore…
‘Where could he be?’
* * *
The woodcutter encountered the Old Master on the mountainside of Unnamed Mountain.
The moment he first saw the elderly man leisurely traversing the treacherous mountain path, only one thought crossed his mind.
‘A mountain spirit?’
In all his years, he had never seen anyone so ancient. Watching the woodcutter prostrate himself awkwardly, the Old Master inquired.
“What is it?”
“My name is Jang Pal.”
“…And?”
“I offer my respects to you, divine spirit.”
After a brief silence, the Old Master spoke.
“What the hell… Don’t go turning a perfectly living person into an immortal transcendent?”
“Ah, are you not one?”
The woodcutter, Jang, scrutinized the Old Master from head to toe.
Now that he looked closer, there were more than a few oddities. First, if he were truly an immortal, he should radiate an ethereal aura at first glance and speak in refined tones….
“Have you ever seen an immortal dress like this? With the front so worn that cold wind whistles right through.”
That gruff manner of speech, the tattered and loose garments in places.
The only resemblance to an immortal was his extraordinarily advanced age.
“My apologies. I am an ignorant man.”
The Old Master waved his hand dismissively at the sheepish Jang.
“Now be on your way.”
“Yes.”
Jang bowed respectfully and continued walking.
“….”
“….”
“…You there.”
“Yes?”
The Old Master’s brow furrowed sharply.
“Why do you keep following me?”
“Ah, this is the path to the village.”
“Where does this path lead?”
“To Jang Family Village—a small settlement. I live there.”
“Jang Family Village? It appears to be a clan settlement.”
“That is correct.”
The Old Master clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Why are there so many clan settlements in this region? I passed by Hong Family Village or something half an hour ago.”
“Hong Family Village?”
“What, you know of it?”
“Yes. Of course I do. I know it. But….”
Jang tilted his head in puzzlement.
“Hong Family Village is easily three hundred li from here. Are you perhaps confusing it with somewhere else?”
“Do I look like a fool who can’t remember what happened just half an hour ago?”
Three hundred li was a distance that even Jang Pal, with his sturdy legs, would need a full two days to cover on foot. Yet in half an hour, three hundred li?
The simple villager Jang Pal inwardly clicked his tongue in sympathy.
‘An old man whose mind wanders.’
His appearance certainly suggested it—a skeletal frame and hair matted in disarray.
What could have brought this old man to a mountain that only woodcutters like himself would climb?
‘Wait, could it be?’
A thought suddenly occurred to him—stories of unfilial sons who abandoned their parents on mountains to reduce mouths to feed. Perhaps this old man had suffered a similar fate.
Jang Pal, regarding the old man with innocent eyes, withdrew something from his bosom and offered it respectfully.
“Elder, please have this.”
“Hmm? What is this?”
Jang Pal scratched the back of his head.
“I brought it just in case… but I’m already full.”
Rice balls his wife had prepared early that morning. Though he was hungry after his labor, he wondered how much hungrier the old man before him must be.
“It’s nothing special, but please eat.”
“It certainly does look like nothing special.”
“…”
“I jest.”
The old man, who had been alternating his gaze between the crude rice balls and Jang Pal, finally spoke.
“My stomach was empty anyway. This is timely.”
The old man devoured the palm-sized rice balls as quickly as a crab disappearing into sand, and Jang Pal offered him his carrying frame.
“Climb up here. If you sit on top of the firewood bundle, it should be manageable.”
“Hmm? You want me to ride on this?”
“Yes. The mountain path is treacherous. You were heading down anyway, weren’t you?”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
Jang Pal offered a simple smile.
“It reminds me of my Father, who passed long ago.”
The old man, who had worn a complicated expression for a moment, clicked his tongue and climbed onto the frame. He was so light that Jang Pal could have lifted him with one hand.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Your firewood keeps poking me. I’m dying here.”
“Shall I go more slowly?”
“Slowly? No, we should run like the wind. And about your Father, the one who passed…”
“Yes?”
“What kind of man was he? If seeing me reminds you of him, he must have been quite handsome and impressive.”
“…”
Jang Family Village began to come into view as Jang Pal, now speaking far less, continued forward.

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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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