Murim Login - Chapter 258

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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 258
My eyes blazed with fury.
“Where do you think you’re going, you bastard!”
In the past, I would have first wondered why this was happening. Perhaps I would have even felt a secret sigh of relief at having escaped the crisis.
But not now.
‘This bastard beats me and runs?’
Unlike me, who still lingered at the peak of my power, Jong Ri-chu was a true master of the highest realm. I acknowledged that he possessed skill several levels above mine.
But to flee before the match was even decided?
I clenched my teeth. Ignoring the stabbing pain of my internal injuries, I concentrated every ounce of my power into my lower body.
“Stop right there.”
Crack! Boom!
With a thunderous sound, I launched myself into the air. A cold wind lashed my face, and Jong Ri-chu’s feet were right before my eyes.
Within arm’s reach. A single certainty flashed through my mind.
‘I’ve got him.’
Whoosh!
But my spear blade, thrust forward with a triumphant smile, cut through empty air with pathetic ease.
I blinked, unable to comprehend what had happened.
‘How?’
Even at the 7th rank of inner strength, I understood the law of gravity. Jong Ri-chu’s body had already reached its apex and was descending, while I was rising with momentum. I should have been able to grab his ankle with my bare hands.
The distance was certainly within reach.
But trapped by that very certainty, I had overlooked the most crucial truth.
That martial artists—true masters of the highest realm—were beings who shattered common sense.
“This insane…”
A curse escaped my lips unbidden. The sight unfolding before my eyes was that shocking.
Tap tap tap!
He stepped. On empty air where no wall or branch existed.
As if invisible stairs lay beneath him, Jong Ri-chu ascended higher and higher, treading upon the void itself.
‘Void-Treading Steps…’
What kind of cursed technique was this? How was I supposed to catch that?
Muttering curses under my breath, I fell alongside him, and my vision filled with the confused faces of the onlookers below.
Among them, a small old man whose eyes gleamed with cold intensity.
“You! How dare you!”
Fire King Red Sky River.
His thunderous roar shook the heavens, and from his weathered hands erupted a crimson beam of light. A single sword infused with the power of Extreme Yang erased dozens of zhang of distance and struck its target dead on.
Boom boom boom!
The air trembled, and flashes of light burst forth from the void, searing my retinas. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Jong Ri-chu falling.
No, I need to correct myself.
‘That’s not falling.’
Unfortunately, unlike before, this prediction proved accurate.
Red Sky River’s cold laugh was the evidence, and Jong Ri-chu’s form shooting away like an arrow was the result.
‘I blocked it.’
Jong Ri-chu didn’t merely deflect Jeok Cheon-gang’s blade—he seized the tremendous martial force coursing through it and weaponized it as propulsion, accelerating himself in his desired direction.
The decision made in that infinitesimal moment was so brilliantly shrewd and devastatingly efficient that it seemed impossible it could have been conceived in real time.
Whoooosh!
Launched like a meteor from the dizzying heights above, Jong Ri-chu had become untouchable—no one in this arena could intercept him now.
Thud.
The instant I, having personally experienced the full weight of gravity, descended upon the devastated Tournament Arena, Jeok Cheon-gang’s enraged voice thundered across the expanse.
“What are you doing?! Chase him down immediately!”
The event had unfolded with such shocking suddenness that only Jeok Cheon-gang’s command jolted the seated leadership back to reality.
“Capture Jong Ri-chu, the Rising Sword!”
“Seize the Demon Cult’s spy who orchestrated this treacherous plot! Whoever apprehends him—alive or dead—shall receive a magnificent reward!”
The Nine Major Sects and One Alliance, the Five Great Families, and the influential martial sects wielding considerable power across the provinces—everyone gathered here represented the pinnacle of the Martial World’s hierarchy.
Naturally, their retinues consisted entirely of elite masters of the highest caliber.
“Move out!”
Hundreds of warriors scattered in all directions, with myself, Jeok Cheon-gang, Byuk Ryuk Do-wang, and several other leaders at the vanguard.
Whoooosh!
We surged forward faster than anyone else. I couldn’t match Jeok Cheon-gang, who had mastered the Yeolhwa Sect’s exclusive divine technique, Flame Fire Path, to the ninth stage, but I could at least follow in his wake.
‘When there are no teeth, the gums must suffice.’
Though my divine technique realm remained shallow and my martial prowess still lingered at the threshold of mastery, my body—already transcending its former limits—made it possible.
“Your internal injuries—are you managing?”
“Bearable, sir.”
I nodded at Jeok Cheon-gang’s words, barely audible beneath the howling wind.
Ding.
– According to the rules, the first participant to leave the Tournament Arena has been
[???]
disqualified as out of bounds!
– Quest,
[Seonglae Tournament]
successfully completed!
– Great Achievement,
[Seonglae Tournament Champion]
acquired!
– Differential rewards granted based on participant caliber and tournament difficulty!
– Vast experience, fame, and bonus points acquired!
– Level Up!
– Level Up!
– Level Up!
.
.
.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
With each relentless system notification piercing my ears, the transformation began.
Vitality surged through my exhausted body, and the internal injuries that had been stabbing at my lungs healed completely. The fire dragon in my dantian, depleted from the all-out exchange, stirred and extended its power through every limb and meridian.
‘I never imagined I would win the Seonglae Tournament in this manner.’
Yet I was afforded no luxury to examine the System Message.
Finding Jong Ri-chu, who had vanished moments before, was the urgent priority.
“Damn it, whoever this bastard is, he’s absurdly fast.”
Just as Man Ri-chu Haeng, the Beggar Clan’s patriarch and master of lightness kung fu, had said—Jong Ri-chu moved with a speed that defied imagination.
His figure had long since disappeared from everyone’s sight. Jeok Cheon-gang issued orders swiftly.
“At this rate, we’ll lose him. The Beggar Clan takes the west, Kunlun and the rest fill the gaps between.”
“Yes, Jeok Dae-hyup.”
“Understood.”
Whoosh!
As the sect leaders of the Beggar Clan and Kunlun Sect—both renowned for their movement techniques—vanished with their disciples in tow, Jeok Cheon-gang fixed his gaze upon Byuk Ryuk Do-wang.
“You take the east.”
“Then what of here?”
“I shall handle it myself.”
Byuk Ryuk Do-wang opened his mouth with a stern expression.
“Be cautious. That fellow with his ascending sword technique or whatever—you’ll find him difficult to manage alone.”
Difficult to manage?
Those words from Byuk Ryuk Do-wang, known for his pride that ranked second to none, carried weight.
It meant Jong Ri-chu was a master comparable to, or perhaps exceeding, the Ten Kings themselves.
‘Jong Ri-chu was that formidable?’
How had he achieved such heights at his age?
A monster among monsters. As I swallowed my astonishment, Jeok Cheon-gang let out a derisive chuckle and spoke.
“That applies only to novices like yourself. You cannot place me in the same category as him.”
Though spoken as jest, it was clear he did not dismiss Byuk Ryuk Do-wang’s words lightly.
For despite the upturned corners of his mouth, Jeok Cheon-gang’s eyes had turned cold and sharp.
“Enough idle talk. Now go.”
“Damn it. Heaven is truly indifferent. Of all times, where has that bald monk Hongdao gone?”
Byuk Ryuk Do-wang left a single lament and turned his steps, disappearing from view.
Now only Jeok Cheon-gang and I remained.
We exchanged words while moving at great speed, leaping over and past hundreds of buildings that stretched endlessly before us.
“Should you spot him, do not act rashly. Do you understand?”
“I cannot promise that. I have a debt to settle.”
Jong Ri-chu is a master beyond your capacity to face. Do not intervene until I give the command.”
“Just how strong is he?”
After a brief silence, Jeok Cheon-gang’s lips parted.
“I do not know.”
“That means….”
“I could not discern what martial techniques he had mastered, nor what realm he had attained—not even with these old eyes.”
“…!”
First Byuk Ryuk Do-wang, whose pride was legendary, and now Jeok Cheon-gang himself—ranked among the Ten Kings’ mightiest—offered such an admission.
In that moment, I licked my parched lips.
Crash-boom-boom!
Far in the distance, a deafening explosion erupted, sending clouds of dust skyward. Screams and whistle signals pierced the air from all directions, announcing the enemy’s arrival.
I absorbed the information through my fully awakened senses.
‘West, roughly five hundred paces away.’
The direction where the Beggar Clan was stationed.
If I channeled my full power into my movement technique, I could reach it in mere moments.
“Old Master!”
“I know.”
Boom!
Jeok Cheon-gang and I shot forward like cannon fire.
With each stride, the surrounding landscape that had been whizzing past began to transform. The endless pavilions dwindled one by one, and the towering city walls came into view.
As I pushed against the fierce wind pressure, a heaviness settled in my chest.
‘What is this feeling?’
Could it be the weight of confronting Jong Ri-chu once more?
Glancing sideways, I caught sight of Jeok Cheon-gang’s expression—rigid and taut. His face was etched with unmistakable dread.
And moments later, we beheld the terrible truth behind that inexplicable foreboding.
“Chase him down!”
“Master! Come to your senses, Master!”
A colossal crater spanning thirty paces across. Among the gathered Beggar Clan disciples, a blood-soaked Buddhist robe lay exposed.
Trembling intermittently, a withered hand. Beneath two severed legs lay a pool of blood, and prayer beads stained crimson by their owner’s blood drifted upon its surface.
“…The old monk?”
Jeok Cheon-gang’s footsteps froze upon recognizing his old friend.
* * *
Jeok Cheon-gang’s vision swam.
The last conversation they had shared echoed endlessly in his ears.
‘Something’s come up. I need to step away for a moment.’
‘Now?’
‘I’ll handle it quickly and return.’
‘Is it something small or large?’
‘Amitabha Buddha. The Sage once said that resolving great matters resolves small ones as well.’
‘There goes that “Amitabha Buddha” again. No wonder they call you the old monk.’
‘What difference does it make to be called Buddha or monk? Hehehehe.’
He remembered vividly—half an hour ago, that figure departing with laughter. So why….
‘Why is he like this?’
Splash.
Mud and blood sprayed. The Beggar Clan beggars surrounding the fallen elder monk withdrew in disarray, their heads bowed.
“Y-you, Red Sky River!”
“The Patriarch is pursuing Jong Ri-chu. B-but when we arrived, it was already too late….”
“Move aside.”
The voice that escaped Jeok Cheon-gang’s lips was as parched as ash left smoldering in a fire.
All sound ceased. The world seemed to freeze in place. Already, my senses converged upon a single person alone.
“I’m here.”
A greeting as ordinary as any other. Yet instead of his usual glib tone, a strained cough answered in his stead.
Cough. Dharma King Hung-do’s chest heaved as black blood welled up from his lips.
Severe internal injuries. With fragments of organs mixed into the blood, one could discern the state of his ravaged insides without needing to look.
“Well now, a friend arrives and you can’t even wait before lying down again.”
Jeok Cheon-gang spoke with composure, then collapsed beside Hung-do in a heap.
Grasping the blood-soaked wrist of the aged monk and channeling his qi through it, I confirmed that my suspicion was reality.
Beyond salvation. Those four heavy characters—irreversible—filled Jeok Cheon-gang’s mind completely.
“Do you remember when we first met? Back in Gansu, when we were fighting those Demon Cult bastards day after day.”
Whether he was listening, whether he could even hear—
Everyone harbored the same doubt, yet Jeok Cheon-gang paid no heed and continued.
“At first, I thought, what kind of foolish monk is this? But you know what they say—even contempt becomes affection. When the time came to part with you, I found myself reluctant.”
Though I had never spoken it aloud, Hung-do was the only friend with whom I had ever truly opened my heart throughout my life.
To my master, I had to be a dependable disciple. To the first disciple I later accepted, I had to be a steadfast teacher.
But with Hung-do, it was different. In his presence, I could simply be Jeok Cheon-gang—just a man, nothing more.
“Do you know that?”
Jeok Cheon-gang channeled his qi into Hung-do’s vital point, speaking in a hushed voice.
“You are my dearest friend.”
Breathing that had seemed ready to cease at any moment eased. Eyelids that appeared sealed shut forever cracked open with great effort.
The final radiance before death—回光返照. Jeok Cheon-gang gazed into Hung-do’s grey eyes as they kindled with life’s last flame and spoke.
“Speak. Anything will do.”
Hung-do’s lips, drenched in blood, trembled faintly. Jeok Cheon-gang leaned his ear to those lips, listening to the final testament, his expression shifting moment by moment.
Rage. Shock. Understanding of something profound.
And the last emotion that surfaced was sorrow.
A soft rustle. A gentle fall.
The voice mingled with coughs fell silent. The heaving chest stilled. The trembling eyelids settled into peace.
Jeok Cheon-gang stared fixedly at Hung-do, whose eyes closed as if merely sleeping, a satisfied smile lingering at his lips. Then he opened his mouth.
“To Shaolin.”
His voice rose like molten lava.

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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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