Murim Login - Chapter 253

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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 253
Whoosh!
There was no formal opening stance. The moment the flag signaling the start of the tournament rose, both fighters surged toward each other.
And in that instant when the distance of roughly twenty paces collapsed into nothing, a brilliant torrent of sword energy erupted from Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s waist.
‘Sword energy from the very start?’
Everything possessed its merits and drawbacks.
Sword energy unleashed tremendous power, but at the cost of severe depletion of inner force.
Yu Yun Shin-ryong had chosen swift victory over a prolonged battle in this tournament.
Swish-crack!
Azure energy flowing from his Pine-Patterned Ancient Sword descended toward Chung Poong’s shoulder.
A strike without wasted motion—surely a trajectory he had traced countless times since the day he first grasped a blade.
But….
‘If my eyes can perceive it, then Chung Poong’s eyes see it just the same.’
Crash!
By half a step’s difference. The Pine-Patterned Ancient Sword, wreathed in azure sword energy, exploded against the tournament arena.
Yet Yu Yun Shin-ryong was a master of the highest caliber with vast experience. As if anticipating this, he twisted his blade to sever at Chung Poong’s ankle.
“Yikes!”
Whoosh! Whish-whish-whoosh!
With a mischievous cry, Chung Poong evaded the blade and contorted his body.
Immediately after, the sword energy raked across all sides like a beast’s claws, tearing through space. The loose hem of his robe caught in those trajectories and shredded into tatters, scattering on the wind.
At that spectacle, cries and gasps erupted from the crowd.
“Kyaaah!”
“Gasp!”
But to me, it was crystal clear. Chung Poong’s body unmarred by a single scratch, and the laughter hanging at the corners of his mouth.
He was enjoying himself. Chung Poong, who had slipped free from the sword strikes with movements as graceful as a dance, laughed broadly and clapped his hands.
“Wow! Was that the Tai Qing Sword Technique just now?”
“Well, yes it was.”
Yu Yun Shin-ryong, who had answered almost reflexively, wore a bewildered expression.
And truthfully, anyone would have felt the same. What was that? How did that bastard dodge just then? Such thoughts surely filled everyone’s minds.
“Sword dueling is really fun. Have you perhaps not learned the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword?”
“Why would you….”
“I’ve really wanted to see the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword. An elder—well, someone I know—praised it several times. Said it was excellent martial arts.”
The Tai Chi Wisdom Sword was famous enough that even I had heard of it several times—the Wudang Sect’s greatest ultimate technique.
Chung Poong had spoken with pure intentions, but to anyone unfamiliar with his character, his words were nothing short of disrespectful.
For instance, Yu Yun Shin-ryong standing right before me was no exception.
“The martial arts of the Main Sect do not exist to receive praise, nor to entertain you.”
Yu Yun Shin-ryong, his face hardened into rigidity, raised his Pine-Patterned Ancient Sword and pointed it at Chung Poong.
“But if you so desire it, I shall show you. How fearsome these martial arts truly are.”
A gentle yet overwhelming aura rose, pressing down upon the surroundings. Simultaneously, the sword’s tip moved slowly, tracing a circle.
Tai Chi. The very essence of Wudang Sect martial arts was now unfolding in his hands.
“The Tai Chi Wisdom Sword! So it is the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword!”
“Please fight with all your strength. Otherwise, you will come to regret it.”
A sharp whistle cut through the air!
The moment Yu Yun Shin-ryong finished speaking, his form vanished like a phantom.
In the next instant, a torrent of azure sword energy rippled forth, targeting Chung Poong’s upper body.
It was then that Chung Poong’s blade, which had never been drawn since the match began, finally revealed itself.
A sharp metallic screech, followed by a thunderous clash!
Sword energy colliding against sword energy. Though it was but a single exchange, the victor was unmistakable.
Yu Yun Shin-ryong slid backward a full zhang, his eyes wide with shock. Blood dripped from the torn flesh of his palm.
“This… what is this?”
“May I take my turn now?”
With that question, Chung Poong’s form scattered like a phantom.
The Hua Mountain Sect’s Secret Fragrance Drift—that very movement I had grown weary of witnessing during our past encounters.
Now, after a year had passed, his Secret Fragrance Drift had become even more concealed and swift.
A sharp whistle!
At the tip of the blade grazing Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s crown, a faint violet aura shimmered.
Evading whenever possible, and only channeling sword energy in the precise moments of attack.
It was clear evidence that he was minimizing unnecessary expenditure of inner force while maintaining perfect control over his own qi.
“Hah!”
Alarmed, Yu Yun Shin-ryong hastily raised his blade. But this time, something was different. The Song Gate Ancient Sword flowed along Chung Poong’s blade and changed direction.
Softness subduing hardness—that principle, the very foundation of the Wudang Sect’s martial arts and the subtle mystery contained within the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword.
But…
“Oh, I can do something similar too.”
A smooth, flowing motion.
With those innocent words, Chung Poong’s wrist rotated with fluid grace.
The Song Gate Ancient Sword, which had been stubbornly pressing down upon Chung Poong’s blade, suddenly lost all force and fell away helplessly.
In that instant, Chung Poong’s blade caught the wavering Song Gate Ancient Sword in mid-air.
“There we go. That’s the right way, isn’t it?”
“…!”
“Or not? Wait, I think this way would work better. Ah, so that’s it.”
Suddenly withdrawing his blade and falling into deep thought, Chung Poong broke into a radiant smile. In stark contrast, Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s face was filled with astonishment.
And the same was true for all the martial artists watching the match.
“Unbelievable!”
“The, the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword!”
Greater strength subdues strength; greater softness subdues softness.
The Wudang Sect, which had made the principle of softness subduing hardness the foundation of its martial arts, had its supreme technique—the Tai Chi Wisdom Sword—suppressed in the very same manner. The shock was immense.
‘Chung Poong is at least one level, no—at least two levels ahead of Yu Yun Shin-ryong.’
There was no way Yu Yun Shin-ryong, facing him directly, could fail to sense this fact.
“How… how is this possible?”
“Hmm. You just need to think of it as embracing your opponent. Then your body naturally responds to where and how to move. Quite simple, really?”
“….”
As if that would be easy, you madman.
Wait, can he really do something like that?
‘The man who ate nothing but dumplings for a whole year.’
As I stared at Chung Poong with eyes clouded by bewilderment, Yu Yun Shin-ryong, whose eyelids trembled from the shock, suddenly rushed toward him.
Whoosh!
A brilliant azure sword aura blazed forth with unprecedented radiance. It was undoubtedly a strike that had drawn forth every ounce of his martial power.
Just as the blade seemed poised to cleave through his chest, the spectators’ screams erupted at the sight of Chung Poong standing there motionless.
Shhhhhhh!
A vivid violet luminescence flooded the tournament arena. The sword in Chung Poong’s hand traced an exquisite arc.
From that single movement alone, I could discern which martial technique Chung Poong was executing.
‘The Plum Blossom Thirty-Six Sword.’
It was incomparably swift and graceful.
Suddenly, the fragrance of plum blossoms seemed to brush past my nostrils. The violet sword aura of the Crimson Heavens Divine Art burst into bloom, unfurling thirty-six plum blossoms.
And in the next instant, Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s Songmun Ancient Sword came to an abrupt halt before Chung Poong’s chest.
Crack.
The sword aura that had been pouring forth moments before vanished without a trace. Fine cracks spread across the pristine white blade like a spider’s web.
A hollow voice escaped from between Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s lips as he gazed upon his beloved sword.
“Plum blossoms… I see. You were a disciple of the Huashan Sect.”
Chung Poong, startled, stammered his words.
“No, that’s not it.”
“Well, what does it matter anyway.”
Resignation, and acceptance.
Yu Yun Shin-ryong’s arm slowly descended toward the ground. The Songmun Ancient Sword, shattered into countless fragments, rolled across the tournament arena.
“I have lost.”
Only then did the silence finally break.
The judge, regaining his senses, lowered his flag, and like a dam bursting, an enormous roar from the crowd swept across the arena.
* * *
“How was that? I did well, didn’t I?”
I awoke from my reverie at that innocent voice. Chung Poong, his eyes sparkling like a child’s, had thrust his face right before mine.
“You startled me. Please refrain from doing such things.”
“Benefactor, how was I?”
I wondered if this young man pestering me for an answer was truly the same person from moments ago.
The Invincible Divine Sword—he had utterly overwhelmed Yu Yun Shin-ryong, the future of the Wudang School and one of the Ten Dragons and Phoenixes.
And watching this tournament, I realized once more: Chung Poong had long since transcended the realm of late-stage mastery.
‘Is that all there is?’
Standing at a higher vantage point reveals far more of the landscape. The same was true of the mountain that was Chung Poong. A vista I had failed to perceive a year ago.
‘Remarkable. It’s almost unbelievable that such talent is purely innate.’
The martial prowess he possessed was astounding, but not as much as his talent.
Watching him, I couldn’t help but suspect he might be a system user—such a natural genius was Chung Poong.
“Benefactor. Why won’t you answer me?”
“Are you still a child? I’m complimenting even that.”
Chung Poong muttered with a slightly dejected expression.
“Grandfather always used to say that….”
“That’s your own affair.”
It was right when I deliberately gave that curt reply.
“Hey, that was some match you put on. Friend!”
At a voice that suddenly burst forth from nowhere, Chung Poong’s face brightened as he turned around.
“Jong Ri-chu!”
“Oh, you remember me. Friend!”
“Of course I remember. Well, actually I do!”
“….”
These fools are at it again.
I watched Jong Ri-chu and Chung Poong embrace each other and laugh heartily, then a sudden thought occurred to me and I opened my mouth.
“Wait. You two there.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Aren’t you two each other’s next opponents?”
The two who had been staring blankly at each other gasped and swallowed hard.
“Y-yes, that’s right!”
“Ah, that’s true. My next opponent in the tournament is Qing Feng—you.”
I could already hear the cracks forming in their friendship.
Watching the two awkwardly distance themselves from each other, I clicked my tongue in disapproval.
‘Well, regardless, the outcome is already fairly clear.’
Like everything else, luck plays a role in the Seonglae Tournament. In that sense, Jong Ri-chu was a man born under fortune’s favor.
For some reason, he had advanced to the semifinals by consecutively facing mediocre opponents.
In truth, the opponents he had defeated so far were only mediocre in my eyes—they were at least equal to or stronger than Jong Ri-chu.
‘And I heard he even got a bye yesterday.’
From what I gathered, Jong Ri-chu’s quarterfinal opponent had sustained a serious injury and forfeited.
Whatever else might be said, no one could deny that this man was blessed with extraordinary luck.
‘Still, making it to the semifinals is quite an achievement.’
Chung Poong is not an opponent one can defeat through luck alone. Realizing this fact themselves, they exchanged words with regretful expressions.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go easy on you. Well, I’ll take it easy.”
“If you do that, I’m grateful. Please, I’m asking you sincerely.”
Whether it’s the one openly saying he’ll take it easy, or the one thanking him without a shred of pride—neither of them seems to be in their right mind.
Shaking my head at the sight of the two, I opened my mouth.
“You two childhood friends can work out that problem well enough. I’ll be taking my leave now. I have a prior engagement.”
“A prior engagement? But benefactor, you don’t have any friends.”
“Where? Do I have other friends besides you?”
“….”
What’s sadder is that I cannot deny it.
Just as I found myself at a loss for words, the referee’s voice, infused with martial power, echoed across the arena.
“Shanxi Sleeping Dragon Jin Tae-kyung! Please ascend to the Tournament Arena!”
“Yes, I’m coming.”
Both Chung Poong and I still had one more hurdle to overcome before we could face each other on the final stage.
With light steps, I took my place on the Tournament Arena and regarded my opponent.
“You’re fortunate too. I didn’t expect you to make it this far.”
My semifinal opponent muttered in a dejected voice.
“Our sect’s Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms are among the five greatest palm techniques under heaven.”
“Yet you’ve only mastered five forms.”
“That’s true.”
“Then you should forfeit.”
“If I did that, my master would beat me like a stray dog on a holiday.”
“Then?”
“There’s only one path left.”
Hu Gae of the Beggar Clan, Gung Ki-bang, spat out a thick glob of phlegm and pointed his worn bamboo staff at me as he continued.
“Our sect’s Dog-Beating Staff Technique is supreme under heaven. I’ll thrash you like a mutt in an alley.”
“All right then.”
And exactly a quarter hour later, Gung Ki-bang, his eyes swollen shut, grabbed my calf and cried out.
“I’ve only mastered five forms of the Dog-Beating Staff Technique!”
….
This bastard—everything stops at five forms.
As I hurled the split bamboo staff away, the referee lowered his flag.
“Shanxi Sleeping Dragon Jin Tae-kyung advances to the finals!”

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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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