Murim Login - Chapter 230

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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 230
Luoyang, the ancient capital of a thousand years.
This venerable city, whose lineage stretched back millennia, stood as one of the heavens’ premier centers of commerce, literature, and art.
Even within the vast expanse of Henan Province, Luoyang’s scale was unmatched, which meant its streets perpetually teemed with humanity.
And the same held true for the modest Inn situated on Luoyang’s outskirts.
“Two bowls of huimian noodles, please!”
“Yes, yes! Coming right away!”
“Three more bottles of white liquor here!”
“Right away!”
Merchants clinking cups from midday after concluding lengthy transactions, clusters of Scholars engaged in heated discourse, and even performers in shabby attire whose fortunes appeared decidedly grim.
And beyond all this, there were those one could never escape encountering anywhere.
The martial artists of the Murim.
Crash!
As the Inn’s door shattered into fragments, half a dozen swordsmen poured through the opening.
The one-eyed man leading them shouted without hesitation.
“Strike!”
His cry was directed toward a secluded corner of the Inn.
Rough-looking men who had been drinking potent liquor straight from the vessel rose up, overturning their table.
“Damn it, the Dongtian Faction?”
“Kill them!”
Clang! Crash! Bang!
With a cacophony of sound, over a dozen martial artists drew their weapons and clashed.
Blades locked and separated, sending sparks flying. Tables split asunder and dishes scattered in all directions.
“Flee, flee!”
“It’s the Dongtian Faction! The Black Path members are fighting each other!”
The Murim was not composed solely of righteous wandering heroes.
Orthodox and heterodox sects coexisted, the Black Path thrived, and thousands of leagues away lay the Demon Cult, teeming with vicious killers.
Among them, the Dongtian Faction was the Black Path organization that dominated Luoyang’s nights.
“…We’re ruined!”
The Innkeeper, who had been happily taking orders, collapsed to the ground.
The Dongtian Faction was no common gang of ruffians. Despite being a Black Path organization, they possessed over fifty years of deep-rooted history and maintained tight connections with the authorities.
If he reported this incident, he would face certain death.
‘Please, let no one die.’
The Innkeeper’s desperate prayer crumbled in the next instant.
Scrape!
“Gurgle…”
With a chilling sound, a man clutched his throat and collapsed.
He was one of the Black Path swordsmen who had recently had a minor dispute with the Dongtian Faction.
“Gung So!”
“You bastard dogs!”
The swordsmen of the Black Path, their eyes blazing with rage at their comrade’s death, rushed forward wielding their spears and halberds.
Yet in a skirmish between ordinary Black Path swordsmen, nothing mattered more than numbers.
“One of them’s down!”
“Finish off the rest of these bastards!”
The Dongtian Faction’s swordsmen were seasoned and merciless. They exploited every opening, thrusting and slashing without mercy. Blood sprayed with each flash of steel.
Swish, swish, swish! Thunk!
“Gahhhhh!”
“Ugh!”
“P-please, spare me!”
The one-eyed man cackled at the last survivor’s pleas. He was a low-ranking officer of the Dongtian Faction.
“What? Spare you?”
“Please, j-just this once, and I swear I’ll never—”
“That’s the problem. You should’ve known your place before stretching your legs.”
Squelch!
A dagger shot from his sleeve, embedding itself in the last swordsman’s forehead.
“Urrgh…”
Thud!
With a grotesque death rattle, the corpse toppled backward like rotting deadwood.
“No pride at all. These Black Path dogs.”
The one-eyed man retrieved the dagger from the corpse’s forehead and snapped his fingers at his subordinates.
“Clean it up.”
“Yes, sir!”
With a sharp affirmation, the swordsmen gathered the bodies and stacked them together. The once-peaceful Inn had long since become a sea of blood.
Step, step. Tap.
The one-eyed man, blocking the shattered entrance of the Inn, swept his gaze across the terrified Innkeeper and guests.
“Some of you may know who I am, others may not. So I’ll take the trouble to introduce myself once more.”
In the suffocating silence, the murderous gleam in his eyes froze everyone in place.
A voice rough as if grinding metal dust followed.
“I am the solitary beast of the great Dongtian Faction, Heuk Gyeol…”
Crack! Boom!
The people inside the Inn blinked in shock at the sudden turn of events.
The solitary beast of the Dongtian Faction, Heuk Gyeol, who had been blocking the entrance like Mount Tai, had vanished—replaced by a short old man standing in his place.
“Damn brat, blocking the entrance like that?”
“…!”
An invisible wave of shock swept through the Inn.
Only now did the guests notice Heuk Gyeol, embedded in the wall on the other side, and their eyes widened in horror.
‘Gasp!’
‘A-a Murim master!’
‘An expert. And an incredibly powerful one at that!’
As everyone stood frozen in shock, a Young Man who had entered behind the Old Master spoke with an expression of bewilderment.
“Regardless, how can you treat a person like this? What if he dies?”
“A Black Path dog like that? Dead or alive, what do I care?”
The Old Master answered curtly, gesturing his chin toward the inn now drenched in blood.
Or more precisely, toward the Dongtian Faction swordsmen who were gathering up corpses and severed limbs.
They stared at the Old Master with vacant expressions.
“See? Don’t you see? That’s what they’re like. With nothing in their heads, all they do is draw their blades the moment they meet someone.”
“Wow, they deserve to die.”
“Right?”
“Yes. So shall we eat now?”
“Order wine first. I’ve inhaled so much dust my throat is parched.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Young Man answered cheerfully and scurried over to the Innkeeper.
“You have rooms available?”
“Y-yes?”
The Innkeeper, half-dazed, answered reflexively.
“O-of course.”
“Then give us your finest room first, three bottles of baijiu, and for food…”
The Old Master, who had already claimed a table, shouted from behind the Young Man.
“Roasted duck and cold noodles! If we’ve come to Luoyang, we have to eat cold noodles.”
“Did you hear that, sir?”
“Y-yes.”
“How much for everything?”
This is why habits are terrifying.
The Innkeeper, moving on instinct to calculate everything, was about to quote a price.
“You crazy bastard!”
“Damn! Get him!”
They weren’t called the Black Path for nothing.
Born in the alleys, dying in the alleys—mayflies of a single day.
The low-ranking swordsmen of the Dongtian Faction, armed with innate simplicity and savagery, rushed at the Young Man with eyes rolled back.
“Die!”
The bald man who charged first swung his crude broadsword with a thunderous roar.
The blade, rusty and stained red, descended to split the Young Man’s skull.
Or rather, at the moment it was about to.
A sickening crack and a wet thud.
The bald man’s body crumpled. His shattered jaw already robbed him of consciousness.
The sword hilt slipped from his weakened grip.
A clang and a metallic ring.
“I thought he was just bald, but he has no skill either,” the Young Man muttered indifferently, turning his head toward the Innkeeper.
“So, how much did you say?”
So how much is it?
“…!”
“…!”
The already frigid air inside the Inn crystallized further into an impenetrable freeze.
While countless patrons stared with wide eyes, the Young Man paid his bill and collected his change.
His footsteps faltered as he approached the table where the Old Master sat.
“Hey.”
The swordsmen of the Dongtian Faction, who had been rigid as statues, startled at the Young Man’s gaze.
“Y-yes?”
“Were you… speaking to us?”
The Young Man nodded.
“Yeah. What are you going to do?”
“W-what do you mean, sir?”
“That thing in your hand. If you’re thinking of swinging it, swing it quick. Otherwise, put it away. It’s unsightly.”
Shink, shink, shink!
The swordsmen sheathed their weapons at lightning speed.
“Now, collect the corpses and your friends. Move out.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“While you’re at it, clean up this mess.”
With obedient affirmations born of survival instinct, the swordsmen moved in perfect unison.
After removing the corpses, the bald man, and finally the one-eyed wretch lodged in the wall, they swallowed hard and awaited the next command.
“Why are you standing there gawking? Get out.”
“Th-thank you!”
Those were the words they had desperately hoped to hear.
As they hurried out of the Inn, a parting shot followed them like an arrow.
“Show your face once more, and you die. Remember that.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, off you go.”
A suffocating silence blanketed the Inn.
The Young Man walked toward the Old Master’s table under the stunned gazes of the patrons, when he suddenly drew a sharp breath.
“Gasp!”
Had the Dongtian Faction launched another assault?
The patrons, equally startled by his reaction, looked around nervously.
But the Young Man’s gaze was fixed on a single point—the roasted duck that had appeared atop the table.
“This… this can’t be.”
Eyes wide open. Pupils trembling as if an earthquake had struck.
After a brief silence, the Young Man burst out:
“How could you eat both legs by yourself!”
“…!”
* * *
Seven nights.
The time it took to travel from Taewon to Luoyang.
Even at full gallop, the journey normally required ten days, yet I covered it in just seven days and nights—the ordeal hardly bears describing.
The most important fact is that I didn’t complain once.
But…
“This is unacceptable!”
I was genuinely furious.
Two legs consumed! And this was my first proper meal in a week!
Even worse, only one wing remained.
“Even the Black Path wouldn’t do something like this!”
As I vented my indignation while mechanically shoving whatever food I could grab into my mouth, Jeok Cheon-gang’s expression turned incredulous.
“What insolence. You dare raise your voice at the master over such a trivial matter? What? The Black Path?”
“Am I wrong? Even the Demon Cult’s leader wouldn’t eat more than one duck leg.”
“This bastard, I ought to just—”
Whoosh.
Just as a faint heat began to shimmer from Jeok Cheon-gang’s palm, a hoarse voice suddenly cut in.
“Hey, got a question for you.”
Geo Han entered the inn with heavy, thundering footsteps, his face completely covered in scars.
Behind him, dozens of Black Path swordsmen with equally menacing expressions filed in single file.
‘His face alone is rated eighteen and up.’
The one-eyed thug Jeok Cheon-gang had dealt with earlier had a vicious enough appearance, but compared to Geo Han, he looked like a model prisoner.
‘Do people in this region make their living off their faces?’
Well, at least it’s convenient to identify them at a glance.
Since Jeok Cheon-gang showed no interest in responding, I spoke instead.
“Yeah, that’s right. That was us.”
“I heard some very interesting news… what?”
Confusion flashed across Geo Han’s face.
“You haven’t even asked yet?”
“It’s obvious. Whatever interesting news you heard amounts to this: some old man and a young punk showed up and crippled your lackeys. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“…”
“Yeah, since you know, come on in. Bring all your friends you brought just in case. Everyone attack together.”
It was exactly the outcome I’d anticipated.
Whether the men I’d released had called them, or someone among the onlookers had informed his gang—it didn’t really matter.
‘I’ll just beat down whoever comes. Simple as that.’
An overwhelming difference in power.
Against opponents of this caliber, whether ten or a hundred came, the result would be identical. I’d simply brush them aside like flies without needing to kill anyone.
“Not coming? Then I’ll go?”
“Y-you bastard!”
Still, this one who’d come this time had some sense about him.
Sensing something ominous, Geo Han instinctively took a step back and waved his hand.
“Attack!”
Whoosh.
Dozens of spear weapons half-revealed themselves in that instant.
“Amitabha Buddha, might I trouble you to let us pass for a moment?”

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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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