Murim Login - Chapter 536

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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 536
Two Dragon Pavilion.
The words that reached my ears were unfamiliar, heard for the first time. Yet simultaneously, I understood.
‘The masters of Two Dragon Pavilion.’
That this referred to Chung Poong and myself.
And in the next moment, a calm yet forceful voice flowed from between Mae Jong-hak’s lips.
“Yeolhwa Shinryong Jin Tae-kyung. Come closer.”
His tone and demeanor were entirely different.
The friend who had teased me with playful remarks was nowhere to be found.
The figure before me now was neither the Ascending Sword Jong Ri-chu nor the Sword Saint Mae Jong-hak.
I stepped forward.
Drawing a deep breath, I approached and offered a respectful fist salute toward the Alliance Leader.
“Jin Tae-kyung of the Taewon Jin Family, paying respects to the Alliance Leader.”
Light gleamed in Mae Jong-hak’s eyes as he regarded me.
“The Taewon Jin Family has long been the embodiment of righteousness. They fed the hungry, cared for the sick, and whenever the Central Plains faced peril, they never hesitated to stand and fight with their lives on the line.”
Three hundred years. A full three hundred years.
The roots of the Taewon Jin Family ran deep and firm enough to be called a prestigious clan. Though they might sway, they never uprooted; though their steps might falter, they never strayed from the righteous path.
“Two years ago, in winter, you personally cut down Hwa-yang Geom Jin Baek-yang, a blood relative and the Grand Elder of your family. Shadow Pavilion Master—what was your reason?”
The head of the Shadow Pavilion, who had been standing quietly, Cheon Myeon Ho-ri Song Ho, opened his mouth with a stern expression.
“Because he was a traitor. Long ago, he moved according to Dark Heaven’s will—a traitor not only to the Taewon Jin Family but to the entire Martial World.”
“Are you certain?”
“I stake my life on it.”
There was no need to stake one’s life.
No one in this hall was ignorant of that fact.
Rather, anyone with even the slightest ear for news from the Martial World knew of it.
Then why waste precious time on a story everyone already knew?
I had already deduced the reason.
‘To remind them once more. And simultaneously, to convince them.’
Mae Jong-hak’s voice, continuing even now, was not directed solely at me.
The true target was the twenty-odd titans seated throughout this vast Grand Conference Hall.
“One year ago, right here in Hanan, the Seongnae Tournament was held, and by Dark Heaven’s assault, Shaolin’s grounds were drenched in blood. What did you do?”
To Mae Jong-hak’s question, I answered without hesitation.
“I fought.”
“Why?”
“That is…”
I suddenly fell silent.
‘Why, you ask?’
Confusion struck me suddenly, and my words faltered.
Not because I didn’t know. It was a question I had never once considered.
‘Well then. Why was it?’
I had long considered myself a selfish man, a philistine, but that didn’t make me a heartless creature devoid of blood and tears. When people were dying before my eyes, there was no room to calculate profit and loss.
On that day when Shaolin was drenched in blood, my mind held no question marks—only exclamation points as I rushed forward and fought.
I answered with a relieved voice.
“I’ve never given it thought.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s something any person should naturally do.”
“Something any person should naturally do, you say….”
Mae Jong-hak, who softly repeated my answer, gazed at his disciple and grandson with smiling eyes.
“Chung Poong. What of you?”
“Yes?”
“Were you not afraid of death?”
Chung Poong, staring blankly at Mae Jong-hak with clear eyes, answered hesitantly.
“I was afraid. I had never once contemplated death before.”
“Yet you headed toward Shaolin. What was your reason?”
“…Regret.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought I would regret it for the rest of my life if I had fled then.”
That was when it happened—Chung Poong’s voice, which had been murmuring softly, became clear.
“I felt I would lose something greater than my own life.”
That’s right. Even back then when fighting the Blood Lord, he had said the same thing.
Cut, torn, bleeding profusely and writhing in agony, yet he did not retreat. Knowing he was outmatched, he charged forward relentlessly.
‘What is this? Why can’t you just die first instead of spouting such nonsense!’
And to the Blood Lord, who questioned and raged, Chung Poong answered with a clear laugh.
‘If I retreat… I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.’
That regret. I understand it.
Perhaps my fear of the regret I would face alone was greater than my fear of death itself.
“Regret. Regret, you say….”
Mae Jong-hak, murmuring softly, turned his gaze toward me.
“What of you?”
“Are you asking about me, sir?”
My answer to that question had not changed since the day I first began working as a Hunter.
I let out a quiet chuckle and answered.
“Death is always frightening. I’m afraid of dying.”
Was I being too honest?
Ahem. Several of those silently observing the situation let out uncomfortable coughs.
Yet the smile at the corners of Mae Jong-hak’s mouth had only deepened.
“To overcome fear of death and aid another in peril—that is true chivalry.”
“…!”
The coughs that had been flowing ceased abruptly. The surroundings fell silent in an instant.
A man sitting in an awkward posture suddenly opened his mouth.
“It is something any person should naturally do. However, there is a world of difference between thinking it and actually doing it. And you two did it without hesitation.”
Warmth resonated in his voice. The eyes of Fire King Red Sky River gazing at me were clearly smiling.
“That is what we call righteousness of man.”
“…!”
Righteousness and chivalry. Chivalry and righteousness.
Two words that were both the same and different, brief yet heavy with meaning, pressed down upon the assembly.
People say that those who do not fear death are true martial artists of the Murim.
But those who practice righteousness and chivalry without succumbing even before the fear of death—the world calls them by a different name.
“A wandering knight….”
When that murmur slipped from someone’s lips, resonating with unusual clarity, a middle-aged man with a faint smile opened his mouth.
“A wandering knight, you say. That is indeed a word I find most agreeable.”
Hands that were oddly large and thick compared to his modest frame. Only then did I recognize the man’s identity.
‘Fist King Eon Hwa-pyung.’
Now a distant, faded past. The last descendant of the Jinju Eon Family, which had fallen miserably in the power struggles between the Orthodox Sects.
He, who had lived turning his back to the world on a nameless mountain peak, joined the Martial Alliance without hesitation when news came that a hundred thousand cavalry were invading the Central Plains.
‘Do you know why the Fist King is such a remarkable fellow?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Once the old master asked him this. His family had collapsed before he was even born because of those Orthodox Sect bastards—did he not resent it? How many among those gathered here truly understand righteousness and chivalry?’
‘You really lack perception, sir.’
‘Silence and listen. What he answered next was a masterpiece.’
‘What did he say?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Exactly as the old master said. Nothing mattered to him. He simply came to help. And the moment the Grand Tournament ended, he vanished like a phantom. No matter how much I think about it, that man was the real deal. Hehehehe.’
That very Fist King Eon Hwa-pyung was now gazing at me with a smile. It was a smile that radiated warmth.
“Doing what is natural as naturally as it should be done. Overcoming fear and moving forward. That is what a wandering knight truly is. Indeed it is.”
It was not only the Fist King who nodded with satisfaction.
From all around, gentle gazes fell upon Chung Poong and me.
Especially among those familiar faces, their eyes carried gratitude that could not be hidden.
‘Ten Thousand Poisons Asura Dang Sa-dok.’
Though his complexion was pallid, as if his body had not fully recovered, his posture remained upright and his eyes gleamed with a clear green light.
When our eyes met, he pulled the corners of his wrinkled mouth slightly and suddenly spoke.
“As the patriarch of the Sichuan Tang Family, I wish to offer a word.”
Unexpected words drew all attention. As Mae Jong-hak gave a small nod, a wheezing voice continued.
“The position of vice-leader of the Martial Alliance carries tremendous weight and responsibility. It requires not only superior martial skill but also the experience that comes with it. It would be unreasonable for those not yet thirty, let alone forty, to assume such a role.”
Unexpected words sent a small ripple through the assembly. Simultaneously, the complexions of several people shifted subtly.
Joy crossed some faces, displeasure crossed others.
But….
‘You need to hear it all the way through—that’s not just a Korean saying.’
And in the next moment, Dang Sa-dok’s words transformed my suspicion into certainty.
“However, Yeolhwa Shinryong Jin Tae-kyung and Huashan Shinryong Chung Poong are exceptions. These two alone have fought Dark Heaven in Shanxi, Hanan, and Sichuan, in Hubei, and have shown us what righteousness and chivalry truly mean. My family and I have incurred a debt we can never repay.”
Voices of agreement rippled through the hall at those words.
They came from sect leaders and family heads who had forged connections across the Murim—some personally, others through Jeok Cheon-gang or the Taewon Jin Family.
Even those with no direct ties nodded as though it were self-evident.
Emboldened by such consensus, Man Dok-su and Dang Sa-dok continued with unwavering clarity.
“Should these individuals assume critical positions within the Martial Alliance, who would dare question their qualifications or contradict the Alliance Leader’s command?”
The particular force behind certain words caused several to furrow their brows, including Feng Yun Sword Lord, the patriarch of the Zhongnan Sect.
Dang Sa-dok, his eyes gleaming with emerald light as they swept slowly across the assembly, clasped his fists in salute.
“As you can see, there will be no discord whatsoever, so the Alliance Leader need not concern himself and may simply issue his command.”
A masterful display of rhetoric that silenced objections before they could even be voiced.
And the speaker was none other than the patriarch of the Sichuan Tang Family—a clan notorious in the Murim for their uncompromising nature.
Though they had suffered tremendous losses at the hands of the Sichuan Blood Fiend, the fact remained that the Sichuan Tang Family was one of the Five Great Families and possessed formidable power that could not be ignored.
“Hmm….”
A heavy sigh escaped from someone in the crowd.
Then a voice broke the brief silence.
“Yeolhwa Shinryong Jin Tae-kyung. And Huashan Shinryong Chung Poong.”
Mae Jong-hak, his warm gaze fixed upon me and Chung Poong, continued.
“Yet we have not asked you directly. Do you wish to join the Two Dragon Pavilion?”
That was the moment.
Ding.
Will you join the Martial Alliance?
A notification materialized before my eyes.
Neither Chung Poong nor I deliberated long. Our eyes met, and we answered as one.
“We shall.”
“Then I formally declare it. From this moment forth, you two shall belong to the Two Dragon Pavilion, which answers directly to the Alliance Leader alone, and each of you shall serve as pavilion master, with authority to select the necessary personnel….”
The rest of his words did not reach me properly. Or rather, I could not hear them properly.
Ding. Ding. Ding, ding!
An unceasing cascade of notifications flooded my senses.

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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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