Murim Login - Chapter 350

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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 350
Thud. Thud.
As always, I carried the food bucket and made my way forward.
Time in the Underground Prison moved sluggishly, yet it flowed with the same relentless precision as a government-issued clock. By now, on the sixth day of my confinement in this pit, the routine was becoming increasingly familiar.
Clank. Screeeech.
I pushed open the rusted bars and stepped into the Underground Prison, where filth and stagnant water pooled.
The old man bound to the wooden frame greeted me with a crooked grin.
“You’ve come?”
A killer demon—one who had joined the Demon Cult during the Great Righteous Confrontation and slaughtered over a hundred Orthodox Martial Arts World cultivators.
Now reduced to a toothless elder, he continued speaking with slurred pronunciation.
“Let me tell you one last time….”
I cut him off while ladling gruel into a bowl with a long spoon.
“You said it was the last time yesterday too?”
“This time it’s truly the last.”
“Right, and tomorrow will be the truly, truly last time.”
This was something I had experienced countless times over six days. Nothing new about it.
The old man flinched momentarily at my indifferent attitude, then cried out.
“You! Become my disciple!”
“You, take this.”
Whack!
The old man writhed in pain as the ladle struck his crown. The iron chains binding his limbs rattled loudly.
“Krraaaagh!”
“Keep your voice down. It’s too loud.”
“Ugh. You bastard!”
The old man, about to shout at the top of his lungs, suddenly widened his eyes and flared his nostrils. He had caught the scent of oil, hidden beneath the stench of the Underground Prison.
“What, what is that smell?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
“Roasted duck. It’s roasted duck! Do you have wine as well?”
“There’s no wine.”
“Liar! That aroma is unmistakably Jiannan Spring!”
“…With a sense of smell like that, you’d rival a narcotics detection dog.”
“Hand it over! Now!”
Whack!
“Krraaaagh!”
“It belongs to someone else. Just eat your gruel.”
I set down the food bucket and moved toward the final Underground Prison.
In that place, unusually deep and dark compared to the others, a familiar grotesque figure awaited me.
Clank.
“I’ve brought your meal.”
“….”
“You must be tired from waiting. By the way, I wonder why it’s so cold in here. You must be quite uncomfortable with the bedding—shall I ask the Tang Sect to lay down some leather blankets for you?”
“….”
As expected, he responds this way.
Despite my soft, cat-like tone, Cheon Ryeok-ma remained stubbornly silent.
Ever since that incident four days ago, Cheon Ryeok-ma had kept his eyes closed and his lips sealed.
Of course, I wasn’t the type to give up just because of this.
“Come now. Don’t be like that. Try some of this.”
I withdrew an oil-soaked cloth and unfolded it.
A perfectly roasted duck, glazed with various spices, revealed its appetizing form. The delicious aroma was potent enough to drive away even the stench of this place.
“This is roasted duck made by a former imperial chef. I’ve tasted it myself, and the meat is remarkably tender. The flavor is quite exquisite.”
“….”
“And what pairs with roasted duck? Jiannan Chun, the finest wine of Sichuan! A hero of Cheon Ryeok-ma’s stature deserves wine and meat, don’t you think?”
“….”
A chilling silence descended upon the Underground Prison, already permeated with cold.
I gazed at Cheon Ryeok-ma, who sat in lotus position, with a broad smile, before finally exhaling a deep sigh.
“Damn it. This isn’t working.”
For four days, I had catered to his every whim. I had softened my tone to respectful speech, praised him as a righteous hero, and even flattered him shamelessly.
Yet Cheon Ryeok-ma had rejected every offer and convenience I extended. Food, clothing, whatever I brought—he wouldn’t touch a single thing.
“I think I’ve done enough at this point. Are you really going to keep this up?”
“….”
“I’m treating you this gentlemanly because I’m a man of character. But what do you think will happen if the Sichuan Tang Sect finds out? Hmm?”
Then, Cheon Ryeok-ma, who had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed, finally opened his mouth. His voice, unheard for four long days, was hoarse from disuse.
“Do as you wish.”
“What?”
“I have endured torture enough to grow weary of it. Even if I depart from this life, I harbor no regrets.”
Confined to the Underground Prison for some forty years, Cheon Ryeok-ma’s detachment resembled that of an enlightened monk, and I clicked my tongue in frustration.
“Unbelievable. Won’t you just tell me what you know about Dark Heaven? Is that such an impossible request?”
“I have said all there is to say. Whether you kill me or torture me, do as you see fit.”
“What kind of stubborn old man are you?”
But Cheon Ryeok-ma’s lips were already firmly sealed. And they likely would never open again.
“…This old man and his stubbornness.”
I heaved a sigh that seemed to shake the very earth, then set the wine and roasted duck within his reach and turned to leave.
“At least eat this much. You haven’t eaten anything for four days.”
Even as I spoke, I knew the truth—whether I returned tomorrow, the day after, or three days hence, the food I left would still be there, cold and untouched, exactly as I had placed it.
“Damn it all.”
Having finished distributing meals, with Cheon Ryeok-ma being my last stop, I collapsed onto the floor of a corridor far from the Underground Prison.
‘Cheon Ryeok-ma.’
His indescribable gaze, his rigidly hardened face—these images lingered before my eyes. That was unmistakably the turmoil caused by those two words: Dark Heaven.
The problem was that he refused to speak about Dark Heaven at all.
‘But one thing is certain—he has known of Dark Heaven for a very long time.’
I hadn’t heard it directly from Cheon Ryeok-ma’s own lips, but it was as good as confirmed fact.
The question was how much he knew about Dark Heaven, and to what extent.
I began slowly retracing the conversation I’d had with Cheon Ryeok-ma four days ago.
After fully engaging my Inner Divine rank 7 intellect, there was only one possibility that stood out as most plausible.
‘Dark Heaven and the Demon Cult share a very deep connection.’
Or perhaps they were even one and the same body.
The silence of Cheon Ryeok-ma, a former elder of the Demon Cult who had endured forty years of imprisonment and torture in the Underground Prison without losing his loyalty to the sect, was proof of this.
‘If Dark Heaven were the Demon Cult’s enemy, he would have opened his mouth long ago.’
So what exactly was Dark Heaven then? A branch that had split off from the Demon Cult? Or perhaps another organization created within the Demon Cult itself?
‘Like how Shin Cheon Ji has its own branch, Byeong Shin Cheon Ji. Something along those lines.’
In any case, they were definitely like a plague of vermin.
It was while I remained absorbed in such deep contemplation that Chung Poong appeared with a light step, accompanied by a sweet aroma.
“Yikes!”
“…Your grandfather’s still at Hwa-san Yeon-hwa Peak, right?”
Chung Poong swallowed what was in his mouth before answering.
“No, sir! He’s in Hanan right now!”
“Ah, right.”
What would I possibly discuss with you.
Seeing the mountain of food piled in Chung Poong’s arms left me speechless. I almost felt sorry for the former imperial chef whose face I’d never even seen.
“You went out just for this?”
“Yes! And I also brought a letter sent from the Beggar Clan!”
“…Usually it’s the other way around, isn’t it?”
“Hehe.”
“Don’t laugh. You’re getting on my nerves.”
I replied curtly and accepted the letter Chung Poong offered.
As I unfolded the paper—which bore the grime of who knows how long of storage—three yellow dog hairs slipped out gently.
‘Three-knot disciple. This is from Bun Ta-ju.’
As I’d suspected, the letter was from Bun Ta-ju, the leader of the Beggar Clan in Chengdu, addressed to Gung Ki-bang.
Of course, since Gung Ki-bang was at the Divine Physician’s Secret Place, he’d simply sent it to me for convenience.
Moments later, after I’d taken my eyes from the letter, Chung Poong asked.
“What does it say?”
“Nothing much. Just that they’re still searching.”
The Beggar Clan, which had once combed through Sichuan like a fine-tooth comb to find the Divine Physician, had changed their objective.
Their new target was Hyung Soo, who had assassinated Dok Wang and Gyeong Cheon Shin-ni.
‘Well, there’s no way he’d be caught that easily.’
Even Dang Sa-dok, who had insisted on resolving the matter with only the Sichuan Tang Sect’s strength, had changed his attitude after borrowing the Poison of Ten Thousand Toxins.
Yet despite the Tang Sect’s active cooperation, his traces had vanished like a ghost.
“Do you think they’ll be able to find him?”
“Who knows. We can only hope for good results. The Beggar Clan goes without saying, and with the Green Shadow Squad—experts in reconnaissance and pursuit—from the Tang Sect as well, surely something will turn up, won’t it?”
“What about the government forces?”
“The government soldiers seem to be doing their part reasonably well, at least.”
The prestige of Sangshan King Ju Pyo was formidable.
Sichuan Provincial Governor Won Gyun readily accepted my request to find Hyung Soo in place of the Divine Physician.
While individual government soldiers couldn’t match the martial prowess of Murim masters, thousands of them couldn’t be dismissed.
“Wow! Thousands?”
“I don’t know the exact number myself, but apparently they’re swarming everywhere. You’ve seen government soldiers before, haven’t you, So-hyup? On the way back to the Sichuan Tang Sect.”
“Ah, but the ones I saw then weren’t nearly that many.”
“…Of course not. You think thousands of them march around together all at once?”
It wasn’t difficult to imagine government soldiers gathered in small groups according to their assigned formations, conducting inspections and searches.
Government soldiers gradually expanding their search area, moving toward Blue Star Sect and Emei Sect.
It appeared they were searching for Hyung Soo while simultaneously preparing for some contingency.
Having read to the last line of the letter, I let out a quiet chuckle.
‘They’re doing better than I expected.’
Sichuan Provincial Governor Won Gyun. Judging by appearances alone, he seemed like a corrupt official, but he didn’t appear entirely incompetent. Or perhaps the military official assigned to this task was simply capable.
‘Still, what if they can’t find him even after all this?’
I was quite worried since I’d made bold claims to Dang Sa-dok.
Of course, before that, Jeok Cheon-gang’s safe recovery came first.
Glancing at the Treatment Chamber door, which remained firmly shut, I casually addressed Chung Poong.
“What food did you bring?”
“I’m still eating!”
“…Just finish what’s in your mouth. I’ll figure out the rest myself.”
* * *
Jang Il was a disciple of Lee Gyeol from the Beggar Clan.
Becoming a member of the Beggar Clan came from necessity rather than choice. He’d heard a rumor that if you formally underwent the initiation ceremony at the Beggar Clan and became an official disciple, they’d give you a dumpling.
What would an eight-year-old beggar who’d gone hungry for four days know?
He clutched his aching belly and sought out Bun-ta, the leader of Chengdu, and that very day became a member of the Beggar Clan.
“And they only gave me half a dumpling at that. Just thinking about it makes my teeth grind. Damn it all.”
The beggars listening to Jang Il’s story let out small yawns. They’d heard this story dozens of times already.
Though more than a decade had passed, Jang Il’s anger hadn’t easily subsided.
“I became Vice-leader Bun Ta-ju by grinding my teeth and steeling my resolve while thinking of that half dumpling. So you all should….”
As the story showed signs of dragging on, the three disciples of Lee Gyeol exchanged glances simultaneously.
“Oh, suddenly my stomach!”
“Gasp, mine too!”
“Ugh, the outhouse, where’s the outhouse!”
“Hey, you brats!”
Jang Il shouted, but the three beggars had already made their escape.
“Those damn things… just wait till you come back.”
It was just as Jang Il was smacking his lips that a group entered his field of vision.
Uniform clothing and weapons. Their lack of military discipline was a bonus. Recognizing the familiar sight, Jang Il muttered.
“Government soldiers.”
Of late, government soldiers had become more common than stray dogs in the neighborhood.
They usually shirked their duties and went unnoticed, but now that their superiors had taken an interest, they scrambled about making a show of effort.
“They said they were expanding the search net. Has it already reached this far?”
A middle-aged military officer who appeared to be leading the patrol approached him with a smile and asked.
“Are you perhaps from the Beggar Clan?”
Jang Il nodded casually.
“Well, as you can see.”
“I see. I noticed the knot and thought I’d ask just in case.”
“You can tell at a glance. But you move quite swiftly. You’ve already come all this way.”
“Ah, I’ve heard the Beggar Clan has the finest intelligence network under heaven. So you were already aware?”
“For someone from our organization, this much is hardly unusual.”
The military officer smiled and followed Jang Il’s arrogant laugh before asking.
“But this place has no village and few people around… why are you here alone?”
“Don’t even mention it. Bun Ta-ju was pestering me so much that I came out for some fresh air with a few of the subordinates. These days with all this fuss about Hyung Soo and whatnot, it’s been quite noisy. What a bother.”
“I see.”
“Well then, I’ll be going….”
Jang Il’s words could not continue.
The moment the military officer nodded with a smile, something cold pierced through his chest.
Thud!
‘…What?’
Cough.
Jang Il stared blankly at the sword embedded in his chest and coughed up blood.
Why? How could this be?
The question never left his lips. His knees buckled as his dimming eyes gazed at the military officer.
A cold voice flowed into his ears as his face fell toward the sprouting grass just beginning to rise.
“Find the others. They should be nearby.”
“Understood.”
“Stupid beggar dogs. Why of all places here….”
That was all Jang Il could hear.
At the age of twenty-five, the young beggar breathed his last in a quiet forest two days’ journey from the Emei Sect.

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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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