Murim Login - Chapter 318

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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 318
“Astringent.”
The Old Master, savoring the Tieguanyin tea, murmured to himself.
His shoulders were squared and broad, defying his age. His snow-white beard, grown long enough to reach his navel, evoked the image of an immortal sage.
Had it not been for the worn sword leaning against his side, the illusion would have been complete.
“I… I apologize, sir. I have not yet reached the level of skill my father possessed…”
“It is regrettable, but unavoidable. When the master changes, so too must the taste of the tea. You may go now.”
The proprietor of the tea house, who had been bowing deferentially, vanished as though he had been waiting for those very words.
The Old Master gazed at the retreating figure, then caressed his teacup.
“We three brothers would often visit this place. More than thirty years ago now. Back then, your master was not yet the sect leader.”
“I see.”
Hyuk So-pyung, seated across the table, replied.
His voice, parched as drought-cracked earth, emerged after more than an hour of silence as he waited for the Old Master’s tea ceremony.
“Would you care to taste a cup?”
There was no hint of coercion in his gentle voice.
Yet if this old man before him offered something, it had to be accepted. Not only Hyuk So-pyung knew this—the thirty members of the Taeul Sword Squad positioned throughout the tea house understood it as well.
“I am honored to accept, Saber.”
The Old Master took the empty cup offered respectfully and grasped the jade-colored tea vessel filled with hot water, then tilted his hand.
Trickle, trickle.
As the water slowly filled the cup, Hyuk So-pyung’s complexion changed dramatically.
“…!”
“What is the matter?”
“It is… nothing.”
Yet his condition belied his words. His hands trembled, and his face flushed crimson as though about to burst.
It was merely tea water, yet with each drop that touched the cup, a devastating pressure bore down upon him.
‘This is insane…!’
The internal energy was truly formidable. Despite being Zhongnan Sect’s foremost prodigy, lavished with every precious elixir, Hyuk So-pyung could not withstand such overwhelming power.
He drew upon all his internal energy and poured it into the teacup, but his limit came swiftly.
Drop. Crack.
The moment the final drop fell, a hairline fracture spread across the cup in his hand, and tea spilled over the rim.
It was then that the Old Master’s eyes—Hwang Bo-eom, the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword—deepened with an unfathomable gaze.
“How old are you this year?”
“…I have reached twenty.”
“When did you last see your father?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Yes, that is right. The Jonghwa Conference. It was there.”
The Jonghwa Conference. Or the Huazhong Conference.
The two dragons and tigers crouched in Shanxi Province—Huashan and Zhongnan—held a gathering once every ten years to test the younger generation of their respective sects.
The official purpose was exchange and fellowship through martial competition, but everyone knew it was truly a contest between the two schools.
“You remember. I watched with these very eyes as you were toyed with by that Baek Moo-sung.”
“…!”
Hyuk So-pyung’s eyelids trembled violently.
How could he forget? That day’s defeat. And the cold, piercing gaze of Zhongnan’s greatest swordsman that greeted him the moment he returned to the Main Sect Headquarters.
“At your age, I had already mastered the Tae-eul Divine Art to the eighth stage. How far have you progressed?”
“…I apologize.”
“In ten years, even mountains crumble and rivers change course. Yet you remain exactly where you were.”
Uncle, that applies equally to you.
Hyuk So-pyung exerted every ounce of his willpower to suppress the words rising in his throat.
‘Surely you haven’t forgotten. Everything you did to me that day.’
Talent without effort cannot blossom into brilliance.
He possessed exceptional martial prowess. That was why Hyuk So-pyung earned the title of Zhongnan’s finest prodigy. He loved the martial arts and wielded his sword through blood and sweat.
His gradual collapse stemmed not merely from his defeat at the hands of Baek Moo-sung, the Huashan prodigy, before the watching eyes of all.
“I’m already aware that you’re tarnishing the Main Sect’s name. I hear you’ve been making quite the notorious reputation for yourself in Xi’an.”
“Uncle….”
“I am speaking. Close that mouth of yours.”
Hwang Bo-eom’s voice, once devoid of emotion, had grown colder than perpetual snow on ancient peaks.
“Watching it unfold has been like peering into a kaleidoscope of chaos. From top to bottom, everyone without exception is dragging mud across the Zhongnan Sect’s banner.”
Above referred to the Angry Sword Immortal Song Il, below to Hyuk So-pyung.
Even as his sole senior brother lay incapacitated with internal injuries, Hwang Bo-eom’s caustic words made Hyuk So-pyung and the disciples of the Taeul Sword Squad realize once more.
‘The Tae-eul Mujeong Sword.’
The two characters for “heartlessness” embedded in his epithet applied not only to enemies.
“Your master, who brought Zhongnan to this wretched state, is equally contemptible. I cannot fathom why the Patriarch entrusted the sect leader’s position to such a man….”
It was at that very moment. Hyuk So-pyung’s lips, pressed firmly shut until now, parted.
“Your words exceed propriety.”
“What did you say?”
Whoooosh.
A wind swept across Hyuk So-pyung’s entire body from nowhere.
No—it was not wind. It was a formidable surge of qi emanating from the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword, a supreme master produced by Zhongnan.
“Age has dulled my ears, it seems. Speak again.”
Yet even beneath that suffocating pressure, Hyuk So-pyung did not yield.
“Your words… *breath* exceed propriety, I said.”
Though he had never shown warmth or affection, Feng Yun Sword Lord remained his sole master. Furthermore.
“He is the sect leader of the great Zhongnan Sect. As a fellow disciple and uncle, you should show proper respect to the sect leader.”
“Respect to the sect leader?”
In that instant, a sharp gleam flashed across Hwang Bo-eom’s eyes.
Once, he had stood closest to the position of Zhongnan’s sect leader.
There had been a senior brother and junior brother who shared the same master, but they were not true rivals. Neither possessed martial prowess or a poisoned heart that could match his own.
Hwang Bo-eom should have become Zhongnan’s sect leader. That was the natural order.
“Yet what could a wretch like you possibly understand to dare…!”
Hwang Bo-eom, about to unleash a furious roar, suddenly closed his mouth.
It was because I sensed the unwavering gaze in Hyuk So-pyung’s eyes, and the subtle current flowing between the disciples of Zhongnan Sect belonging to the Taeul Sword Squad.
‘These bastards.’
Hwang Bo-eom’s eyes turned cold and sharp. Simultaneously, the formidable energy that had been radiating from his entire body slowly subsided.
Hwang Bo-eom’s lips, hidden beneath his snow-white beard, twitched slightly.
“The Sect Leader of the Great Zhongnan Sect, is it….”
Hwang Bo-eom lifted his teacup, which was not even half empty, and drained it completely. Deep furrows etched themselves into the wrinkled space between his brows.
“Indeed, it tastes bitter. With a change of master, neither the flavor nor the fragrance remains as it once was.”
“…!”
“The Great Zhongnan Sect? What a jest. The current Zhongnan is nothing but a tower of sand. While you wallowed in despair, indulging in wine and women, I have been laboring to revive the sect.”
“What do you mean by that….”
Doubt colored Hyuk So-pyung’s voice.
Was Hwang Bo-eom not the one who secluded himself even at the Main Sect Headquarters? He had not shown his face even when his elder brother, the Angry Sword Immortal, returned bearing grave internal injuries.
‘But how could he….’
My thoughts were cut short. In the next moment, a group entered the tea house.
At the forefront of their procession stood a young woman whose mere appearance illuminated the surroundings.
“The Deputy Director of the Yongbong Escort Agency, Ju Hwa-ran, pays her respects to the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword, Hwang Bo-eom.”
The Hidden Dagger Flower, Ju Hwa-ran. At her spirited greeting, the corners of Hwang Bo-eom’s mouth lifted.
“Good. You’ve brought the commissioned item safely, I trust?”
His eyes, as he stroked his luxuriant beard, gleamed with an inscrutable light.
* * *
“But who exactly is the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword?”
Gung Ki-bang answered bluntly.
“Who is the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword? The Tae-eul Mujeong Sword, that’s who.”
“Ki-bang. Between the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms of the Five Stars and the Flame Divine Palm of the Seven Stars—don’t you wonder which is stronger?”
“…The Tae-eul Mujeong Sword, Hwang Bo-eom. The disciple of the Angry Sword Immortal Song Il and the elder brother of Feng Yun Sword Lord, the current Sect Leader of Zhongnan.”
A true encyclopedia of the Martial World. I hadn’t brought him along specifically for moments like this, but he proves useful in various ways.
‘If only he didn’t reek.’
I muttered inwardly and continued walking.
We were currently heading toward a tea house called Deng Wang Tower. Gung Ki-bang, walking beside me, grumbled with clear displeasure.
“I’ve been thinking about this the whole time, and I don’t think this is a good choice.”
“Why?”
“The matter is bigger than I expected. And of all people, the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword. At least with Feng Yun Sword Lord, the Sect Leader, there’s some common ground, but that person….”
Gung Ki-bang trailed off and shook his head vigorously.
“Why? What’s he like? Have you actually met him before?”
“Just once, standing beside my master. And I thought then—never again do I wish to meet that man.”
From Gung Ki-bang’s reaction, his first impression must have been quite terrible.
The fellow, trembling with visible distaste, gave me a sidelong glance.
“You don’t even need to ask me. A neighbor knows the affairs of the neighboring house best.”
At the end of Gung Ki-bang’s gaze stood Baek Moo-sung, who had been walking silently without uttering a single word since earlier.
His face, which always bore a comfortable smile, had long since hardened like stone.
Okay, I’m getting the vibe.
‘The Tae-eul Mujeong Sword.’
When you experience the Murim long enough, you discover certain fascinating aspects, and one of them is the epithet—the martial name one earns.
An epithet carries a fragment of the person within it. Which weapon they favor, or what temperament defines them.
In the case of Hwang Bo-eom, the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword, it was both.
‘Mujeong—heartless. Just those two characters alone tell you the scale of things.’
He wasn’t the type to laugh like a kindly neighborhood grandfather—I could bet Hyuk Moo-jin’s arms on that. If needed, his legs too.
That’s when Gung Ki-bang spoke in an anxious voice.
“It’s not too late even now.”
“Huh? Too late for what?”
“Getting involved in a dispute between sects creates unnecessary complications. Especially when the opponent is the Tae-eul Mujeong Sword of Zhongnan Sect.”
“And?”
“And nothing—forget these foolish thoughts and let’s just head to Sichuan!”
I blinked innocently.
“What are you talking about?”
“What?”
“Getting involved in what? We’re just going to have tea. Right, So-hyup?”
Chung Poong, who had been contentedly chewing on the candied fruit I’d bought him as a silencer, answered enthusiastically.
“Yes! We’re going to have tea!”
Gung Ki-bang stared at Chung Poong with an incredulous expression.
“Didn’t you say you’d already tasted it earlier?”
“Well, that was… um…”
His answer seemed rather unconvincing.
Chung Poong, who had already devoured the candied fruit as quickly as a crab disappearing into sand, sucked on his fingers while glancing between me and Gung Ki-bang.
His eyes, brimming with lingering desire, swept across the street lined with snack vendors.
“So-hyup, you haven’t had it yet. Right?”
As I spoke, I waved my palm wide behind Gung Ki-bang’s shoulder. With five additional candied fruits added to the count, Chung Poong nodded eagerly.
“That’s right! This is my first time trying that tea! I’m so excited I can barely sit still!”
“There you have it.”
Gung Ki-bang, stripped of all resolve, tore at his matted hair.
“Damn it. When Master beats me with the Dog-Beating Stick later, I’m blaming all of you.”
“Go ahead. Our master is the Fire King.”
“I’ve never seen a wretch lower than a dog.”
“Stop whining and walk quietly. Moo-jin, do you have any complaints?”
Hyuk Moo-jin asked with a hopeful expression.
“May I speak?”
“Go ahead. If you want to die.”
….
“We’re almost there now.”
The worn wooden plaque reading “Deng Wang Tower” drew steadily closer.
I walked forward without hesitation until I finally came to a stop before the entrance of the lodge.
‘This is no joke.’
The Tae-eul Mujeong Sword. Zhongnan’s greatest swordmaster, the pride of the sect. I could sense the aura of a supreme master emanating from beyond the door. Dozens of presences, each brimming with considerable power.
Suddenly, the A-frame carrier strapped to my shoulders felt unbearably heavy.
“Old Master, don’t worry. No matter what happens, I will protect you.”
Nothing will go wrong.
I muttered softly to myself before pushing the door open.

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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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