Murim Login - Chapter 254

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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 254
“Shanxi Sleeping Dragon Jin Tae-kyung, victorious!”
At the referee’s proclamation, tens of thousands of spectators rose to their feet in unison.
The eyes of a man watching Jin Tae-kyung descend from the Tournament Arena, bathed in cheers and applause, were deeply shadowed with contemplation.
‘A peculiar fellow indeed.’
The Pagoda Staff Technique was the Beggar Clan’s supreme secret art, something only Hu Gae, the leader of the Beggar Clan, could teach.
Despite its ridiculous name, its destructive power and the subtlety of its techniques ranked among the top ten in all the realm.
Yet Jin Tae-kyung had dismantled it with remarkable ease, without employing any particularly sophisticated martial arts.
He shattered a bamboo staff infused with inner force with his bare fist, and merely frowned when struck by the Eighteen Dragon Palms.
He had even deliberately allowed himself to be hit when he could have dodged. No, that was undoubtedly his intention.
‘Why?’
He wondered if the man was some peculiar sort who enjoyed pain, but the way he grimaced each time suggested otherwise.
What madman would willingly take the Pagoda Staff Technique barehanded just to build his body’s resilience?
‘Regardless, an intriguing specimen.’
The astonishment he felt upon first seeing Jin Tae-kyung had not faded.
Those bones and muscles seemed heaven-sent. If such a thing as a Celestial Warrior’s Physique existed, surely it would be like this.
‘The Fire King’s disciple, then… I must observe him carefully.’
With that thought, the man who turned away—Jong Ri-chu, the Ascending Sword—melded into the throng of jubilant spectators.
Yet there were eyes that followed his departing figure.
A portly merchant with a belly, an elderly man with a hunched back, a third-rate martial artist in cheap robes, and bandits…
Ordinary faces you could find anywhere.
But each time their lips moved, they exchanged voice transmissions—a technique only masters of the highest caliber could employ.
– First unit, acknowledged.
– Second and third units will follow. However, you must maintain observation from beyond a hundred paces.
– We may lose track of him.
– I am aware. But this is our best option.
– Understood.
– Fourth and fifth units, keep watch over Jin Tae-kyung and Chung Poong. Should he approach again, report immediately.
– Aye.
– Then we all pray for martial fortune.
The brief exchange concluded with no further response. The ordinary faces moved naturally, disappearing into the crowd.
And the middle-aged beggar who had been sitting on the street accepting alms continued to bow and scrape for some time longer before finally rising from his spot.
The transformation began in a quiet alley where few people ventured.
Crack, crackle. Whoosh.
His hunched shoulders straightened, his twisted spine becoming perfectly erect. Then, as if invisible hands were kneading him, his facial muscles trembled and shifted.
Within ten steps, the middle-aged beggar had become a kindly-looking old man.
Tap. Tap.
A wooden prosthetic leg, crafted from ebony so hard it rivaled steel, struck the stone pavement.
‘Jong Ri-chu, the Ascending Sword.’
The old man, Cheon Myeon Ho-ri Song Ho, silently repeated the name in his mind.
Before being the chief of the Shadow Pavilion, I was first and foremost an information broker and master of disguise.
I never forgot a face I’d seen once, and I could identify someone by mere habit or bone structure alone. No disguise technique could escape my eyes.
Yet there was one exception—Jong Ri-chu.
‘I’m certain we’ve crossed paths before.’
But when? Where?
Song Ho, lost in deep contemplation as he recalled Jong Ri-chu’s face, stopped walking when pain shot through his leg.
‘It’s starting again. It’s been worse lately.’
It was an ancient wound.
Decades ago, in his youth, he had participated in the final battle against the Demon Cult and lost one leg.
He had barely survived after countless trials and tribulations, but the memory of that day was seared into his mind like a brand of fire.
And the voice of that one person—deep and dark as an abyss.
‘Cheon Myeon Ho-ri Song Ho. For a fox, you’re quite sizeable. Shall I start by tearing off your legs?’
Song Ho trembled violently, then forced himself to continue walking despite the pain.
It was a past of which nothing remained but dregs. I needed to focus on the present, which had a far more tangible reality.
‘Jong Ri-chu… Who are you? What are you plotting?’
I had already made all necessary preparations. Yet the unease lingering in my chest kept shaking me.
‘Have I grown old? Has peace lasted too long?’
A faint sigh escaped the Old Master’s lips.
* * *
I closed my eyes.
In the darkness, I recalled a person—a boyish face always brightened by a cheerful smile, and an ordinary build.
But everything changed the moment he drew his sword.
Whoooosh!
Unseen yet visible. Unheard yet heard.
Purple sword energy shot forth, flawlessly occupying all thirty-six directions.
It was swift as a ray of light and soft as scattering petals. Witnessing that beautiful spectacle, I thought:
‘Extinction Flame Divine Fist? Flame Divine Form? Or perhaps…’
Several other martial techniques came to mind before fading away.
Chung Poong was an opponent requiring full strength. In the end, there was only one answer. After brief deliberation, the moment I grasped the cold spear shaft.
Creak.
“Chief. Chief.”
A voice piercing my ear shattered my reverie. Chung Poong and the illusory sword energy he had created vanished without a trace.
As I lifted my eyelids, Hyuk Moo-jin peeked through the door crack.
“Hehe. I’ve arrived.”
I regarded the fellow quietly before speaking.
“Why have you come?”
“I thought you might be bored, so I came to keep you company.”
“Keep me company?”
“Yes. Isn’t that admirable?”
“Admirable?”
I exhaled deeply and pulled the chair leg out from under me.
“Lie down, you treacherous bastard.”
“Why, why are you doing this?”
“Did Chung Poong send you? Tell me to stop my training?”
“Gasp, were you in the middle of training?”
“Then what, do you see someone sitting cross-legged and napping?”
Hyuk Moo-jin, gauging my mood, stammered his response.
“They say when you were young, you used to try practicing the Horse Stance while sitting in a chair.”
“That wasn’t me… but wait, are you talking back to me right now?”
“No, can’t I talk back?”
Is this bastard insane?
I stared at Hyuk Moo-jin with bewildered eyes. In the old days, he would have immediately covered his head, but after hesitating for a moment, he puffed out his chest.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Since we’re on the subject, I believe I’ve made contributions while assisting you as the leader.”
“And?”
“Please treat me accordingly.”
“What kind of treatment? Workers’ compensation? Will you handle industrial accident claims if you get hurt?”
“I don’t quite understand what workers’ compensation or industrial accident claims mean. If you keep this up, I’ll just quit everything and inherit the textile shop instead.”
I pondered this and nodded.
“Fine then.”
“Pardon?”
“Good work. Or rather, thank you for your service, Moo-jin. May your textile shop prosper going forward.”
“Wait, wait a moment.”
“Ah, that’s right. Prepare to close the main branch in Shanxi Province.”
Thump!
Hyuk Moo-jin, embracing my calf, spoke with desperate eyes.
“I misspoke.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Please just give me one hit on the back of my head.”
“But you asked for proper treatment?”
“No. I’ve become someone who cannot survive a single day without your hand discipline.”
“….”
Is he mad?
I shook my head and flicked his forehead lightly.
“Stop the nonsense and get to the point. Why did you come?”
“Well, I came to truly keep you company.”
“What?”
As I opened my eyes wide, Hyuk Moo-jin’s voice grew more cautious.
“Tomorrow is the finals, and it seems you must be under considerable pressure….”
“The opponent hasn’t even been decided yet. What are you talking about? Don’t you know today is the last day of the semifinals?”
As the sun began to set, Jong Ri-chu and Chung Poong’s match would soon commence.
Whoever emerged victorious between the two would be my finals opponent, and barring some extraordinary upset, Chung Poong’s victory was certain.
At my words, Hyuk Moo-jin shrugged his shoulders.
“I know, but you’re saying it anyway.”
“Dull fellow. You should be training instead of wasting time like this, you fool.”
Even as I spoke those words, something warm stirred in my chest. Come to think of it, Moo-jin had suffered quite a lot following me around.
His occasional bouts of senselessness might well be the result of having so many brain cells destroyed by my repeated smashes to the back of his head.
‘Now I feel guilty thinking about it.’
I was making a mental note to treat him better going forward when Hyuk Moo-jin asked a question.
“Chung Poong So-hyup will win, right?”
“Of course that’s… wait, how do you know that?”
“Others might not know, but I should. The Invincible Divine Sword—what a childish epithet—his real name is Qing Feng, and he even used the Zahasin Technique in his last match. How could I not know?”
“You’re smarter than I thought?”
“Word is spreading, you see. Chung Poong So-hyup isn’t particularly well-known, so most people just think of him as a disciple of the Hua Mountain Sect.”
True enough—the Zahasin Technique was distinctive enough that such deductions were entirely reasonable.
“So Chung Poong So-hyup will definitely win, right?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“It has to be certain. Absolutely certain!”
What was this? That greedy glint in his eyes—what was that about?
The moment I nodded with an uneasy feeling, it happened.
“Waaaah!”
A roar echoed from not far away, reverberating through the air.
I picked up the spear I’d set beside me—Baek Yeom—and rose to my feet.
‘Chung Poong will advance regardless. That fact won’t change.’
This was clearly a battle between an egg and a stone.
But observing how the egg collides and how the stone cracks it would prove invaluable for my finals match.
“What are you doing? Get up.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
“The Prolonged Life Sword!”
“I bet a silver coin on you! Turn this around once!”
“Hahahaha! Betting on the Prolonged Life Sword instead of the Invincible Divine Sword? That’s foolish!”
As Jong Ri-chu stepped onto the Tournament Arena amid blazing torches and a cacophony of raucous laughter, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
It was because of the gazes bearing down on him from the upper seats.
Three of the supreme masters known as the Ten Kings were present. He could also see the leaders of the Nine Major Sects and One Alliance and the Five Great Families, and in the back, Cheon Myeon Ho-ri and Song Ho watching with gleaming eyes.
“Rising Sword Jong Ri-chu. Take your position.”
His pause lasted only a moment. At the referee’s command, Jong Ri-chu climbed onto the Tournament Arena with heavy steps and drew his sword without hesitation.
Shing!
At the sudden action, laughter erupted from the crowd that had momentarily fallen silent.
The blade guard was caked with dirt, obscuring any patterns, and the sword itself was covered entirely in rust that gleamed a deep red.
Any martial artist worth their salt treasures their weapon as dearly as their own life, yet Jong Ri-chu’s blade appeared never to have received a single day of maintenance since its creation.
“What in the world is that?”
“I nearly jumped out of my skin thinking something was wrong.”
“That’s what you get with a Life-Prolonging Sword. What did you expect?”
As the crowd’s laughter echoed around us, Jong Ri-chu stared intently at the rust-corroded blade and clicked his tongue.
“I can’t use it as it is right now.”
Just then, Chung Poong, who had been enthusiastically waving to the spectators, extended his own sword.
“Here, want to borrow mine? Or better yet, just use mine?”
“No. You need to use that.”
“I’m fine with it though….”
“Fine with it? What about you then?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re friends.”
As Chung Poong nodded vigorously, Jong Ri-chu broke into a warm smile.
“I appreciate the sentiment. My blade will suffice.”
“But we’re friends….”
“Listen here.”
Shing.
The rust-red blade turned toward Chung Poong.
Within Jong Ri-chu’s playful eyes, a flame had begun to flicker.
“I’ve never had a friend like you before.”

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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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