Murim Login - Chapter 245

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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 245
Roaaaaar!
The deafening roar of the crowd made my ears ring. Tens of thousands of martial artists had gathered here.
They had come to the Seongnae Daeyeon, carrying dreams of glory and fortune, and their endless cheers erupted like a tidal wave.
The cacophony that seemed endless subsided the moment Dharma King Hung-do raised his hand.
In his hand rested the Jade Buddha Staff, the symbol of a thousand years of Shaolin. The Shaolin Temple—the North Star of the Martial World. People fell silent before its overwhelming authority.
Then the aged monk’s voice, laden with profound inner strength, resonated outward.
“This humble monk often gazes up at the heavens. For many years, I have observed, read, and watched countless stars.”
I had heard this before.
The greatest reason Dharma King Hung-do became the abbot of Shaolin was not his formidable martial prowess, but rather his vast learning and noble bearing.
“The Seongnae Daeyeon. If you wish to become the brightest star at this gathering, think brightly and act brightly.”
After a brief silence, he added one more sentence.
“That is how one survives even in darkness.”
A blessing is best when brief. It is better still when it carries some mysterious wisdom, and even better when spoken by the abbot of Shaolin himself.
Once more, cheers and applause erupted.
Roaaaaar!
Watching the spectacle, I found myself wondering how many of the tens of thousands gathered here truly understood the meaning of his words.
Perhaps one in ten, or more likely one in a hundred.
But I understood. I knew what Hung-do’s words pointed to.
‘Dark Heaven.’
The training in Yeolhwa Cave had been harsher than everything I had endured combined.
Jeok Cheon-gang’s constant urging of me seemed less urgent than anxious, as if time itself were slipping away.
At first, I thought it was due to his age.
But not long after, Jeok Cheon-gang revealed something that had been weighing on him—something shocking. Only then did I understand his anxiety.
Dark Heaven. A formidable enemy that had not yet fully revealed its true form.
‘The time given to us is not abundant. Always train and prepare. That is the best you can do.’
I looked at the old man standing to Hung-do’s right.
His frame was noticeably small, yet he radiated an overwhelming presence. Jeok Cheon-gang caught sight of me and smiled knowingly.
His appearance had aged considerably compared to a year ago. My chest tightened at the sight.
– If you don’t win, you’re dead.
….
– Especially if you meet anyone with the surname Peng. Break them. Tear them apart!
A chill swept through my tightening chest.
Fully recovered from the Fire King’s anti-nausea transmission, I quietly averted my gaze.
Before coming here, I had been brimming with confidence, but now, faced with the overwhelming number of martial artists, I couldn’t help but doubt whether victory was assured.
‘Better not to answer. If I promise and lose, I’ll just get more grief.’
In any case, the opening ceremony had ended, so the preliminaries would begin soon.
Like a salmon swimming upstream against the current, I pushed through the densely packed crowd and made my way back, when I spotted a familiar face.
“Huh?”
What was that guy’s name again?
Ah, right. Jong Ri-chu from Yunnan, the one who goes by the self-proclaimed title Ascending Sword Master.
I’d wondered what brought him from such a remote place all the way here, but it seemed he’d come to participate in Seongnae Daeyeon after all.
‘With skills like that, he’ll climb pretty far.’
I was about to pretend I knew him, but it seemed like too much trouble, so I dropped the idea.
Instead, I offered a silent greeting to the fellow standing there vacantly, gazing around at his surroundings.
‘Yes, you do your best too.’
And I prayed that we wouldn’t cross paths if I could help it.
* * *
“I love martial contests. There are only winners and losers—no draws. How refreshingly clear-cut, wouldn’t you say?”
The middle-aged man murmured in a leisurely voice.
Perched on his nose were spectacles imported from the Western Regions—a mysterious device that magnified objects several times over, and priced accordingly to match its rarity.
“That’s why everyone and their mother place bets. The outcome is certain, after all.”
One of the indispensable elements of Seongnae Daeyeon is gambling.
From the preliminary rounds that filter out the substandard among tens of thousands of applicants, through to the finals—hundreds upon hundreds of matches are contested.
Thus Seongnae Daeyeon is simultaneously the grand assembly of martial artists under heaven and the most lucrative gambling season in the underworld.
“So then, who are you betting on, and for how much?”
The bald man standing before the middle-aged man asked. At first glance, he seemed to have one foot planted in the underworld, yet his demeanor was respectful.
“Still impatient as ever, I see.”
“I have many waiting customers, sir.”
“Fair enough. Let me think….”
After a brief pause, the middle-aged man withdrew a money pouch from his breast and tossed it down.
Unable to bear the weight, the pouch’s opening split, and silver ingots cascaded across the table with a brilliant glimmer.
“One thousand silver taels on Chul Soo Shin-ryong of the Yangtze River Water Bandit Alliance.”
“…!”
It was truly an astronomical sum.
Moreover, this was before the preliminaries had even begun.
Indeed, the middle-aged man before us possessed a boldness all his own.
The bald man’s eyelids trembled as he stared at the silver ingots.
“Are you betting on Chul Soo Shin-ryong to win the championship?”
“Not at all. Though Chul Soo Shin-ryong is one of the Ten Dragons and Phoenixes, he’s not yet at that level. His master, the Sea King, now that would be different.”
“Then…?”
“I’m betting that he’ll pass the preliminaries in first place.”
“Hmm.”
The bald man let out a low whistle.
The preliminaries of Seongnae Daeyeon are called the “sieve,” so to speak. With so many applicants, they must filter out those below standard.
Given that tens of thousands of applicants must be evaluated, there are naturally countless possible outcomes at this stage.
Of course, the payout odds would be equally extraordinary.
“That contradicts what you said earlier, sir.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you say you love martial contests? That there are only winners and losers, making the outcome clear-cut?”
“You really shouldn’t gamble, my friend.”
The middle-aged man chuckled and continued.
“That’s what third-rate gamblers do. All or nothing. Since one side or the other will win anyway, the winnings are predetermined. But who am I?”
“You are a Dogun, sir.”
“Exactly why I prefer martial contests. People always seek the easy path—they never want to walk the difficult one.”
“Ah.”
A Dogun—the ultimate gambler among gamblers, one who has reached the pinnacle of the gambling arts.
The middle-aged man before me had arrived with conclusions already drawn through meticulous investigation and calculation.
The bald man bowed respectfully.
“I have learned much, Master Gwak Chul-yung.”
“Then you must pay your tuition.”
“What do you require?”
“Keep your mouth shut, just as you have until now.”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then I’ll be off—the preliminaries should be starting soon. I’ll have a drink and come back for my winnings.”
That absolute confidence that everything would unfold exactly as predicted.
Truly, a Dogun.
The middle-aged man adjusted his glasses and left.
One of the swordsmen standing guard at the door, burning with curiosity, ventured a question.
“Boss, who was that man?”
“That fellow? A Dogun.”
“Gasp, a Dogun!”
“And one of the most renowned Doguns under heaven, at that.”
“R-really that impressive?”
“There are only three legendary Doguns in existence.”
The bald man held up three fingers.
“One-Ear in Sichuan. One-Ear in Guangdong. And the last.”
The final finger folded down.
“Across the entire continent—Gwak Chul-yung.”
“Gwak Chul-yung…!”
“So go watch over Chul Soo Shin-ryong. Come to think of it, that punk’s getting too cocky for a newcomer.”
Smack!
The bald man kicked the swordsman’s shin.
Shortly after, he greeted his next customer—a rather peculiar one with a face mask pulled up to his eyes.
“Where would you like to place your bet?”
“This is confidential, yes?”
The masked man asked nervously.
The way he flinched, as if accustomed to constant beatings, screamed third-rate warrior from a mile away.
‘His eyes are all bruised. Well, as long as I get paid, it doesn’t matter.’
A gentle smile played at the corners of the bald man’s mouth.
It was his signature sales smile that naturally emerged whenever he spotted a potential customer.
“Of course. Please, go ahead.”
The masked man glanced around cautiously before pulling out his money pouch.
“One hundred silver taels that Shanxi Sleeping Dragon Jin Tae-kyung passes the preliminary round in first place.”
* * *
“From here to there. Follow me.”
The Seongnae Daeyeon preliminaries had so many participants that there were hundreds of proctors alone, with the testing grounds divided into multiple sections.
About a hundred applicants followed their assigned proctor. Of course, I was among them.
‘There really are a lot of them.’
Not only numerous, but remarkably diverse as well.
Scrawny types, heavyset ones, soft-furred youngsters, and weathered rogues who’d seen it all. There were women who caught the eye and handsome men with refined features.
The phrase “a hundred people, a hundred colors” fit perfectly.
Among them, one man who looked unmistakably rugged and imposing stood out distinctly. Judging by our eye levels, his head was a full head taller than mine.
‘Damn, is this the continent or Norway?’
Over two meters tall, with forearms so swollen with muscle they looked ready to burst, a salmon pierced by a harpoon was tattooed across his massive arm.
His features were so distinctly Western that I genuinely wondered if he was actually Norwegian.
I caught a sidelong glance, and our eyes locked directly.
“….”
“….”
I carefully opened my mouth.
“Uh, I’m fine thank you. And you?”
“…?”
That wasn’t right. What was it again?
Since elementary school, when I’d last touched English through those red-penned worksheets, my nerves made the words come out poorly.
“Ah! Where are you from?”
The Norwegian responded.
“You bastard. What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“You little shit, are you picking a fight with me right now?”
Hearty curses and countless stares rained down and pierced through the crowd.
Just as I was about to respond, the proctor’s stern voice rang out.
“Cause trouble and you’re disqualified!”
The Norwegian, whose mouth had been gaping like a salmon’s, glared at me.
A single thread of killing intent laced with the rough momentum of a harpoon’s blade was thrown in as a bonus.
– I’ll make you regret this.
How savage. A true descendant of the Vikings.
‘Well, I did mess up, so it’s fair.’
I lowered my head respectfully and continued walking. A sharp snort echoed from behind me, but I pretended not to hear it.
‘But he’s quite strong.’
He looked to be in his twenties, and meeting such a formidable opponent right from the start made my heart flutter with anticipation.
‘The world truly is vast.’
If the preliminaries were already at this level, the main tournament might very well unleash genuine monsters. I steeled my resolve, recalling Jeok Cheon-gang’s warning.
* * *
“The first examination will assess your fists and feet.”
Following the examiner to our destination, we arrived at an unnamed cliff.
I didn’t need to ask what form the examination would take here.
Other contestants were already undergoing their assessments.
Crack! Crunch!
“Argh!”
A clumsy martial artist with a broken wrist tumbled across the ground. The examiner sighed and snapped a bamboo slip in half.
“Chang Yu of Butterfly Sect, disqualified. Next!”
The next contestant stepped forward and hurled a punch at the cliff.
Boom!
This one at least possessed first-rate skill. He knew how to channel his inner force into his strike.
A distinct mark was carved into the cliff, where rock and earth were fused together in a hardened mass.
The examiner measured the depth and width, then nodded approvingly.
“Go Bul of Small Party Sect, qualified. Next!”
The qualified contestant stepped aside, while third-rate martial artists with weak punches or those who winced from a single strike were rapidly eliminated.
“You’ve seen enough to understand the format. Shall we begin? Let’s see…”
The examiner drew a bamboo slip. The name that emerged was:
“Jin Tae-kyung of Taewon Jin Family.”
As all eyes turned toward me, a system notification chimed.
Ding.
– Quest,
[Seongnae Daeyeon]
has been generated.

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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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