Murim Login - Chapter 265

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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 265
I was certain—absolutely certain—that he was dead.
Even if his breath hadn’t completely ceased, I was convinced he could no longer be called a living human being.
And yet….
Crack. Crunch!
It was a sight I could scarcely believe even as I witnessed it.
The charred skin that had blackened so severely it seemed it would crumble at the slightest touch was now covered in pale, fresh flesh, and the protruding bones retreated back into their proper places, vanishing from sight.
‘What is this?’
What could one even call this? Recovery? No. This was regeneration—a regenerative power that transcended human limits, monstrous in its nature.
Chung Poong let out a single, breathless gasp at this horrifying spectacle.
“Ah, ahhh….”
By then, the final transformation had completed. The face that had exposed raw muscle rapidly regenerated itself.
With a dull sound, the creature that had been touching its neck bone grinned wickedly at us.
“You should have crushed the head. Made sure of it.”
Jeok Cheon-gang, who had been frozen like a stone statue, barely managed to part his lips.
“How?”
The Blood Lord answered with casual indifference.
“Let’s call it demonic cultivation for now. Besides, it’s all the same to Orthodox Sect dogs like you anyway, isn’t it?”
“You, you bastard…. Cough.”
“Old Master!”
I rushed forward in alarm to support Jeok Cheon-gang. His face had gone deathly pale, and crimson blood trickled down from his jaw.
I was mistaken. Jeok Cheon-gang had already exhausted every ounce of his strength.
Now that even the Divine Flame Returning to Emptiness technique, drawn from his final reserves, had proven futile, what rested in my arms was not the Fire King, but merely a weary old man.
“Quickly, flee….”
Jeok Cheon-gang couldn’t finish his words and shook his head. I hastily checked his pulse—faint, but still beating.
‘It’s still manageable.’
Yet it was far too early to breathe a sigh of relief.
“It seems even the Fire King of all under heaven has reached his limit,” the Blood Lord said with evident pleasure.
“This was more entertaining than I expected. Or to be honest, even unsettling. I never thought things would escalate to this point.”
I gripped the Baek Yeom that I had set down moments before and rose to my feet.
“Your breath reeks. Shut your mouth.”
Jeok Cheon-gang was already incapable of fighting. If I expended more strength here…the consequences would be irreversible.
“You think you alone can stop me? How admirable,” the Blood Lord sneered.
“Your eyes missing something? There are two of us.”
The Blood Lord shook his head.
“No, just one. I don’t count terrified rats as people.”
Terrified rats?
I turned my head to the side. There stood Chung Poong, frozen in place.
His pupils trembled uncontrollably, and the hand gripping his sword hilt quivered violently.
His pupils trembled without mercy. The hand gripping the sword’s hilt shook uncontrollably.
‘Fear.’
It was the only emotion I could sense emanating from Chung Poong in this moment.
“Sending a whelp who hasn’t even lost his milk teeth out into the Murim. The Sword Saint has been far too lenient in raising his disciple.”
Thud.
We were still more than fifty paces apart, yet the moment the Blood Lord took a single step forward, Chung Poong flinched as though burned by flame and stumbled backward.
‘This is….’
My heart plummeted in that instant. I understood perfectly what this meant.
The path I had walked through direct experience, the road countless others had traversed—Chung Poong was only now beginning to walk it, far too late.
‘Of all times for this.’
Every martial artist, every hunter experienced such growing pains, yet for the prodigy before me, this awakening had come far too late.
The Blood Lord, reading the thoughts written across my face, let out a cold chuckle.
“You understand, don’t you? That one is already finished. The helplessness he’s experiencing for the first time, the terror of death—once such things take hold, escape is nearly impossible.”
“…Jong Ri-chu.”
There was no doubt. It was because of his duel with Jong Ri-chu.
He was the one who had planted the seed of fear in Chung Poong’s heart. And that seed had sprouted upon meeting the Blood Lord, another formidable master.
“That’s right. I don’t know where that bastard came from, but he’s done something remarkable. He’s drawn the attention of the Orthodox Sects and swept away the Sword Saint’s disciple in one stroke. Hahaha!”
My mouth felt gritty, as though I were chewing sand.
Chung Poong remained paralyzed by terror while the Blood Lord closed the distance with unhurried, measured steps.
‘Damn it.’
Fortunately, I still had one final move remaining. The problem was that it truly was my ‘final’ move.
Even if I succeeded, the outcome was uncertain. If I failed, only death awaited.
‘But I have no choice.’
I slowly drew upon the meager reserves of inner force I had left—less than a tenth of my full capacity.
A single strike. Pouring everything into one blow to crush his skull—that was my only method.
Could I do it? I burned that question away without hesitation.
‘I must succeed. By any means.’
I needed conviction over doubt, desperate will over conviction. Only by staking my life on each minute movement could I create even the slimmest thread of possibility.
“Chung Poong.”
Click, click-click.
I didn’t need to see it to know—the sound of Chung Poong’s teeth chattering. I shouted with all my strength.
“Chung Poong!”
He gasped, his breath catching, and his head snapped upward.
“I won’t repeat myself. Listen carefully and decide for yourself.”
“Y-yes?”
“You have two choices remaining. First, carry the Old Master and flee as far as you can.”
“N-noble one!”
“I’m not finished. Second, stop trembling like a coward and fight alongside me against that monster with everything we have.”
“…!”
I felt the turbulence in Chung Poong’s trembling breath. And then, the feet that had retreated moments before began moving forward once more.
Thud. We took our place side by side before the unconscious Jeok Cheon-gang.
“I haven’t heard your answer yet.”
“This is my answer.”
“Be honest.”
“I’m terrified, my benefactor.”
“Damn, you’re brutally honest.”
“But I really am scared. It’s a fear I’ve never experienced before in my life.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the Blood Lord as he approached with deliberate slowness.
“If you’re so terrified, why don’t you run?”
“I don’t know myself. But if I flee from here… I feel like I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
That regret. I understand what it means.
I glanced briefly at Chung Poong. His hands still trembled with fear, yet his stance remained resolute, his feet planted firmly forward without retreat.
Yes, for now this is enough. It was the moment I gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Regret? Run away?”
Twenty paces ahead, the Blood Lord stopped and laughed aloud as if he’d heard a magnificent joke.
“You whelps spout such reckless nonsense. That decision belongs to me. It is the privilege of the strong and the inevitability of the weak.”
“Well, there’s some truth to that, I suppose…”
I raised my spear and aimed it at him. The transparent blade of Baek-yeom shattered into fragments beneath the sunlight.
“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound so goddamn stupid?”
“Truth is always inconvenient. Even more so for the weak.”
“This won’t do. Patient, open wide. We’re beginning the procedure. Since I’m doing this with a spear and no anesthesia, it’s going to hurt quite a bit.”
“Puhaha!”
“You’re laughing? I wouldn’t have expected that from you. But that’s how life goes, isn’t it? I should have realized it when my mother suggested we go eat something delicious.”
The smile at the corners of his mouth deepened.
“Shanxi Sleeping Dragon. The more I see you, the more fascinating you become. That bizarre martial art of unknown origin, that audacity… I like you.”
“If you like me?”
“Serve under me. I could even spare the Fire King’s life.”
“Go screw yourself. After today, I won’t have anything to do with a bastard like you.”
“Who was it that said this? Once is coincidence. Twice is connection. The third meeting is fate.”
“This damn fool’s writing romance novels now.”
The Blood Lord shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, it’s not a romantic relationship, but if we’ve crossed paths twice in this vast world, doesn’t that constitute some form of destiny?”
“Twice?”
For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend what he meant.
What was this bastard talking about?
“Did you see me at the Seongnae Daeyeon?”
“Of course I did.”
His voice carried a playful tone.
“At the Eight Thousand Swordsmen.”
“…What?”
“It was quite a spectacle. Corpses became mountains, blood flowed like rivers… Your moment of claiming Jin Baek-yang’s life left a particularly deep impression. That must have been when you earned the title Shanxi Sleeping Dragon, yes?”
“What are you talking about….”
“Hwa-yang Geom Jin Baek-yang. A useless bastard. At first, he acted as though he’d give me his liver and gallbladder, but as he aged, some pathetic doubt crept in and he botched the job. I wonder what incompetent fool managed to recruit such a half-baked wretch. Tsk, tsk.”
I stared blankly at the Blood Lord clicking his tongue. Every word spilling from his mouth sounded hollow and alien to me.
“Ah, is that third-rate sect called Hangsan Inspection Bureau still around? I did hear a report from my subordinate that he killed the sect leader’s son. But since the Eight Thousand Swordsmen incident, I haven’t given it much thought.”
“…!”
A single bolt of electricity pierced through my spine, and I trembled violently.
“Then, it was you?”
“I told you already.”
The Blood Lord’s eyes curved like crescents. A soft voice—one that suited him not at all—followed.
“Once is chance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is destiny, they say. Don’t you think we’ve crossed paths enough to call it fate?”
My breath caught in my throat.
The man standing before me now was the very architect of that war.
The Blood Lord laughed heartily upon seeing my expression.
“Why that look? Thanks to me, everything unfolded smoothly, didn’t it? The Taewon Jin Family became the premier house of Shanxi. You became the Fire King’s disciple and even claimed victory at the Seonglae Tournament. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”
I did not answer. My mind was consumed by a single thought.
‘How many died?’
I couldn’t say. A thousand? Two thousand?
Countless lives had perished in a meaningless war. There was no complete victor, no true vanquished.
Only warriors who wielded their blades at another’s command, innocent civilians with no connection to the conflict—all dead. And countless war orphans left in their wake.
When the Shanxi Martial World staggered, the Horse Bandits of the Highland rose to prominence. History repeated itself not long after the war’s end.
‘And he speaks of gratitude.’
I licked my parched, withered lips. My grip tightened around the spear shaft of its own accord.
A strange power infused my exhausted body—a stat that did not appear in the system window.
It was rage.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“That bullshit about once being chance, twice being coincidence, and all that?”
I took a deep breath. Without it, I feared flames would pour from my mouth.
“You and I are different. Let’s skip all that and call it destiny.”
“Destiny?”
“Yeah. The kind where one of us dies.”
Before the words even finished, I pushed off the ground. The distance vanished in an instant, and I saw his smiling face clearly.
‘One Flash.’
Whoooosh.
The spear blade tore through space.
* * *
Crack!
“Aaaahhhhh!”
His arm shattered, white bone piercing through flesh and bursting outward.
The Young Man screamed at an agony he had never before experienced. Spurting blood splattered across his own face.
The acrid stench of blood assaulted my nostrils, and my stomach lurched violently. In that moment, as the Young Man bent forward to retch, a thick leg swept across his abdomen with brutal force.
A sickening crack, followed by the sound of a body crashing through debris.
“Pathetic fool. I pity the Sword Saint for taking a dullard like you as his disciple.”
Sent sprawling, the Young Man—Chung Poong—struggled to flip his body over.
The pain was unbearable. I wanted nothing more than to collapse. Every fiber of my being screamed in agony, and a suffocating despair pressed down upon me with crushing weight.
‘My body won’t obey me.’
Unable to rise, I slumped to the ground, and the vast sky spread across my vision.
The sky above Hwa-san Yeon-hwa Peak was always clear and beautiful. By day, clouds drifted lazily; by night, stars shone brilliantly, and deer and rabbits bounded energetically across the slopes.
But this.
‘Why is the sky here so crimson?’
The sky here was different. Red. Oppressive.
As Chung Poong blinked, I realized the capillaries in my eyes had burst. It was the first time such a thing had happened, yet I felt no shock.
‘I’ve already broken bones for the first time, shed so much blood already.’
Thinking of my own condition, my breathing grew ragged without my realizing it.
As I lay sprawled on the ground, gasping, a chilling sound pierced my ears.
A sharp whistle, then a sickening crack.
“Cough!”
“You bastard!”
Chung Poong turned my head toward the sound. In my tilted vision, two figures locked in a blood-soaked struggle came into focus.
No—this could no longer be called a fight.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Ugh!”
“Still not dead? Still not dead?!”
A sickening crunch, followed by the crash of impact.
A nose caved in. An ankle shattered. A shoulder dislocated.
Once, thrice, ten times…
Yet no matter what injuries were inflicted, no matter how many times he fell, he rose again.
A hundred times would be no different. The Young Man I knew was that kind of person.
‘My benefactor.’
Unlike hope, reality was merciless.
The outcome was decided swiftly.
I knew not what martial technique it was, but Jin Tae-kyung’s strike was incomparably devastating. It had shattered the Blood Lord’s crimson blade—infused with sword energy—and dealt a crushing blow to his body.
Yet in mere moments, the Blood Lord had restored himself and driven them into a corner.
“Madman… there’s no poison more vicious under heaven than this.”
Now everything was coming to an end.
The Blood Lord, shaking his head with a look of disgust, was himself drenched in blood from head to toe.
Unlike before, he could no longer mend his wounds. The ease that had marked his expression throughout was gone, replaced by ragged breathing as he wrenched Jin Tae-kyung’s spear from where it was buried deep in the earth.
“Huff, huff… very well. I shall grant you death.”
Death.
The moment those words reached Chung Poong’s ears, my palms pressed against the ground. The pain from my shattered limbs and the reek of blood seemed to fade away.
A sensation of weightlessness alone dominated my entire body.
‘What is this?’
Incomprehensible. At the end of my stumbling steps stood the Blood Lord.
“Ha, what’s this now? Do you wish to die as well?”
Meeting his wild gaze, my hands trembled uncontrollably.
Yet upon glimpsing Jin Tae-kyung collapsed behind the Blood Lord, the trembling gradually subsided.
“My benefactor, my benefactor.”
“I’ve never seen such madmen….”
The Blood Lord exhaled a bitter laugh and thrust his spear forward.
Shhhhwack!
Blood erupted from Chung Poong’s chest as he twisted his body, staggering.
‘It hurts.’
Yet my steps did not cease. I did not fall. The sword hilt had long since slipped from my powerless grasp.
“What in the world.”
The Blood Lord, watching with bewildered eyes, seized Chung Poong’s throat with his iron grip.
“Gahhk!”
“What is it? Why do you persist in this pathetic resistance instead of simply dying?”
His voice carried genuine curiosity.
Through fading consciousness, Chung Poong opened his mouth. A heavily suppressed voice emerged.
“If I retreat… I fear I would regret it for the rest of my life.”
“Is that your reason? A coward like you refusing to back down for such a trivial cause?”
His killing intent intensified. Yet something was strange.
Oddly, I felt no fear whatsoever. As though returning to those days at Lotus Peak, Chung Poong found himself unconsciously lifting the corners of his mouth.
“Hehe. Yes.”
The Blood Lord’s face twisted viciously.
He laughed. Laughed before him. It was impossible, something that should never occur.
“I have heard your final words.”
It was the moment he drove his spear toward Chung Poong’s chest.
“You have broken through the shell.”
A crystalline voice resonated through the air.
A voice that resembled the azure sky of Huashan that Chung Poong remembered.
Now, at last, he seemed to understand whose voice it was.

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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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