Murim Login - Chapter 268

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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 268
The death of Dharma King Hung-do. And the mysterious blood calamity that unfolded at Shaolin Temple, the towering peak of the Martial World.
Rumors spread faster than a galloping horse.
Through the mouths of countless witnesses, the news rippled outward in waves.
“Have you all heard? At the Seonglae Tournament….”
“Martial artists are surrounding Songshan. A blood calamity has erupted at Shaolin Temple.”
Henan Province, which had been swept up in festive excitement awaiting the Seonglae Tournament, was thrown into chaos.
The Old Master recalled the Demon Cult’s rampage that had ravaged the realm decades ago, while the young realized that a war they had dismissed as ancient history was now becoming reality.
“The Demon Cult has appeared—this is grave. Grave indeed.”
“According to some accounts, it wasn’t the Demon Cult but others who committed this atrocity.”
“Are you saying there are others capable of such deeds besides the Demon Cult?”
“I don’t know the exact facts. I just overheard it in passing.”
“That can’t be right. I heard the leader of the fiends who attacked Shaolin was that terrifying Yin-Yang Twin Demons.”
“The Yin-Yang Twin Demons? I heard the Heavenly Demon himself, the Demon Cult Master, personally took action.”
“The… Heavenly Demon?”
As various accounts accumulated, the rumors swelled like a snowball.
It was inevitable that people caught between fact and fiction would turn their attention toward one place.
The Old Martial Alliance Headquarters.
Where the great and small pillars of the Orthodox Martial Arts World were gathered.
* * *
“I’ve heard the news. About Jong Ri-chu—or rather, Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak.”
“….”
“Take heart. Such things happen in life.”
“….”
“I’ve come to fully understand it now, sigh…. In any case, that’s how it turned out. But hearing about the commander gave me strength.”
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Why did it give you strength?”
“Well, isn’t that obvious? The ancient sages said that pain becomes lighter when shared….”
Smack!
“Ugh.”
Hyuk Moo-jin, struck squarely in the solar plexus, doubled over with a deflating sound.
Seeing his exposed back of the head, my hand moves of its own accord. It just moves.
Whack!
“Does that give you strength? Huh?”
“W-wait. I got hit in the solar plexus. The solar plexus.”
“You’re making my blood pressure spike. My blood is rushing backward!”
Whack, whack, whack!
After raining blows on the back of his head like a storm, some of the frustration finally eases.
This bastard, already stirring up my troubled mind, now he’s poking at me and causing a scene.
“Watch your words right now—the atmosphere is serious enough as it is, understand?”
Hyuk Moo-jin rubbed the back of his head and muttered.
“I was just trying to lighten the mood since everything seemed so grim.”
“Just stay quiet, will you?”
“…Yes.”
After silencing Hyuk Moo-jin, I gazed quietly out the window.
Martial artists moved about in all directions without apparent order, yet no one showed any outward sign of distress—and yet the tension hung thick in the air.
Despite it all, the sky remained brilliantly clear.
Hyuk Moo-jin’s weary voice pierced my ears.
“This feels strange.”
“What does?”
“Just… none of it feels real. That only a single day has passed.”
“I feel the same way.”
Even “tumultuous” falls short of describing it. Everything that happened yesterday felt utterly unreal—as if it were all nothing but a dream.
Dharma King Hung-do’s final breath, the blood-soaked halls of Shaolin, the emergence of the Yin-Yang Twin Demons, the Blood Lord, and Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak—all of it unfolded before my eyes like a panorama.
‘The problem is that this is only the prologue.’
If this were a film, the credits would be rolling by now without seeming out of place. But this is nothing more than an ominous prelude.
Everyone sensed it—an inexplicable dread that could be felt in one’s very skin.
‘Something is changing.’
The martial world has already transformed into a massive powder keg. The Orthodox Sects hold the fuse, but Dark Heaven clutches the flint in its grasp.
And just yesterday, the fuse was lit.
I cannot foresee how all of this will end, but I can anticipate the course it will take.
‘War will come.’
A war of an entirely different magnitude than what occurred in Shanxi Province.
The leadership surely cannot be ignorant of what I myself suspect in my heart.
The heads of the Orthodox Sects are already consumed with damage control and emergency meetings regarding this incident.
“By the way, didn’t you not attend yesterday’s meeting, Master?”
I nodded slightly.
While not comparable to the Nine Major Sects and One Alliance or the Five Great Families, the Taewon Jin Clan is nonetheless a dominant force in Shanxi Province.
Especially since Shanxi Province was where Dark Heaven first revealed itself, it was only natural that the leadership’s attention converged upon it.
“What about it?”
“They asked about the Grand Elder and the Red Wind Bandits. I answered everything I knew.”
“The Grand Elder, I understand, but the Red Wind Bandits?”
“Because the Temporary Strength Pill that Red Wind Master Pung Yang used has a connection to Dark Heaven.”
“I see.”
Hyuk Moo-jin, now a high-ranking member of the clan, understands the circumstances to some degree. The same applies to his knowledge of the Temporary Strength Pill and Dark Heaven.
“Was there anything else discussed?”
“Nothing else. Besides, Elder Brother will hear the important news and relay it to me anyway….”
My voice grew quiet without my realizing it.
“I was anxious about leaving Noya alone for too long.”
My gaze, which had been fixed on the window, naturally drifted toward a single figure.
An elderly man of small stature, lying on the bed as though lost in deep slumber.
When I grasped his wrinkled hand, I felt a pulse, and in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, I sensed his breathing—yet even now, a full day later, he remained unconscious.
“When do you think he’ll awaken?”
“That’s precisely the problem—I don’t know for certain.”
“Didn’t that renowned Physician visit? The one whose name is spoken throughout the Murim?”
“Even he said there’s nothing he can do. Since the injuries aren’t severe in the conventional sense, he advised we simply observe him for now.”
Heavenly Fire Demon Technique. The quintessential divine art of the Yeolhwa Sect.
Though it possessed enough power to contend with a thousand martial artists, every technique demands its price.
For an old man already well past a hundred years of age, the aftereffects had drained away what little vitality and strength remained.
‘Perhaps….’
I shook my head, dispelling the thought that had surfaced unbidden.
I would set aside such dark musings.
Both the Sword Saint and the Physician had assured me his life was not in danger. For now, keeping watch over Jeok Cheon-gang was all I could do.
“While I was away, there were no suspicious characters about?”
The Abbot of Shaolin had been assassinated within the Martial Alliance itself. No one could claim to be safe. Just as Jeok Cheon-gang had protected me from the Blood Lord, I too must guard him.
Hyuk Moo-jin nodded with an air of confidence.
“The Jinryong Squad has the Pavilion completely surrounded without gaps. Rest assured.”
“The Jinryong Squad? Those elite forces of the Taewon Jin Clan?”
“Yes. The Family Head himself was concerned for the Red Sky River’s safety and assigned me to your side. Who am I, after all? Hyuk Moo-jin, Vice Commander of the Jinryong Squad.”
“Ah….”
I looked him up and down, then deliberately averted my gaze.
Hyuk Moo-jin’s confident expression immediately soured.
“What was that reaction just now?”
“Nothing. Just thinking I shouldn’t leave my post unattended anymore.”
“Surely you don’t doubt the capabilities of the Jinryong Squad, the Main Residence’s finest?”
“No, no. I’m serious. Let it go.”
Hyuk Moo-jin, glaring at me with narrowed eyes, suddenly stood up.
“Fine then. I’ll report this to the Family Head and have the squad withdrawn.”
“Ah, why must you take it that way? Are you going through adolescence?”
“Because you’re being so dismissive, sir. How many times has this happened? Hmm?!”
“Lower your voice. You’ll wake the old man.”
“It would be better if he did wake.”
“….”
Well, he had a point there.
While I was momentarily at a loss for words, Hyuk Moo-jin took a step toward the door.
It was plainly an act meant to elicit a plea for him to stay. In such moments, one must oblige.
“Hey, where are you going!”
Hyuk Moo-jin spoke with a huff.
“That’s enough. I can endure much, but I cannot abide remarks that demean the subordinates I hold dear!”
“Gasp.”
“What is it now?”
“I never expected such words from your mouth. Moo-jin, you’ve really grown up. You don’t need circumcision of the lips anymore.”
“…I’m really leaving.”
“Alright, alright. Sit down. Calm yourself and have a glass of water.”
“Hmph. I refuse.”
“Hehe. Our Moo-jin has truly matured. Making me repeat myself.”
“…!”
Hyuk Moo-jin hesitated, then quietly settled his rear onto the chair.
“Still, I deserve an apology.”
“Hmm? An apology for what?”
“For disrespecting my subordinates.”
“Me? I never disrespected them.”
“Just moments ago, you said you couldn’t trust them. Weren’t you looking down on them for being weaker in martial arts than the squad leader?”
I took a long sip of the tea that had already grown cold.
“Well, we’re not the Nine Major Sects or the Five Great Families, so naturally there’s a skill gap with those circles. But the Jinryong Squad—every single one of them is young and exceptionally talented, aren’t they? Yesterday they showed remarkable prowess. And wasn’t it the Jinryong Squad who saved Mu-myeong?”
Shaolin Temple is a great tree. Yesterday’s incident forced it to shed a major branch—the Dharma King—and countless fruits, but its roots remained intact.
Shaolin’s martial arts. And the existence of Mu-myeong, who survived.
Ah, and that old monk Heung-cheon also lived, I believe?
“That’s correct. We fought the Dark Heaven bastards without retreating.”
Hyuk Moo-jin puffed out his chest, his face brimming with pride.
“Good. Then that settles it. From what I’ve seen, the kids seem sharp. Deep loyalty to the clan too. But there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“That the squad leader is you.”
“…”
“Your subordinates stand firm at their posts below, yet the squad leader sits here spouting nonsense?”
“That’s… well…”
“You care for your subordinates, you say? You’re proud of them, you say?”
“It’s true! How much I cherish those fellows…”
Hyuk Moo-jin, who had faltered, regained his composure and poured out his words as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
“And my current mission is to guard against enemy schemes and stand by your side, sir.”
“Before that?”
“Pardon?”
“What was your mission before this?”
“That would naturally be protecting the Young Master, sir.”
“Is that so?”
I chuckled and pulled ‘it’ from my bosom, tossing it onto the table.
Clatter.
The moment he caught sight of the golden mask gleaming yellowish in the metallic sound, the boy’s breath caught.
“Gasp! This… where did you…”
“Where from? Honestly, I didn’t think you were the type, but you’ve been clinging to me like glue ever since the preliminaries ended.”
“Wait, please. You’re misunderstanding. I was genuinely swamped with security duties—I barely had time to breathe.”
“Misunderstanding? Fine. How about I make sure you never have time to breathe again?”
Crack.
The Golden Mask, unable to withstand the crushing force, crumpled like a small ball. Hyuk Moo-jin’s eyes trembled as if struck by an earthquake.
“You’re providing security at a gambling den? You’re so famous I didn’t even need to ask around. Some guy won a hundred thousand silver taels in one go, then lost a hundred thousand taels just as fast—people are treating it like a legendary tale.”
The fact that I could hear it even in this serious atmosphere said everything.
I’d even heard that one of the servants working at the Martial Alliance had struck it big with betting—or rather, had slapped the chief administrator and left after his windfall.
“If you cared so much about your subordinates, you would’ve pooled the membership fees and placed a bet. But you secretly pocketed it all because you were afraid the odds would drop?”
“….”
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
Even ten mouths wouldn’t have words enough. Hyuk Moo-jin, frozen with a pallid face, finally managed to speak.
“Life is ultimately… about taking one shot.”
“….”
This bastard still hasn’t come to his senses.
I was staring at Hyuk Moo-jin with an exasperated look, my fist raised, when it happened.
Whoosh, tap.
There was no warning, no sound.
As if by magic, a young man—or rather, an old man—descended onto the windowsill from a height of over a dozen stories, smiling wickedly as he waved his hand.
“Mind if we talk for a moment, friend?”
Friend, my foot.
I exhaled a deep sigh inwardly as I looked at Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak.

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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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