Murim Login - Chapter 497

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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 497
One meal’s time.
That was the maximum duration I could endure. With the cool sensation of a blade pressing against the nape of my neck, I muttered softly.
“This is pathetic, truly.”
Swish.
A sharp sting accompanied the trickle of blood down my neck. The obvious intent behind the action drew an involuntary sigh from me.
“I concede. That’s enough.”
“Wrong. Again.”
A dry voice I couldn’t hear during our exchange. And I already knew the answer Moon-kyung wanted to hear.
“…I’m dead. Satisfied?”
The blade that had been slowly boring into my neck suddenly stopped. Feeling the cold steel withdraw, I pressed my hand to my neck to staunch the bleeding, then turned around.
A figure sat upon a boulder some thirty paces away.
“Do you know how many times you’ve died?”
“Twelve times.”
Five times from severed limb meridians, three times from pressure point strikes to fatal acupoints, three times from a pierced heart. And just now, my throat was cut.
I hadn’t actually died, but it amounted to the same thing. I wiped the sticky blood from my neck with my sleeve and looked at Moon-kyung.
“Next time will be different.”
“That’s the eleventh time I’ve heard that.”
“This time I’m certain.”
“That’s the twelfth.”
…
Quite the memory. Moon-kyung asked me as I stood speechless.
“Do you understand why you died?”
Combat always leaves results, and results always birth understanding.
Silently recalling my exchange with Moon-kyung, I suddenly spoke.
“Because I fought like an Assassin?”
“Still knowing nothing, I see… Hmm.”
Moon-kyung, who had begun speaking almost simultaneously with me, trailed off.
“Was I wrong?”
“Keep going.”
“I’m not sure exactly when it started, but I began imitating you. Your movements and such.”
After taking enough punishment to become a toxic pickle at first, I grew attentive to everything around me, and from then on, I gradually began copying Moon-kyung’s movements.
Sparring two or three times daily like that, my eyes and body grew increasingly familiar with the patterns.
But…
“That was my fatal mistake.”
“Why is that?”
“When you wear new shoes, the heels blister. Especially if the shoes are smaller than your feet.”
“Elaborate.”
“I should have abandoned those clumsy imitations and fought in my own way. Even more so when the opponent is Sal-sung.”
…
Moon-kyung stared at me in silence for a while before abruptly speaking.
“You’re not entirely hopeless, at least.”
“Oh, was that just now a compliment?”
“It means you’ve only just grasped the basics.”
“Exactly. Thank you for the compliment.”
Moon-kyung’s brow furrowed.
“Are your ears clogged shut?”
“No. They’re open.”
“…You have a real talent for exasperating people.”
“But if you’ve reached the basics, that’s praise, isn’t it? Why can’t you just be honest? Are you going through puberty?”
“I’m not!”
“Then why did you suddenly raise your voice like that?”
“When did I! I said I’m not!”
“…Now that I think about it, maybe you are.”
Not, my foot.
But one more word of back-talk and my head would be flying off.
Moon-kyung, who had just bellowed, returned to a calm, dry tone as if nothing had happened.
“The basics are just that—basics. There have been plenty of others like you throughout the years.”
Others like me?
I opened my mouth with a sense of foreboding.
“Do you perhaps have other disciples?”
“Of course I do. Didn’t we meet them in Sichuan?”
“Besides the Old Master. You know perfectly well what I mean, yet you’re playing dumb.”
“….”
Silence was as good as confirmation. The thought of Sal-sung having hidden disciples made curiosity rear its head.
“Who? Who are they? Do you still keep in contact? Do you all have meals together on Teacher’s Day?”
“I have no reason to tell you. And Teacher’s Day—what nonsense is that?”
“You’re so finicky.”
“…With each passing day, your conduct grows more presumptuous. Do you have five lives to spare?”
“Considering I’ve died and been resurrected twelve times so far, I’d say I have about thirteen. So you really won’t tell me?”
Sal-sung, who had been glaring at me intently, suddenly opened his mouth.
“I’ll tell you. But there’s a condition.”
A condition from Sal-sung. I spoke with overflowing confidence.
“It’s about time for a meal. I’ll be on my way.”
“I recall you eating not long ago.”
“I eat five meals a day.”
“Still, hear me out. You seemed quite curious.”
“Everyone has their own life and secrets they wish to keep. Why would I pry into them? I’ll take my leave now.”
“Stop right there. Unless you want your head to fly off.”
“….”
Damn it, I shouldn’t have asked.
I felt my insides twisting as I repositioned the half-turned Shin-hyung back to its original stance.
Fine, since we’re already here, I might as well hear the story.
“So, you really did have other disciples?”
“Not disciples exactly, but there were several whom I taught.”
“That sounds like you’re saying they’re gone now.”
“Countless years have passed. There’s no way any of them could have survived until now.”
“Perhaps the field they were involved in was…?”
“Assassins. They belonged to the Salsaeng Gate with me.”
The Salsaeng Gate—just hearing the name carried the stench of blood.
‘So this man had a sect too.’
When I thought about it, it made sense. No matter how skilled Moon-kyung was, he couldn’t have been born an assassin.
‘If it was a sect that Sal-sung belonged to, it should be fairly well-known.’
Even after scouring through all my memories, the three characters of Salsaeng Gate remained unfamiliar.
Just then, as if Moon-kyung sensed my doubt, he parted his lips.
“It’s pointless. It disappeared long ago.”
When a sect disappears, there’s only one reason for it.
I watched Moon-kyung’s expression carefully as I cautiously spoke a single word.
“Annihilation?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen? Wait, weren’t you the sect leader?”
“We chose the wrong path, and we paid the price for it. That’s all I have to say.”
Moon-kyung rose to his feet as he finished speaking. In his hand, a short sword now gleamed with a sinister blue light.
“Now then, it’s time to settle the debt.”
“Pardon?”
“Evade my single strike. That’s the condition.”
Most would think it impossible, but from my perspective, it was entirely doable.
I’d endured an entire hour against the legendary Sal-sung himself, even while clumsily mimicking an assassin’s techniques. A single strike was nothing.
“If I dodge this, will you tell me more stories later?”
“Of course.”
“Fine then, let’s do it.”
Moon-kyung added one more thing.
“But close your eyes.”
“You bastard. Are you joking?”
“Then you’ll die. Not the thirteenth time, but the first and the last.”
Before his words even finished, Moon-kyung’s sleeve fluttered.
Accustomed by experience, I instinctively turned my head, but what came flying wasn’t a hidden blade—it was something else entirely.
‘That is…’
Powder so fine it could only be seen by pushing one’s eyesight to its absolute limit.
The moment the powder, carried by the wind that happened to blow toward me, touched the air.
Whoosh!
Darkness swallowed the world.
No, that wasn’t quite right. The darkness didn’t swallow the world—it swallowed me.
Beep beep.
–
[Blindness Toxin]
has poisoned you!
– You have temporarily lost your vision!
– Rapid detoxification is required! Prolonged delay in detoxification may result in permanent damage!
As the system notification pierced my ears, every hair on my body stood on end.
Blindness Toxin? The poison itself doesn’t matter. I’m still wearing the Universal Antidote Ring.
The problem is that the Universal Antidote Ring’s detoxification speed is far slower than Moon-kyung’s sword strike descending from beyond the impenetrable darkness.
Whoosh.
I couldn’t see anything. Yet I could feel it distinctly.
In a world flowing slowly as if someone had pressed pause, I sensed the killing blade approaching, erasing the very wind in its path.
‘This is.’
A move from the greatest Assassin of all ages.
A killing intent so sinister and chilling that I’d never felt its like before now washed over me.
I stared blankly into a world consumed entirely by darkness.
And within that suffocating space where nothing could be seen, I felt every sense within me awaken.
Scrape!
* * *
The Wudang Sect, the Jeongal Family. And the Beggar Clan.
Though they claimed to have selected only trustworthy elites for the sake of secrecy, their composition and numbers were impossible for anyone to dismiss.
And among more than a hundred martial artists from these renowned great sects, the figure of a young physician could not help but stand out.
“Ah, it’s you. Heading out now?”
“I’ve just finished visiting Jin.”
“You seem to be coming by more frequently these days?”
“Yes. Lately he’s been training so intensely that he keeps getting injured.”
“Hah. I see. Jin is truly remarkable. He’s younger than my own son, yet he shows no satisfaction with his current level and continues to strive endlessly….”
“He must be quite a master. As for me, I know nothing of martial world matters.”
The Jeongal Family Martial Artist, who had been on guard, let out a chuckle at Moon-kyung’s innocent remark.
He felt a bit foolish for having bothered such a young child who knew nothing but medicine, no matter how bored he’d been.
“Remarkable indeed. Very much so. You’ll understand someday.”
“Is that so?”
“If you have no connection to the martial world, you might not know. Anyway, is today’s training finished now?”
Moon-kyung, feigning ignorance, tilted his head and answered.
“No. He said no one should approach for the next two hours.”
“Understood. I cannot interfere with Jin’s training. I’ll inform the next shift as well.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Just as Moon-kyung bowed respectfully and turned to leave, the martial artist suddenly spoke up.
“My, it seems your training was rougher than expected.”
“Pardon?”
“The blood on your sleeve. Was Jin Tae-kyung injured severely?”
The martial artist’s follow-up question never reached the ears of the one it was meant for.
Moon-kyung stared silently at the bloodstained fabric of his own sleeve and murmured.
“The fundamentals…perhaps.”
“Hmm?”
“Ah, it’s nothing. Jin Tae is unharmed, so please don’t worry.”
“Yes, yes. I understand.”
Moon-kyung left, leaving the martial artist with an unsettled expression in his wake.
Though familiar faces greeted him and made pleasantries as he passed, the young physician’s mind held only thoughts of one person.
‘Jin Tae-kyung. Jin Tae-kyung, is it….’
He had doubted it. Yet that man had actually managed to evade the final strike.
The results obtained through the trials of the past few days and today exceeded all expectations. No—they surpassed imagination itself.
‘Such things can indeed happen.’
Everything Moon-kyung had told Jin Tae-kyung was the truth.
Once, he had disciples worthy of the name, and all of them possessed the fundamentals.
Yet there was one truth left unspoken in that place—the time required for mastery.
‘The fastest among them took just over a year, I believe.’
But Jin Tae-kyung had achieved it. In merely seven weeks.
A speed that defied all comparison.
Whether it was due to his celestial physique or his status as a supreme master, Jin Tae-kyung possessed something extraordinary in his very essence.
“Even so… I never imagined it would reach this level.”
Moon-kyung murmured in a voice too soft for anyone to hear, then rolled up his sleeve.
As the lacerated skin and the beads of blood upon it came into view, a sudden thought flashed through his mind.
‘Now I understand. The Fire King’s heart.’
Yet Moon-kyung remained unaware that a faint smile had already formed at the corners of his lips.

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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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