Murim Login - Chapter 525

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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 525
Silence blanketed the Alliance Master Hall. Just an hour ago, countless figures had moved through its corridors, yet now only a single soul remained within.
“Time truly flies, doesn’t it.”
The young man, Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak, murmured softly to himself.
His gaze, fixed upon empty space, traced back toward some distant past. Memories so ancient that few remained who could even recall them.
‘They’ve all departed.’
Among those who had shared Mae Jong-hak’s memories, precious few had lived out their natural lifespans to completion.
Most had fallen in nameless wastelands and plains, never to rise again.
The monster called the Righteous-Demonic Great War had spawned countless deaths, transforming the survivors into heroes.
‘Yet in the end… here we are again.’
Enough time had passed for the mountains and rivers to change their faces four times over.
Peace had descended upon the realm. The pain and sorrow endured in the maelstrom of war had dulled, and the Orthodox Martial Arts World sang hymns of victory.
And now, upon skies that seemed destined to remain forever clear, Dark Heaven descended like a gathering storm cloud.
‘Now peace has ended.’
The snot-nosed child who had not comprehended the horrors of war had become middle-aged, and the youth who had drawn his weapons with burning passion had become an old man.
Those not yet born in those days had come to Hanan chasing glory rather than righteousness.
Their lives, their natures, their purposes—all differed.
And Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak knew well that he alone must lead them all to face this trial once more, to achieve victory against Dark Heaven, which sought to plunge the realm into ruin.
It was then that a quiet voice escaped from between Mae Jong-hak’s firmly sealed lips.
“A doubt suddenly strikes me. Can I truly accomplish this? Such is the doubt that haunts me.”
Not a soliloquy. Both Mae Jong-hak and someone who had quietly kept vigil by the door since some indefinite time knew this truth.
A robust old man with a sturdy frame, Cheon Myeon Ho-ri Song Ho, stepped forward with his response.
“You can accomplish it.”
Tap.
The sound of the prosthetic leg’s end striking the floor echoed with unusual clarity. Between his flowing white hair, aged yet keen eyes blazed with quiet strength.
“No—you must accomplish it.”
“I am aware.”
Mae Jong-hak exhaled a light sigh.
“Yet I have known only the sword my entire life. Thanks to this, I’ve also earned the hollow reputation of Sword Saint.”
“Precisely because you are that Sword Saint, all will trust and follow you.”
“A warrior and a leader are vessels of different measure. I never even became the sect master of a single school.”
“You didn’t fail to become one—you chose not to.”
Cheon Myeon Ho-ri’s words held truth.
When the Righteous-Demonic Great War ended and the previous sect master of Huashan breathed his last, all disciples of the Huashan Sect believed without question that Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak would become their new sect master.
“Yet you refused. In the end, the sect master’s authority passed to your disciple, Cheon Geom Jin-in.”
“It was only right. He was more suited to lead the Huashan Sect than I. And…”
Mae Jong-hak caressed the beloved sword at his waist as he continued.
“I simply loved the sword.”
Cheon Myeon Ho-ri, who had been quietly observing Mae Jong-hak, suddenly spoke.
“I’m not certain if I’ve mentioned this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean to say that That Person once grappled with the same doubts.”
“That Person? You don’t mean… Mu-shin, do you?”
Cheon Myeon Ho-ri nodded slightly.
“To the world’s eyes, That Person appeared flawless.”
“I know. Mu-shin excelled in every regard. No—he was overwhelming.”
“Yet That Person was human as well. And in the end, he succeeded. For some reason, these old eyes now see the two of you overlapping.”
“…!”
In that instant, Mae Jong-hak’s body went rigid. After staring silently at No Gang-ho, who regarded him with an upright posture, he suddenly spoke.
“Song Dae-hyup.”
“Yes, speak.”
“Truly… a fine day it is.”
“The sky is clear.”
“May I ask the hour?”
“It is the Hour of the Horse. Everyone waits for one person.”
“I have arrived late.”
“Not late. Now begins.”
Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak turned his head. Through the wide-open window, brilliant sunlight poured in torrents.
‘Yes, truly a fine day.’
The words echoed once more within my heart. With the azure sky reflected in my eyes, I turned slowly.
In that same moment, Cheon Myeon Ho-ri understood. The young man before his eyes was no longer merely a martial master.
“Master of the Shadow Pavilion.”
A low voice that pierced the ear.
The Shadow Pavilion answers directly to the Alliance Master Hall, and only one person holds authority to command its master.
Cheon Myeon Ho-ri drew a deep breath and clasped his fists in salute.
“Shadow Pavilion Master Song Ho. I await the Alliance Master’s command.”
In the next moment, what flowed from Mae Jong-hak’s lips was both the beginning of the new Martial Alliance and the first decree of its new master.
“Raise the banner.”
No Gang-ho’s eyelids trembled. Then came a cry as powerful as that of a young man.
“I obey!”
* * *
I lifted my gaze to the heavens. Above the azure sky, the sun hung at its zenith, radiating fierce brilliance.
A day without even a whisper of cool breeze. A thought suddenly crossed my mind.
‘It burns.’
Hot, yet not oppressive.
This was not merely because I had reached the pinnacle and attained the realm where neither cold nor heat could touch me.
What I felt as heat in this moment was not the sunlight itself, but the fervor—the collective momentum radiating from countless martial artists.
Shhhhh.
Beneath the elevated platform, the momentum released by innumerable warriors seemed to still the very wind.
The energy rising like heat shimmer burned hotter and fiercer than the sunlight pouring from above.
And piercing through that heat, the figure everyone had been waiting for finally appeared.
Thud. Thud.
Powerful footsteps carved themselves into everyone’s ears. That alone was enough to make their entire bodies tense and their minds snap awake.
Even the bandits who had been drunk and riotous until yesterday, and the Orthodox and Unorthodox martial artists who had been brawling with each other, swallowed hard.
All of this stemmed from the presence that one person radiated.
‘Sword Saint Maejong-hak.’
The Divine Physician, the Three Stars, the Ten Kings.
If the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance and the Five Great Families were the fifteen pillars supporting the world, then the masters of those names were the heroes who had newly birthed the current age.
On earth stood ten kings, and above them stretched a heaven of martial divinity that no one could touch. Three stars adorning that sky.
And….
‘The brightest star among them all.’
Sword Saint Maejong-hak. Another name: the Greatest Swordsman Under Heaven.
Crack crack crack!
Thousands of martial artists parted simultaneously.
No shouts or exclamations were heard.
Some may have been astonished at Sword Saint Maejong-hak’s rejuvenated appearance, others may have trembled at his overwhelming aura felt against their skin, but not a soul dared to speak aloud or voice their doubts.
‘No, how could they doubt?’
This path existed for one person alone.
And the giant who had pierced through the veil of humanity and finally ascended the towering platform swept his gaze across his surroundings with calm eyes.
“You have waited long.”
The platform was a place for the chosen.
The sect masters of the so-called prestigious sects and the family heads of great clans. Or swordsmen and masters who, regardless of their origins, had accumulated countless accolades over the years—they were the true masters of this place.
‘Jeok Cheon-gang and I, the Taewon Jin Family as well.’
But if these people on the platform formed the backbone of the new Martial Alliance, then Sword Saint Maejong-hak was the cornerstone and head of the Martial Alliance itself.
Everyone, myself included, rose from our seats without hesitation and clasped our fists toward Maejong-hak.
Dozens spoke at once, yet the voices that followed were identical, as if spoken by a single person.
“We pay our respects to the Alliance Master.”
Everyone, even Jeok Cheon-gang and Chung Poong seated on either side of me, maintained their composure with solemn faces.
Maejong-hak, watching them with a faint smile, nodded and turned away.
And in the next moment, thousands—perhaps even ten thousand—martial artists could hear it clearly.
The voice of the giant that shook heaven and earth.
“Peace has ended.”
“…!”
The air surrounding them all burst outward.
The towering ancient tree trembled violently, and the forms of the assembled warlords below the platform froze like stone statues.
In Maejong-hak, who spoke with unprecedented martial power infused into his words, there was no trace of the strange demeanor I had witnessed until now.
“War has already begun, and another hundred thousand demonic disciples are advancing toward the Central Plains.”
There may be those who never experienced the Righteous-Demonic War, but none were ignorant of that catastrophic conflict.
In the eyes of the aged No Gang-ho, fear and rage swirled, while young martial artists trembled with inexplicable dread.
“The Dharma King Hongdao.”
At Mae Jong-hak’s voice that followed, the monks of Shaolin Temple softly chanted their dharma names.
“Dok Wang, the Poison King, Dang Sa-mun, and Gyeong Cheon Shin-ni of the Emei Sect.”
Dang Sa-dok, the Heavenly Poison Master, dragged his weakened body forward after traveling such a long distance, his green eyes gleaming with intensity, while the nuns of the Emei Sect shed tears.
“The blood that began flowing from Shanxi Province continued into Hanan, and reached even Sichuan and Hubei.”
In barely more than a year, countless lives had departed from this world.
No Gang-ho, praised by all, and young men who had barely come of age—all fell without ever blooming.
‘The Pal Cheon Hyeop.’
Even now, closing my eyes brings back those memories.
How many had died in that narrow gorge of Shanxi Province?
Who were those who fell in Hanan, in Sichuan, in Hubei?
I do not know their names, nor the dreams they carried in life.
Yet I know why they drew their blades as they fell.
‘To protect what was precious.’
Kwaaaaa!
An unprecedented aura erupted from Mae Jong-hak’s entire being.
A violet energy rooted in the Ja-ha Divine Art surged like waves over his shoulders.
“Take up your weapons and stand against them.”
What changed was not merely his tone and presence.
The Mae Jong-hak before us was, before being the Sword Saint and the greatest swordsman under heaven, the leader of the Martial Alliance.
“For family bound by the same blood. For the senior and junior brothers who have endured hardship together, and for our sect. And….”
From between Mae Jong-hak’s lips, a tremendous cry erupted.
“To protect this Murim in which we live, take up your weapons!”
A giant roars. Tremors surge up the spine.
The martial artists filling all directions released their held breath and cried out in unison.
“Waaaaaaaaa!”
“For the destruction of demons!”
Shwish, clang clang clang clang!
The world was drenched entirely in light. Countless weapons caught the sunlight pouring down from above, glittering brilliantly.
“Waaaaaaaaa!”
“For righteousness!”
Shwish, clang clang clang clang!
The world was drenched entirely in light. Countless weapons caught the sunlight pouring down from above, glittering brilliantly.
And Mae Jong-hak, gazing upon that dazzling and solemn sight, grasped the enormous banner laid beneath his feet.
The Martial Alliance.
When he raises that banner inscribed with three characters written in bold, sweeping strokes, a new era begins.
Yet in the next moment, Mae Jong-hak’s action defied all expectations.
“Jeok Cheon-gang. Will you lend me your strength?”
“…!”
I feel the people’s confusion through my skin. And Jeok Cheon-gang, who had been watching Mae Jong-hak in silence, suddenly opened his mouth.
“Is the banner too heavy?”
“It seems that’s still the case.”
“That banner feels heavy even to me. And the more hands to bear it, the better.”
In that moment, I understood what I needed to do.
At Jeok Cheon-gang’s glance, Chung Poong and I stepped forward together and grasped the banner.
Then we raised it with all our strength.
The birth of the Martial Alliance.

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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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