Murim Login - Chapter 579

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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 579
Screech!
The moment a flash of lightning tore across his chest, Song Cheon-woo felt the world before his eyes grow distant and hazy.
‘It burns.’
It was lightning.
Lightning that even the ancient heroes who had adorned that single line of the chaotic and perilous cataclysm could not stop.
Song Cheon-woo stared at the sword in his trembling grip with widened eyes.
Just seconds before, his blade had blazed with a brilliant aura, but now it lay cleaved in half by something far more destructive and sharp.
Clang.
The sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. A moment later, searing pain engulfed Song Cheon-woo’s entire body.
“Cough.”
Drip, drip, drip. Crimson blood spilled from his lips, staining his vision. His clothes and armor tore diagonally, exposing his bronze-hued upper body.
And the moment a fine line traced across his taut muscles and skin turned a searing red.
Whoooosh!
An enormous torrent of blood erupted like a waterfall.
From his left chest to his right hip. The wound carved by the lightning was catastrophic, and it would never heal again.
Song Cheon-woo felt his strength drain away as he staggered backward.
Crunch.
His faltering steps trampled the blood-soaked snow beneath him.
One step. Two steps. Three steps. And then….
Whoosh.
At the sound of accumulated snow cascading down, Song Cheon-woo barely managed to steady himself.
Behind him now yawned the massive chasm known as the Crevasse, its maw gaping wide.
There was nowhere left to retreat, nowhere left to advance.
‘Damn it all.’
Song Cheon-woo felt his chest hollow out.
Perhaps that emptiness stemmed from the very life force draining from his body even in this moment.
When he lifted his head, a figure slowly walking toward him entered his vision.
‘Choi Min-woo.’
The sole bloodline of ‘That Person’—the one who had always been both revered and feared. Song Cheon-woo recalled the soft voice he had heard just before facing the lightning.
‘Have you forgotten whose blood flows through my veins.’
In this moment, reflected in the Old Master’s eyes was another presence not here—someone else entirely.
A person now existing only as a memory of the past.
A being whose mere presence beside him had inspired both reverence and dread.
Song Cheon-woo realized a truth he had long forgotten: the blood of Cheon Tae-min flowed through that young man’s body.
“…Elder Brother?”
Song Cheon-woo gasped the words aloud.
Within his vision, now drenched entirely in red, the young man wielding the radiant sword bore a striking resemblance to his Maternal Grandfather.
His deeply sunken eyes seemed to ask why he had betrayed them.
“Don’t come. Don’t come any closer!”
Song Cheon-woo thrust his sword forward with a barely wrung-out cry. Or so he thought.
Yet his hand, which had dropped the blade moments before, hung empty in the air, and his flailing arm was finally intercepted by the iron grip of someone who had drawn near.
A whoosh, then a sharp crack.
Choi Min-woo clamped down on Song Cheon-woo’s wrist, tightening his grip with crushing force. A sickening crunch of bone accompanied a scream that tore from his throat.
“Krraaaaaagh!”
Song Cheon-woo collapsed to his knees, unable to bear the agony, and Choi Min-woo gazed down at him with eyes gone cold and distant.
What reflected in his eyes now was not Song Cheon-woo, but an old man.
A faint shimmer.
The radiance that clung to the Hero’s Soul gradually dimmed. The outcome of this battle had already been decided.
Standing victorious over the fallen loser, the winner spoke in a low voice, announcing the result of this fierce clash.
“Stop. It is finished.”
“…!”
Song Cheon-woo’s body, which had been writhing in pain, went rigid.
Defeat? Impossible. Such a thing could not be, should not be.
Yet the reality that finally became clear was otherwise.
His trembling gaze lifted upward. Song Cheon-woo looked at Choi Min-woo, who wore a composed expression so serene it rendered the desperate bloodshed of moments ago utterly meaningless, and muttered.
“How… how did you…?”
“I wonder.”
Choi Min-woo felt the formidable power coursing through his body.
Something he could not have perceived mere months ago—it was the sole gift his maternal grandfather had left him, and Jin Tae-kyung had unwrapped that gift and returned it to its rightful owner.
Along with the knowledge of how to wield it.
“Perhaps it is simply because I was stronger than you.”
But there was more. Choi Min-woo believed in himself, and he had acted with an unwavering heart.
And to a master worthy of it, the blade that held a hero’s soul granted even greater power.
Choi Min-woo looked down at Song Cheon-woo with eyes burning with strength.
“I have won, and you have lost. That is the only truth that remains between us.”
“…!”
The old man’s trembling gaze gradually settled. A fractured voice escaped between bloodied lips.
“You are right. I did not foresee such an outcome.”
“In that, we are alike. I too never imagined such a situation would come to pass.”
Rage. Enmity. A faint pity for a man who had fallen to the depths.
Choi Min-woo’s emotions toward Song Cheon-woo were manifold, yet foremost among them was bewilderment.
Why? What reason could there be for Song Cheon-woo to commit such acts? And doubt about the words he had spoken before.
“Why did you do this? Had we joined forces, overthrowing Seok Go-jun and seizing control of the Ares Guild would have been no difficult matter.”
To Choi Min-woo’s question, Song Cheon-woo answered in a hollow voice.
“I know. I thought the same.”
“Then why?”
“I had no choice. It was an offer I could not refuse.”
And Choi Min-woo already knew the name of the person who had made Song Cheon-woo an offer he could not refuse.
“Seok Go-jun. Was everything his command? From our alliance until now, all of it?”
“Cough. An order?”
Song Cheon-woo spat blood once more, then laughed weakly. It was a clear mockery directed at Seok Go-jun.
“Lee Jung-yong might be different. That fool is nothing but a brute with strength. Even if I’m a contemptible and pathetic old man, I’m not so far gone as to bow to the commands of a mere child. My alliance with you was entirely my own choice.”
“Then…”
“Did I not say it was an offer I could not refuse?”
Choi Min-woo, peering into the dimming eyes of the old man before him, suddenly understood.
What remained for this elder. What lay hidden within an offer that could not be refused.
“Family.”
Song Cheon-woo nodded slightly and opened his mouth.
“Only after my defeat at Lee Jung-yong’s hands did I realize it. That I had forgotten what was most precious.”
His life had been one of relentless struggle.
Before the Cataclysm, I bore the burden of providing for my household day and night as its head. During the Cataclysm, I could not leave the Battlefield. After the Cataclysm, I began another struggle to draw near the center of power.
And the value of family, remembered anew through defeat in political strife with Lee Jung-yong, was forgotten once more by the ambition that awakened with his death.
“My absence became the root of calamity. The price an old man paid for belated greed.”
“Perhaps that thought is correct.”
Choi Min-woo’s voice in response to Song Cheon-woo’s lament was cold. Listening to his words, even the last remnants of sympathy evaporated.
“Because of you and Lee Jung-yong, I had to lose my one and only family.”
Beneath the frigid tone burned an inferno of rage.
By the ambitions of two adults, a child who did not yet know the meaning of the word ambition became orphaned.
I had to live resenting my Maternal Grandfather, who vanished before I could even properly comprehend my parents’ deaths.
“…I am sorry. It is my fault.”
“Then you would have nothing to say even if I burned you to death right now, would you?”
A voice suddenly rang out from the empty air—not Choi Min-woo’s, but another’s.
Thud. Kim Hwa-jong, drenched in the Yeti’s blue blood from head to toe, planted his feet on the ground.
In the old butler’s eyes burned a flame like the whip of fire he held in his hand.
“Hwa-jong. It was you.”
“Shut your mouth, you bastard. Because of you, the young master suffered so much—”
It was Choi Min-woo who stopped Kim Hwa-jong from immediately lashing out with his whip.
The old servant, silenced by a subtle gesture, stepped back, and Choi Min-woo’s gaze turned toward Song Cheon-woo.
“Then was everything you said about my Maternal Grandfather also a lie?”
“I wish it had been. But it is all true. I have already come too far.”
Unlike Kim Hwa-jong, who furrowed his brow in confusion at the meaning of the reply, Choi Min-woo exhaled a sigh mixing relief and disappointment.
The fact that my Maternal Grandfather was alive was joyful, yet the knowledge that he had been unconscious for over twenty years weighed heavily on my heart.
But that was a matter for later. For now, Song Cheon-woo’s disposition took priority.
– Young Master.
To Kim Hwa-jong’s message magic, which carried pride in him, fury toward Song Cheon-woo, and a glimmer of expectation, Choi Min-woo shook his head.
He already knew what the butler would say.
– Kim Butler. That cannot be done.
– Cannot be done? What do you mean, sir?
– Give me potions. For now, I must treat him just enough to keep him from dying.
– But…!
Kim Hwa-jong, who had been about to cry out something, forcibly suppressed his emotions under Choi Min-woo’s composed gaze.
He understood it too. Song Cheon-woo was a decisive witness and evidence simply by being alive.
He simply wanted to deny it.
“Kim Butler.”
“Damn it. Understood.”
Choi Min-woo’s eyes widened at the sight of Kim Hwa-jong handing over an intermediate potion while spewing curses.
“Did you just swear in front of me?”
“Yes, I did. Why?”
“I’ve heard stories about it, but you’re very different from how I remember you.”
“This is who I am. When you were young, I was careful with my actions and words because I wanted you to learn from my example.”
“Then why stop being careful now….”
“You’re almost thirty now. Since things have come to this, if you’re going to learn, then learn. Otherwise, just drink it.”
Was this truly the man who had stood by my side since childhood?
Choi Min-woo let out a soft laugh at the gruff butler’s words and offered a reply.
“Kim Butler.”
“What is it. And stop laughing. That’s not how you treat your elders.”
“Thank you. For becoming my only family.”
“…!”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”
Unable to meet the old butler’s gaze, which had gone rigid with emotion, Choi Min-woo turned away in silence.
At the end of his footsteps awaited an old man buried in the Snowy Field, waiting for death.
Pop.
As the cork came free, a clear yet subtle fragrance drove away the acrid smell of blood.
Song Cheon-woo gazed at the approaching Choi Min-woo with eyes that seemed ready to extinguish at any moment.
“You… intend to save me?”
“Do you wish to live?”
“That is….”
At the sight of Song Cheon-woo’s inner conflict, Choi Min-woo felt profound revulsion.
“If I had my way, I would kill you. A hundred times, a thousand times over.”
“But… your family….”
“There must be a way. We’ll have to deal with it after we leave this place.”
“….”
“Make your choice.”
Song Cheon-woo, who had been hesitating, nodded with a resigned expression.
Choi Min-woo, regarding him with cold eyes, slowly tilted the potion.
Sizzle.
The moment the milky liquid touched his wounds, they began to slowly seal.
It was only a faint recovery, yet for someone, it was a lifeline that could grant one final surge of strength.
Crack!
Where had such strength come from?
Among the snow cascading in all directions, Song Cheon-woo’s form, propelled by superhuman force, slipped through the gap of the massive crevasse.

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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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